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It took Ladybug thirty breathless seconds for their hotel suite to come back into focus around them, and for her to fix the strap of her tank top that had fallen down her arm.
It took her another five to turn her head ever so slightly to look over at Chat Noir beside her, equally as breathless, and smile.
He smiled back.
And then they laughed.
It was one of those moments where the next morning she would never be able to make sense of what exactly was so funny, but there, in their hotel suite, both of them half tangled in bed linens and their flushes cooling off beneath their fake masks, it made all the sense in the world.
He managed to roll onto his side ( with what energy? she thought to herself), lifted himself onto an elbow, and kissed her. She could feel his breaths tremble against her lips as he pulled back.
"Are you tired?" he asked, not moving his face away.
She bit her lip. "Just a little sleepy. How about you?"
He drew an idle line across her cheekbone with the back of his finger. "Me too."
Moving was never an easy job for Ladybug on nights like these, but Chat Noir always understood. He lay back against the pillows and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her onto his chest so she didn't have to. His scent now accompanied her deep breaths. After so many times together it had set up a home in her lungs, one that had its door flung wide open just for him.
That was something he understood, too, which was why he didn't get up to shower right after, anymore. But that knowledge came to him less naturally — it took her grabbing at him sleepily on the fifth or sixth night and asking him to just wait until morning.
(When they'd go back to being just partners, a superhero team, and Ladybug wouldn't have her head on his chest at all, let alone care if there was anybody home in her lungs.)
"Can I ask you something?" he said. "You have to answer honestly."
"Yes, I'm good for round two, just give me a few minutes," she replied, not opening her eyes.
He laughed. "Not that." For a while, he rubbed her back through her tank top, then spoke again. "If I were to… start seeing other girls… would you be okay with that?"
Ladybug's eyes opened.
She wasn't that tired anymore.
No matter how much she wanted to, she didn't prop herself up to meet his gaze, opting to keep her stricken expression hidden but unfortunately missing out on how his looked, too.
"Oh?" she said after deliberately waiting until it didn't sound like too fast of a response. "A lucky lady caught your eye?"
"No," he said — short, sharp, to the point. It was one of the first times Ladybug knew his word was indisputable. "I just wanna know. Hypothetically, how would you feel?"
Unwarranted, the image of a girl — completely unknown to Ladybug except for the fact it wasn't her — curled up against Chat Noir's warmth popped up in her mind.
Ladybug's throat tightened, as if she were about to cry.
"If—if it made you happy…"
"Pretend you don't care if it made me happy."
"I can't just do that," she said, a bit louder than she intended.
"Okay, sorry, bad choice of words." He squeezed her shoulder. "How would it make you feel? Regardless of me."
He was asking so many difficult questions, when all she wanted to do was sleep.
Ladybug huffed, peeling herself off him and rolling over. "I don't have time for this."
"My Lady—" He began to sit up.
"Goodnight."
She could feel him watch her, and then sigh. The mattress dipped as he lay back down and, after the lamp on his side clicked off, the room turned black.
The darkness made it easier for a tear to slip through the corner of her eye.
She inched as far as she could away from him, pulling the duvet around her and burying her face into it. Ladybug took in a shuddering breath.
A few minutes passed of her covering her mouth with her palm and soaking more tears into the bed linens with her back to him. He said nothing. Nor did she.
Then, she felt him reach for her, until a careful set of arms cuddled her close.
There was that scent again. She leaned against the door in her lungs, put chairs in front of it as reinforcement.
It entered through the windows instead.
She cupped the back of his hand, which was around her waist.
"It would hurt," she said in a way that took away every reason for her to hide her tears. "It would hurt me a lot."
"I'm sorry, Bugaboo." He kissed her shoulder and held her tighter. "You know I'd never do it. Never ever. I just wanted to ask, because…"
She waited.
"...because I wouldn't be okay with you seeing other guys, either."
"S-so?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.
"I just…" He struggled. "If… if we hug… we kiss… we sleep with each other… we cuddle… we— we trust each other so much , and— and it'd hurt if either of us were to move on…"
She swallowed hard. He did, too.
"There are already strings attached," he whispered into her hair. "I'm in love with you."
Ladybug's heart pounded. She turned in his arms, blinking away her tears so she could get a better look at him in the darkness.
"You are?" she said.
"I always was."
She sniffed. More tears fell down her cheeks, smearing against his chin.
"I think… I think I'm in love with you, too."