Archive of Our Own

[ I've been here before

But always hit the floor

I've spent a lifetime running

And I always get away

But with you, I'm feeling something

That makes me want to stay ]

“Stop!” Ladybug throws her yo-yo, and Chat Noir dodges it easily, lips curving into a mocking smile. 

God, she hates him so much.

“And why would I do that?” He asks, purrs, voice low. 

“Because it’s illegal.” It sounds stupid even to her own ears. 

Chat Noir never cared about what’s legal and what’s not, about what’s right and what’s wrong. 

In fact, he laughs, bright and light. 

She wants to wipe the smile from his face so bad. 

Chat Noir finishes carefully rolling up the oil painting, sliding it inside a plastic tube and then slinging it across his shoulders. 

“You’re hilarious, M’lady.” 

Ladybug jumps forward then, she kicks and punches, and Chat Noir fights back, fending off every single one of her hits. He returns the attack, then, and it’s her turn to duck and dodge, taking a step back after another.

Chat Noir finally lands a good blow, a kick to her stomach that sends her stumbling backwards into a wardrobe. 

“Fuck.” She grits out, she can taste blood in her mouth. Chat Noir stands in front of her, leaning on his baton, that super annoying, shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Are you tired already, M’lady?” 

(She’s going to kill him for good one of these days.) 

She extends her leg out, wiping his feet from under him, sending him sprawling across the floor. She smiles, heart racing. 

Chat Noir looks up at her with wide eyes. 

“Are you tired yet, kitty?”
“You know I love it when you call me that, M’lady.” Ladybug scoffs, she wraps the yo-yo around him, reaches down to pull the tube from his shoulder. 

She’s not fast enough.

Chat Noir grabs her wrist, pulls, and then she finds herself on her back, all the air pulled out of her lungs. Chat Nor is on top of her, still tied up in the string of her yo-yo, so she pulls and together they roll in a mess of kicks and punches, yo-yo and baton crashing against each other. 

It’s messy, her heart races in her chest, adrenaline runs in her veins.

In the end, he manages to pin her down, clawed fingers closing around her wrists. 

They’re both panting, and he’s so close she can smell the scent of mint coming from him. 

“Why- why are you doing this?” She asks. “Did someone pay you?” 

“Indeed they did, to retrieve this masterpiece and return it to its rightful owner.” 

“So now you’re a burglar for hire.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed, M’lady.” Chat Noir purrs, leaning just a little bit closer, his breath ghosting over her lips. “It’s just business.” 

“You- you’re fucking unbelievable. “
“Thanks.” He smiles that charming smile of his, and Ladybug hates him so much. 

She points her feet, and flips them around, catching him by surprise, and now she’s on top of him. She reaches for his baton fast, rips it from his hand and points it against him. 

(She can feel the warmth coming from him, seeping through their suits.) 

“You should not be using the Miraculous for this!” 

(It’s a discussion they’ve had a million times.) 

“Should I use it to save little kittens from trees?” 

“You should use it to help me defeat Shadowmoth.” He just smiles, baring his teeth. 

“I love how righteous you are, Bugaboo.” 

Ladybug all but growls, reaches for her yo-yo to tie him up again. 

She moves quickly, standing up, and pulling him up with her. 

“Don’t call me that.”
“But you look so gorgeous when you’re angry, Bugaboo.” 

She ignores him. 

(She tries to.) 

She reaches for the tube again, pulling it away from him. 

“I can’t let you take that, M’lady.” Chat Noir says, fists clenched, and voice low, dangerous. It sends sparkles down her spine. “I gave my word.”
“Is that supposed to impress me?”
“It should.” 

“Right, c’mon, let’s get out of here.” She says, she’s pretty sure the entire house is already awake anyway by now, it’s not like they were being quiet. 

(Chat Noir never shuts the fuck up.) 

She climbs out of the window where they came from, drags him with her, still tied up in the yo-yo string. 

Except, as soon as she has one foot out, he jumps. 

“Chat Noir!” 

She sees him grin, and it happens fast. He runs past her, jumping through the window and ripping the baton from her hand, and the string comes undone, he rolls in the air and she pulls at the yo-yo, but she’s not quick enough. He twists in the sky, extending his baton, and suddenly he’s coming at full speed towards her. 

She jerks back, getting out of his way right before they can crush into each other, but then he’s pulling the plastic tube away from her, and fuck, fuck, fuck-  

She throws the yo-yo, flying after him after him, but he’s already gone. 

“Shit.” She lands on the roof of the house. “Fuck.” 

The yo-yo beeps, signaling a new message. 

See you next time, M’lady.

(Followed by the stupid emoticon with the kissy face.)

Ladybug hates him so much. 

***

Marinette doesn’t understand him. She never did. 

Ever since they met for the first time, almost three years ago, she’s been trying to understand him. 

Chat Noir, who, like her, was entrusted a Miraculous to fight against Shadowmoth. But, unlike her, decided to use it for his own purposes. 

