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“What in the—” he starts to scream. Hard. Hard.
Holy Jesus.
Holy Jesus hell Jesus.
Holy Jesus Christmas.
Why does she do this? She’s always doing this. She’s always doing the jumpscare, always staring at him with wide, neon eyes and a devilish smile, like her plan in her life is to get him to an early grave. Knowing his Kitty, that’s absolutely what her plans are when she’s smiling at him a touch too wide, a touch too sharply, a touch too interested in him. But god damn does it make his heart jump out of his chest, already pawing for the Ladybug miraculous he secures on the collar of his shirt.
It’s a typical night for him.
Somewhat.
This has become recently common in his house, ever since Lady Noire has been inviting herself over more and more often. At first, it’d been spooky, but she does it on purpose now. It’s downright sinister. It’s a miracle in itself that he hasn’t clocked her with the nearest hard object— ah, his pencil cup, how fitting— and sent her sprawling back into the Agreste gardens down below, all because his Kitty loves playing with his heart rate.
Adrien is seventeen, taller than most, with hard-earned muscles from his time spent being one of the superheroes of Paris that protect the city from Akumas. He’s filled-out in places that he shouldn’t be, given his age; he’s lean in the places that he shouldn’t be, either, given his civilian job as a model. Many people in his work consider him to be this defined because of his modeling job— many people in Paris consider his superhero counterpart to be this defined because he needs to be, and that the only reason why people think he’s older than he actually is is because he has a tenacity to stretch in front of cameras, muttering to himself about his bad back whenever someone attempts to interview him after an Akuma fight. People think he’s much, much older than seventeen when he’s got a frown on his face.
He’s tall. He’s old. He’s gotten multiple Akumas thinking that he’s in his late twenties, all the way he stands and positions himself and argues and fights. One hard look at an Akuma makes some of them cower— not as much as they cower when they see Lady Noire, of course, who spins her bo staff over and over until it’s blurring between her hands and she’s calling out how she’s always wanted to blast through someone’s torso and see them rip apart— but he’s got a good leash on it. When he’s Mister Bug, Lady Noire listens to him. Takes it easy. Doesn’t rip Akumas apart with her claws alone, because she listens to Mister Bug, because everyone sees him as a leader.
Older. Leader. Someone who knows what he’s doing.
Not right now, though. Nope.
Instead, Adrien all but climbs over his couch as he swallows down a fearful scream, falling behind his furniture with a shout, ducking for cover. It’s hard for him, given he has so much real estate on his legs and arms— honestly, he’s more noodle than anything else whenever he’s not suited up— he tries to curl into himself until he’s not as big as he usually is. Maybe if he hides as a ball, the scary thing will leave him alone.
But Lady Noire is having none of it, cackling out a laugh that sounds so much like her. “Sunshine—”
“Why are you doing this to me?” he calls out from his side of the couch. Curling smaller and smaller. “Why are you scaring me?”
There is someone in his room that was absolutely not there when he’d tried catching a glance before putting on his pajama shirt. It’s possible that she’s now looking at him with a frown mixed with a giggle, but now it’s just as possible it’s turned into a complete stare with how he continues to hide. Of course, he’s not entirely sure, because he’s busy being a coward after the jumpscare of the ages, nursing his bruised elbow that he hit against the floor after slamming himself behind the couch.
Talk. About. Smooth.
T-rexes patrolling Paris because Hawkmoth had a great idea to let dinosaurs re-exist after millions of years? Sure. No problem. He can handle that. It took him a few weeks for him to get the courage to eat chicken again, but that’s fine. Adrien can handle it.
Akuma that turns people into zombies? This is fine. He can do it. That’s child’s play. Parkour is never as exhilarating as it is when there’s someone trying to bite him through hexleather.
Lady Noire scaring the absolute shit out of him while he’s putting on pajamas? No. Can’t handle. Can’t do it. Not today, at least. He doesn’t even have his pants on, scrambling in his pajama shirt and boxer briefs with watery eyes, breathing heavy to get his heart rate back to normal.
“Counter argument: why is it that you’re never prepared for me to be here?” she snorts out. “Come on. I come here every day. Don’t be such a jerk-o-lantern.”
“Counter counter argument: why is it that you’re here now?”
That’ll get her.
