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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 2 years

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Canary, Part 45

First

Marinette flinched awake when something cold and wet touched her forehead, but the movements were painful and sluggish and there was something heavy on her stomach so she didn’t get very far anyways. A hand grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back into place and her addled mind thought this was bad, bad, BAD but the punch she sent to the person’s shoulder was weak.

The person sighed deeply, and she faintly recognized the exasperated sound, before removing their hand and pressing the cold thing to her forehead again.

Now that Marinette was slightly more alert, she realized it was a wet towel.

Maybe they were going to waterboard her?

But, considering the circumstances and the fact that they had let go of her when asked (however impolite said request had been), she figured it was more likely that they were trying to help her.

Her eyelids felt like they weighed thousands of tons, but she forced them open and oh, it could get worse. For a moment her vision didn’t even seem to exist, only giving her a blackened and empty world, but then she blinked a few times and everything whirled back into color so quickly her head hurt.

Emma pushed herself off of Marinette’s stomach. “How’re you feeling?” she asked, and her voice was slightly off, there was a bit more of a drawl to her words.

Her eyebrows pinched until her mind processed that this was what she sounded like when speaking in French.

“I think death would be nicer,” Marinette croaked. She tried to turn over in bed, because her current spot was drenched with sweat, but all that did was make her consider the pros and cons of throwing up. (Pros: fuck. Cons: fuuuuuck.) She opted not to and let herself fall right back into place.

Her eyes narrowed into slits where they watched the ceiling, but it was hard to tell if she was glaring or just unable to keep her eyes open properly anymore.

“You’re so dramatic,” Emma teased lightly.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed even more. Or maybe she was just taking a very long blink. Who knew.

Something settled on top of her shoulder and she blinked over at Tikki.

Her lips pulled into a scowl. “It’s today, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, Marinette,” said Tikki, reaching out to pat her cheek as if that made up for the fact that the kwami’s very existence meant that Marinette had to go through the worst pain of her life every five years. It did not. The fact that Tikki granted her invulnerability to almost anything, however, did. So, she softened her cold look and forced herself to start trying to sit up.

Adrien was sitting on the other end of the bed, hugging a trash bin in his lap. His hair hung limp around his face like a mop and his skin was paler than she had ever seen it. When you added in the large white shirt he wore, he looked like a ghost.

Death would be nicer, she had said.

She glanced down at his blue-tinted lips and then worked at flexing her stiff fingers.

Death would not be nicer, because they were dead. Every five years the kwamis would have to recharge, which meant that all of the powers and abilities they granted their holders disappeared, and that left their holders in a sticky situation – for Marinette and Adrien had endured far too much to still be alive. Marinette was worse off… the multiple poisoning attempts, constant fighting, and disregard for her own health meant that her kwami had saved her quite a lot of what she had originally assumed were ‘close calls’ before Jonathan’s research proved otherwise. Adrien had spent a decent amount of time holed up trying to find her, and therefore was just suffering from the many normal bouts of sickness that Plagg had been kind enough to get rid of (and maybe the stab wound Talon had so lovingly provided three weeks prior, but who hadn’t been stabbed at least once?).

And Marinette knew that this was much better than the alternative, but that didn’t mean she liked what was going on. It was kind of inconvenient, being dead.

Still, they were lucky. If Emma had been checking for breathing or a pulse, she would have likely called a morgue before they had been able to wake up.

“Hey, look, the bug’s awake,” said Plagg.

She blinked at the kwami that was currently riding the fan like a merry-go-round. How dare he enjoy himself while they were dying – dead – over here?

She stuck her tongue out.

Plagg returned the gesture before swinging the fan around faster.

Marinette rolled her eyes. You’d think that billions of years of life would make someone mature, but here Plagg was, playing with a fan of all things.

She turned to look for Adrien again so he could share her exasperation.

His eyes were dazed and she was pretty sure he hadn’t even noticed the rapid movement above their heads, but he tried for a smile when he saw she was looking.

She flipped him off. No reason, really, she was just suffering and wanted to take it out on him. She was going to follow this gesture with a joke that he was bad luck to soften the blow (she wasn’t that mean) but the sudden movement made her vision spin and she quickly found herself on the floor. Karma, probably.

Emma leaned over the bed, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“I meant to do that,” Marinette informed her.

Adrien huffed. “She’s fine.”

