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On a Tuesday evening in March, Luka sits in his room and stares at the bouquet of guitar picks that Chat gave him for Valentine’s Day.
His head rattles with a flurry of emotions, different tunes all clashing together. He hasn’t been able to write music in over a week. He’d tried just now, but his fingers only managed to pluck a few notes before the cacophony in his head forced him to put his guitar back on its stand.
Lately, his feelings for Chat are too chaotic to capture in a song. And that scares Luka. Of the few times he’s fallen for someone, this has never happened before.
Fiddling with a pick from the bouquet, Luka glances at the guitars lined up along the wall. Next to his electric and acoustic guitars is a new addition, one he acquired a few days after Valentine’s Day: an old handmade guitar from Spain, which was a souvenir Adrien brought back after his father dragged him along on a business trip.
A suspicious coincidence, given that the exact same thing happened to Chat.
Picks and a guitar, and a string of coincidences that Chat hasn’t even tried to explain away. Are those intentional clues? Or is Luka giving Chat too much credit?
By now, Luka is almost certain that Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir. Aside from the more general similarities—their homelives, their fathers—there have been too many specific coincidences to ignore.
Take New Year’s, where Adrien texted Luka to ask where he was, only for Chat to appear a few minutes later. Or Valentine’s Day, when Chat was out of the country until almost midnight, and then ditched his father and assistant at the airport to come visit Luka. Coincidentally, Adrien was also outside the country around that time, and was grounded for an unspecified stunt he pulled at the airport.
More recently, Luka had been surprised that Chat didn’t visit for Mardi Gras, until he saw on Instagram that Adrien had a photoshoot that day. When Luka texted Adrien to ask how it went, Adrien responded that he was too exhausted to move—which would explain why Chat didn’t show up for that holiday.
One thing bothers Luka, though: the fact that Chat still hasn’t come back to visit. As Chat left on Valentine’s Day, he’d promised Luka that he’d visit before the next holiday. And Luka thought that was progress. He thought maybe they were moving beyond this holiday kiss gimmick.
Apparently not.
Yes, Chat is probably Adrien, and Adrien has visited Luka a few times since Valentine’s Day. But that doesn’t count, because Chat hasn’t actually told Luka that he’s Adrien. As far as Luka is concerned, Chat hasn’t visited him, which means he didn’t keep his word.
Luka is increasingly tempted to pick up his phone and text Adrien, We need to talk. But he doesn’t want to scare Adrien away, and he doesn’t want to risk the slight chance that he’s wrong about Chat’s identity. So instead, Luka is doing what Couffaines do best: sitting and brooding.
He turns the blue-green pick over in his hands, watching it shimmer in the lamplight. After months of waiting for Chat’s courtship to end in something, Luka can’t shake the fear that it’s going nowhere. Chat is sweet; he’d have trouble letting someone down. Maybe he hasn’t come back because he hasn’t figured out how to tell Luka that it’s over.
Luka sighs. He knows that kind of thinking isn’t productive, and that it’s better if he stays optimistic—in fact, that’s the exact advice he gave Juleka when she wasn’t sure if Rose liked her back. But he’s finding it hard to take his own advice. He can already tell that he’s going to write at least five songs about heartbreak if Chat turns him down. How is he supposed to stay optimistic, when he can already hear melancholy melodies swirling in his mind?
And then, even if Luka never has to interact with Chat again—which is unlikely—there’s still Adrien to worry about. Adrien, who will doubtless remind Luka of Chat every time they’re together. Luka will wonder if Adrien’s eyes are Chat’s every time they look at each other, will wonder if Adrien’s lips are ones that Luka has kissed every time they talk to each other.
It will fade, eventually. That’s what happened with Marinette. But for a while, being friends with Chat and Adrien will hurt, and Luka is bracing himself for the pain.
He’s pulled from his thoughts by a quiet rapping on his window. He almost thinks he’s imagined it, but when he turns to look, he sees a familiar green-eyed face peering inside.
