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She’s not sure when it started, but Ladybug is beginning to think she has a problem. She’s also not sure when exactly Chat Noir became so huggable.
All she knows is any chance she gets, she extends her moments with him.
He’s just so warm and sweet and comforting! And it’s not like he doesn’t do the same with her. So sue her if she doesn’t shy away from holding his hand anymore! Is it such a problem that she finds her partner comforting?
She can’t begin to find a reason it’s a problem when her partner slides his hands around her waist from behind, burying his face in her shoulder. She absentmindedly reaches up, putting her hand in his hair. He makes a contented hum.
“Is something wrong my lady?” He asks.
“No, why would you think that?” Her hand begins playing with the soft ends of his hair.
“You seem stressed. Like you’re trying to puzzle something out.” His head lifts from her shoulder and she nearly whines in frustration. God, why is she so tactile all of a sudden?
“Just thinking, nothing wrong.” She tries to reassure him, leaning back against his chest. If he won’t come to her, she’ll have to go to him.
“If you’re sure.” Arms readjust to pull her closer, and Ladybug sighs. Why did she think this was a problem again?
—-
“How long have you been dating Chat Noir?”
Oh right, that’s why.
The reporter shoving the microphone in her face wasn’t one she had spoken to at length. She imagined that was why he felt so okay with asking her this question.
“Chat Noir and I have a strictly platonic relationship. We’re superhero partners, we’re not dating.” She crossed her arms, observing the reporter’s reaction.
“Fans would like to know why there have been an increasing number of photos and videos of the two of you in so called ‘coupley poses’?” He just was not giving up.
“We’re friends, and we’re very comfortable around each other, a necessary aspect to fighting akuma’s. Now, do you have any questions on any other topics?” The reporter shook his head. “Then I’ll be going.”
She gave a mock salute and swung her yo-yo, taking off.
—-
It’s common for them to be more touchy after a particularly bad akuma battle. Or that’s what she tells herself.
Because if Ladybug couldn’t launch herself at her beloved partner after watching him die, she doesn’t think she could handle it. She jumps into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips. He catches her immediately, his arms going to support her.
“I’m okay, you saved me.” He whispers as she presses herself against him. She nods, and slowly lowers herself back to the ground.
But she keeps her hand on his forearm. She needs to feel him alive, needs to feel his warmth.
If she’s touching him more than a platonic partner should be, the reporters don’t say anything, and neither does he.
—-
She thinks he’s noticed her need to touch him.
She thinks he’s noticed the way her hugs are just a moment too long, the way her hands stray towards his, the way she keeps their fingers interlocked.
She just hopes he doesn’t think anything of it.
Because unfortunately, Ladybug has realized she is very much in love with her super platonic partner. And she doesn’t think he feels the same way anymore.
The realization hit her at such a terrible time too. Chat Noir had been trying to give an answer about how they had been doing their best to prevent akumatizations, and she had brushed her fingers against his. Only for a moment, but she’d lingered more than she should have.
And when she’d done that, it clicked.
She nearly screams now when she thinks of it. All those lingering touches, the too long hugs and the more than chance brushing of fingers, were because she loved him.
And how exactly was she supposed to deal with that?
She couldn’t afford to slip up, couldn’t afford to be awkward around him. It would be dangerous for the fights, not to mention he’d be hurt by it. And she doesn’t want to hurt him.
She lets out a sigh.
“What’s troubling you my lady?” Of course he found her now. It was like he had a sense for whenever she was distressed.
“Nothing, just thinking.” She replied, turning. He was watching her, clearly concerned. Unfortunately for her, he also looked cute when he was worried.
“What’re you thinking about?” He sat beside her, and, almost automatically, Ladybug put her head on his shoulder.
“Reporters.” She blurted.
“Oh, is this about that interview you gave the other day? I’m sure they’ll get it eventually.” Her sweet, thoughtful chaton. At least he didn’t guess why she kept thinking about it.
“Maybe.” She said noncommittally, reaching over to his hand.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” He looks at her, studying her face. His lips are pursed and his brow is furrowed in confusion.
“I’m fine.” She tells him.
—-
He’s definitely noticed. She knows he has.
She’s seen the way he’s been questioning how much her touches linger, the extra hand holding and the too long hugs. That’s not to say he hasn’t leaned into each and every one. He’s even initiated some of the too long hugs, been responsible for some of the extra hand holding. His touches linger too, but the problem is he knows hers do.
So she tries to reign it in.
Tries to hug him the exact right amount of time. Tries to drop his hands as immediately as she can. Tries to keep her fingers from interlocking with his, no matter how perfectly they seem to fit together.
However, now she has a new problem.
He’s definitely noticed the lack of her touches, and seems to be determined to find out what’s wrong. Every patrol he’ll ask if she’s okay, if something’s bothering her, if he can help. And he’s so sweet, so good, so caring, but right now she cannot handle him being sweet and good and caring.
It just makes her fall deeper.
And that’s not fair to him. She knows he’s moved on, she’s heard him talk about the girl he loves. And she knows it’s not her. So she has to stop these lingering touches.
“Alright, what’s bugging you?” Chat Noir stops their patrol. His arms are crossed and he looks surprisingly serious.
“I-”
“And don’t say nothing. I know something is going on, you’ve been… different,” He reaches out, grabbing her hand. “I just want to help.”
“It’s nothing you did chaton. I just… I’ve realized…” She can’t say it.
“You can tell me anything.” He’s so sincere she might cry.
“I might have,” She takes a breath. This is Chat Noir, this is her partner. She can tell him anything. “I might have developed feelings for you.”
The last part she gets out all at once. She covers her face with her hands immediately, knows her face is bright red after that. She peeks at him between her fingers and sees him just blinking at her.
It’s then that he starts laughing.
“It’s not funny.” She mumbles.
“I’m not laughing at you buginette, it’s just,” Gently, he reaches out and takes her hands. She can’t stand when he looks at her like that, softly and full of warmth and something she could trick herself into thinking was love.
“You don’t need to comfort me.” She insists. He’s still laughing.
“I love you too.” He tells her between laughs. Now it’s her turn to just blink at him.
“So I wasn’t imagining-”
“No, I thought I was.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
She reaches up to his face, cupping his cheek.
“I’m glad we weren’t imagining things.” And with that, she leans forward and presses her lips against his.
He’s like pure sunshine, like lightning coursing through her veins. He makes her feel alive and awake and warm and loved.
Now she has no excuse to shy away, no reason not to let the touches linger.