"So what do you want to watch?"

Alya snuggles deeper into the comforts of the couch, only to frown when something hard digs into her back. Turning around, she plucks away the decorative pillow to place in her lap as she ponders the question.

"Not sure, what's on the menu?"

Marinette hums, flipping through the available movies as Alya examines the embroidered dog in her lap. Aggressively pink and studded with rhinestones, it's plain to see that it's the product of the imagination of a child.

Sewing pillow cases and decorating them were Marinette's first tentative steps into exploring her passion. And because her parents are way too eager to show off their daughter's talents, the Dupain-Cheng living room used to overflow with pillows – before Marinette put her foot down. Now only one of her pillows is on display at a time, rotated daily. Alya has yet to see a repeated design, and she loves them all for the childish charm they hold.

"Oh!" Marinette smiles as the poster of Majestia striking a heroic pose appears on screen. "I didn't know the new movie was already available for streaming."

Keeping her eyes on the pillow to hide her wince, Alya murmurs, "No, not in the mood for superheroes."

There's a short pause, and then Marinette says, "Okay."

Curiosity and concern mingle together in that one short word, but Marinette seems determined not to pry. And that's sweet, but it also sucks. Alya knows better than to breach forbidden topics, and this writhing mess inside her is all tangled up with secrets she's not supposed to spill. But if someone were to pry, well, who'd blame her for letting something slip? On accident.

"Just say stop when something looks appealing."

As Marinette keeps scrolling through the movie selection, Alya keeps her gaze glued to the screen. Yet the images pass her by in a blur, not really registering in her brain.

"Ladybug is mad at me," she blurts out, then presses her lips together in a thin line.

Marinette freezes, as do the posters on screen. "What makes you say that?" Her voice is soft and gentle, yet there's a strange undercurrent to it that Alya can't quite put a name to.

"She's been avoiding me." Her fingertips dig deep into the pillow, squeezing hard. Then she forces herself to relax her grip before she does damage to Marinette's creation. "And Chat Noir called me a paparazzi."

"He did what!?"

Alya nods as Marinette's eyes narrow, her friend's protective anger a balm soothing the sting of her wounded pride. "I managed to snap a picture of the two of them kissing. Chat deleted it before I could decide what to do with it."

Marinette's breath catches as she grows completely still, whispering, "He did what?"

Alya throws her a sharp look at the awe in her voice. When Marinette's temper flares, there is little that can stop it from turning into a blazing inferno, and it always sparks to life when her friends are under attack. Yet all anger has seeped away and – is she smiling!? "You approve?"

"Hm?" Marinette blinks, the pleased expression wiped from her face. "I – no, of course not!"

"And yet you sound delighted," Alya snaps.

"I'm not!"

"You're a terrible liar, Marinette."

Long pause.

"I think," her supposed best friend says at length, "it was unkind of him to call you that."

"Unkind is not the same thing as wrong, though."

Marinette opens and closes her mouth, then exhales a tired breath. "I guess not. Look, Alya… the Ladyblog is a really important resource for Paris. You do good – great work in reporting on Akumas, and there's a reason people have come to rely on you to keep themselves safe. And even though I wish you wouldn't run into danger quite so much, I think it's admirable. And brave."

"But…?" Alya prompts with a quirked eyebrow.

"But…" Marinette fidgets, not meeting her gaze. "Ladybug signed up to protect the city, not to have her love life dissected in public. I get that it's fun to speculate about your favorite ship, but – Ladybug's made it pretty clear that she's uncomfortable with any discussion of her private life. And she's a real person, Alya, with real feelings."

"Don't you think I know that?" Alya wants to snarl the words, but they come out listless and hollow. Does Marinette think so little of her?

"I think you do," she answers, nibbling on her lower lip before adding, "But you're… you can get kind of lost in your tunnel vision. And get pretty close to crossing lines."

"You're one to talk, girl," Alya mutters, and regrets the bitter words as soon as they leave her stupid mouth.

Stop fighting.

But it's in her nature to fight back against things that would hurt her. It used to feel like strength, but now...

Marinette stares at her, jaw working, while Alya draws her knees to her chest, clutching the pillow in her lap as her mind gropes for words that might form an adequate apology. But then Marinette speaks first.

"You're right," she says. "I lose sight of the big picture, too, sometimes. And I do things I'm not so proud of. But you and I – we're more than the sum of our lowest moments, aren't we?"

"…I hope so. There's been a lot of low moments lately," Alya says softly. And it doesn't look like Ladybug is as forgiving as Marinette. "I'm sorry for snapping. But it just – these days it feels like I can't do anything right."