Pocketing the guitar pick, Luka stands and crosses over to the window. With a deep breath, he pushes it open and allows Chat Noir to poke his head into the room.
Chat’s clawed fingers grip the sill as he boosts himself up, dangling his arms through the window. Luka notices there’s something green balled up in one of his fists.
“Uh,” Chat says. “So…it’s St. Patrick’s Day.”
Oh. That explains why some of the local businesses were lit up green last night.
“Do people even celebrate that?” Luka asks.
He’s reminded of a time he asked Chat a similar question, when Chat visited to celebrate Thanksgiving. That was almost four months ago, back before the novelty of Chat’s visits began to wear off.
Chat smiles uneasily. “I’m not sure. I saw five tourists wearing leprechaun hats and getting drunk at a pub, so I think that counts.”
Luka nods. He can’t bring himself to smile at Chat’s joke. “Is that why you’re here? Another holiday?”
Chat winces. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d come back sooner.”
“You did,” Luka says. He’s trying to keep his voice calm, but it’s hard. He remembers how electric he’d felt after Chat kissed him on Valentine’s Day, how relieved he’d been that he wouldn’t have to wait another month to see Chat again.
A month. When Luka really thinks about it, it’s a little unbelievable that Chat could give him a kiss like that and then disappear for a month.
“I’m sorry,” Chat repeats. His ears are downturned, his brow scrunched in a frown, and Luka guesses that his tail is probably drooping behind him. “I…it’s…I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t keep my word.”
“Did you come back sooner?” Luka asks, taking a step toward the window. “Because I don’t want to think that you went back on your word, Chat, but you’re asking me to make some big assumptions about your secret identity.”
Eyes wide, Chat opens his mouth and closes it. For a foolish moment, Luka wonders if Chat will blurt it out and resolve the whole situation. Just a few words: I’m Adrien Agreste. Then Luka would know that Chat didn’t break his promise, and that the two boys he likes are the same one.
Finally, Chat asks, “Can I come in?”
Luka steps back, giving Chat room to get down. “Sure.”
Chat slips through the window and lands as gracefully as ever, though his movements are jerkier, more hesitant. Almost immediately, his eyes land on the bouquet. “Oh,” he says. “You…you still have it.”
“Of course I do,” Luka says.
Eyes darting around the room, Chat tugs at the green thing in his hands. It’s balled-up cloth of some sort, and Chat is kneading it like a real cat. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and Luka bites his tongue to keep himself from saying stop apologizing. “I—there was something I wanted to tell you last time, but I didn’t, because there wasn’t enough time, and I got distracted when we…”
He turns his face away, but Luka can still see a blush tinting his cheeks.
“That’s okay,” Luka says.
Chat nods, still not looking at Luka. “I didn’t want to come back until I was ready to tell you—but then I wasn’t ready—and now it’s been a month, and it’s a holiday, and I knew I had to come back, but I still…”
“Chat,” Luka says, touching one of his hands. Chat pauses, fingers scrunched in the green fabric he’s holding. “You don’t have to say anything you’re not comfortable saying.”
Even as he says it, Luka knows that he doesn’t quite mean it. He wants Chat to spit it out already. They’ve been running in circles for months, and he’s tired of trying to divine what’s going on in Chat’s head.
But Luka’s trying to keep that thought to himself, because the last thing he wants to do is make Chat feel pressured.
Chat squeezes his eyes shut. “I need to say some of it. Because the song you wrote for Valentine’s Day was clear, and I—I haven’t done a good job of being straightforward.”
No, Luka thinks. You definitely haven’t.
“Okay,” Luka says. He squeezes Chat’s hand. “What do you want to tell me?”