She made a mental note to punch him when she got up from the floor. But that would not be for a while, both because the floor was pleasantly cold and her body currently wasn’t all that intent on responding to her.

Emma sighed and slipped out of bed. “Now that you two are awake… Ara and I have work to get to. I’ve called the bats to help you, they should be getting here soon. Try not to kill each other in the ten minutes before they get here.”

“If I killed him you would never be able to prove it was me.”

“I don’t like murder.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re both exhausting.”

With that, Emma was out the door.

Marinette waited a few minutes before reluctantly rolling herself to her feet. It did nothing to help the fact that her stomach was rolling around within her, but she didn’t care as she stumbled her way into the bathroom.

She could hear Adrien give a small groan before the bed creaked and he must have spilled out of bed because there was a series of dull thuds.

She didn’t wait for him, instead she started a bath.

The door swung wider as Adrien crashed into it. She barely even bothered to glance up, and even then it was only to make sure he didn’t crash into her next.

“What’re you doing?”

“Drowning myself, obviously,” she said sarcastically.

He didn’t seem to catch on to the sarcasm. “We aren’t breathing right now.”

She turned and gave him an exasperated look.

It seemed to click in his mind that joking was a thing and he forced a laugh. “Oh. Duh. Right. Baths. I’ll…wait for everyone to show up, then.”

Marinette waved him off and then climbed into the cold water, fully clothed. It wasn’t that bad, to be honest. She had certainly dealt with worse before. It was better than taking a dip in Gotham Harbor to quickly get blood off. She wasn’t wearing socks, wet socks are the worst.

She closed her eyes.

It was strange, being dead. This was only her third time experiencing it… she wasn’t used to it. She didn’t appreciate it.

It didn’t make sense, not really. Her skin was burning and yet bodies were always uncomfortably cold to the touch. She could talk but didn’t breathe. Sweat soaked her skin and bile churned in her stomach but her physical processes shouldn’t be working. It was all strange and distinctly wrong and she didn’t appreciate not understanding things.

Jonathan would have a field day if he found out about this, she thought idly.

Her eyes opened slowly when she felt something touch her nose and she found herself submerged in the water. Disgust curled under her skin. Even if she knew that she couldn’t be any more dead than she was in that moment, the idea of drowning didn’t sit that well with her.

She forced herself to sit up more. Tikki floated away, carried by the tiny waves her movement caused in the water. Marinette reached over and picked her up, reminded strangely of the little bath toys that her mom had given her to play with when she was a baby.

The door to the bedroom banged open, pulling her from her thoughts. She laid low in the water again, her eyes narrowing.

There was no screaming, but that wasn’t a safe thing to rely upon.

Tikki zipped into hiding and Marinette dislodged the knife in her mouth.

The door to the bathroom opened with just as much fervor.

And, standing in the doorframe was Edward Nygma. His eyes were wild and his grip on his cane was tight and she couldn’t help but be reminded of the day she met him. But, instead of pointing a gun at her, he lowered the cane to lean on it heavily and said in clumsy French:

“Oh, you’re safe. Good. Okay.”

His shoulders slumped a little with relief, and then he turned his head to say something else. Marinette didn’t catch much of it, the language he spoke wasn’t something she knew naturally and Tikki’s help with foreign languages was noticeably absent when she was dead.

But she did catch a name: Jon.

Jonathan practically materialized in the doorway. He was holding Adrien in his arms like he was a baby and not a fully grown adult. Like Edward, his eyes were alight as he stood in the doorway, but instead of the anger that had twisted Edward’s expression, Jonathan seemed delighted.

“Adrien has informed me of… something interesting.”

It’s too early for this. That’s what Duke had been thinking for the past hour.

His day had started out perfectly fine and then it quickly nosedived the moment he set his eyes on two Rogues… which was typical.

What was less typical, however, was that the Rogues were outside his house.

Duke paused, gripping the strap of his backpack tighter, and, briefly, considered turning right back around. His early-morning class had been rough, and he was set to start patrols soon… but then they caught sight of him and all hopes of a normal (or, rather, ‘normal’, because his normal is far removed from everyone else’s) day flew out the window.

He stood perfectly still as they approached, as if they were T-rexes and standing still enough would stop them from noticing the kid wearing a bright red flannel that was about three sizes too big. But they were quick to make their way over.

Duke looked between Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane warily.

“Am I being kidnapped?” he asked, keeping his tone conversational.

Jonathan waved him off. “Probably not.”

