Chapter Text
Marinette Dupain-Cheng is not the fashion designer that her middle-school self thought that she’d be when she grew up—somewhere along the way, the sound of scissors cutting through and the needle scars on her fingertips started to get grating, rather than exciting. Once she actually met Fashion Queen, who had Chloe’s sneer, and realized that Jagged would never stop calling on her in the same way, the thrill went out of it, just a little.
But enough.
She never stopped sketching, in entirety, but she did start sketching other things; one day, at sixteen, Sabrina’s father needed someone to draw up a facial composite for someone that robbed a bank (the cameras were out, smart move) and she did it really, really well.
Which, of course, sparked an interest in crime like she never thought she’d had.
A missing painting? She could put together all the context clues, everything that the criminal would need to get away with it, to solve it. At eighteen, working double shifts at the bakery to save up for something—she didn’t know what—she applied for the national police exam, and passed.
“What are you going to do?” Papa asked, twisting large hands anxiously around.
“I don’t know!” Marinette replied, excited. “But something!”
They were at dinner, Maman’s perfectly made potato au gratin in the center of the table, and Marinette was thinking about all the possibilities while they were both thinking about keeping her home. All their sentences sounded like I thought you’d take over the bakery… and all hers like I can’t wait to get out of here!
Eventually, these little talks turned into disagreements as neither her papa or Maman could look at her and see anything other than gapped teeth and pigtails, so during her second year in uniform, she moves out of the little attic room upstairs and into her own apartment.
She follows the rules that CaptainTikki (who did a lot of her training!) taught her: rent is half your income, never more, check how many times your sisters in blue come around before putting your name down, and rent is cheaper if there was a murder in the building.
She finds a place in busy downtown but in a quiet nook, where she has enough neighbors to watch her back but there won’t be too many break-ins in the first place; she has a kind neighbor upstairs who makes her tea as a welcome gift and introduces himself as Fu, who’s a retired Police Sergeant.
Fu gives her a box full of his old cases to look over, to pick her mind about and see what Marinette can put together, and calls her the next Lady of Justice. She mostly just thinks he’s old, but also thinks that he’s wise and the fact that he can see something good in her that nobody else does makes her feel better.
Captain Tikki says she’s known Fu for a really long time, and just like that, she trusted him.
Making detective is a stepping stone for Marinette—which bothers a lot of other detectives around her who think that because she wants to be captain means that she won’t take this job seriously. Which is ridiculous because in order to make captain she has to take this job the most seriously.
She wishes they would focus more on the detectives and actual cops who Don’t Care About Justice because their dads were cops and ‘it’s in my blood’ or they just like power, but old white men are going to do what old white men always do: complain about the minority. The only prejudice she’s ever seen as strong was Maman’s mother when deciding who to help her set the table.
The detective meets many people over the years but by the time she’s twenty-four, she still hasn’t found one of them that can annoy her as well as Chloe Bourgeois does. As a young politician, the blonde grew out of her bully shoes and into her gold-plated ‘will eat bad policy makers for breakfast while still being a bitch about it’ heels. Honestly, she was actually enjoyable sometimes.
Not that Marinette would let Chloe know that.
“Girl.” Alya says by way of a good morning as she leans against Marinette’s desk.
She’s the first friend that the blue haired woman ever acquired because they put in the effort instead of her being the one to chase someone down, and it was because they quite literally bumped into each other on a case. Only, Marinette was chasing a robber and Alya wanted a quote.
“What’s up?” Marinette responds, putting down the desk phone.
Captain Tikki probably wouldn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of a dramaesque phone call—even if their civilian administrator, Wyazz, would eat it up abliet quietly—much less if it comes from an investigative journalist, given she doesn’t trust a single one of them.
“ Girl, ” Her friend repeats. “You won’t imagine what I discovered.”
“Hmm?”
“Mayor Bourgeois’ affair .”
A tut comes from their left and when they look up, they find the she-devil herself standing there in all her gold-blonde glory. “Everyone in the office already knows that Daddy and Mommy have an open relationship.” Chloe says, lisps twisted up in a smirk. “It wouldn’t even make the news.”
As Chloe goes off to argue with Wyazz over if she’s allowed in Captain Tikki’s office or not, Alya turns up to Marinette and asks, “How can you stand her?”
She shrugs, barely glancing at the journalist while she stands to go meet Chloe before one of them sheds blood. “Connections.”