Chat takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. They shine brightly in the soft lamplight of the room, sharp and neon compared to the yellow glow. The sight steals Luka’s breath away. “I wanted to tell you…that is…”
Luka waits patiently, even as his heart beats faster and faster. Finally, some reassurance to make up for the months of wondering.
Then Luka sees it: the moment the courage drains from Chat’s eyes, the exact second he retreats behind his mask again.
Chat pulls his hand away from Luka’s and folds his arms. “Did you—did you know that the city of Chicago dyes its river green for St. Patrick’s Day?”
Something inside Luka snaps, like a guitar string drawn just a bit too tight. And he might have five strings left, he might not be completely done, but he definitely can’t keep playing like this.
“No,” Luka says, voice flat. “I didn’t know that.”
Chat cringes, and Luka’s instantly tempted to smooth over his words. He could take them back and say he’s just tired, and that could be the end of it.
But Luka is tired of shoving his insecurities aside just so that Chat doesn’t feel bad. It’s been months. He deserves some sort of answer. Some sort of confirmation that this isn’t just a game to Chat.
“Chat,” Luka says. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret, and I don’t want to start a fight. But I don’t know how to get this across. Should…should I play my feelings? Is that stupid?”
“I—whatever you want,” Chat says. Shoulders hunched, he tosses the bundle of green cloth onto Luka’s bed.
Knowing he’s too upset to play, Luka glances at his electric and acoustic guitars, and next to them, the guitar that Adrien gave him.
“My friend gave me that guitar,” Luka says. “He’s cute. Do you think I should ask him out?”
Stop, Luka thinks. Those are the wrong words. Those are definitely the wrong words. He won’t gain anything by being snarky or confrontational.
Chat lifts his shoulders in a weak shrug. “Like I said. Whatever you want.”
“Chat, no,” Luka says. “I want to know what you want.” Hesitantly, he steps forward and takes Chat’s hand. His stomach drops when he feels Chat’s fingers limp and unresponsive against his. “I’m not mad. But I can only read people so much. At a certain point, I need you to tell me what you’re thinking. I’m not a mind-reader.”
“You’re not mad?” Chat says. Slowly, he intertwines his fingers with Luka’s, and Luka breathes a sigh of relief. “Because if you are, I understand. I would be, if I were you.”
“No,” Luka says. He takes Chat’s other hand and holds it tightly. “I’m not angry. I’m frustrated. I—how do I put this? Lately, every time I want to write music, I don’t know if it should be a song about love or a song about heartbreak. And I’m tired of not knowing.”
Chat is silent for a moment, and Luka wonders if what he just said even made sense. Then Chat’s body twitches, a slight forward movement—and that’s all Luka needs to know that he should open his arms.
As soon as he does, Chat throws himself against Luka and buries his face against his shoulder. “I’m scared,” Chat murmurs. “That’s the problem, Luka. I’m a coward, so I keep playing stupid games, and I keep hurting you, and I’m sorry.”
Luka wraps his arms more tightly around Chat. Scared. He can work with that. That’s a concrete emotion, something Luka can actually understand.
“Okay,” Luka says quietly, his fingers rubbing the nape of Chat’s neck. “Chat, that’s okay. We can talk about that. And you didn’t hurt me. It’s just…sometimes, this feels like something you don’t want to commit to. That’s fine if it is, but you need to tell me.”
“What? No,” Chat says. He tightens his grip around Luka. “Luka, I want to commit. I’m just afraid to.”
“Can we sit?” Luka asks. “Is that alright?”
Gently, Luka guides Chat over to the bed and sits next to him. It occurs to him that the few times he’s fantasized about getting Chat in his bed, this wasn’t really what he was thinking of.
“Can you talk to me?” Luka asks. “Why are you scared?”
Avoiding Luka’s eyes, Chat grabs the ball of green cloth and bunches it up in his hands. “I’m scared I’ve messed up. With my secret identity, I mean. And I’m afraid of coming out—especially to my father. And…” His head hangs low, cat ears tilted downward. “It’s stupid, and pathetic, but I’m afraid of my feelings.”
