Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the thousandth time, Tikki tries her best to pull the blankets up and off of Marinette’s face, despite the fact that she’s nowhere near strong enough.

“Come—on—Marinette!” she says through clenched teeth. “You can’t stay in your room forever.”

Marinette doesn’t even bother deigning that with a response; the groan she gives is answer enough.

“What will you do if an akumatized villain shows up?”

Because one will show up — if not now, then eventually. That’s the reality of the world they live in.

Her Miraculous pulses in her ears as though agreeing with her; the selfish thing. Having the nerve to agree with her, to act like the two of them are on the same side as though it wasn’t the cause of every bad thing that had ever happened in Marinette’s life. She practically rips the earrings out in her haste to remove them.

“Just give my Miraculous to whoever you want, Tikki!” Her voice is muffled through the blanket, but there’s nothing to misinterpret about the way she holds the earrings out. Ignoring the way the kwami just pushes her hand back, she continues. “They can never be as bad as I was. Nothing ever works out for me. Adrien? Never even started. Luka? Couldn’t work out. Chat Noir? Didn’t even get off the ground. I’m so pathetic!”

Tikki gasps, an undeniably offended sound. “Of course not,” she stresses. “You’re an amazing Ladybug!”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe she is an amazing Ladybug — at least, where it counts. She’s good at fighting off akumas, at using her Lucky Charms to great effect. But what about the rest of her life? What about when she’s not Ladybug?

She’s definitely not amazing at that part, no matter what Tikki says. The kwami, though, doesn’t seem to get the message: she keeps fighting back as though she’s arguing on her own behalf instead of Marinette’s.

“You’re overreacting, Marinette!” says Tikki, a hint of her temper slipping through.

They say kwamis are like their holders; and if Tikki has a hint of temper, Marinette has enough to make that look nearly insignificant.

“Really?” she asks, shoving the covers off of her and sitting up. “Then how come I lost the Miraculouses I was entrusted with all because of love?”

She hadn’t been expecting the words, but as soon as she speaks them into existence, she knows they’re true. She knows what’s really at the core of all of her problems.

Marinette sighs, anger fading away only to be replaced with sorrow. “Love only ever causes problems,” she says quietly. “Love is weak.”

Unconsciously, she’s stiffened, prepared herself for whatever rebuttal Tikki is sure to hurl her way any second. It doesn’t come.

Instead, the kwami blinks at her, looking thoughtful. “Is that really what you think?”

“It’s not about what I think, Tikki. That’s the truth.”

“I don’t think it is,” says Tikki. “And I don’t think you believe that, either.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The words come out harsher than she means them to, covering up the confusion. If she does not know her own emotions, then what does she know?

But if there’s anyone she can’t hide things from, it’s Tikki. Kwami and holder are two sides of the same coin, after all, able to understand each other in ways that no one else can.

“Love isn’t your problem, Marinette. It never has been.” Tikki speaks those words with no small amount of weight to them; clearly, she’s been wanting to say this for a long time. “It’s the opposite: love is what makes you strong.”

Marinette can do nothing but stare, open-mouthed, as her kwami continues.

“I’ve had a lot of holders in my time, but I can’t remember the last time I had one who loved as fiercely as you do. It’s what makes you such a good Ladybug. You love Paris. You love its people. And it’s because you love them that you fight so hard to protect them.”

Blinking rapidly, Marinette wipes at her cheeks. Why is she crying? The tears are useless to her; each one is nothing more than a sign of how pathetic she is.

“But...what about Adrien?” she whispers. “What about Chat Noir? And Luka?”

Tikki floats closer slowly, carefully. One little paw extends to pat Marinette’s cheek, to wipe her tears away for her.

“Loving them wasn’t a mistake,” she says with the wisdom of a god. “And neither was hoping for them to love you back.”

“Then what was? Where did it all go wrong?”

“Loving comes easy to you, Marinette.” Tikki smiles gently. “It’s when you don’t let yourself feel that things stop working out.”

Maybe. That, though, still isn’t anywhere close to an answer that Marinette’s looking for, hoping for. The wound in her heart is deep, and it’ll take more than some plaster slapped on top to fix her.

Flying down, Tikki closes Marinette’s fingers back over her earrings. Over her Miraculous.

“You think falling in love makes you a bad Ladybug,” she says, “but I think that is what makes you Ladybug.”

The words hit Marinette like a Cataclysm to the chest; she leans back until her back hits the headboard, lungs gasping for air. Is it true? Can it really be that simple — something that she’s overlooked time and time again?

Her earrings, still hidden in her closed hand, grow warm in her palm. Again, they don’t hesitate to make their presence known. Yes, they whisper. It’s that simple. The two of us are a team, after all. Aren’t we?

She answers by placing them in her ears once again. Yes. We are.

Tikki’s right, she realizes. Loving has always come easy to her. That, she thinks, has always been her most natural state: to love freely, and to expect nothing in return.

It’s not love that’s her problem. It’s expectations.

That’s when everything went wrong, wasn’t it? When she’d expected more from everyone she loved — more than they were willing to give. And why does she need anything from them? Isn’t it enough to have the privilege of loving everyone in her life? To love, and love alone?

Marinette pushes herself to her feet, determination renewed; Tikki cheers in response. There’s only one question that remains: where does she go from here?

And the answer presents itself in the form of a boy.

Her mother calls up to her — a notice, a warning — and that’s all the preparation time she gets before the trapdoor up to her room opens, and Adrien pokes his head through.

“Marinette,” he says, so warmly, so impossibly warmly as though he’s genuinely happy to see her. Returning that look, that smile, comes as easily as breathing to Marinette.

“Good morning, Adrien!” She leans over the railing. “You should be at school.”

“So should you.” A touch of worry cuts through the warmth. “Are you…all right?”

Out of his view, Marinette exchanges a look with Tikki. “I wasn’t before,” she admits, “but now, I think I am.”

He beams. “I’m glad to hear that! Are you feeling up to coming to school? With me?”

There’s really only one answer to give, and she does. “Yes! But…could you just give me a few minutes to get ready?”

It only hits her then how much of a mess she must look like. Her hair’s messy, her face must surely be red and splotchy from crying, and she’s still in her pajamas. Leaning back as subtly as she can, she cranes her neck to stay out of his vision as much as possible.

If he notices, he’s kind enough not to say anything. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Take your time.”

Marinette gets ready for school in record time; thanks no small amount to her conversation with Tikki. There’s no poring over every facet of her appearance until it’s perfect, no going through her entire closet seven times to find the one outfit she thinks Adrien would like best.

Because she loves him. Even if he isn’t the only one — just the memory of last night with Chat Noir is enough to have her cheeks warming — there’s still a part of her that loves him, that she thinks will always love him. And she’ll love him regardless of what he looks like, of what he’s wearing. How is it fair, then, for her to treat herself differently?

