Chapter Text
Ladybug arrived fifteen minutes after their agreed time of 10pm and Chat had the impression that she would have been out of breath were she in her civilian form. Fortunately, the suits gave them the stamina to avoid the embarrassment of being winded when running late for a training session.
“Late again, my lady?” he asked playfully. It was an ongoing joke between them that the one who was late had to bring snacks to the next training session and he was already looking forward to the snacks she owed him from last session’s tardiness.
“Ahh, I was in a good groove with a project that I’ve had creator’s block on for too long, so I lost track of time. I’m sorry, kitty. I brought croissants and hot chocolate, though!” she replied placatingly and knew from the look of glee on his face that all was forgiven.
“Ooh, and macarons!” he said with glee, but then scowled as she lightly rapped his eager hand reaching for one.
“Those are for after training, chaton. Have a croissant and we can do some sparring.” One disadvantage of when Ladybug brought the snacks was she had a specific plan for how to eat them. Were it up to Chat Noir, he would scarf down everything at once and slog through training on a full stomach of pastries and sugary drinks. Suppressing his cravings, he took one croissant (well, ok, maybe two would be acceptable? She didn’t stop him, so he reached for a third, quickly retreating from her glare) and tried to eat without choking or covering himself with flaky bits of pastry. It was hard being a carb-starved teenage boy with a hectic schedule and restricted diet!
With a long-suffering smile at his kitten-eyes, Ladybug placed the coveted third croissant in front of him before standing up and starting her warm-up routine. Having already warmed up, Chat tucked into his final pastry (three!), trying to enjoy the show of Ladybug stretching without it being obvious he was watching her.
The old abandoned warehouse was a perfect place for training, with the wide open floorspace for hand-to-hand combat practice and the maze of rafters and even a caved-in wall for climbing and rough terrain training. Being on a locked compound meant little chance of interruption and the movement to overseas production of much of Gabriel’s manufacturing meant that there was little chance of a sudden renovation and utilization of the building anytime soon.
“You wanna spar or just check out my ass all night, kitty?” she smirked through her spread legs as she stretched her hamstrings and Chat realized that maybe his sly observations weren’t as sly as he thought.
“Why not a little of both?” he jumped up and retrieved his staff from behind his belt, idly brushing crumbs off his suit and hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. At least Ladybug didn’t have as good night vision as he did, but then again, she had noticed him checking her out. They’d hung strings of fairy lights to given them enough light to practice without alerting potential security guards on the compound to any unauthorized use of this particular building.
Ladybug retrieved one of the metal poles they kept on hand for staff sparring and they went through a few warm-up practices. After a few months of weekly sparring, the muscle memory of these warm-up exchanges was engrained deeply and Chat found himself paying more attention to the way Ladybug’s pigtails bobbed each time she parried his attack until he felt a dull thwack and his right thumb started to throb.
“Me-owch!” he shook out his hand, trying to banish the smarting pain.
“Pay attention, chaton,” Ladybug chided, already positioning herself for the next form. He loved the fierce look she got in her eye when they sparred, but could perhaps do a little less with the exasperation when he got sidetracked by staring too long into those fierce eyes.
Shaking his head, Chat tried to get his head back in the game.
“You know,” he said conversationally as they went through the next routine, “I’ve been thinking of some more ways we could train to prepare for unique akuma powers.”
“Meaning?” She swept her pole across his ankles but he lightly leapt out of the way and brought his staff to bear down on her shoulder while her pole was swinging up. She managed to duck under his attack, but he saw one of her pigtails flip against his staff, marking it a close call.
“For example, remember Vertigo?” He caught her pole in his left hand as it swung toward his hip, but rather than capturing it, he deflected it and used the momentum to swing around to her back, bringing his staff across her chest and holding her back against his front, effectively pinning her arms against her sides in the process.
“Ugh, that one was horrible!” Ladybug dropped her weight (negligible though it was) and managed to snake one foot around his ankle, attempting to trip him up, but he wasn’t going to fall for that trick again. Lightly balancing his weight on his free foot, he pivoted, trying to keep his grip on her but she managed to writhe herself out of his grip even as he kept his footing. They backed up to size each other up once again.
“Well, if we simulated some of their powers, we could develop better strategies to combat them. I could bring a couple bottles of tequila and--”
“Terrible idea,” her fierce smirk reduced the bite of her critique. “Can you imagine trying to get back home afterwards? I’ve only drunk and transformed once and that was enough for me, thank you very much.”
“Ooh, lady, do tell! Did you end up in a dank alley somewhere?”
“Given the frequency of post-akuma battle timers wearing out, I am well familiar with most of the dank alleys in Paris.” Her smirk morphed into a cagey grimace. “No, kitty, I’m not going to relive my drunken shame for your amusement.”
“A-mews-ment?” he responded cheerfully as she launched a new set of attacks.
“Moving on,” she grunted as he bore down on her with a flurry of counter-attacks.
“What about Pixelator? You couldn’t use your right hand or your left leg!”
