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Dangerous Games	By : Cat_Eyes Category: +M through R > Miraculous LadyBug Views: 11603 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Miraculous Ladybug. Miraculous Ladybug is the intellectual property of Thomas Astruc and released by Zag studios. No profit was made writing this story.

Chapter List
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Adrien walked to work alone every day that week. Finally able to begin work at a reasonable hour, he had been looking forward to travelling with Marinette again, but her ire had not cooled at all in the last five days. She headed off without waiting for him, reckless in her fury. Her stalker was still at large, and could have been waiting around any corner to attack her.
Adrien had been forced to consider the fact that Luka may not have been the stalker, after all. After some background checks, Luka's story had checked out, providing a solid alibi for his story, if not his actions. Adrien was now forced to keep an open mind, but the possibility still remained.
Tensions had been high since the three of them had their spat. Chance encounters in the lobby or elevator were unavoidable, but the air was thick with resentment and loathing. Adrien itched to punch Luka in the face, and was certain the feeling was mutual.
By Friday evening, the rain forecasters had been promising all week had settled in. The sound of the downpour smothered everything else, obscuring the view outside the windows into a grey blur. The rain also brought an unseasonable, yet welcome reprieve from the heat. The temperature dropped several degrees in a matter of hours, to everyone's relief.
Yet Adrien sat on his lounge, deep in thought, with his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbnail caught between his teeth. The world outside faded to white noise as he considered his options.
'What are you scowling at now?' Plagg asked, dropping to hover in front of Adrien's nose.
Adrien reared back, sucking in a sharp breath. 'Jesus Christ, Plagg. You almost gave me a heart attack.'
'At least you would've been pulled out of this brown study. What's crawled up your arse this time?'
Adrien sat back with a frown. 'Nothing.'
Plagg merely waited with one brow raised and his arms crossed.
With a sigh, Adrien relented. 'Marinette's been avoiding me for days now. She can really hold a grudge, and I'm worried something will happen to her if she keeps this up. What if something happens and I'm not there?'
'Did you forget that she's Ladybug? She doesn't need you to rescue her. Come on, tell me the truth now. What's really eating you?'
Adrien grabbed fistfuls of his hair, clenched his jaw, and groaned in frustration. 'It's Luka. Don't roll your eyes at me. You know as well as I that there's something weird about him. Just because I don't have proof yet, doesn't mean it's not him.'
'So, what're you going to do to get it?'
Biting his lip, he looked up at Plagg with a guilty light in his eyes. 'Transformè moi,' he cried.

Chat Noir clung to the façade of the apartment block, staring intently down at Luka's windows. The lights flicked out one by one, until they were completely dark. A few minutes later, Luka emerged to appear on the stoop, popping open an umbrella before walking away, his guitar case slung across his back.
Carefully, Chat Noir scaled down the brick face, pausing once he landed on Luka's balcony. Testing the door, he scowled when it didn't open. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered inside. There was nothing to see but floor to ceiling clutter. Curling his lip in disgust, Chat Noir crept along to look in the next window.
Pushing the pane, Chat Noir found this one slid open easily. Suppressing a triumphant whoop, he wriggled in through the narrow opening, to land with an undignified skid on the bathroom floor. He caught the basin, knocking over a line of men's products as he righted himself. Swearing under his breath, he placed them back where they were, hoping he got the order right. If Luka was anything like other male models he'd met, he lined his products up in order of routine. But then, Luka wasn't a model, nor did he appear to be as fastidious.
Chat Noir screwed his nose up at the labels on the bottles.
I wouldn't be caught dead using this garbage, he thought.
Relying on his night vision, he examined every inch of the bathroom. It was a filthy job; mould grew in every corner, dirty clothes and towels hung over the rails and littered the floor, and there was a musty odour in the cupboards. However, his search yielded no results.
Not surprising, for a bathroom, he assured himself.
Easing the squeaking door open, Chat Noir looked down the hall to the living room. He slithered out, and crept down the short hallway, a shadow among many. Outside, the rain continued to pour, loud in the silence of Luka's apartment.
Streetlights added a small amount of illumination, aiding Chat Noir's search. Somewhere, an old clock chimed the hour.
The stacks of junk, piles of books, and heaps of dirty clothing were an unwelcome obstacle. He bumped into them, almost knocking them over in his moments of carelessness. He cursed Luka's poor housekeeping and obvious hoarding habits.
He was as thorough as he could be in the overcluttered loungeroom, but found nothing incriminating. With a sigh, he moved into the kitchenette.
While the benches were as overburdened as the rest of the place, the cupboards were startlingly bare. He had a small collection of plates, bowls, and glassware, but little in the way of food. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes, the tap dripped, and there was something fuzzy growing on the edges of a plate. The smell was enough to steer him away from the area.
Looking under the sink, he found a leaky pipe, more mould, and a discarded wrench. Chat Noir snorted at Luka's inability to see a task through to its completion.
There was nothing of interest in the drawers, nor the fridge, though it at least had several boxes of takeaway and another unidentifiable smell.
'No wonder you couldn't afford to live on just your band wages,' Chat Noir grumbled. 'Don't you know how to cook? It's not that hard.'
He closed the fridge, before quickly scanning the top of it, only to find a thick layer of grease and dust.
Disgusted, he turned to head back down the hallway. He inspected the linen closet as he passed, noting the neatly folded stacks of dusty bedclothes, tea towels, and washcloths.