“That’s not stupid or pathetic,” Luka says. Then he pauses to collect his thoughts. He’s never been the best at talking to people about their problems; he’s more of a listener, really. But Chat needs him to say something. “Let’s take those things one at a time, alright? We can start with the secret identity problem.”
Chat groans, hiding his face in the green cloth. Luka glimpses some sort of graphic printed on it, maybe a letter or something. A t-shirt? He’s hard-pressed to say what a t-shirt has to do with St. Patrick’s Day, but he supposes Chat will explain it eventually.
Luka rubs Chat’s back. “It’s okay. Take your time.”
“I messed up,” Chat says, voice muffled by the cloth. “I mean, you can probably guess who I am, right? I wasn’t careful, and the coincidences…” He mutters a curse. “You’re smart, Luka. And I’ve been careless. If you don’t already know, then we’re only one or two slip-ups away from you figuring it out.”
Is Chat confirming what Luka’s suspected all along? Is he Adrien? He still hasn’t said it outright, but what else could he mean?
“I have a pretty good idea,” Luka admits. “But Chat…I don’t mind knowing your identity. Why are you afraid?”
“I don’t know,” Chat says. He lowers the cloth from his face, though he still won’t meet Luka’s eyes. “I mean, I could lose my Miraculous, maybe. Civilians aren’t supposed to know my identity. And, well, I don’t know. What if you thought I was somebody more exciting? Civilian-me is boring, Luka.”
Luka reaches out and rests his hand atop Chat’s. “I can’t imagine that you suddenly become boring when you take the mask off.”
Chat shrugs and doesn’t respond.
“Look,” Luka says. “If I find out your identity, it was an accident. You’ve never actually told anyone your secret. No one’s going to blame you for this.”
“Ladybug will be mad,” Chat mutters.
“If she’s mad, I’ll talk to her. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Chat squints at Luka. “Visiting someone who I know as a civilian and compromising my identity? I’m not completely innocent, Luka.”
Well. Luka has to admit that what Chat has been doing is a little ridiculous. “Alright. So you did a dumb thing. But we’re teenagers, Chat. We make mistakes. I’m sure Ladybug has made a few of her own.”
An almost imperceptible smile tugs at Chat’s lips. “Maybe.”
“Okay,” Luka says, hoping they’ve dealt with that problem. Chat seems calmer, his posture less tense, and he’s no longer anxiously squeezing the ball of cloth. “What about your other fears?”
“My father,” Chat whispers. “I don’t know how he’ll react to me liking guys. I don’t think he’ll personally mind, but he really cares about my image. You know, the potential scandal if people started gossiping about his son being…” He hugs his arms to himself, and Luka’s tempted to wrap him in another hug, except he doesn’t want to invade Chat’s space. “Even the thought of telling my friends is scary, and don’t get me started on the paparaz—I mean—um—people who don’t like me.”
Paparazzi. That must be what Chat was about to say. After all, if Chat is Adrien, it makes sense that one of his biggest fears would be how the press handles him having a boyfriend.
Luka hesitates. He’s not sure he knows what advice to give Chat. Sure, he’d helped Juleka when she was struggling with her feelings for girls, but this is different. Juleka isn’t a celebrity with hundreds of thousands of followers. Juleka isn’t chased by the paparazzi every time she goes out in public. And Juleka doesn’t have an overbearing parent who insists on her maintaining an image.
Sighing, Luka picks up Chat’s hand and holds it in both of his. “Honestly, I don’t know what advice to give you. I don’t know how to deal with your father or people who gossip. But I promise I’ll help, Chat. I won’t let you face those problems alone.”
Chat nods. His eyes are shining, and Luka’s hands twitch, ready to wipe away tears should they fall. “Thank you,” Chat murmurs. “That means a lot.”