Heavy silence falls as Marinette scoots closer, laying her head on Alya's shoulder, only to be broken by a voice calling out from below.

"Marinette!"

"Yes, papa?" Marinette shouts back, and Alya winces, the sound too close to her ear.

"Your friend is here!"

"Friend?" Alya echoes just as Marinette springs to her feet. In a burst of hyperactive energy, she's already bounded down half the stairs by the time it takes for Alya has pushed herself off the couch. Bemused, she follows at a more sedate pace.

And freezes as a familiar red hat comes into view.

"…tastes awesome, M. Dupain!" Nino says, words muffled by puffed cheeks, his mouth full.

"Oh, and try these, we've been experimenting with passion fr–"

"Papa," Marinette scolds. "I didn't invite Nino for you to use him as a taste tester."

"Don't worry about it, dudette," Nino says as he pops another macaron in his mouth. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. For you."

"Should I be jealous?" Alya asks lightly as she joins the group.

"And by you, I mean my stomach," Nino adds quickly. "Hi, babe."

"Smooth. Hi, Nino." Alya's narrowed gaze wanders to Marinette – who smiles winningly and holds out a plate of macarons. Like bribery is going to work. "So what brings you h–?"

The doorbell chimes as the bakery door is thrown open.

Marinette squeaks just as Nino calls out, "Bro!"

Alya looks over her shoulder, jaw slackening at the unexpected sight.

"Sorry I'm late," Adrien says in-between uneven breaths.

"That's fine! Movie hasn't even started yet." Marinette plucks up her courage – and the tray from her father's hand – to close the distance between them, offering him one of the pastries. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." And he seems to mean it, all but vibrating in excitement, like there's no place he'd rather be than standing here, talking to Marinette. Who somehow, miraculously, managed to form a full sentence. Alya has no idea how to process any of this.

Averting her gaze to share an innocent look with Alya out of the corner of her eyes, Marinette says, "It'll be nice. Just the four of us. It's been a while."

Oh.

"Hi, Adrien," Alya greets him at length and he meets her gaze with trepidation. Like he expects her to bodily slam into him at any second in an attempt to keep him away from Marinette. Which, to be fair, is not that unreasonable of a fear since she's spent the past few weeks running interference.

So she smiles brightly in reassurance.

Marinette's manipulations are obvious, but that makes her tactics no less effective. If she can bring herself to put her heartbreak aside to play peacemaker, then Alya would rather not be the one to make that sacrifice be for nothing. Her gaze flits to Nino. Their eyes meet for only a moment, his gaze lingering. A brief yet warm smile flickers on his face before he turns back to face Adrien.

"I'm surprised your dad let you come, bro," he says. "Did his heart grow three sizes today?"

Adrien's lips curve into a sly grin. "I might have snuck out. A little."

"Adrien Agreste," Alya breathes, scandalized. "Is that a rebellious streak I detect? Is our terrible influence finally bearing fruit?"

"Well…" As his voice trails off, Adrien's grin dies and his face grows ashen. A beefy hand comes down on his shoulders so hard his knees nearly buckle.

"Oh no!" Monsieur Dupain's booming voice rings out. "I appear to have been struck by temporary deafness, causing me to miss this last part of the conversation. I sure hope that it did not include anything that I, as a responsible parent, cannot condone. I know nothing of overly strict fathers and have never in my life snuck away from one." Ruffling Adrien's golden hair, he hands him a croissant. "Here, son. You're too skinny."

"Okay, how about Cabin in the Woods?" Nino suggests.

"No," Adrien murmurs, attention focused on the tray of chouquettes in front of him, calculating the rate at which he can shove these in his mouth without seeming overly greedy. "Marinette doesn't like horror movies."

"Well, it's not really a horror movie," Nino says. "It's more of a subversion of the entire–"

Alya huffs out a frustrated breath. "The entire last sequence has the characters coated in blood."

"It's fine!" Marinette says. "I can just, y'know, go get refreshments during the scary bits."

"No way, girl, that's no way to enjoy movie night!"

"Well, neither is spending the evening arguing over which movie to pick," Nino grumbles.

Alarmed, Adrien's gaze darts up. With every shot-down suggestion of his, Nino's irritation grows – and it's so unlike him for his temper to be uneven. Getting him upset is the opposite of what tonight is meant to accomplish.

"Um," Adrien says, casting his eyes about the room in search of a distraction. "I mean, we don't have to watch a movie, right? We could play video games or – or maybe tabletop games?" His pleading gaze turns to Marinette. "If you have any?"