Duke wasn’t fond of the ‘probably’ or the strange glint in the man’s eyes... but at least it was better than a ‘yes.’ He nodded. “Cool. What can I do for you two?”

“Where are my babies?” Edward asked. His tone was sarcastic. The way he eyed Duke as if he could find his ‘babies’ hidden in his pockets was… less sarcastic.

“Um… inside,” said Duke carefully, pretty sure he was missing something. “We’re not supposed to be letting people in, though.”

Jonathan sighed. “First of all, why do you think that would stop us?”

Fair point.

“Second of all!” said Edward. “We just want to make sure they’re okay.”

“... If you’re scared my dad is going to adopt them, I don’t think he’s going to,” Duke said. He was careful to avoid saying that Bruce would never do so, because he couldn’t promise that, but he doubted that Bruce would ever be able to beat Edward and Jonathan if it ever came to a custody battle.

(Also, Duke was pretty sure that Tim would have a couple complaints about it.)

“You little –.”

Jonathan sighed and elbowed… (his co-parent?) Edward. “I don’t think he knows.”

“‘Knows’?” Repeated Duke, his lips tugging dowards in a frown. He pulled out his phone and checked his messages…

Ah. It seems that Marinette and Adrien had gotten ill.

He looked between the two men. ‘First of all, why do you think that would stop us?’ Jonathan had said. He considered this for a moment.

Well, at least he got to leave for patrols in an hour.

He sent a quick text to his family to warn them – not because he thought they had left any of their vigilante gear out, they weren’t stupid enough to do that when Canary was around, just because he figured they might need to prepare themselves – before letting them inside.

Ten minutes later, the Waynes had two doors off their hinges, two very sick metas, and two Rogues threatening a colony of very tired bats.

Batman looked more tired than Duke had ever seen him, which was insane considering Duke couldn’t even see the top half of his face with the cowl on. “You can not take them. The Court is after them. They’re safest here.”

“Yeah, because they clearly haven’t been poisoned,” snapped Edward.

“‘M fine,” said Adrien. But the fact that he was slurring his words and speaking between dry heaves made for quite a few skeptics.

Marinette curled tighter in the coat that Jonathan had dropped on top of her within about five seconds of seeing her. Duke had thought it kind of rude, but she seemed rather happy to string shaky arms through the holes and bury her face in it. Now, she barely lifted her head so her voice wouldn’t be muffled: “Not poisoned, poison doesn’t work on us, remember?”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. Gesticulating wasn’t something he did much when out of the mask, but when you’re wearing a face covering it’s necessary to have overdramatic body language to get your point across. “So you two just so happened to get sick for the first time in years on the exact same day.”

“... yes. Listen, it’s a meta thing.”

That might have explained why Jonathan looked like he was about five minutes away from bursting into confetti… but Duke called bullshit.

“Signal is fine,” Jason said for him, because Duke hadn’t been able to slip away to change and therefore couldn’t do it himself.

“Good for him, he got a better deal,” said Marinette, scowling. “I’m not lying. It’s in my best interest not to right now. In case those ugly white domino lenses have finally made you go blind: I’m kinda sick right now, and I want it to stop.”

A good point, he supposed.

“I mean, your identity would be at risk if you gave them a sample of your DNA,” Jonathan pointed out.

Only for Duke to shrug and say: “Everyone here already knows who she is.”

It was silent for a moment.

And then Duke learned, very quickly, that not everyone knew who she was.

Jonathan and Edward turned on her in perfect unison. “THEY WHAT?!”

Marinette was not pouty, no matter what her friends might say. No, even if she scowled at the ground and drew Jonathan’s jacket tighter around herself when her two kind of adoptive dads insisted on testing her vitals to make sure she was okay, it wasn’t a petty thing. She had just… been cold. She was sick. That was believable.

And, listen, she knew that they weren’t the type to betray her. She was paranoid, she knew, but she wasn’t stupid. If they had wanted to betray her they would have done it already.

But, even knowing all this, she couldn’t help but remember the last time a Rogue had figured out her identity. She couldn’t help but think about how they had been almost worryingly quick to kill off Gabriel Agreste – they had only known Adrien for around a month at that point.

She reminded herself that Riddler and Scarecrow both wanted to adopt Canary, and that they (probably) knew that killing her parents wasn’t the best way to go about that if they didn’t want her to immediately go to Batman purely to spite them.