Chat Noir, who fights by her side as much as he fights against her. 

Chat Noir, who employs his powers for money, who can be bought and paid off, who doesn’t fight for anything and against everyone. 

(Sometimes, she thinks that fighting is the only thing he knows how to do.) 

She doesn’t understand him.

Chat Noir and his magnetic looks, the touches that leave her skin tingling, her heart racing.

Chat Noir, who can leave her breathless with a charming smile as much as with a precise hit. 

Chat Noir, who kisses her hand, intertwines their fingers together, pulls her close, only to put distance between them. 

Chat Noir, who is volatile, and confusing, and makes the ground under her feet feel unstable and rocky. 

Chat Noir, who is always smirking, tongue sharp and eyes dark. 

Chat Noir, who was supposed to be her partner, and instead left her alone to fight an enemy that’s nowhere and everywhere all at once. 

She doesn’t understand him, and she hates him, and he drives her insane, and sometimes she wonders what he’s really like, behind the mask, behind the empty smiles and guarded eyes. 

She doesn't understand him, and she doesn't understand the invisible force that seems to pull her towards him, that makes her crave for his touch, his presence by her side. 

(Yin and yang.)

She doesn’t understand why he’d leave her to fight alone, and she hates him for it. 

***

This is Ladybug’s favorite time of the day. 

The sunset, when Paris is washed in pinks and reds and golds. The city looks beautiful, her city, the city she’s sworn to protect.

She sits on a roof, her knees pulled close to her chest. The roof is tucked away between two walls, hidden from prying eyes, and it’s her favorite spot in the whole city. So she sits there, and she basks in the sunlight, feels the warmth through the suit. 

“M’lady.” 

(God.)

He sits down beside her, feets dangling over the void. 

She looks at him, studies the relaxed lines of his body. 

“Are you here to fight?” He doesn’t seem to want to, for once, but she asks anyway. He shakes his head.

“No.”

“How did you even find me?” 

“I saw you from above. I was just passing through here.”
“Yeah, right, have you been spying on me?” 

“Always so distrustful, M’lady.” He turns to her, grinning, green eyes sparkling and blonde hair catching in the sunlight. 

“Can you blame me?” His grin grows bigger, emptier.

“No, I guess not.” He looks back at the city. “No akuma today.”
“Not yet.” She replies. “I’d appreciate it if Shadowmoth hurried up, so I could get it over with.” “Only you could be hoping for an akuma attack, M’lady.” 

(Insane, he drives her insane.)

“I’m not hoping for it, you idiot.” She spits out. “But he attacks every day, I’m just waiting for it-

“Calm down, M’lady, it was just a joke.”
“Well, it wasn't funny.”
“It was, you’re just too high-strung to notice.”

(Fighting, always fighting.)
“High-strung?” She half-growls. She stands up, and he stands with her, that stupid grin plastered on his face. “If you came here to insult me, then feel free to leave, you stupid alley cat-

He takes her hand, bows down, blond hair flopping over his face. He takes her hand, and presses his lips to her knuckles. He takes her hand, and she forgets what she was talking about.

“Forgive me, M’lady.” He looks up at her, straightens up again, and pulls.

He pulls, and she goes, his other hand sneak around her waist, and God, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-

“Forgive me, M’lady, you just look so beautiful when you’re angry.” 

(It’s enough to pull her out of her stupor.)

“Well, then I’m about to become really fucking gorgeous.” She says, and she squeezes his hand. He smiles at her, and she uses the grip to throw him over her shoulder, flipping him around so suddenly he’s sprawled over the roof. 

She leans down, doesn’t try to hide the smile pulling at her lips. 

“Tell me, kitty, am I still beautiful?” 

“Even more so, M’lady.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

(She ignores the warmth spreading in her chest.) 

He stands up, using the baton as support. He leans on it, tail curling behind him. 

She leans against the wall, tucks a blue stand behind her ear, just to have something to do with her hands. 

“So, why are you even here?” She asks. 

“I was just strolling around.”
“No crime-doing?” 

He laughs.

“No, no crime-doing, M’lady.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” 

“You’re just gonna have to, I fear.” He steps closer, rotating the baton between his fingers before placing it on his back again. 

(She’d lie if she said she wasn’t staring.)

(And it’s like he can read her mind.)

“See something you like, Bugaboo?” He purrs, voice low.

She hates him.

(She knows she’s blushing.)

“You wish, kitty.” He steps closer again, and she can smell the scent of leather and mint. “And don’t call me Bugaboo.” 

And his smirk grows bigger, he leans closer, and he’s about to say something, when something explodes in the distance.

She pushes him back, standing on the edge of the roof, her eyes scanning over the city. She sees the smoke coming from some building to her right. She turns back to Chat Noir, leaning against the wall, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like Paris wasn’t literally under attack.

“It’s the akuma.”
“I imagine it is.” 

She pauses, hesitates, just for a second.