"Oh." Her expression is strangely blank as she enunciates every word. "We have a few strategy games lying around, yes."

"Adrien!" Nino cries out. "What have you done!?"

"What?" Faced with his best friend's aghast expression, Adrien sinks deeper into the couch. "I just thought – I've never played…"

"Stop," Alya hisses.

"Oh no," Marinette coos, "Did you hear that? The poor boy's never played a tabletop game before. We need to change that."

As she rises to stand, Nino and Alya groan in unison.

"Come on, Adrien." Fingertips brush his knuckles as Marinette passes him by on her way to the stairs, as if she doesn't quite dare to take his hand and drag him along. "The game collection's upstairs in my room, you can pick out which one you want."

While he still doesn't quite understand what's going on, following Marinette's lead this evening seems like the sensible thing to do. She clearly has A Plan, and Adrien is very good at recognizing when his participation in A Plan is required.

"You fool!" Alya calls after him. "You've doomed us all!"

"What's with them?" Adrien asks in a hushed voice as soon as they're out of earshot, climbing through the trapdoor to Marinette's room.

"Oh." Suddenly drained of the poise that carried her this far, she self-consciously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. First making sure the trapdoor is shut behind him, she then turns to face him, a hint of pink deepening color of the freckles dusting her nose. "T-they don't want to play strategy games with me."

He blinks, taken aback, then frowns. "Why not?"

"Well…" She takes a deep breath and raises her gaze to meet his, steel in her voice. "Because I will eat them alive."

Adrien lets out a startled laugh.

And Marinette smiles.

It's on the verge of a smirk, proud and confident, and it hits him right in the gut, his breath catching. This… he's seen this Marinette before. But only ever out of the corner of his eyes, her fire doused in his presence. And he's always wondered why.

The thought barely has time to take shape before she looks away again, smile retreating to only play with the corner of her lips. "The collection's over there, if you'd like to take a look," she says, gesturing so wildly he can't actually make out which way she's pointing. "And – and we can play whichever one you want. But, um. Let's wait, like… half an hour, okay?"

At his questioning look, she adds, "Let's give Nino and Alya some time to sort things out between themselves."

"Oh! Sure." He smiles as understanding sinks in. "I guess we could play a round of our own."

She responds with a high-pitched sound stifled by a cough. Then, voice as dignified as it can be, Marinette says, "If you're that eager to have your butt kicked."

"Is that a promise?" Adrien asks, unable to resist a teasing smile, only for her to bury her face in her hands, palms muffling a squeak.

"What's taking them so long?" Alya grumbles.

On the opposite end of the couch, Nino chuckles, and she frowns at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, examining his phone screen like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Nino," she says, warning in her voice.

"Out of idle curiosity that has nothing to do with the topic at hand, how often have you all but thrown Marinette at Adrien?"

Oh.

Alya's head thumps against the back of the couch, groaning. "She's stealing my job."

"It appears that the student has become the master, yes."

Grabbing one of the decorative pillows, she flings it at Nino. He catches it easily, even as his body shakes with laughter. As it trails off, he takes a deep breath. "So."

"So," she echoes.

"I guess we could… talk about… things."

"Or we could drag Marinette and Adrien down here."

"We could. But then we'd have to play against her."

"Damn. So we're trapped."

Nino nods solemnly.

"The fiend!" she declares.

"The worst," he agrees.

Alya sighs, examining her hands as they writhe, only to grimace when she realizes she's writhing her hands.

Stop it.

It's not like her to wallow. She's always been the one to take action, to charge forward and confront the problem head-on.

But…

"I want to talk to you, Nino," she says softly. "I miss talking to you. I hate that we're fighting. But I don't know if I can talk about this without getting upset."

Without drawing his attention.

"…we don't have to talk about it," Nino says.

"Don't we? We've resolved nothing between us." Wiping her eyes, she makes herself take deep breaths to force the waters to grow still again. "God, I hate Hawkmoth."

Far more destructive than the devastation his Akumas rain down on the city – which Ladybug has well in hand – this is by far the villain's most insidious evil. All of Paris is rotting from the inside. Fear of his butterflies leaves problems to fester unaddressed, rotting and seeping into every dark crevice of the soul, because no one dares drag them into the open. And his Akumas grow stronger for it.

Gentle arms wrap around her shoulders.

"We don't have to talk about it," Nino says again, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Alya sighs, sinking into the embrace, and for just a moment allows herself to pretend that all the cracks between them are mended.

Author's Note

Since the holiday season and all its associated stresses are upon us, I'll be taking a short break from my regular update schedule. The next update will be shortly after Christmas!