Probably hasn't been touched since his mother helped him move in, Chat Noir theorised.
His search had taken him far longer than he would have liked. Glancing at the display on his baton, he saw that it was already after midnight. With a start, he realised he had no idea what time Luka came home.
'Knew I should've taken better notice of his schedule,' he berated himself.
Giving the stacks of things in the hallway a cursory once over, Chat Noir then turned to the bedroom. Reluctantly, he stepped forward.
The closet to the right was overfull with hastily stored clothing and musical paraphernalia. Neither the doors, nor the drawers, closed properly. Chat Noir was amazed Luka still had clothes left over, after all he had seen strewn throughout the apartment.
Chat Noir searched the floor first. It was carpeted with more clothes and towels, left to gather dust and filled the room with a musty odour. He gagged at the sight of a mouldy sock, left to grow into an independent lifeform under a pile of damp towels.
The closet was so packed with things, it was near impossible to penetrate. Chat Noir grit his teeth, and began pulling out armloads of clothing and miscellaneous objects. Once he had cleared some space, he inspected the closet, reaching to the back and knocking on the wood. The sound was solid, indicating the absence of a hidden section.
'What, did you expect to find Narnia in there?' he asked himself, when he felt the first niggling wave of disappointment.
He shoved the things back into the closet in the best order he could remember. Taking a step back, he realised it probably wouldn't make a difference. To him, it looked just as chaotic before he started messing with it.
Looking at his baton again, he saw it was almost two o'clock. He shook his head, wondering how he had lost two hours.
'Quickly, quickly.'
He peered under the bed. To his dismay, he saw the space was filled with boxes. Shaking his head, he pulled out one by the foot of the bed. Most of them were filled with crap, from broken guitar strings to favoured childhood toys. In a box hidden behind the others near the head of the bed, he found something promising.
In amongst seemingly random objects, Chat Noir found photos of Marinette, dating from when she had still been a schoolgirl in pigtails, right up to this year. Luka had thoughtfully dated each picture. Examining the other items closely, Chat Noir found a hairbrush still with dark strands caught between the bristles, a bottle of pink nail polish, a page of handwritten sheet music with Marinette's name at the top, and a pair of lacy underwear in need of a wash.
'That sick son of a bitch,' Chat Noir gasped.
Carefully, he replaced the items, then took a photo of his evidence with his baton, nearly blinding himself with the flash. He put the box back where he found it, then turned to the bed.
It was an unmade mess, the dull, grey sheets pushed down to the foot of the bed. Lifting them up with his thumb and forefinger, Chat Noir shook them out gingerly. Unidentifiable flakes drifted down, settling back on the bed. Chat Noir curled his nose and covered the lower half of his face with his free hand.
With an exclamation of disgust, he threw the sheets aside. His attention was then caught by a square of white unearthed by his exploration. Picking it up, he turned it over to see another photo of Marinette. She was younger, laying on a deckchair on the prow of a ship, wearing a pink bikini. The picture was smeared with a crusty substance Chat Noir did not want to think about.
'You sick fuck,' he growled.
The sound of a key turning in a lock echoed throughout the apartment. The sound of rainfall had diminished to a faint pattering, making the sound louder than it should have been. Chat Noir felt his heart stop, then surge up his throat as the front door creaked open. He stuffed the picture back under the sheets, then leapt toward the window. He tugged on the frame, only to realise it was locked. Swearing under his breath, he found the catch and scrabbled at it for a moment before he noticed the entire window had been painted shut.
What kind of dumb-arse paints a window frame so carelessly? he thought.
He had to abandon that route of escape when he heard a thump in the loungeroom. Carefully, he crept to the bedroom door and peeked out, his back pressed against the wall. Luka had turned on the loungeroom light and was moving about, apparently unpacking after his night out.
Furtively, Chat Noir slipped out of the bedroom, and hid in the corner amongst Luka's piles of garbage. Luka entered the bathroom, leaving the door open while he relieved himself. Chat Noir extended his staff until he reached the ceiling. Using his claws, he clung to the highest part of the wall, concealed in the shadows, as Luka emerged to enter his bedroom. Chat Noir had never been more thankful for humanity's habit of never looking up.
Slowly lowering himself back down to the floor, he crouched and used the stacks as cover while he made his way to the bathroom. The stench of urine permeated the air, choking him.
Creeping on silent feet, he approached the still open window. A sudden, loud thud behind him made him jump, but when he turned, there was no one there.
Luka muttered darkly in his room, cursing some inanimate object for not staying where he had left it. Chat Noir heaved a deep sigh of relief, then caught the edge of the small windowsill.
He was just about to pull himself up, when Luka stumbled back down the hall. Chat Noir hid behind the shower curtain as Luka stumbled into the bathroom. He staggered toward the toilet, then heaved violently. Chat Noir clapped a hand over his mouth, suppressing his own gag reflex. He never could stomach other people being sick.
'Marinette,' Luka moaned. 'Look what you made me do.'
Disgusted and perplexed, Chat Noir stood completely still, listening hard.
Luka heaved again. 'I loved you, you bitch. You could love me, too, if you gave me a chance. You bitch.'
He said no more, but vomited for another minute until his stomach was empty. Luka then staggered to his feet, brushed his teeth, then went to bed. Chat Noir heard the mattress springs protest at the sudden weight dropped on them.
Chat Noir wasted no more time. He scrambled up and wriggled out, fleeing home as fast as he could.
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Dangerous Games