Loving comes easy to you, Marinette, Tikki had said. If loving other people comes easy to her, then why can’t it be just as easy for her to love herself?

Before she heads downstairs, she winks and blows a kiss at her own reflection — and that’s enough to have her smiling the whole way down.

“Thank you for coming to get me, Adrien,” says Marinette as they walk to school. “I don’t know if I would have come otherwise.”

“I wondered if you were having a hard time,” he says. “Can I help you?”

Their hands are so close together, brushing up against one another’s as they walk. In the past, she would have wished for nothing more than the courage to reach out and take his hand, to intertwine their fingers, to swing their joined hands back and forth. For the rest of the world to look at them and know, without a doubt, that they were in love.

But now, that wish is nowhere to be found.

Instead, she relishes in what she has: him, by her side. His hand touching hers every other minute. His caring that he offers her so freely.

“You are helping me,” she tells him. “Just being yourself is enough.”

“That goes for you, too,” says Adrien softly. “Before anything else, I’ll always be your friend, Marinette.”

And for her, that’s enough.

Chapter Text

A side effect of her new outlook, Marinette finds, is just how different the world looks to her.

Colors are brighter. The day is warmer. She stretches the walk home from school for as long as she possibly can: smelling every single flower that she passes, feeding the pigeons with M. Ramier, kicking a ball back and forth with some kids at the park. They say you get what you put into the world, and that’s never as true as it is today. She hums as she walks, swinging her arms, smiling and waving at everyone she passes. Every single one of them smiles back at her.

She puts love into the world and receives the love she gets in return with open arms.

“I’m really glad to see you like this, Marinette!” Tikki pipes up from her purse.

“I’m really glad to be like this.” Marinette stretches her arms out, spinning wildly. The wind dances across her face, kissing her cheeks and ruffling her hair. “I feel like a whole new person — and it’s all thanks to you, Tikki!”

At home, she brings her speaker downstairs into the bakery and blasts Jagged Stone’s latest hits. The customers are all too eager to take her up on her offer to dance; they twirl, they waltz, they tango — and they leave generous tips, a fact that certainly doesn’t hurt a bit. Her parents cheer enthusiastically, and they don’t bat an eye when she asks to lick the spoons covered in leftover frosting.

“What brought this on, chérie?” her father asks, even as he taps his foot in time to the music.

“Just felt like a change, that’s all,” says Marinette — an explanation that no one bothers to question. And one change, as it turns out, leads to several others.

It’s that night, as she’s hanging up her posters of Adrien again, that she hears footsteps up on her balcony.

Excitement ripples through her; it’s Chat Noir, it has to be. But a deep breath takes care of that feeling for her, coupled with a reminder of her new outlook.

No expectations. And the best way to do that, she thinks, is to just go see what he wants, instead of letting herself get swept up in fantasies and what-ifs.

“Tikki, hide!” she whispers before she heads up. Even though the kwami doesn’t say anything before she obeys, Marinette still gets the sense that she’s proud of her.

Once she’s composed and ready, she pokes her head up through the skylight. “Hey, Chat Noi—“ Immediately, she cuts herself off.

Because it’s not Chat Noir on her roof.

Marinette stiffens, ready to run back down and get Tikki. Because who else could it be, she thinks, than an akuma? It’s only when she looks at the boy in front of her, really looks at him, that she allows herself to relax.

Because she knows this boy. She knows that green hair and that stiff stance — maybe not as well as she’d like to, but still. She remembers him. She doesn’t think she could ever forget.

But even as she’s faced with this other cat, Marinette’s first thought is still of Chat Noir. What could have happened to him that he wanted to give up his Miraculous yet again to Cat Walker?

It’s because of you, a voice in her head whispers — and it’s hard not to listen.

She’s been silent for too long, mouth hanging open and shock on her face, but luckily he isn’t nearly as thrown off by her appearance as she is by his.

Cat Walker bows to her. “Hello,” he says. “Please don’t be alarmed by my appearance. You aren’t in any danger, I assure you.”

Well, that’s good to know.

“Where’s Chat Noir?” asks Marinette.

A shadow passes over his face, and he turns away from her.

“He asked me, through his kwami, to convey his apologies to you.”

“To me?”

Cat Walker turns back to her, and there’s something knowing in his gaze — something that makes her wonder exactly how much Chat Noir told him. “He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you.”

“Goodbye…” Marinette repeats. “Does that mean he isn’t coming back? Is he gone for…for good?”

Cat Walker remains silent, long enough that guilt pricks at her. The burden of a superhero, of a permanent Miraculous holder, is a tremendous one to bear; she, of all people, should know that. It’s not her place to question Chat Noir’s motives and she’s also not being fair to Cat Walker.

It must be the hardest for him right now. He’s been given a great burden to bear, Chat Noir’s shoes to fill, and he has his partnership with Ladybug to worry about. And here she is, upset about the fact that he isn’t who she wanted him to be even after he went out of his way to deliver Chat Noir’s message to her.

Marinette can’t help but wonder, then, what he must think of her. If Cat Walker must be wondering why Chat Noir wanted to give her a message — her, a girl who is by all appearances completely ordinary. She wonders what he thinks of her — and then wonders if he thinks anything at all of her.

Because from what she saw of him last time as Ladybug, he refused to let anything get in the way between him and the job he came to do. He was told to deliver a message, and he delivered it. Maybe that’s all he was thinking about. Maybe he didn’t spare her any more than a passing thought.

For some reason, the idea of that bothers her more than it should.

Even though she may not look like her right now, she’s still Ladybug. She’s always Ladybug, and she always will be. And that means, for the foreseeable future, Cat Walker is her partner. It’s her job to treat him that way and make him feel welcome.

To let him know that she’s thinking of him, without any need for reciprocity. No expectations.

If Marinette needed someone to take her place as Ladybug — as she has before — her first choice would always be Scarabella, and that’s because of who she is beneath the mask and the relationship that the two of them share. Alya is her best friend and is really important to her. Is it the same thing for Chat Noir and Cat Walker? Did Chat Noir and Plagg pick Cat Walker because of the relationship that they share outside of the mask?

The thought makes her balk, at first — they’re so different, after all. But, she thinks as she studies him, maybe they aren’t. Not really.

The two of them are both brave, both courageous — Cat Walker would have to be to willingly take up a Miraculous, especially one as powerful as the Black Cat. He'd have to be confident just like Chat Noir to easily step into a role meant for someone else and look at ease while he does so.

And if he were really just here to pass on a message to her, he could have left as soon as he did. There's no reason for him to stick around like this, to look at her with worried eyes as though he's afraid she'll fall apart, as though he genuinely cares about her and how she'll react to this news.

Then, she wonders, he must have a bit of an inkling as to why Chat Noir asked him to pass on this message — if the two cats hadn't already discussed it amongst themselves.

