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“Well, hop on on.”
Adrien swallows, biker helmet in hand and glances at Ladybug. She’s leaning onto the handlebar casually, one foot already on the foot rest while the other one remains on the ground to stabilise the motorcycle beneath her. At his hesitation, she pushes up the visor of her own helmet, blue eyes sparkling at him curiously. “What’s the matter?”
Adrien lets his eyes wander over that monstrosity of black and silver glistening coldly in the afternoon light. “When did you say you got your license?”
“Friday? First ride without my instructor” she leans back in her seat, the leather of her biker gear creaking softly. “Why? Have that little faith in me?”
“Uh-”
“If you don’t wanna do this, we can totally walk to André’s too.” The teasing tone has left her voice, her eyes soft as she leans over the bike to reach for his arm. “Just say the word.”
“No,” he shakes his head, the next words muffled as he pulls on the helmet with a determined huff “I trust you.”
He never expected the thing to be this loud. Being a Parisian Adrien has grown up surrounded by all kinds of traffic noises, but compared to the kind of annoying city scooters Ladybugs bike sounds like a dragon with a tooth ache. Even through the padding of the helmet the roaring is deafening, rising in volume every time Ladybug amps up the speed. The entire machine feels alive beneath him huffing and buckling over the cobblestone as if to shake him off. Clenching his teeth Adrien clings to his seat, eyes sternly fixed on Ladybug’s back as the streets of Paris blur around them. Any faster now and the thing is going to leave the ground for good, he’s sure of it. It’s only when they halt at a red light and he almost topples off that Adrien realises how tense he actually is. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding he flexes his fingers against the leather of his seat. Each of them has left a small indent.
“You okay back there?” Ladybug half yells over her shoulder, her voice fighting to be heard over the padding of their helmets and the noise of the street around them.
“Still here at least,” he replies, albeit a little shakily, “though I’m sure I got this close to collecting some flying miles when we passed that truck.”
He can’t really hear it, but from the way her shoulders shake he assumes she must be laughing.
“Sorry,” her fingers drum against the hand bar as she keeps her eyes trained on the traffic light, “maybe hold onto me next time?”
“What?” he yells a little louder than intended, unsure if he heard her right over the sputtering of the tuk-tuk next to them.
“I mean,” she yells back “it would be kind of awkward if I rolled up at André’s only to realise I lost you along the way. Would be inconvenient, don’t you think, having to explain my boyfriend flew off somewhere?”
“Inconvenient indeed,” Adrien mumbles, blushing. He still hasn’t gotten used to his new label, and he doubts he ever will, not with how it makes his stomach flutter every time she uses it.
“Well?”
Jumping slightly at her inquisitive tone, Adrien takes a deep breath and loosens his grip around the bike seat. Staying perfectly upright, he brings his hands to lightly rest on her waist. It’s like he can still feel the heat of her body through all the layers of protective clothing. His pulse stumbles. Any closer and he’ll be scorched.
“I-is this okay?”
Instead of an answer, Ladybug just flicks her wrist, reeving the engine and the bike howls and bucks beneath them. It’s loud enough to be heard all over the city, surely, loud enough to drown out his scream as he yanks forward, arms clamping around her middle while he buries his head between her shoulder blades. Their helmets clunk awkwardly, but Ladybug doesn’t seem to mind.
“Better,” she shrugs, the muscles on her back shifting against his chest. Adrien swears he can actually hear her smirk.
The light changes from red to yellow-red to green and again he can feel her move under his grasp. They glide forward, seamlessly weaving into the line of traffic. With their bodies flush against each other, Adrien can feel every turn or change of tempo before it actually happens. He can feel it in the way Ladybug’s stomach tenses before she speeds up or in the way her shoulders roll against his chest when she steers around another corner. He can feel it in the way her breath hitches when he pulls himself a little closer and in the violent jerk as she just manages to avoid a collision with the taxi pushing past them. Her body is soft and warm against his and his skin tingles, as if the vibrations of the engine have transferred to him. Adrien finds himself inhaling deeply, of course unable to actually smell her scent through the gear, but catching the softest echo of her strawberry-shampoo from the helmet she’s lent him. The low sun warms their backs and the motorcycle purrs beneath them like a satisfied cat. He almost feels like joining it. They slither through the rows of cars, going faster and faster. Houses and street lamps and people fly past them. And when Ladybug relaxes back against him, snuggling into his embrace, Adrien can’t help but feel like they’re at least floating a little too.