Luka waits, and when Chat doesn’t say anything else, he asks, “What about your feelings? Why are you afraid of those?”
For a long moment, Chat doesn’t speak. Luka rubs a thumb up and down Chat’s hand, trying to soothe him. He needs Chat to trust him. He needs Chat to tell him what he’s thinking, because Luka doesn’t think he can guess.
Is Chat afraid of liking a boy? Or is he afraid of liking Luka specifically? Now that Chat mentions it, Luka has sensed fear almost every time Chat visited; he just didn’t have a name for the emotion.
There’s always been some reluctance on Chat’s part, a sense that he was hiding. Luka remembers how that changed on Valentine’s Day, when he finally felt close to Chat, almost like someone had suddenly turned the volume up on a quiet speaker. Now, though, it feels like Chat has withdrawn again.
“I was in love with Ladybug,” Chat finally says, staring at his lap. “And those feelings went away eventually, but they hurt. A lot.” He takes a shaky breath before continuing. “After Ladybug, I was hoping it would be a while before I fell for someone again. Because—” His voice wavers on the last word, and he cuts himself off.
Luka squeezes his hand. “Because?”
“Because I’m scared of getting hurt again,” Chat says. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m stupid. I face supervillains on a daily basis, and I’m afraid of…of a crush, essentially. It’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not,” Luka says, though he’s not sure Chat hears him.
“I think that’s why I’ve treated this like a game,” Chat says. “I didn’t realize it at first, but I didn’t want to admit this was serious. I didn’t want to be sincere. I was sincere with Ladybug, and for the longest time, she thought I was joking. So…I guess I thought that if I was joking, it wouldn’t hurt as much if you said no.”
Luka grits his teeth. He wants to pull Chat into the tightest embrace of his life, wants to kiss him senseless to show him how much he cares. But Chat hasn’t signaled that he wants that, and so all Luka can do is squeeze his hand even harder. “I never said no,” Luka says.
“And I was afraid of that!” Chat says. “Was it a game for you? I told myself that was fine. Then we could both just be playing, and no one would get hurt. Except I didn’t want it to be a game—but I was the one who started it, and—and then I realized I could still get hurt.” He yanks his hand away from Luka and hides his face in his hands. “I don’t know anything about love or relationships. I’ve never been good at understanding my feelings. But it hasn’t been a game for a while, Luka. In fact, I don’t think it was ever a game.”
“Chat,” Luka says, softly. “It’s not a game for me, either.”
“I know,” Chat says. “I’ve suspected that since the start, and on Valentine’s Day, I knew for sure. And that scares me, Luka. I haven’t been able to put it into words because I’m not good at sharing my feelings. It’s just…I didn’t want to hurt you, but I have. I’m despicable.”
“You’re not,” Luka says. “I told you earlier, you haven’t hurt me. I was worried, and a little annoyed, but I’m not hurt.”
At last, Chat peers over at Luka. A tear rolls down his cheek, and Luka instinctively reaches out to catch it on his thumb.
“I don’t want to be the reason you write a song about heartbreak,” Chat says.
“Listen,” Luka says, cupping Chat’s cheek with his hand. “If I ask you to be with me, you don’t have to say yes. You’re not responsible for my feelings, or how many angsty rock songs I decide to write.”
Chat laughs, even as another tear slips from his eye. “Would you name one after me?”
Luka snorts. “What I’m saying is, I’m not asking for a certain answer. I’m just asking you to tell me where we stand. I’ve been trying to go with the flow, but now I need some direction.”
“I want to say yes,” Chat says. “I promise, I’m going to.”
“You don’t have to promise—”
“I promise,” Chat says. He twists his body to face Luka and takes both his hands, holding them up between them. “I’m going to say yes. I just need to…get to a place where I can say yes.” Eyes wide and insistent, he leans forward. “And I keep my promises. Luka, I told you I’d visit before the next holiday, and I did. You know I did. I was too afraid to come back as Chat, but I didn’t break my promise.”