“You want me to fight you with half my limbs? How would that be fair?” In all fairness, they were evenly matched in most of their sparring practices.
“Well, I’d have a handicap, too, of course. I could be blindfolded, like when we fought Dark Knight!”
“Even without your sight, your super hearing would be more than a match for poor, hopping and yo-yo-less me.” Ladybug motioned for a pause in their sparring and leaned on her staff, smiling up at him.
“Well, there was Blackout,” Chat got a pensive look to him, then an idea struck. Sure, it would be fun, but how to get her to agree to the challenge…?
“What’s that sly smile for, kitty?” Her suspicions were already up. Chat had to tread this carefully.
“Well, my lady, I was just thinking of Blackout. Do you recall how helpless you were, stumbling around in the dark?”
“I don’t remember being quite that helpless,” Ladybug lightly scowled at her partner’s unapologetic grin. “And as I recall, cats need some light to use their night vision and you were just as blind as I for much of that fight.”
“But,” Chat held up a finger in remonstration, “I compensated quite well with my excellent hearing and smell. I think that fight pushed the balance back into my favor by a few ticks on the ‘who’s saved the other’s skin more times’ scales. Not that I’m counting.” His smirk implied that he absolutely was counting.
“Your point, chaton?” she asked dryly.
“Well, I’m challenging you to fight me blind.” He reached down and took the cloth previously cradling those sweet croissants, shaking out the crumbs with a little flourish of his wrist and presenting it to his lady. “It would be good training for you to hone your other senses, listen to your intuition and mind your footing when you can’t look down to check for—"
“And your handicap, minou?” she interrupted, primly taking the cloth delicately between her thumb and forefinger, not quite ready to accept the challenge but giving him the benefit of the doubt. “One hand tied behind your back probably won’t cut it.”
Chat laughed. “Not if I’m remembering your blind fighting skills correctly, no,” he agreed, earning him another huff of annoyance. “Well, since you’ll be blind anyways, maybe I’ll drop my transformation and take you on without the suit,” he threw out nonchalantly, maintaining a casual air by calmly inspecting his claws as a lady would her nails. Risking a glance in her direction, he felt a small thrill at the way her jaw dropped in astonishment at his choice of handicap.
“You – you mean, fi-fight me as your … civilian self? We couldn’t do that, I might hurt you!”
He laughed a full throated, rolling laugh that echoed off the cavernous walls. “I don’t think you would, little blind beetle. I happen to be fairly accomplished in combat even as my puny human self,” he claimed depreciatingly.
“Well, you’ve got one up on me, then,” she said frankly. “Without my miraculous, I have all the grace of a pigeon-toed duck. But honestly, chaton,” she eyed him appraisingly, “the miraculous lend grace, agility, strength, and protection! I’d be afraid I would accidently hurt you with my enhanced strength if you didn’t have the reflexes to dodge.”
“My lady,” it was hard to maintain his swagger when he wanted to wrap her up in a hug and kiss away all the worry in her eyes. She really did care about him, he knew, but every time she got that concerned look in her eyes, he found a little more hope that one day she would love him the way he loved her. “I’m fairly confident my reflexes can hold up against your blind attacks. But,” here was the tricky part; tread carefully, Chat, “if you feel that I’m at such a severe disadvantage, I’m happy to lay a little wager on the duel.” He couldn’t resist a little eyebrow wiggle and hoped it would goad her on rather than scare her off. At the very least, he was pleased to see the concerned look make way for a calculating suspicion.
“A wager?” she asked cautiously.
“Yes, my lady. If I best you with my weak, civilian muscles and poor, unenhanced reflexes,” he slumped and gave her a pathetic pout, which quickly morphed into a smirk, “you grace me with a kiss.” He took note of her eyebrow shooting up sharply and strove on through his challenge. “But, if you best me with your sightless skill and grace, I will refrain from all flirting for a month. I won’t even call you ‘Bugaboo,’ my sweet Bugaboo.”
“And you’ll refrain from eyeballing me during stretches?” she asked pointedly.
“Well,” he huffed, “sometimes the eye is drawn to…,“ that eyebrow was looking sharper and more skeptical “…Fine, I’ll use that very same blindfold if necessary,” he answered primly.
Ladybug looked down at the simple spotted handkerchief in her hand, then up to her partner waiting with bated breath. Her lips pursed in thought, but then her eyes fell on his staff and she smiled. “Ok, chaton, you’re on. But what are you going to use for a weapon?”
Chat Noir looked at his beloved staff in dismay. Of course, his transformation would remove his weapon, but he hadn’t been top of his fencing class for eight years running for nothing (well, until Kagami had joined the class, that is). Picking up a spare rod, he tested the balance. Not ideal, but it would do. For a chance to kiss his lady, it would be enough. He smiled and if he perhaps showed a bit more of his sharp canines than usual, who could blame his enthusiasm?
He gestured to the blindfold, “Cover those beautiful bluebell eyes, my lady, and let us begin.”