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"Oh, you're not seriously mad at me, are you, kitty-cat?"
Chat Noir huffed, fiddling with the rose he had been going to give her. He pulled up his legs from the edge of the rooftop and crossed them.
Behind him, she let out a giggle. "I'm sorry! I'm sure whatever you had planned was really sweet."
Despite himself, Chat Noir smiled. It wasn’t as if he was actually mad at her, and she knew that well enough. They had joked last week — when he had first told her about the Saturday-night ‘surprise’ he had planned — that it would be rather funny for Ladybug, the same girl who had been late to their last three dates, to accidentally arrive too early and ruin his plans.
And there she was, half an hour early, while Chat Noir was in the middle of decorating their picnic basket and hadn’t even yet laid out all the candles and blankets.
“You’re terrible,” he said through a chuckle. “The one time you don’t need to be early…”
“I swear I didn’t mean to.”
He half-turned to face her. She was grinning, and he had to turn back to the skyline to hide his own.
“I didn’t remember what time we agreed on!” she said. Her voice came nearer as she approached him, getting onto her knees and wrapping her arms around him. “But, hey, at least I wasn’t late.”
“I think you missed the point completely.” Nevertheless, he held up the rose. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
She took it from him. He felt her inhale by his cheek.
“I love you,” she said, rose in hand, tightening her arms around him.
“I love you, too.” He turned in her embrace. “I hope you’re okay with takeout kebab. I didn’t get around to making our sandwiches.”