Marinette rested her nose in the collar of the jacket she had been given. She was pretty sure that Jonathan sprayed his clothes with extra cologne right before he headed out to see her, and it was appreciated. It was nice to have clothes that smelled like her friends on her bad days, it meant she could pretend that she was wrapped up in their arms without any of the hassle of being touched.

And god did she need a ‘hug’ right then. She really couldn’t think of a way to play off any of the information that was about to be revealed. Jonathan and Edward would figure out who she actually was, and the bats might just realize that her body was strange in the same way that Adrien’s was.

She squinted over at the bats that were currently there. Batman and Hood. Maybe she could get them to fight? But she was pretty sure that Red Robin was supposed to be showing up sometime soon, too…

Marinette blinked and offered her arm when prompted by Edward, her gaze slipping away from the bats to the lab equipment that the bats had provided for them to test the two miraculous holders for poison.

A cuff wrapped around her arm and she flinched. Ah. They were checking blood pressure. That wasn’t going to be good.

She kept her gaze determinedly away from the analytics that blared that no pulse could be found, instead focusing on the way Alfred Pennyworth’s wrinkles seemed to deepen as he stared at the screen, both aware of what this meant and uncomprehending of what he was seeing.

“... huh,” said Edward quietly. He moved on to Adrien, and found the same results. He scratched his head.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “As you can see, we’re fine –.”

“Literally the opposite of what that screen right there says,” Red Hood snarked.

“And our physiology is too weird for you humans, so can we please go back to suffering in our room?”

“No,” snapped Jonathan, and he was met by six eyes rolling skyward courtesy of Marinette, Edward, and Adrien. He forced himself to pull back a facade of calm. “I mean… we have to figure out what’s wrong with you, right?”

“But M’lady and I already know,” Adrien said, his lips parting in a sigh that didn’t exist.

“Would you please share with the class, then?” Duke said, apparently choosing to channel his professors in the wake of information that simply shouldn’t be.

Marinette pressed her lips together thinly, thinking.

Adrien held no such reservations: “Basically, the gods that sponsor us are having an off day. So, we have to go through all the stuff we were supposed to experience in the five years since their last break.”

It was silent for a moment.

“Us?” Repeated Batman.

The moment they were alive again, Marinette was going to murder Adrien.

She forced herself to pull a facade of calm (it was better than Jonathan’s, he was practically vibrating out of his skin, but there was a slight tremor in her hands that she couldn’t seem to stop) and turned to look at Adrien. “I’m surprised you’re like this –.” She carefully avoided using the word ‘dead’ aloud. “– when you’ve been behind a computer for the last few years.”

“Mas –... Fu wanted me to check out the League of Assassins, because their whole ‘Lazarus Pit’ thing was ungodly or whatever.”

“Got that right,” said Red Hood, raising a hand in an imaginary toast. He didn’t seem all that perturbed by this new information, or maybe he hadn’t processed anything weird, but she couldn’t really tell because of that stupid helmet.

Marinette smiled. “Oh, you’ve met the League, too?”

“I think ‘met’ is being polite about it.”

“Clearly.” She motioned to the… everything about his current state. “Who got sent after you? Couldn’t have been ‘Lady’, you’re okay-ish, so… just a random grunt? Lame.”

“‘Lady’?” Repeated Adrien, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh… the head guy’s daughter. She won’t tell me her name.”

“Oh. Lady Talia.”

Talia… Al Ghul… Something itched at the back of her mind and she frowned, contemplating this. She swore she had read that name somewhere but her head pounded too much to make sense of such a vague warning. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate…

Duke pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two have the same kind of meta powers?”

She snapped back to attention. Shit. Distraction hadn’t worked. Not that she had thought it would – at least not for long – but she still didn’t have much of an excuse.

“I mean, yeah, if we’re looking for miraculous holders obviously I have to be able to protect myself,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes. “I’m a temp holder.”

Batman grunted in disbelief.

Marinette’s shoulders slumped. Yeah, she hadn’t really thought that would work.

She glanced over at Adrien and smacked him over the back of the head. “I’m going to curse you to never speak again.”

“Owwwwww,” he complained quietly, resting his forehead on the rim of the cold puke bucket that he refused to let go of. “I don’t get why you’re even scared. It’s not like they’re going to shout it to the world or anything.”

“But it’s an advantage that I’ve lost.”

“Because you totally would have used it at some point,” Adrien snarked, lifting his head to stick his tongue out at her.