This is Cat Walker’s brand of caring. It’s only right, then, for Marinette to respond with her own.

“Thank you for telling me,” says Marinette, and she smiles.

She makes sure he doesn’t see any of her hurt on her face — and the longer she thinks about it, the more she wonders if there really is any hurt to be found in the first place. Because wasn’t her new resolution to love and love freely, without any expectations of receiving anything back? She can still do that, can’t she? Chat Noir may be gone, but he’s not gone, not really. He’s still somewhere out there, just without the mask. And the mask has never been a factor in her loving him, so that doesn’t matter to her one bit.

She still loves Chat Noir, just like she loves Adrien, just like she loves Paris, just like she loves herself. So she doesn’t have any hurt to show on her face. All she sees this as is an opportunity — to spend more time with Cat Walker. He’d been nothing more than a fleeting glance in the grand scheme of things last time, and she of all people knows how much it can hurt to never see someone again.

“That was really nice of you,” she continues, “to come all this way for me.”

Cat Walker ducks his head. He’s embarrassed, she realizes — she’s made him that way. “It was no trouble,” he says. “I’d do it for anyone.”

Maybe that should hurt, but it doesn’t. If anything, it only piques her interest even more. Even though his motivation isn’t love, the end result is the same: to him, this is a job and he’ll do it to the best of his abilities, and that means that he’ll treat everyone in Paris the same. He would show everyone the same amount of care, the same amount of kindness. The same amount of love.

Marinette thinks back to what she’d wanted when she first met him. A Black Cat holder who wasn’t in love with her. And isn’t the opposite of someone being in love with her and putting her on a pedestal exactly what Cat Walker is doing right now: treating her just like he would anyone else?

With the memory, everything she’d once felt for him comes rushing back. It didn’t have far to travel — not when it was always there, hidden beneath the surface. She swats down the immediate voice in her head that tells her to not pay attention to those feelings, to not let herself feel them, reminding her that they’ll only get in the way of her job as Ladybug.

Not anymore. They don’t have to. Not if she doesn’t let them.

She isn’t too hard on herself for immediately repressing herself, because she only just started this new worldview. It’s okay. It’ll take time for it to stick, and until it does, she’ll be patient with herself. That’s what it means for her to love herself, after all.

“I should be going,” says Cat Walker — almost regretfully, if her imagination is to be trusted.

“Thank you,” she says again. “Will I…will I see you again?”

She shouldn’t have asked — and besides, she knows she’ll see him again as Ladybug, but for some reason, she just can’t bear the thought of him leaving and never speaking to Marinette again. It’s okay, she tells herself. It’s just a question, and she immediately braces herself to hear a rejection from him.

Instead, he pauses before he vaults away; in the darkness, he considers her. She can only see the side of his face, but it almost looks like there’s a faint smile playing across his lips. She would simply blame it on a trick of the moonlight, if it weren’t for his next words.

“Maybe,” he says, and she watches him disappear into the night.

Chapter Text

An elbow to the ribs makes Marinette wince, drawing her out of her note-taking — or at least, out of her doodling. Alya leans closer, and Marinette only barely manages to cover up her drawings with the palm of her hand, hoping with all her heart that her best friend didn’t see them.

Because sure, Alya knows how she feels about Chat Noir, but a page covered in cat ears and green ponytails…that’s a whole different can of worms that Marinette doesn’t even begin to know how to open.

Luckily, Alya didn’t see it. Instead, she just waggles her eyebrows and gestures to Adrien in front of them. “So,” she whispers, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

Marinette literally has no idea what she’s talking about. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Only your most favorite day ever!” Alya makes a little V with her fingers. “You feeling okay?”

La Saint-Valentin. Of course. Now that she thinks about it, she remembers seeing decorations strung up around the bakery this morning — her parents had been up late decorating all of their specially-themed Valentine’s pastries.

But Marinette hadn’t blinked an eye at any of it. Why does someone in love with love need Valentine’s Day? Every day is Valentine’s Day to her.

To Alya’s question, she just shrugs. “I guess it’s just not a big deal to me anymore,” she says. “I’m not expecting anything, from him or anyone else.”

“Wow,” says Alya. “That’s…different of you.”

She doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing, though, so Marinette doesn’t mind. She is different, after all. And maybe different is something to love.

“I know,” she says, grinning. “So, what are you and Nino doing tomorrow?”

She listens to Alya go into detail about all of her plans with her boyfriend, romantic and swoon-worthy — and Marinette impresses herself by not being even the slightest bit jealous or envious. There’s nothing there but happiness for her friend.

Maybe this really is a sign that she’s maturing and taking to her role better, both as Marinette and Ladybug.

But as it turns out, even though Marinette isn’t as keen on Valentine’s Day anymore, that isn’t the case for everyone.

The akuma comes in the afternoon, helpfully announcing every step of her plan and what she wants. Yet another member of the club dedicated solely to loving Adrien Agreste, she read an article speculating who could be his valentine — the jealousy overwhelmed her, and ever-predictable Monarque was there to use it to his full advantage.

Her name, she says, is Love Bomber. The name confuses Marinette, until she sees the power it comes with: half of their classmates find themselves trapped in little cards — love letters — before Marinette can find a place to hide.

Her main priority — purely from an analytical point of view — is Adrien. The akuma’s here for him, after all.

When Love Bomber’s back is turned, they run out of the classroom together. Most of the school has already evacuated; Marinette prefers to think that rather than the alternative.

“Hide in here,” she tells Adrien, gesturing to an empty classroom, “and I’ll distract her!”

“No, I should be the one to—“

“She’s here for you, not me. And as long as she doesn’t find you, you stay safe.”

Before she can run off, his hand closes around her wrist.

“Marinette, stay safe,” he pleads. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t think I could bear to see that.”

Something in her heart flutters, as though trying to burst out of her chest.

“I can’t watch you get hurt either,” she admits — even though it’s most definitely not as much of a secret as it feels like it is, not anymore. “Which is why you need to stay safe. And don’t worry, Ladybug will make sure that nothing happens to you — that nothing will happen to either one of us.”

Adrien still looks kind of conflicted, but at least her words seem to put him at ease a little bit — even if it isn’t as much as she would like.

The second he’s safe in the classroom, door firmly closed behind him, Marinette runs off. Finding an empty closet, she transforms and immediately calls forth her Lucky Charm for good measure. The sooner she can defeat this akuma, the better.

A breeze tickles the back of her neck, but she ignores it. That, she’ll realize later, should have been her first clue: there are no windows in the closet.

The Lucky Charm turns out to be a card, a love letter — suspiciously similar to the ones the akuma is using. Immediately, she knows what she has to do. She doesn’t want to, of course, but no other plan comes to mind no matter how hard she struggles. And everyone else that could help has already been love-lettered.