“Because I finished with my homework. I had a billion and one things to do but I finished all of it and came running over.”
“Jesus Christ, Kitty,” he peeks from between the cushions. He’s gasping for breath, heart ricocheting in between his lungs as he looks at her. Scrunched up from creasing the middle of her hexleather domino mask, her eyes are violently neon. It’s hard to actually see her, given that the light in his room makes the world outside his windows impossible to look at, and she’s nothing more than a blurr. Just green eyes, following him as he scrambles to get up from behind the couch. Green eyes and a frowny mouth. “My god. You scared the hell out of me coming out of nowhere like this.”
“How?” Her tail lashes behind her. “I’m literally— Charming— I’m here every day! What, you want me to send you an email? A pigeon?”
“No. Maybe. That’s not important. I just… thought you weren’t going to be here today,” he tries, bluffing, terrified out of his mind. “Why are you here? Isn’t it a Monday?”
“Yeah, it’s a Monday. What about it, though?”
“You’re not usually here on Mondays. You’re busy on Mondays. You said you work the late shift at where you work on Mondays.” It’s usually his tiny little reprieve to do what he wants without a cute Kitty crawling through his window to badger him into socializing until the two of them are gasping in fits of laughter, but he loves it. It’s always so lonely without her. After all, it’s not like there’s anyone else in the house to keep him company.
“I may have dipped on my coworker. When I explained to him, he was so much more understandable. I have a shark pun for you, do you want to hear it? Okay, here goes—”
“Kitty.” He pauses. “Wait, what did you even tell him?”
“I told him I had a friend who didn’t have anyone to hang out with tonight. That’s why I brought a couple of things from a nearby bakery for us to share. Don’t look at me like I’m being weird, you know I spend all my Holidays with you if I can! It’s Halloweenie tonight, Sunshine—”
“—It’s pronounced Halloween—”
“—Halloweenie is cuter.” She’s doing her best to climb through his window, tail still lashing behind her as she does the world’s most beautiful balancing act on the ledge. She’s got most of her upper half already tipping over, teetering over the edge— that braid of hers, thick like rope, dangles as she tucks herself through the opening and kicks against the glass. She supports most of her weight on those strong arms of hers, claws gripping the ledge to flip herself inside. It’s a bit of parkour all on its own, and he watches, entranced by the smooth lines of her body rolling like water from how fluid she is.
She practically rolls through the window, reminding him of the skill of an acrobat. Hands still against the glass, using her core strength to stop herself from hitting her back against the inside part of the glass and accidentally shatter it.
She’s so smooth.
Bingo. Kitty has officially infiltrated his house.
An empty bedroom, population one, has now become population two. Adrien never seems to find himself feeling lonely whenever Kitty slips through his window and spends the entire night filling it with her laughter and her smile, full of sharp teeth and love.
“Pun time. Have you seen a ghost shark before?”
He rolls his eyes. “No. I haven’t. That sounds like a nightmare waiting to happen, though.”
“Me neither!” she sighs. “Last time I heard of it, they say he vanished into fin air!”
He hates. He hates. He absolutely detests that it was just shitty enough to get him to crack a smile. The way she bounces on her feet implies that she’s been waiting all day to tell him that one, and it’s the excitement that really gets him, bursting out into laughter hard enough to create tears. “That was terrible. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you— what does that—”
“It’s practically my birthday!” she announces, hands on her hips. That bag of hers swings against her hip, full and nearly exploding with content. Wow. The fact that she can do all of this without breaking a sweat or even wobble on her feet is so impressive. “That means you have to do what I want, including listen to my terrible jokes!”
Oh, hey. About that. “Oh, that’s actually a good point. When is your birthday, hypothetically?”
“Can’t tell you, Sunshine. You know that’s a government secret.” The hug that follows is almost a blur; one second Kitty is at the window, the next, she’s squeezing his middle hard enough to pop, right on the other side of his room. He knows she’s fast— the fastest Miraculous user, actually— but it’s all the more jarring whenever he’s out of his suit and paying attention to her as a civilian. She hums as she squeezes him, nose against his diaphragm, lifting him off the ground with ease. He’s worried about tipping over. “Anyway, as the resident black cat of Paris, and even though we don’t technically celebrate Halloweenie, this holiday is my day.”