She scowled and hit him over the head again just so she could watch him hit his head on the rim of his bucket. “Besides, outing people is wrong, y’know.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond.

Only to be cut off by a new, slightly perturbed voice that said, “Outing you? You’ve been out as bi since you got pushed off a roof because you were too busy staring at Ivy…”

She glanced over at Red Robin. He was standing in the doorway with a confused look. She mirrored it – not because she didn’t understand, but because she thought it would be funny to let the misunderstanding continue.

“Unless you’re coming out as…” He searched for the French word, but couldn’t seem to find it. “... asexual,” Red Robin said after a couple of moments of thought. “That would have been messed up of him to do.”

Marinette’s eyebrows knit, now.

She turned to Adrien. His English was limited, but it was far better than hers.

He seemed to be thinking, too… and then he snapped his fingers. “Oh! Like some plants do! They can reproduce without having a partner.”

“Sounds like something Emma would do,” Marinette mused.

Adrien nodded.

… it seems they were wrong, though. Jonathan looked embarrassed on their behalf (rude), and Duke’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter (ruder), and Red Hood was outright pointing and laughing (rudest). Batman, as always, wore a serious look. Red Robin, it seemed, was the only person on their side.

(Edward was still concentrating on the screen in front of him. Which was good, Marinette would never hear the end of it if he found out she didn’t know something.)

After a couple of moments, Red Hood explained for them: “Asexuality is when your sex drive is lower than average. What that means depends on who you’re talking about. Sometimes it’s a straight up repulsion to sex, sometimes it’s just a lower sex drive, sometimes it means you don’t care either way and will go with what your partner wants, sometimes it’s not being attracted until you know the person well… there’s also aromanticism, which is the same thing but for romance… being aromantic doesn’t mean you’re asexual and vice versa…” He gave a tiny chuckle. “It’s complicated and confusing, but when is attraction not?”

Marinette stared for a couple of seconds before cringing. “I’d… rather not...”

“That’s fine,” Red Robin said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

She’d rather not think about it either. She’d never really stopped to consider whether her repulsion to sex was natural or not, she had just assumed it was due to Chat Blanc and mentally let the subject drop. She didn’t want to wonder, nor was she sure whether it even mattered if it was because of that. She didn’t know how to ask, either. Did she even want to know?

Red Robin floundered for a while before bringing them back on subject: “Wait, if you’re not coming out as ace, then what did you mean by ‘outing’?”

Duke and Marinette both winced, though she had no clue why Duke was wincing.

“She is a miraculous holder,” Batman explained shortly.

“Probably Ladybug,” added Red Hood. “Chaton versus M’lady… add on the fact that she’s the only old holder that hasn’t been identified – outside of Chat Noir, but…” He motioned vaguely to Adrien. “... yeah – so that’s all that’s left.”

Red Robin’s face lit up, however. “I got to go and brag to Signal that I was right, I’ll be back soon.”

Marinette wanted to question him on what he meant by the words ‘I was right’, because that implied he had somehow known… but Red Robin was already rushing out, pulling a phone from his utility belt as he went.

Duke sighed lightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. “I gotta go work on a project, so I’m gonna take my leave. Also, you guys raise my blood pressure and I want to live past 30.”

That was fair. Marinette and Adrien waved him off, however weakly.

A couple of moments passed in relative silence. Marinette closed her eyes and leaned back. She felt Tikki zip out of her pocket to come sit on her lap and gave the kwami a couple of short pats on the head before allowing her mind to drift.

“There is no poison!” Edward loudly declared after an indeterminate amount of time, and that was the moment everyone in the room remembered that he only spoke a little bit of French.

Jonathan rested a hand on Edward’s shoulder, which would have been a nice gesture if the other hand wasn’t stifling laughter (poorly). “Oh honey… we are so far past that…”

Tim walked back in just in time to see Marinette and Adrien having a fistfight on the floor.

“Uh… should I come back later?” He asked, glancing over at Jason.

Jason shrugged. “They’re fighting over the puke bucket.”

“Get them another one.”

Bruce grunted and tapped his foot against the second bucket that lay on the floor, perfectly pristine.

“... oh. So, it’s just a normal sibling fight?” He asked, just to clarify.

Marinette and Adrien stopped, which was probably a good thing because Marinette’s hands were closed around Adrien’s neck.

“We are not siblings,” they snapped in unison.

Their gazes turned on each other again and their scowls deepened.