“Tikki,” she growls. “If you can hear me in there, we’ll be having words later.”

The classroom door is still unlocked — she really should have told Adrien to lock it, barricade it, something. But at least this way it’s easier for her to enter.

“Adrien,” she says, closing the door behind her. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I need your help—“

When she sees the way he’s looking at her, she cuts herself off. She’s met Adrien as Ladybug before, several times. He’s always trusted her, sometimes almost too much.

He’s never looked at her like this before.

He’s backing away from her, eyes wide — darting around the room as though he’s searching for an escape route, or for something to defend herself with.

“What…what are you…” She looks behind her, wondering if the akuma had followed her inside or something. No akuma, but there is something behind her that catches her attention.

She moves. The girl behind her moves. She lifts a hand. The girl behind her moves.

Is that…her?

The girl in the window has her hair down. She has a pink suit, spotted with red hearts. She has bows on her wrists. She has a heart-shaped yoyo. She has…are those heels on her feet? How is anyone expected to be able to fight in heels?

A personality change, the kwamis had told her once, can reflect itself in the holder’s transformation. If she needed any more proof that she really has changed, this would be it.

This, she thinks, is what love personified would look like.

When she turns back to Adrien, his fear is more apparent — and for good reason. If it took even her a moment to recognize herself, there’s no way he can. The love letter in her hand — the akuma’s weapon of choice — certainly doesn’t help matters.

She raises her hands, trying to make herself look as non-threatening as possible.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says gently. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Adrien.”

He softens a bit, but still looks on guard. Which is a good thing, she thinks, because that means he’s all too aware of the danger that akumas present. “Who are you?”

“I’m…I’m L—“ She cuts herself off just in time. There’s no way she can admit she’s Ladybug, not when she looks like this. That would only lead to more questions and not nearly enough answers. Her eyes fall on the Lucky Charm, the love letter. “I’m…Loveybug.”

“Loveybug?” he echoes. “Does that mean Ladybug…is she gone?”

The concern feels good, she has to admit.

“Don’t worry, she’s still around,” says Loveybug. “But right now, it’s my turn to save you. It would be a shame to have that handsome face trapped in a piece of paper.”

The flirting comes so naturally to her that she doesn’t even realize she’s said it until it’s too late to regret. But luck seems to be on her side today — or at least, love is — because Adrien laughs. He sounds surprised, but underneath that, she hears genuine amusement.

“Loveybug, huh? Then I guess you are the best person to save me from this akuma.” He glances down at the card in her hand. “Is that a Lucky Charm?”

Loveybug nods. “I have a plan, but…I need you to trust me. And I know that’s a really big ask, because you just met me, and I totally don’t expect you to go along with it, but—“

“If Ladybug chose you, then I trust you,” he says, as though it’s that simple. And maybe it is. Isn’t that exactly what she’d thought about Cat Walker?

Cat Walker — the thought of him only strengthens her resolve to win this fight and turn everything back to the way it was. Because if he still isn’t here, that can only mean one thing: he’s already been turned into a love letter.

Adrien sobers up, as though her resolve is bleeding over to affect him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Well,” says Loveybug, stepping closer. “Adrien Agreste, what I really need from you is for you to be my valentine.”

She means it completely — it’s part of her plan, after all. But what isn’t part of the plan is the way Adrien’s cheeks turn red. She watches it happen, entranced.

Maybe, thinks Loveybug, this is the good thing about not having any expectations: whenever you get something from the person you love, it’s always a pleasant surprise.

Love Bomber, still occupied with searching the school for Adrien, doesn’t hear Loveybug coming until she’s right behind her.

“Yoohoo!” calls Loveybug. “Heard you’re here for Adrien Agreste, is that right?”

Love Bomber growls. “Where is he?”

“Unfortunately, he’s already agreed to be my valentine! He played a little heart to get at first, but it wasn’t long before I wore him down.” She winks, fanning herself with the Lucky Charm. Love Bomber’s eyes lock onto it, seeing it for exactly what Loveybug wants her to.

“You’re lying,” she hisses. “Adrien would never agree to be your valentine. Who even are you?”

Loveybug is ready, waiting for the best place to cue Adrien — but he comes in without her even having to. It’s like he knows her so well, knows exactly what her plan was that he can just pick up immediately where she left off and fill in the blanks for her.

Not unlike Chat Noir. She definitely has a type.

“This,” says Adrien, “is Loveybug. I asked her to be my valentine, and…she accepted.”

He looks at her with something soft in his eyes, a smile on his lips. He’s a better actor than she thought he was. The least she can do, then, Loveybug thinks, is try to match him, if not reach his level; she leans toward him, clasping her hands together and batting her eyes at him. It isn’t hard to do.

She keeps an eye on the akuma, still. Love Bomber’s face changes colors concerningly fast: from white to pink to red with rage. Loveybug locks every muscle in her body to get ready. Adrien trusted her with this plan — she’ll do anything to make sure that she protects him the entire way through it.

The second the akuma’s card flies at her, Loveybug flicks her yoyo out to intercept it. Though the yoyo’s shape has changed, the functionality of it, thankfully, is still the same.

She rips the card in two, purifies the akuma, and casts her Miracle cure all in one smooth motion. The magical ladybugs, too, have changed their appearance to reflect hers — a flood of pink rushes through the school. The hallways of the school fill with chatter, everyone who was previously love-lettered returning to the world again.

Turning her attention to Adrien, Loveybug grins. “Thank you,” she says, “for trusting me.”

“Of course! It’s the least I could do for my valentine,” says Adrien with a laugh.

Now it’s her turn to be starstruck, to stare at him with wide eyes and reddening cheeks.

He holds his fist out to her, almost tentatively. “Pound it?”

She doesn’t know what possesses her to do this — it’s almost as though there’s a new person underneath the new suit, almost as though every part of her is brand new — but she doesn’t fist bump him. Instead, she snags his hand and bows over it, kissing the back.

When she looks back up at him, she has to stifle a giggle. If she’d thought his face was red before, that was nothing compared to what it looks like now.

“I…you…” Adrien’s mouth opens and closes, struggling to find the words.

Loveybug winks. “See you around, valentine!” she sings.

She can feel the way he keeps staring at her long after she’s swung away.

Chapter Text

“So,” says Tikki as Marinette is getting ready for patrol. “Today’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?”

“I thought kwamis didn’t care about stuff like that,” says Marinette, putting the finishing touches on her homework. Once she’s done, her evening will be completely clear.

Her patrol schedule for tonight is the same one she’d had with Chat Noir — he must have told Cat Walker about it before handing over his Miraculous.

“Normally, I wouldn’t,” says Tikki, “but Alya caught me up. She also gave me a mission to question you.”

“Question me?” She spins around in her chair to face the kwami. “About what?”