“I don’t know that for sure,” Luka murmurs. After all, Chat still hasn’t said that he’s Adrien. “Chat, I just don’t want you to make a promise that you end up not wanting to keep.”
“I want to keep it,” Chat says, squeezing Luka’s hands so tightly he’s worried his knuckles might pop. “I want you, Luka. I really do. I just need more time.”
Despite his doubts and concerns, Luka feels his stomach flutter at those words. I want you, Luka. When has anyone ever told him that, really? Never. No one’s ever held Luka’s hands like this, or looked at Luka like this, or spoken to Luka like this.
Desire. That’s the emotion Luka can feel most clearly right now, radiating off Chat. Chat isn’t lying when he says he wants Luka. He’s not playing any sort of game.
Of course, Luka knows that it’s dangerous to give Chat more time. This could get drawn out for months, even years while Chat tries to figure out his feelings. But Chat’s life is already so restricted. Luka doesn’t want him to feel pressured by a romance.
“I understand,” Luka says. “You don’t have to rush anything, Chat. I just need to know that this is going somewhere.”
“It is,” Chat says.
“Okay. So…” Luka glances at the ball of green cloth on his bed. “What’s the excuse this time?”
Chat bares his teeth in a grimace. “Not very good.” Cheeks pink, he grabs the green cloth and holds it in his lap. “Um, so, there aren’t really any kissing traditions for St. Patrick’s Day. At least, not that I know of.”
Smiling, Luka says, “That didn’t stop you on Thanksgiving.”
Chat laughs. “Anyway, according to my research—”
“You did research?” Luka says, raising his eyebrows. “I guess I shouldn’t have questioned your commitment.”
“That’s right, chéri,” Chat says with a wink. The pet name makes Luka’s cheeks warm. “Anyway, from what I’ve found, a lot of people—especially Americans—just use St. Patrick’s Day as an excuse to wear green and get drunk.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?” Luka asks, frowning. “Wear green and get drunk?”
“Well. I suppose a bit of the first one.” Chat unrolls the balled-up cloth, finally revealing that it’s a t-shirt. It’s flipped over, though, so Luka can’t see the graphics on the other side. “Don’t laugh. I did my best.”
Luka watches as Chat slips his arms through the shirt sleeves. “So, what does a green t-shirt have to do with kissing?”
“Uh, there’s a joke that I saw on a lot of St. Patrick’s Day merchandise.” Chat bends forward and pokes his head through the t-shirt, further ruffling his messy hair. “In my defense, I’m aware this is a weak excuse.”
Cheeks pink, he tugs the shirt over his chest and sits up. Luka holds back a laugh as he reads the text, accompanied by a graphic of a four-leaf clover: Kiss me, I’m Irish.
“I said not to laugh!” Chat says, tail lashing. The buckle slaps Luka’s arm, stinging slightly.
“Sorry,” Luka says. Another chuckle slips past his lips. “It’s just—Chat, are you even Irish?”
“Somewhere between one and two percent,” Chat says. “I looked it up. My father was very impressed that I was taking an interest in our ancestry.”
“Did you tell him it was just so you could kiss a boy?”
Chat rolls his eyes. “I could leave now, you know.”
He starts to stand, but Luka grabs his wrist and tugs him back onto the bed. “Not yet. You still haven’t told me why I’m supposed to kiss you for being one percent Irish.”
“One to two!” Chat says indignantly. “And I’m not sure. I think it has to do with the Blarney Stone. Kissing it is supposed to be good luck, but if you can’t go to Ireland to kiss it, then someone who’s Irish is the next-best thing.”
“Are you sure that being one percent—”
“One to two,” Chat insists, pouting.
Luka laughs. “Are you sure that being one to two percent Irish outweighs the fact that you’re a black cat?” Hesitantly, he leans closer, his hand creeping onto Chat’s thigh. “If anything, I’m pretty sure that kissing you is bad luck.”