“Are you coming?”
“Do you want me to?”
(She hates him.)
“Don’t bother.” She says between her teeth, doesn't even try to keep the anger out of her voice. “I know you only fight for yourself.” 

She throws the yo-yo, and she’s about to jump, when his hand closes around her wrist. 

“What?” 

“It’d be rude of me to let a lady fight an akuma all by herself.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ damsel in distress, I don’t need you-

“I know.” He bows again, pulling her hand to his lips. “But you want me there, don’t you?”
(As if she’d ever admit it.)

She pulls her hand free. 

(Push and pull.)

“Let’s see if you can keep up, kitty.” 

She jumps, and she doesn’t turn to look at him, but she knows she’s behind her, and that he’s got her back. 

(Yin and yang.)

***

It’s raining. 

Drops of water fall from his blond hair, run down his cheeks. 

It’s dark out, it’s the middle of the night, but the lights of the city are bright enough that she can see the darkness in his eyes. 

He’s restless tonight. 

(He’s restless always, but tonight-

(Tonight something is different.)

“So?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest. She feels uneasy, being so close to him, but not fighting. 

“We need to talk.” 

“About what?” 

He looks away, shoulder tense. His fists close around the railing behind him, and he looks- 

Scared .

(Something gives in her chest.) 

(She knows she’s going to regret it.)
“Are you okay, Chat Noir?” 

He looks at her, eyes attentive and focused. His gaze burns on her skin.

“Worried about me, M’lady?” He grins, and it’s a pale imitation of his usual smiles. 

“You don’t look too good, kitty.” He looks away again. 

Something is wrong.

She steps closer, then, and her heart races in her chest, her throat is tight. 

“Tell me.” She says, and his fists clench and something dark shines in his eyes, something she can’t place, can’t name.

“It’s about Shadowmoth.” 

Her heart drops.

(Dread curls in her stomach.) 

“Do you- are you working for him?”
She asks, because she’s always wondered, and she- she needs to know. 

But he shakes his head.

“No, I- it’s not like that.”
“Then what about him?” 

He pauses, hesitates.

“I know who he is.” 

“You- what?” 

“I know who he is.” He repeats, and his voice shakes, and he won’t look at her. 

“How?” 

“I can’t tell you.” 

She laughs, scoff.

“Then why should I trust you?”
He exhales.
“I know we’re not friends-

“You’re damn right we’re not.” 

“I- I guess I deserve that.” He runs one hand through his hair, and he turns around, his back to her. “But I can’t tell you.”
“I don’t trust you, Chat Noir.”
She sees his shoulders tense.

“I know.” He glances at her, and she sees the mask slipping, just for a moment. “But I can take you to him.” 

“You- you know where he is? Right now?” 

(After all this time, three years, after everything -

“Yes.”
(It can end.)
(She can finish this once and for all.)

“How did you find him?”
“I can’t tell you that either.”
It’s probably a trap. It feels like a trap.

“And you- you have to promise you won’t hurt him more than necessary.” He says, and that’s-

That’s surprising.

“Hurt him? He’s Shadowmoth, he’s a terrorist, a criminal, and you’re worried I’m gonna hurt him? Is this a joke-

“It’s not a joke.”

“He killed people, Chat Noir. Real people.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, running his hands over his face and through his hair, again. 

“I know, okay? Trust me, I fucking know.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?”
And for a long second he doesn't answer, and the only sound comes from the rain hitting the roof.

“Please.”
Oh.

“You know him, don’t you? You know him personally.” 

“Ladybug, just- just trust me, okay? Just-

“ No.” She steps forward, and he flinches, and he doesn't look like the Chat Noir she knows. 

(He looks broken.) 

“I will ask you again.” She begins, and he doesn't look at her. “Do you work for him?” 

And she knows that maybe she’s pushing too much, that Chat Noir already looks like he’s about to fall apart, that the mask has already slipped and cracked but she-

She has to be sure.

(It all feels so unsteady.)

He shakes his head again.

“No.” It comes out in a whisper. He meets her eyes then. “You have to believe me.” 

She does.

God help her, she does.

She takes a step back, and he seems to breathe, tension leaving from his body. 

“Talk.” She says, voice low, dangerous. 

“I can’t tell you.” He says for the millionth time.

“Why?”
“Because- because if I do- well, shit, if I do then you’re gonna figure out who I am.” 

She inhales. Exhales.

“Alright.” 

“Alright?” 

(It’s probably a bad idea.)

(Definitely.) 

“Take me to him.” 

He looks up at her, eyes wide.

“And you won’t hurt him?”
She doens’t answer.

“Ladybug, please.”

( Push and pull.)

“I won’t hurt him.” She concedes, and his shoulders relax. “Not more than necessary.” 

“Alright.” 

He holds one hand for her to take.

“You better not betray me, Chat Noir.” She says, and his lips curve into a smile.

(Small, real.)

“It's you and me, M’lady.” 

(Yin and yang.)  

“Let’s go then.” She takes his hand.