“Consider it a favor for a favor, and given my position, a favor from up high.” The Bourgeois woman says while examining her nails, as if she could care less when they both know if she’s asking Marinette for a favor, she cares quite a lot. “All he’d need is one good nod from someone like Fu to make it here.”
Marinette crosses her arms. “How do you even know that I know Fu?”
“Please,” Chloe scoffs. “I know everything.”
“So let me get this straight, over a man who just got off of a mental health break, who still needs PT and has less than twenty arrests total, you want me to convince Fu, who we both know is very picky about who he gives recommendations about-”
“Can’t be that picky if he recommended you.” Marinette stares and the blonde stares back before sighing. “Yes, I know, don’t insult people when you want something.”
It’s not an apology by any means and the detective wouldn’t expect one from someone as self-righteous and confident as Chloe Bourgeois.
So she doesn’t wait for one. “Correct. If Fu gives his recommendations and helps your friend that means I’d have to work with him. What makes you think that I’d want to deal with Chloe 2.0 when I can barely stand the first model? Let alone in my precinct.”
Blue eyes roll like she said something incredibly stupid. “Oh please, everyone loves Adrikins. You’d love him.”
“Doubtful.” Marinette replies.
Chloe smirks. “Wanna bet?”
The detective looks over the potential new hire well before she agrees to even approach Fu with it, given the old commander would chew her out if she stakes his reputation on someone that could turn out to be a dunce, which, to be fair, Chloe’s friend doesn’t really look like he is.
Adrien Agreste.
He specialized in terrorists and bombs for only a year before being injured in an interpole sting after five solid years of being on the bomb squad right after graduating from his homeschool program. His grades were impressive, his extracurriculars were impressive, and so were all of the recommendations he had received to join the anti-terrorist specialists in the first place.
But now he has about three different psychological reviews saying that he shouldn’t be in the field and only one to say he should be, he’s injured and can’t run, nor lift anything with his right arm higher than his chin. He seems like a big wild card now, even if she’d be jumping at the chance to work with him three months ago.
What’s the biggest question to her is why he wants to return to a precinct.
He was a hot-shot wherever he went—he could diffuse any bomb or move it in the perfect place to cause no deaths and only the right amount of destruction. He’s gotten metals from everyone from the mayor to the president, and from different countries. He got hurt fighting the big fight and has the job waiting for him to return.
Instead, he wants to come back here and become a detective.
Honestly, Agreste could become a sergeant if he wanted to—he was qualified, the exams are this month and with his scores, he’d pass—or even a corporal. Hell, he could just travel through precincts as an expert and train their bomb squads or specialists and make lots of money if a scheduled job is what he needs instead of running around.
It can’t be about avoiding trauma, either, since joining a police precinct is probably the best way to find things to give you nightmares. So Marinette just can’t place why Agreste would want to become a little fish in a big pond after all the things he did to make a name for himself.
She wouldn’t look back.
So she calls Chloe until she answers (three times) and then asks, and the answer of, “Because he doesn’t care about fame or money Dupain-Cheng, not that you’re exactly rolling in it… I wouldn’t have recommended him to you if he cared about anything other than the actual point of the job.”
“You hate selflessness.” Marinette responds after a minute of silence.
“Without motivation for something, nothing has a purpose. It’s utterly ridiculous. Yet, the one man who would do anything for anyone without a purpose or gain? I can stand him. That ought to tell you something.” Chloe tsks, and then there’s dial tone.
Okay, the detective thinks, relaxing back to lean against her couch. Agreste is good.
When Marinette brings Agreste’s file to Fu, the old fool barely glances at it, probably not long enough to really even know his name before saying “I think he’d be a good choice of partner for you.” and it makes her grimace.
She’s been through several different partners over the years, none of which can keep up with her, she’s given up on that front—Captain Tikki has too. Working alone or with someone she can boss around just seems like the best way she’s able to get work done.
“You don’t know him.” She responds. “ I don’t know him.”
Fu gives her a patient look. “That doesn’t mean you can’t .”
The detective just sighs and presents the proper paperwork, not really interested in what he’s going to write on it but warns him against anything stupid. Fu just gives her a look with that half-smile he does, the one that always reminds her of the pictures of his old, burnt-down house that always manages to shut her up.
She calls Chloe to tell her the good news and just gets “Of course you did.” before she’s hung up on, which, really, she doesn’t know what else she could expect.
Marinette spends the next few hours trying to plan what favor to use Chloe for, and decidedly comes up with nothing. It’ll have to wait, but then again, most good things are like that—maybe she can favor her into being nice for a whole day.
That’s her backup plan.