Dance with Me, Chaton

Hawkmoth's Defeat

Adrien hadn't expected what he saw. Compared to an average-looking building in a below-average neighborhood, Plagg's place was a king's habitat. A spacious penthouse, clearly created by combining a few of the apartments, tastefully renovated and decorated in the most modern of fashions with undertones of black and neon green all throughout. There was undoubtedly a pretty amount of money spent on this place, something Adrien would've never expected in this building, nor in this neighborhood, and especially not from Plagg.

"Make yourself at home," Plagg said, plopping on a couch and reaching for the remote control. With music now playing, he stretched.

"This place looks incredible," Adrien said in awe, trying to take everything in. "With Tikki's names for it, I imagined something more... well—"

"Trashy?" Plagg snickered. "Kid, who do you take me for?"

"Sorry," Adrien smiled sheepishly. "The place really does look amazing."

"Thanks," Plagg shrugged. "I'll let Tikki know you like her work."

"Tikki did it? I thought she didn't like it."

"She doesn't like the smell of Camembert, not my apartment. Renovations were her idea. She hired workers but designed everything herself. Tikki's very much like Marinette. Only she creates spaces, not clothes."

Marinette's name mentioned, Adrien felt a tingle of sadness at his chest. He couldn't rush, though. Plagg was right; he had to give her time and space. "You come here often?"

"A few times a month?" Plagg shrugged. "At least twice a week in the last month. I slept here when we had a late session and then an early morning the next day."

"And then you also napped at home?" Adrien remembered. "How hard your life must be."

"Horrendous," Plagg smirked. "Tikki was not happy. Threatened to buy herself an apartment full of all things sweet and escape there at least once a month for a week."

Adrien chuckled. The doorbell rang.

"Can you take that?" Plagg settled deeper into his seat. "I don't have any cash on me?"

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. "You ordered food without having money on you?"

Plagg groaned, rolling his eyes, "There is a credit card in my wallet in the closet by the door if you're so cheap. Where is my Camembert by the way? I asked you to bring some, didn't I?"

"It's in my bag," Adrien replied. "And I'll pay for the pizza. Don't worry."

Plagg yawned, closing his eyes. "Crazy day. I need a nap."

Unusually talkative and open, Plagg was the one who did most of the talking during dinner with Adrien answering the occasional question. He learned quite a bit. Just as Marinette had told him, Plagg really had come from a wealthy family, but just like Adrien, he'd been neglected and abused. Only Plagg was lucky to have met Tikki in his early twenties at one of those boring corporate dinners. They clicked instantly; a whirlwind romance followed. Upon realizing how Plagg lived, it was Tikki who slapped some sense into him. With her encouragement, he got out, buying this apartment to hide from his family. Not hide from them per se because most of them had disowned him, but he didn't wish to accidentally bump into any of them on the street, and not a single member of Plagg's family, according to him at least, would've ever set foot in such a neighborhood. It worked. Plagg never saw them again, only getting the occasional letter from his mother. When he and Tikki got married, Plagg kept the apartment as a reminder of what he'd gone through and as a place to stay at when Tikki needed their house to herself.