Chat’s fingers slide up Luka’s chest and dig into the fabric of his t-shirt. “Didn’t you say you have relatives in Scotland?” he asks. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a little Irish, too.”
Luka shrugs, even as his pulse speeds up. “Probably a little.”
“So, if I’m so full of misfortune…maybe I’m the one who needs to kiss you for good luck.”
“I’m not wearing the shirt, though,” Luka points out.
“Do you want to wear it instead?” Chat asks. The mattress dips as he shifts his weight, swinging one of his legs across Luka’s lap to straddle him. “I can take it off, if you want to put it on.”
“Hm.” Luka slides his hands under the shirt and up Chat’s sides, preferring the feel of warm leather beneath his fingertips. “That seems like an elaborate plan to get me shirtless.”
“Is it working?”
“No,” Luka says. He laughs at Chat’s forlorn expression. “Maybe I’d consider it, if we were dating.”
Chat’s claws tickle Luka’s skin as he cups his cheek. “That’s not fair.”
“Chat,” Luka says, doing his best to sound stern. “I agreed to wait. I didn’t agree to act like we’re something we’re not.”
“Sorry,” Chat says. His claws trail down Luka’s jaw and send a shiver across his skin. “So, about that kiss…”
Luka grabs Chat’s waist and pulls him closer. “Still not convinced. I’m not really feeling the St. Patrick’s Day spirit yet.”
“That’s not surprising,” Chat says, smiling as he leans forward. His green eyes fill Luka’s vision. “You know, they say St. Patrick drove all the snakes out of Ireland. I imagine you’re not a fan of his.”
“Are you?” Luka asks, because he’s not sure what else to say.
“I can’t say I am,” Chat says. He tilts his head forward, brushing his lips against Luka’s. “You see, I happen to quite like snakes.”
Luka takes that as his invitation. Closing his eyes, he leans forward and presses his lips to Chat’s.
At first, the kiss is awkward. Chat is more hesitant than usual, and he seems to be holding his breath. There’s unease in every centimeter of his body, from the way his fingers hover near Luka’s cheek to the way he won’t quite let their bodies touch.
“Chat,” Luka murmurs. “Relax. You’re allowed to touch me.”
For them to actually get together, Chat needs to spell out his feelings. Luka’s not going to play chords underneath a melody he doesn’t know; he needs something clear, definite. A firm answer. But he’s also not going to hold Chat at arm’s length just because they’re not officially together—honestly, he doesn’t have a strong enough will to do that.
Chat blinks, pupils dilated. “I—right. Okay.”
He wraps his arms around Luka’s neck and tugs him back into the kiss. This time, his movements are more confident, and the kiss feels comfortable. Familiar. In moments like this, Chat doesn’t put up a front. He opens himself up to Luka, lets Luka hear the song in his heart, and for a few fleeting seconds, Luka feels like there isn’t a mask between them.
Continuing the kiss, Luka snakes an arm around Chat’s waist and presses their bodies together. In response, Chat settles his weight on Luka’s lap, his tail wrapping around Luka’s waist. And in that moment, Luka is tempted—tempted—to take off his shirt like Chat suggested, to feel Chat’s claws against his bare skin. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t daydreamed about it.
And that’s when Luka realizes that he didn’t really think this position through. Because Chat is sitting on Luka’s lap. Chat is wearing tight leather, and Luka is wearing tight jeans, and…well. Luka doesn’t have to be a genius to realize how that’s going to end.
“Chat,” Luka mumbles, as Chat pulls away slightly.
Chat’s lips ghost down Luka’s throat. “Hm?”
“Maybe—” Luka sighs as Chat presses his lips to his shoulder. “Maybe this isn’t the best position for two guys wearing tight pants?”