They were back to fighting. Well, that was short-lived.

Tim glanced over at Jonathan and Edward, who were still looking over the results with interest.

“Are you two… going to do something about your kids fighting?”

“Nah,” Jonathan waved him off.

Edward shrugged. “The fighting is good for them, it builds character.”

Tim frowned and watched Adrien twist Marinette’s head to an angle that definitely wasn’t good for her. “They’re trying to kill each other. Like… actually kill each other.”

“It’s fine, they’re already dead,” Jonathan said absently.

Tim’s eyebrows knit together. He glanced at Jason for an explanation, who signed the words ‘I’ll explain later’. He sighed.

“I’ll get Marinette, you get Adrien?”

Jason shrugged.

Tim grabbed Marinette by the back of her coat and Jason hooked his arms around Adrien’s stomach and they yanked the pair apart. Adrien huffed and crossed his arms, Marinette went limp.

The two brothers glanced at each other. They really hadn’t thought they would just… let this happen.

He looked down at his respective miraculous holder and sighed. “I’ll take her to go play video games in the living room or something until she feels better, she doesn’t seem like she needs to puke as much. You should probably just set Adrien in their bathroom and watch him.”

Jason shrugged and shouldered Adrien.

Tim dropped Marinette and she seemed rather calm now that Adrien was no longer in the room. She did sway a little on her feet, though, and Tim considered grabbing the nearest chair. “What do you want to do?”

“I can take care of myself, Red,” she huffed.

“I know, but you don’t have to,” Tim shrugged.

She rolled her eyes just slightly, some color returning to her remarkably pale face. “Video games are fine, I guess.”

He allowed her to lead him through the house, his hands clasped together behind his back to make sure he didn’t try and catch her if she swayed too much. As much he wanted to sling one of her arms over his shoulders – or to just pick her up and carry her – he figured it was probably a bad idea. Between the illness and the sudden questioning of her sexuality (he felt kind of bad about that) there was no way she was going to be comfortable with touching at the moment.

They collapsed on the couch – Marinette, admittedly, with much less grace – and he fished out some controllers from the cabinet marked ‘consoles’. He then turned to the wide catalog of games.

“What do you want to play?”

She gave him a blank look.

He thought for a moment. She had enjoyed Animal Crossing, and Cass and Damian had mentioned her liking Minecraft well enough, so relaxing games were good… but she had also liked Undertale and its characters…

He found Stardew Valley and handed her a controller.

He grabbed one for himself and then, after struggling to sit on the couch between his wings (Marinette had ‘lovingly’ called them ‘showgirl wings’ and he was about five seconds away from removing them from his costume) and the bo staff strapped to his back.

She settled, moving the jacket so it was draped over her like a blanket. “Didn’t know you played video games.”

“When I get the time,” he said quietly.

“Awwww, look at that, Red Robin does have a personality hidden under all that boring.”

“I’m going to leave.”

“Nooooo, the Waynes don’t let me use their stuff without permission because they think I’ll steal – I probably would but that’s not the point here – so I need someone else to get in trouble with me.”

He rolled his eyes even though he knew she couldn’t see it behind his domino. “I’m honored.”

“You should be. Not everyone gets to get in trouble with me,” she said, batting her eyelashes even as a smirk played across the rest of her face.

A grin tugged at his own lips. “Yeah, they get to take the fall for you instead.”

“See? You get it.”

“Can we please leave the customization menu?” Red Robin asked after she had spent ten minutes finding the worst color combinations possible.

“No.”

“We love an anticapitalist game.”

“It’s more anti-corporation,” Red Robin corrected absently. “Money is still important.”

“Anticapitalist.”

“Okay.”

“That rock is so tiny the game should just let me jump it.”

“It doesn’t work like that, you have to mine it.”

“No. It’s offended me. I’m leaving it there.”

“It’s offended you so you don’t want to hit it into oblivion?”

“Exactly.”

“He really can do only three things before passing out.”

“Mood.”

“Dibs on Abigail,” said Red Robin.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You can't have ‘dibs’ on a person, you don’t own people.”

“Abigail is a game character, not a real person… and I just did.”

“This is sexism.”

“Oh, hush.”

“I would die for Maru.”

“You can marry her.”

“Fucking nice. Dibs.”

~~~

Yummmmmm: Canary is sick, I will ask her to impart some wisdom upon us

TheBetterCanary: nif e

DeadHood: She has spoken.

~~~~~

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