“Loveybug.”

Marinette crosses her arms, refusing to be embarrassed. “Shouldn’t I be questioning you about that? You’re the one who changed my suit, after all.”

Tikki just laughs. “It reacted to your personality, I had nothing to do with it. But Loveybug certainly seems well acquainted with love…she’s got two valentines, after all.”

“I think your math is off, Tikki.”

“I’m an immortal, ancient, all-powerful god, Marinette. My math is never off.” She jabs her paw in the air for emphasis. “You told Adrien that you would be his valentine and he accepted—“

“That wasn’t real! That was just for the Lucky Charm plan — and he knows that, too.”

“And kissing his hand, that was for the Lucky Charm plan too? “

Marinette swats at her, not bothering to answer that question. But Tikki isn’t done yet.

“Okay, fine. Maybe that one was a fluke. But what about today? You’re meeting up with a boy, aren’t you? Today, of all days.”

“That’s for patrol!” Marinette protests. Besides, Tikki, I thought you of all people would understand doing things because it’s your responsibility. It’s not like I want to go meet Cat Walker!”

Tikki just gives her an unimpressed look. “Oh, okay,” she says, “and that’s why you’re putting on lip gloss right now.”

Narrowing her eyes, Marinette sticks out her tongue. “You know what? You’re talking a lot lately. Spots on!”

She relishes in the moment of quiet she gets in return as soon as Tikki is sucked into her earrings. And now that she has a moment to herself and she’s transformed, she takes the opportunity to study her Loveybug costume in greater focus.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Loveybug smiles and does a little twirl.

She wonders if Cat Walker will like her outfit.

By the time she gets to the meetup spot for patrol, Cat Walker’s already there. Punctual and dependable as ever.

“Hi there!” she says brightly. “I’m—“

“Loveybug,” he finishes with a bow. “Pleasure.”

“You know me?”

“I saw the last akuma battle on the news,” says Cat Walker. “My apologies for not being there. The akuma…caught me off guard.”

She wonders what he thought of seeing her for the first time. And following that, she can’t help but wonder what it’ll take for Cat Walker to drop his mask around her and give her a reaction, any reaction.

“Oh, no, please!” Loveybug says. “The pleasure’s all mine. And if you ask me, I think we’ll be good fur-ends!”

He doesn’t chuckle, but she doesn’t mind or take that as a loss. The night’s still young, after all.

“Time to patrol, then?” she asks.

Normally, she and Chat Noir would split up to cover more ground and they each would go on their own designated routes. But Chat Noir’s not here right now, and she’s not Ladybug.

That means, she reminds herself, she needs to act like someone who isn’t experienced at being a hero, and at all of the things that come along with that.

Cat Walker, it seems, is thinking the same thing. “Shall we go together?” he asks. “Since we don’t have set routes, it might be more helpful.”

“After you, chatounet.”

Her confirmation is just the thing he needs to take to the skies, and Loveybug follows right after.

She kind of likes letting someone else take the lead, she realizes; she’s never done that before. In all aspects of her life - but especially as Ladybug — it’s her leading. And where Ladybug leads, Chat Noir always follows.

But now, where Cat Walker leads, Loveybug follows.

She watches him out of the corner of her eye, wondering which one he prefers. Is he only leading now because she said she couldn’t? Or is that what he would have done anyway? When she was last with him as Ladybug, he was ready to take her directions and follow her. But was that because he knew that Ladybug wanted to lead, or because he genuinely wanted to follow?

Though Loveybug chose to follow now, the longer patrol goes on, the more evident it becomes something about it still doesn’t come naturally to her. It’s hard to pretend like it does. Her body keeps pulling her in the direction of her regular patrol route, and it takes her a second to reroute it, to look to Cat Walker, to follow instead of lead.

And more than that, it’s hard to stop herself from constantly looking over her shoulder. Because she still expects to turn around and see Chat Noir there behind her when she does, to see his familiar silhouette in the skies behind her, to look back and see his grin, to hear whatever puns or comments he’d be throwing her way.

Ever since she’d become Loveybug, she’d felt nothing but comfortable, at home. The transformation came naturally to her — so natural that she hadn’t even noticed it at first. But this is the first time that something about it has felt off — that something has felt like it was missing.

To put Chat Noir out of her mind, she turns her attention back to Cat Walker. She can’t help but notice that sometimes he looks confused about the path to take, which she just chalks up to the fact that he’s new to patrols and being a hero. But sometimes, he hesitates, almost as though he’s looking for someone else to make the decisions for him.

She wonders if he, too, feels like something is missing.

Preoccupied with her thoughts as she is, Loveybug doesn’t even realize when their patrol route comes to an end, when they end up back where they’d started. The momentum of her swing is too much for her to stop; unable to help it, she swings right into Cat Walker.

He’s more alert than she is, though — or maybe he’s just so attuned to her presence. Maybe both.

He catches her easily before she can even fall, let alone stumble. He’s so stable and firm before her, and the grip his hands have on her upper arms is just strong enough that it keeps her upright, just strong enough that she can feel it even through her suit.

She hopes the reason he’s so attuned to her isn’t because he’s on guard around her or because he doesn’t trust her. Anything other than that.

Loveybug’s tongue darts out, instinctively, to moisten her lips, and a thrill shoots through her as Cat Walker’s eyes follow the motion. He still hasn’t let go of her. But neither has she stepped back away from him. She only realizes now how close the two of them are to one another, how much taller he is than her as she looks up to meet his eyes.

Suddenly, from this close and alone, with his hands still on her and with him staring at her lips like that, it doesn’t seem so ridiculous that she could possibly feel something for him. She wonders why she was ever so opposed to the idea of doing so.

“Be careful,” Cat Walker finally says. He lets her go before taking a big step back, as though purposefully trying to put more distance between the two of them. “You might fall.”

“No I wouldn’t,” says Loveybug. She takes one step forward for each one he takes back — continuing their dance from before. “Not when I have you to catch me.”

Cat Walker hesitates at that, and Loveybug feels guilty; she wonders if she’s making him uncomfortable. She knows how seriously he takes his job and his role as the Black Cat holder, even if it is only temporary, and she doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. But their patrol is over. Why isn’t he leaving?

And the way he’s looking at her right now — that’s not the look you give someone who you think is just part of the job. Then again, it’s not as though Loveybug — regardless of the name she gave herself — is very experienced in that department. Even as all of those thoughts run through her mind, though, there’s one in particular that stands out right now.

Why does he look so conflicted?

He turns his face partially away from her, hiding in the shadows. “I might not always be there,” he says. “To catch you.”

She doesn’t know if that’s because he thinks her role as Ladybug holder is temporary, or if he’s talking about his own. Loveybug steps forward once, twice, and again. But their dance is over; he does not reciprocate. She moves into his space again, but he doesn’t back away — she doesn’t know if she prefers him doing so or not doing so.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“So are you,” says Cat Walker.