Chat yelps. His face flushes dark red, and he scrambles off Luka’s lap. “I’m so sorry. I, um—I wasn’t trying to—uh.” He flops down on the bed, covering his face with his hands. “I wasn’t thinking. I swear, I’m not…um, you know. Yet. Sorry.”
Luka touches Chat’s arm. “I didn’t mean we had to stop. I just thought we should put some space between certain body parts.”
“Honestly,” Chat says, still hiding his eyes. “That might not make a difference. I feel like I’m on fire every time you kiss me. If we keep going, then eventually…” He groans. “I’m sorry, Luka. I don’t have much self-restraint.”
That’s not surprising, since Chat is probably Adrien. He’s always struck Luka as a bit touch-starved and repressed. But…
I feel like I’m on fire every time you kiss me. Luka finds himself smiling at the thought. He hadn’t realized he had that sort of effect on Chat. It’s a nice ego boost.
“That’s okay,” Luka says. He pats one of Chat’s shoulders. “We don’t have to continue.”
If Luka’s being honest, though, he doesn’t mind if something embarrassing happens. He’s comfortable with Chat. He trusts that neither one of them will judge the other if they get too enthusiastic.
“Do you want to continue?” Chat asks, peeking out from behind his fingers. “I’ll behave myself.”
“Will you?” Luka teases. “Or will I have to drive a snake out of my bedroom, in honor of St. Patrick?”
“Snake?” Chat echoes. “What do you…” He gasps and sits up, pointing an accusatory finger at Luka. “Luka! That was a dirty joke!”
“I guess it was.”
“How very untoward of you.”
“Don’t tell your father,” Luka quips.
Chat snorts. “He’d have a heart attack if he knew I was in bed with a boy talking about snakes.” Then he starts cackling. “Banish my snake. Really, Luka?”
Luka feels his cheeks heat. “I was trying to make you feel better.”
Gripping his abdomen, Chat wipes a tear from his eye. “I—I know, and it—that was very cute.” He chuckles again. “But I’d rather not risk it. Um, could we maybe cuddle, instead?”
It wouldn’t be the first time Luka and Chat have cuddled. In fact, Chat had fallen asleep curled up against Luka back on Halloween. But premeditated cuddling is beyond their usual games. Really, that sort of thing is in dating territory, which Luka told Chat was off-limits until they’re officially together.
But how often does someone hold Chat and treasure him? Luka can tell Chat craves touch from the way he always leans into the slightest contact, and the way he stares at Luka’s hands like they’re some sort of rare instrument.
Chat needs this. And if Luka is being honest, he needs this, too: to feel Chat in his arms, real and warm, to know that Chat is his.
Is that greedy? Possessive? It might be. Luka’s never felt like this, not even when he had a crush on Marinette. It must be the fear of Chat sneaking away that makes Luka so desperate to hold onto him.
“We can do that,” Luka says.
In answer, Chat pushes Luka so that he’s lying down and then curls up against him. Sighing, he flings one of his arms across Luka’s stomach and presses his face to Luka’s shoulder, stray hairs tickling the exposed skin of Luka’s neck.
Within minutes, Chat’s breathing slows down, and Luka’s pretty sure he’s asleep. He scratches the spot behind Chat’s ears and smiles when a purr begins to rumble in the air.
“You really are a cat,” Luka murmurs, fingers tracing Chat’s jaw.
Despite his jokes, he doesn’t really believe in good or bad luck, although he does wonder if Chat’s Miraculous imbues him with some sort of misfortune. So, well…if Chat really does have a sliver of good luck in him, that would be nice. Luka wants things to work out between them, and it would help if luck was on their side.
Closing his eyes, Luka lets the sound of Chat’s purring chase away the ugly songs in his mind. And with the thrum of Chat’s chest, and the softness of his hair, and the weight of his body, Luka realizes: this is real. They don’t need luck to make this work. They just need time.
As Luka slips into sleep, he decides he doesn’t mind giving Chat more of that.