Oh.
Oh no.
No. No. Wait, wait, that— no— Adrien can’t. Even as Kitty’s frown starts to morph into a smile the more and more Adrien puts the pieces together, he refuses.
“Wait. Hold on. Don’t do this. Tell me this doesn’t mean—”
“—it does—”
“—but I—”
“—there are no take backs—”
“—please,” he argues, weakly, rubbing at his eyes as her grin gets wider and wider below him.
“You signed up for this when you became my friend.”
“You never made me sign a contract for this.”
“It’s in the contract. You signed it. It’s there and you missed the claw-se.”
“What document? I never even signed anything. You’ve just been showing up! For, like months!”
“And it’s a good thing I’ve been doing it,” she muses. “Look at how lonely you would be without me near you?”
Okay. So? That’s irrelevant. He could’ve been at Nino’s house. Or Alya’s. Or even go hang out with Viperion— er, Luka— but that would require making eye-contact with Marinette, and he’s not sure he’s emotionally capable of seeing her while the two of them work behind the counter. Besides, if Kitty found out that he was willing to hang out with Viperion and not her, she’d start a tussle. Something tells him that Luka would end up with the brunt of the tussle, though. “Nowhere in our friendship does it state I need to watch a movie with you.”
“Not just a normal movie, Sunshine! You have to watch a scary movie with me.”
Good grief, he thought he’d have a normal Monday night. Why did he even bother? Even Marinette at school had been so excited about it, bringing pumpkin-shaped cookies for the entire class— awh, damn it, he should’ve saved it for Kitty. She would’ve loved the sugar crystals dyed in that orange color, he knows it. It’s miserable that he’d stuffed half into his face right in front of Marinette, trying to show that he really enjoys it when his crush pays attention to him. “Only if I get to pick the movie.”
“We’re not watching Jaws.”
“It’s apt! It’s our thing! Sharks are fun to watch!”
“No— well, yes, it’s our thing— but that’s not scary enough!” And with another hum, she giggles, putting him down and plopping herself on his couch. Adrien takes his time shoving himself into his pajama pants, grateful that Kitty isn’t one to look. She’s much more interested in Mister Bug, because of course she is, and even though the muscles are exactly the same, his Kitty has no recognition in her eyes. What a miracle. “Let’s watch something better. What do you think about watching The Ring?”
“No way.” And Adrien very much does not squeak. “How about Dracula? I can handle Dracula.”
“Mmm. Maybe. What about The silence of the lambs?”
“Oh, gross. No way. I won’t be able to eat meat for weeks. What if we watched Romeo and Ghouliet?”
“Boo. Terrible. Two out of ten stars.” But she’s cackling anyway, and that’s all that matters. “Okay, last offer. The shining.”
“Maybe something easier. How about Ghost Busters?”
“That’s not scary!”
“Cut me some slack,” Adrien tries, settling on the couch next to her. She’s taken hostage her favorite pillow, doing her best not to break his remote as she clicks the ‘on’ button; that frown of hers makes her face look a little squished. She’s so cute. “I need to sleep for school tomorrow, and I practically live alone. You think I want ghosts to keep me up at night?”
“Oh. No, don’t worry about that.” She waves him off. “I’m spending the night!”
Something breaks. “You… you’re going to spend the night?”
“Yeah. Duh. Halloweenie!”
“But you’ve… never spent the night.”
“I’m inviting myself over,” she winks. Tearing through her bag, she’s pulling out bags and bags of separated out cookies from the Dupain Bakery, and Adrien tries not to wheeze when he recognizes the logo. How close was she to go somewhere so specific? Oh god, does that mean she talked to Marinette? What if she went as a civilian— she saw Luka? And didn’t start a fight? How the hell did that happen? “I have brought snacks. And ideas to cook for breakfast! I’ll leave before it’s time for you to go to school, I promise. Can I spend the night? Please? Please?”
“I—”
“—I’ll take the couch. I pinky promise not to snore.” Her puppy-eyes are killer. Holy hell. “I just want to spend more time with you!”
Oh boy.
He closes his eyes. Counts to ten. Does his best not to collapse at the idea of Kitty and Marinette meeting. “Only if we don’t watch a super scary movie.”
She cheers. “Fine. Jaws it is, then!”