“So am I,” she confirms.

Before she can stop herself, she leans in — slowly, giving him the time to step back if he wants to. He doesn’t.

She kisses his cheek softly, the brush of wings, the sound of freshly fallen snow.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Cat Walker,” she whispers.

No expectations, she reminds herself. She doesn’t care how he’ll react, nor does she expect him to.

But he catches her wrist before she can leave, and he reaches out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Loveybug,” he replies.

Chapter Text

“You know something, kid? You’re a real player.” Plagg smacks his lips, reaching for another hunk of cheese. “Guess your dad had the right idea keeping you out of school. But then again, maybe that wouldn’t have stopped you.”

Running a comb through his hair, Adrien rolls his eyes at himself in the mirror. “For the last time, Plagg, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever you say, lover boy, but I know what happened last night with you and your valentine.”

“Loveybug? She’s not my—“

“Huh, interesting that I didn’t name any names and you still knew exactly who I was talking about.” Abandoning his snack, Plagg flies over to rest on Adrien’s shoulder. Guess the only thing more interesting than his cheese is the prospect of making fun of his holder. “And besides, didn’t the two of you spend time together? Alone? On Valentine’s Day? That means you’re valentines.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” says Adrien.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” Plagg studies his claws, a motion that looks deceptively casual. “So I’ve been wondering. Do you just have a thing for girls who use the Ladybug Miraculous or something?”

It takes Adrien longer to deny that one, because he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it once or twice himself. But that’s not true, right? Because that wasn’t the case with Scarabella; she was cool and a good partner and everything, but he’s not in love with her.

Plus, it’s not only Ladybug holders! He loves Marinette, too — but he doubts that will provide the defense he thinks it does against Plagg’s attack.

He tunes Plagg out — manages to do it somehow despite the fact that the kwami is currently occupied with making kissing noises to his Camembert. The worst part is that Adrien doesn’t even know whether he’s imitating him or not.

It’s funny, because Adrien thought he had this whole ‘being in love’ thing under control — or at least as much as he thought he could. He loves Ladybug, and he thinks he’ll always love her. But it was different, knowing that she could never reciprocate his feelings. Knowing that his feelings for her were getting in the way of their duty, their partnership. That his love was something that could be used against him.

Becoming Cat Walker was his way of fixing that. Of pushing his love so far down that he couldn’t feel it anymore, regardless of the fact that he knew it was still there.

With Marinette, he had none of those problems. His love for her has no downside; he can express it freely and have it be a part of him, just as much as an arm or a leg — just as much as the ever-present ring around his finger. And he thought that was it. One love that he can show, one love that he can’t. How much more does a person need?

In his case, apparently, more.

He hadn’t been expecting Loveybug, for her to come out of nowhere like that. He hadn’t been expecting for her to be so….so her. She’s clumsy and she likes puns and her laughter makes him stand at attention and she follows him like she trusts him. Like she knows him. And the way she’d looked at him last night, like her gaze had trapped him in place and he couldn’t bring himself to move.

The way she’d looked at him, as Adrien and Cat Walker…it was the same, like she could see down to his core — and she liked what she saw.

Cat Walker was always supposed to be a temporary thing; just for a bit until he gets his head back on straight — until he can be Chat Noir without letting his feelings get in the way.

Cat Walker isn’t supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to be the one with no feelings, the one who gets the job done.

He never should have let her kiss him. It was like he was possessed or something; he hadn’t been able to stop himself from tucking her hair behind her ear. All he knew was that it looked so soft and his cheek was still burning where her lips had touched it.

It still burns, even now — but the sensation is the furthest possible thing from pain.

Adrien’s so occupied with thinking about her that he doesn’t even notice that something is jabbing him: Plagg’s tiny paw, in the exact same spot where Loveybug had kissed him.

“Yo, lover boy, you hear that?” the kwami hisses. “Akuma attack, four o’clock!”

A look out the window confirms it; cursing himself for getting distracted, Adrien utters the transformation words before taking off.

As he approaches the site of the battle, he only barely registers the akuma’s presence. All of his attention is on Loveybug, who’s already here and fully focused. He can’t help but remember what he thought last night when they were on patrol — that she’s really adept at being a Miraculous holder, even though she’s new. But he should have expected that, he thinks, since Ladybug was the one who chose her. And his lady has never chosen wrong before.

He lands neatly next to her, just in time to block a blow from the akuma.

“Good afternoon, Loveybug,” he says, not taking his eyes off the akuma. “My apologies for being late.”

“Aw, you’re here! I missed you—“ She cuts herself off with such haste that he risks a look at her. Her eyes have widened, mouth opening in shock. “…Chat Noir?”

The akuma, taking advantage of their mutual surprise, sends them both flying with a single hit. The pain is nothing compared to his guilt at having thrown Loveybug off of her rhythm.

He rights himself and pulls out his staff, but the reflection he sees in it draws his attention. Loveybug was right: he isn’t Cat Walker. He’s Chat Noir right now.

It must have been because he was thinking about Loveybug before he transformed, because he wasn’t focused enough on pushing down his emotions. He’ll feel bad for that later, but right now there are more important things to worry about.

At his side, Loveybug springs up to her feet. Luckily, his mistake hasn’t caught her too off guard. She aims a kick at the akuma before turning her attention to him.

“Where’s Cat Walker?”

He tries not to let himself care at all that she sounds disappointed by that. He doesn’t care at all. It’s with complete and utter neutrality that he notices that small detail.

“Something came up in his civilian life,” says Chat Noir, lunging forward at the akuma. “So I’m just here for this fight, that’s all.”

He doesn’t know if he’s really ready to come back — as himself, at least.

Loveybug pouts for a moment, but when he looks back at her, the disappointment is gone. Instead, a slow smirk spreads over her face. “Oh, well. Guess I’ll have you until he’s back.”

Chat Noir gulps. He doesn’t care he doesn’t care he doesn’t care—

Her yoyo wraps around his waist, yanking him toward her and out of the way of the akuma. Her arms come up, ready to catch him the second he stumbles forward.

“Be careful,” she whispers, so close that her lips tickle his ear. “You could fall.”

Chat Noir wonders if he should be more offended that she’s using some other guy’s moves on him, but seeing as the other guy is him too, he can’t really bring himself to care.

He jerks away as fast as he can; not because he doesn’t want her to touch him, but exactly the opposite. What if she touches him and somehow manages to recognize him? And even though a part of him knows that the Miraculous magic is stronger than that and should be able to shield his identity no matter what, something about the way Loveybug’s looking at him makes all those rational thoughts leave his head.

She doesn’t look offended at the way he practically threw himself out of her arms. If anything, it’s the opposite; her smirk widens.

