Notes: For randohopelessromantic. Thanks to Kellarhi, Enberlight, and Bridgetinerabbit for input an beta reading and to Yunyin who also acted as a sounding board for some of the earliest ideas here.

Marinette let the rich hot chocolate trickle past her lips, savoring the little remaining warmth that lingered as she stepped into the tiny back office. Gloved fingers slipped up into her hair, brushing away the stray flakes of new-fallen snow that had dusted it on her sprint from the Metro to the front door of the department store.

The mug was already growing cold, but she didn't have time to run out and refresh it. Not if she wanted to get this mending done ahead of her shift.

Fixing it wasn't entirely necessary—it wasn't like anyone else would really notice the tiny tear.

But she would know. And since Alya had extolled the virtues of doing this job—mostly financial—she was going to do it right. Besides, she hadn't come up with any better way to offset the cost of her growing trove of knits and fabrics for University classes and for as many gifts as she could manage to make before the holidays. Wrecking her only costume change seemed like a good way to lose her new job, as it could spoil the illusion.

There were little kids who'd be watching her, after all.

And there were few who knew better just how much little children looked up to her alter ego.

With a long sigh, and an equally heavy glance down at her bag, she muttered. "How do I still keep getting myself into these things?"

Marinette shook her head. She thought she'd been so careful when she'd tried the costume on for the required rehearsal. Yet, thanks to her usual klutziness, it had managed to snag.

It wouldn't be a stretch to think that Spandex could hardly hold a candle to her Kwami-based transformation. But still.

She slumped down onto the bench, wincing with the noise she made as she set the mug down. Her fingers gripped the uneven woodgrain of the bench before reaching into one of the lockers from the slim row lining the wall. The only thing it contained was the hanger that held the fragile red fabric of her 'uniform'.

Marinette worried her lip. The sheer prospect of that very thin material being the only thing to truly keep her true identity safe… was troubling to say the least.

It didn't help much that the fabric had actually torn while she'd been training with a young Human Resources intern not much older than herself.

It had been going so well. She'd been so sure that most of her own challenge would come in tamping down the banter she was exchanging with her mock partner. But thankfully, it wasn't a problem if her sharper wit should sneak out from time to time.

She was "playing" Ladybug, after all.

The easiest part would be helping out Santa Claus. She'd already done it once before… theoretically, at least…

But the real trick was yet to come. She'd have to play off of a new adversary: a Chat Noir she was entirely unused to.

Setting a determined pace, she let her fingers fly, allowing the calluses and muscle memory—and a very careful bit of pinning—do most of the mental work for her.

Mending complete, Marinette tugged the snug-fitting fabric on with only a few minutes to spare before her shift would start.

She glanced at her phone, noticing the notifications piling up from Alya. Messages she definitely wouldn't have time to read. Exhaling heavily, she dialed Alya.

"Marinette!" Alya's face popped up on the screen. "Girl! I feel like I'm more panicked than you are!"

Marinette chuckled, fidgeting with the silky mask between her fingers. "I mean I wouldn't say I'm not panicked… but I did get to practice things first."

Alya chuckled, arching a doubtful brow. "And you're sticking to the script, huh?"

Marinette's nose scrunched up, as she shifted her weight between her feet. "Well… I wouldn't exactly say that. But I have been watching the footage you caught for years, so I can wing it pretty admirably. At least, the guy I was practicing with thought so…"

Alya shook her head. "Let me see the costume."

Marinette blinked before panning the camera up and down her form. She still wasn't quite ready to put the mask in place with Alya's eagle eyes at the ready.

With a wolf-whistle, Alya winked. "I told you you'd be able to pull it off. I mean, heck, if Clara Nightingale could see it all those years ago, there's no one else who should doubt you."

Marinette smiled, ruefully. "Thanks for that."

"I'm serious, though." Alya tilted her head. "I immediately thought of you once I saw the advert in the store. I knew you wanted to pick up a little extra cash for the holidays, and retail isn't exactly ideal. But I figured at least one of the ritzier department stores might give you a little clothing inspiration for next semester. It was only after I dug a little further into the offerings for Seasonal help that I spotted the much better fit."

Marinette groaned. They all had been listening to her partner for far too long.

"It will probably be a little less stressful," Marinette grinned thinly. Probably.

At least the store was guaranteed to let her have a break whenever Ladybug was called away to protect Paris. The store was absolutely invested in keeping up as much of the ruse as they could to appease the shoppers' children.

"I'll be honest. I was going to complain to the store's marketing for failing to credit the Ladyblog for the idea after the whole debacle with Manon questioning why all the Christmas Displays were still using Elves after that one nasty Akumatization."

As had become the usual in Paris—when floundering for answers that required some particularly... magical solutions—the answer had been lifted straight off of the Ladyblog, from Alya's own suggestion some months prior; Paris's Heroes were always there to save the day.

Of course, she had actually been so busy continuing to save Paris that she'd entirely forgotten about that Akuma—and Alya's suggestion—because almost a year had gone by since that time.

Marinette chuckled, fidgeting with her gloves with her free hand. The Fall of Hawkmoth—of Gabriel Agreste—had only opened the doors for other threats to come knocking and plague Paris. But Hawkmoth's downfall came with some unexpected questions. It seemed that all of the children who had grown under his reign of terror had learned to question things—and loudly. Manon, just a little louder than most...

"Oh… You know Manon," she replied with a small smile, "No filter."

Alya snorted, ruthlessly. "Especially not anywhere near a live camera." She quirked her lips. "She wasn't wrong though. That Santa Claus wasn't exactly kind to that poor guy…"

A sympathetic wince slumped Marinette's red-spotted shoulders.

"I know Manon's unexpected question caught everyone off guard, but there was enough chatter at the time; I should know. I made a big post on the Ladyblog suggesting just who ought to replace them." Alya smirked at the memory. "It was big enough to go viral and hit the news. Though obviously only a few of the stores actually made a change," she grumbled, "You can be sure if they weren't wise and hiring you, they'd definitely still be hearing complaints from me."

"I wouldn't expect any less." Marinette grinned, gaze darting down to the clock on the phone. "But I need to go. 'Ladybug' is due to make her grand entrance in a second here."

Alya smirked back at her. "Guess I'd better let you bug out, then?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Call you back later, okay?"

"I expect to hear all the details!"

"Bye, Alya!"

Her phone quickly stowed away, and her locker combination spun, Marinette walked towards the door, pressing the mask adhesive to her face, quietly bracing for the battle to come.