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He was only here to investigate the strange reports about heroes being in Paris, and yet, here he was, sitting next to his new found love.
He guessed Paris lived up to its name and reputation. It really was the city of love.
Just in a matter of weeks -two to be exact-, Damian had found himself love struck by the Parisan sitting next to him.
Marcel Dupain-Cheng - the son of a pair of bakers here in Paris, as well as an aspiring fashion designer.
At first, the two kept bickering and debating on whether the heroes of Paris were even capable of defeating Hawkmoth on their own, Damian clearly set on that they needed help.
“Red Beetle and Chat Noir don’t need help from outsiders that can potentially become a greater threat than Hawkmoth himself,” Marcel defended, referring to the possible catastrophe that would occur if anyone of the JL got akumatized. “And if Beetle ever needed help, he can simply recruit new heroes if needed.”
“Oh? So you’re saying that you don’t need experienced non-meta human help and rather rely on non-experienced civilians to help balance your odds against Hawkmoth?”
“That’s exactly what I’m- who told you?” Marcel asked Damian with a glare, Damian trying his best to not feel challenged by the rather tall male, a good foot difference if you asked him.
Marcel wasn’t exactly the best at hiding his identity as Red Beetle, despite their different behaviors. While Red Beetle was confident, cautious and stern, Marcel wasn’t. He was meek, almost shy, panicky and yet kind and filled to the brim with tenderness. He was strong, brave as well as strategic, the same qualities Red Beetle has.
But that wasn’t what confirmed Damian’s theory that Marcel was Red Beetle. It was the mere fact that Marcel was the only person in Paris who was the exact height of Red Beetle: 188 cm.
That’s right. His height gave away his own identity. To add on, Marcel was also the only teen in Paris with the same build as Red Beetle, having broad shoulders like that of a fully grown adult despite only being 16 years old.
At first, Damian didn’t know how that was possible until he met Tom.
It explained a lot.
After the unexpected reveal, the two talked about their night jobs, oftentimes glad to have someone to vent to about having to carry a big responsibility despite only being a teen. Or at least a heavy responsibility for Marcel.
“Earth to Damian.” Marcel sang, waving his pencil in front of him, prompting Damian to blink. “Are you with me?”
“Sorry, I was too busy watching you sketch that I didn’t notice I was left in a trance.” Damian said with a smirk, watching as Marcel burst into red, sputters escaping him.
Despite looking intimidating when alone, Marcel was the biggest softie and a flustered mess when complimented, something Damian always loved about Marcel.
“An-Anyways!” Marcel fumbled over his words, showing Damian his latest sketch. “I feel like something is missing, but not sure what exactly.” Marcel pointed over at the hem of the dress, his finger trailing over the plain hem.
“Maybe some lace,” Damian suggested, drawing a simple lace pattern next to the dress. “Or some roses, seeing as you made your model have one in her hair.” Damian proceeded to make a faux skirt on the other side and drew some roses at the hem, Marcel taking a few moments to appreciate Damian’s delicate work.
“Dami! You’re a genius!” Marcel squealed, pecking a kiss onto his cheek, giggling when he watched Damian look away, pink tinting his cheeks.
But despite the blush across his face, Damian turned back to watch Marcel add his suggestion to the design, watching as Marcel stuck out his tongue a bit as he leaned more into his book.
Damian let out a soft sigh, watching as Marcel wrinkled his nose before a smile took over his face.
Marcel… his beloved...
“ Habibi .” Damian softly said, watching as Marcel looked at him with those mesmerizing bluebell eyes.
“ Habibi ?” He repeated back, Damian realizing what he had said, feeling the tips of his ears burn.
“It-It’s nothing.”
“Come on Damian! Say it again!” Marcel requested, pouting as he waited for Damian to repeat it, his sketchbook now forgotten.
“I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Come on! One more time! I didn’t catch it the first time!”
“No!”
The bickering went on for minutes, Damian blushing once Marcel locked him into a hug, his back against his chest.
“Please Dami? Just one more time and I’ll never bother you again.”
After a long second, Damian said it again.
“ Habibi .” Damian sunk into the hug, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “It means beloved.”
At that, Marcel smiled, squeezing Damian even more.
“I love you too, mon bonheur .” Marvel said, leaning forward to kiss Damian on the cheek.
It was times like these that encouraged Marcel to defeat Hawkmoth because once he did, he’d get to spend all his time with Damian.
His beloved…
His habibi.