“You spoken for, handsome?” she asks, winking. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“Tell who?”

“Your lady, of course,” she says. He has no idea if she means Ladybug or someone else — something about the way she says that is almost too knowing. He gulps.

“The only lady I’ve got my eye on,” he says, “is this one right here.” With difficulty, he turns his attention back to the akuma, who doesn’t look pleased to be ignored.

Loveybug pouts again. “Well, I’ve always been the jealous type.” She says that like it’s a secret. He definitely does not file that information away for future use. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure that I’m the only girl you’ve got your eye on. But for that, I’ll need a little bit of luck.”

In a shower of hearts, her Lucky Charm falls into her outstretched hands: a bouquet of roses.

“Roses?” he asks.

She looks confused too, but only for a brief second, and he knows that he was right to trust that Ladybug chose a good holder, someone smart just like her.

Loveybug takes one long-stemmed rose out of the bouquet; the stem — only of this flower, he can’t help but notice — is smooth, with not a thorn in sight. With a flourish, she holds it out to him.

“For you,” she says, smiling at him. And the look is so genuine and she’s so pretty that he’s caught off guard. All he can do is reach out and take the flower, just like all he could do last night was reach out to touch her hair. It seems like he’s incapable of doing anything other than reaching out to her.

The second he takes it, Loveybug’s sweet smile turns sharp, ferocious. She’s just as passionate in the way she fights. “The rest,” she says, “are for her.”

Without even a moment of hesitation, she leaps toward the akuma. Her plan, while simple, works to great effect: she scatters the roses directly in the akuma’s path, and the thorns on the stems are just the thing that catches the akuma off guard long enough for Loveybug’s yoyo to step in.

Chat Noir can do nothing but watch, transfixed, as she does her routine of purifying the akuma. It isn’t unlike Ladybug’s, except for she seems to almost be dancing around a lot more. He wonders if this show is for him — he hasn’t bothered to hide the way he’s staring, after all.

She also needs the flower she gave him back, and he snaps back to his senses long enough to reciprocate. He comes forward and bows — not unlike Cat Walker’s bow, except for much more dramatic. The least he could do if he’s going to match her.

“For the loveliest bug,” he says, holding the rose back out to her.

Gasping theatrically, Loveybug’s hand flies to her mouth. “What would Ladybug think about that?”

Chat Noir winks at her, the motion coming easy to him. “I won’t tell her if you won’t.”

“A man of secrets, huh?”

“You have no idea," he says.

She giggles before tossing the full bouquet up in the air and calling forth her Miracle Cure. Her other hand, folded into a fist, extends out to him.

“Pound it?” Loveybug offers, batting her eyelashes.

But Cat Walker isn’t here right now, and two can play at this game. Snagging her hand, Chat Noir kisses the back — exactly as she’d done to Adrien.

For the first time since he’s known her, he’s caught her off guard.

Chat Noir shouldn’t find himself as excited by that as he is.

“Until next time, Loveybug,” he says, and hopes that will be sooner rather than later.

Chapter Text

Patrol tonight, Adrien thinks, is his chance to apologize to Loveybug for his absence during the last akuma battle. It seems like that’s all he’s been doing to her lately: apologizing.

This new persona was supposed to make his life easier. Why, then, does it feel like it’s doing the opposite?

There’s too much for him to keep straight — he struggles to keep all of the times he met Loveybug separate. It was Chat Noir who she gave the rose to, he reminds himself. It was Adrien whose hand she kissed, Cat Walker whose cheek she kissed.

But which one of them did she flirt with? Which one of them does she wish was by her side? Which one of them, he can’t help but wonder, does she prefer? 

This, Adrien knows, is a dangerous line of thinking to follow. He’s trying to avoid those kinds of thoughts, not welcome them. Not linger on them. Not let them change him.

It’s because the real dangerous one in this situation is none other than Loveybug herself.

While Adrien has loved other girls — has loved, loves, will love — he’s learned to be very clear on the role they play in his life. Both are unapproachable, untouchable, but for entirely different reasons.

Ladybug is the moon, the stars. She’s hope itself. Everyone in Paris looks to her as their savior, and she carries their worries and their fears in her heart. He has no right to demand room in there for himself, either as Adrien or Chat Noir. She has bigger things to worry about, as she should. The feelings of one boy don’t even come close to how important her other duties are.

Marinette is good. She’s pure. She’s every bit of an Everyday Ladybug — but he can never be her equal. Even if he were to be with her as Adrien, the presence of Chat Noir would always pose a danger to her. Monarque has made that clear time and time again; if Adrien didn’t know better, he would be certain that the villain wants nothing more than to ruin his love life.

Adrien loves both Marinette and Ladybug, and he’s made his peace with doing that from afar. But how is he supposed to follow the same line of thinking when it comes to Loveybug?

She is a hero, a holder of the Miraculous just like him. She knows all too well the danger that role comes with — danger that Chat Noir loving her would do nothing to amplify. And she’s not the Guardian. There are no extra responsibilities she carries on her shoulders, nothing that Adrien would distract her from.

It’s almost too good to be true — and that’s even without factoring in how she seems to like him. Like him, in a way where she seems to live up to her hero name.

He doesn’t know what to do. And since these feelings are getting to the point where they’re affecting his transformations, he needs to get things sorted sooner rather than later.

Maybe there’s one person he can ask, one person who might be carrying the answers he’s looking for.

“How do you do it?” he asks Loveybug that night when they meet for patrol — and this time, he’d checked and double-checked that he was going as Cat Walker. He’d barely gotten his apology out before she was tackling him in a hug; she’d missed him, she said.

Perched on the roof next to him, she’s swinging her feet back and forth, looking completely at ease. “Do what?”

Cat Walker hesitates. How is he supposed to ask something he doesn’t even fully understand?

She turns to him, a surprisingly shrewd look in her eyes. “Something bothering you, handsome?” she asks. “Don’t be shy! Tell the Love Bug all about it!”

That’s all the invitation he needs. If he doesn’t know what to ask, the very least he can do is try.

“How is it that you’re so…” He gestures to her in a vaguely lost motion. “So you?”

Either his explanation is more clear than he thought it was, or she somehow knows him in a way that he doesn’t know himself. From what he’s seen of her thus far, he’s inclined to believe the second.

“You mean this?” asks Loveybug, pointing to one of the hearts on her suit.

He nods. “It’s…easy for you, right?”

“Actually, no.”

Cat Walker would have thought it would have been harder for her to admit that, but apparently, love isn’t the only emotion she so openly shows.

Loveybug tosses her head back, and the moonlight glints off of her hair. “Believe it or not,” she says, “I wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t long ago that I was like you.”

“Like me?”

She taps his nose affectionately. “Lost. Confused. Unsure of myself.”

Cat Walker starts. “I’m not—“

“Sure you are!” She giggles, but he gets the impression that she isn’t laughing at him, specifically. “Only someone like that would ask someone like me for advice.”

“What’s wrong with someone like you?” He tilts his head to the side, confused. “You were the first person I wanted to ask.”

Loveybug’s grin shrinks into something smaller, softer. “You’re being honest, aren’t you? You really mean that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Playfully, she knocks him with her shoulder. “Never expected you to be such a charmer, chatounet. Guess it’s true what they say: people can surprise you.” Her side stays pressed against his; neither of them moves away. “But to answer your question, it’s just a choice you make, that’s all.”

Cat Walker’s hand comes up to tug on a strand of her hair. Only too late does he realize it’s a gesture Chat Noir would have done to Ladybug. Luckily, she doesn’t blink twice at it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he comments. “But what about…loving other people?”

Her eyes widen. “Is there…someone you love?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a…hypothetical.”

The words have their intended goal: the smile returns to her lips.

“Then just love them! What’s the problem?”

“Monarque,” he says, and the atmosphere shifts.

This, he thinks, is the crux of every single problem he could bring up. In Paris, all roads lead to Monarque.

“You think you would be putting them in danger by loving them,” says Loveybug. It’s not a question, and all Cat Walker can do is nod. “That’s…”

Awful? Sad? The truth?

“…an awful excuse,” she finishes.

Cat Walker sputters. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got this, don’t you?” Without prompting, she takes his hand. Her fingers intertwine with his, the tips tracing over the smooth surface of his Miraculous. “If they’re in danger, so what? Why can’t you keep them safe?”

“It’s not that simple,” he manages to say, because it isn’t.

Is it?

Loveybug purses her lips. “Maybe not,” she concedes. “But it’s better than ruling it out entirely, isn’t it? If they do get akumatized, you and I will be right here to step in.” She squeezes his hand, still nestled snugly in hers. “It just doesn’t seem fair to deny yourself something that could make you really happy.”

Is that what he’s been doing? Denying himself something he wants? Something he needs?

Is that why he feels so lost?

“But then again,” she says, cutting through his indecision, “what do I know?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” says Cat Walker. “Love’s in your name, after all. Who knows more than the Love Bug?”

She giggles, a sound like a hug for his heart. “You know what they say: walk like a cat!”

“Do they say that?”

“If they don’t, then they should.”

A breeze skates by; her hair tickles his neck. His free hand comes up, instinctually by now, to tuck it behind her ear.

“You know,” says Cat Walker, eyeing her newly exposed earrings. “Maybe it’s something to do with the Ladybug Miraculous.”

She, of course, sees right through it for the line it is — but still, she perks up. “Wanna switch?”

He keeps forgetting that she’s new to this whole thing; superheroes, Miraculouses, all of it. Natural that she is, it’s hard to remember.

“Let’s do it,” he says, and the next moment they’re standing back to back, detransformed. The earrings are passed over to him, the ring to her.

He doesn’t have time to fully inspect his transformation, but from what he sees, he’s still unrecognizable. His boots are pink, his yoyo is heart-shaped, and beneath the red vest around his shoulders, his suit is dotted with hearts.

“Turn around on three?” asks Loveybug. He murmurs his assent, and she begins the countdown. Still focused on his own costume as he is, he hardly spares hers a single thought. This, as it turns out, is a mistake. If he did, maybe he would have been prepared for what he would see.

Three comes sooner than he thought it would. He turns, facing the new form of Loveybug.

But why, he wonders, does he recognize the girl he’s facing?

“…Lady Noire?”

Chapter Text

“Lady Noire?” he repeats. “You…you are Lady Noire, right?”

Lady Noire — or whoever she is — looks like she’d rather be anywhere else right now than here. At her sides, her fists clench and unclench, as though searching for her staff. She might run, he realizes, and steps closer.

“And if you’re Lady Noire, does that mean you’re….Ladybug?” asks Cat Walker. He takes her hands in his, holding them both in place. “Please. I have to know.”

Because if it’s true — if Loveybug is and always was Ladybug — then suddenly, all of his grief and indecision has a name. Then no wonder he’d fallen for her so quickly. No wonder her every touch made him feel like he was on fire. No wonder this, the one thing he hadn’t ever considered, was the only thing that made sense.

If Chat Noir can become Cat Walker, then why can’t Ladybug become Loveybug?

Lady Noire sighs and in the process, deflates, as though all of the fight has left her. Her hands, still in his, uncurl from the fists they’d formed.

“Yes,” she says, impossibly soft. “It’s me. It’s always been me.”

“But that means…”

Now it’s his turn to look stricken. Because that means it was Ladybug who was kissing his hand, Ladybug who kissed his cheek, Ladybug who’d flirted with him so easily — him, in all forms.

Maybe he wasn’t as over her as he thought he was.

He doesn’t know which one of them steps closer — maybe it’s both. They’re drawn together until their foreheads are pressed together, and she closes her eyes like she’s been needing nothing more than this contact. He follows suit, as he has always done where Ladybug is concerned.

“I didn’t mean to trick you,” she says. “Or Chat Noir! It’s just that…I don’t know. I thought it would be easier this way.”

“And was it?”

“Not as much as I thought it would,” she admits. “I thought I was being, you know, spontaneous! Letting myself be who I truly was! But maybe…maybe it was just a nicer sounding way of running.”

The hurt in her voice makes something within him shatter. She sounds lost, confused. Unsure of herself. Now he knows how she must have felt when he was the same.

“I had no idea you felt like that,” he whispers. “My lady, you have nothing to run from. Who you truly are…that’s always been clear to me.”

He doesn’t realize his slip until she jerks back — not enough to step out of his hold, but enough to make his eyes shoot open.

“What did you just call me?”

A lie springs to his tongue, but in the next second, he swallows it down. None of that. Not today. Not now.

Not when she’s baring her soul to him. She should know who is listening.

“You heard me,” he says, pushing through the nerves. “My lady.”

She studies him, eyes narrowing, and he can do nothing but hold himself still under her scrutiny. Whatever she finds, it makes her let out a delighted laugh.

“Of course,” says Ladybug, stepping closer to him once more. “Of course it was you.”

“Did you know?”

“Not until just now. But I think…part of me always knew. Does that make sense?”

It does. It makes perfect sense, considering that’s exactly how he felt.

Able to indulge in his instinctive reactions, Chat Noir reaches out to tug on her braid. “So, am I really that charming? You know, considering you fell for me as Cat Walker and everything.”

“Fell for you?” She laughs. “Someone’s full of themselves, aren’t they?”

“Are you saying you didn’t?” He gasps theatrically. “I do seem to remember you calling me handsome a couple times. So all of the kissing, the flirting — that had nothing to do with me? Wow, Bug, you sure know how to hurt a guy—“

She smacks him with their intertwined hands, and then he’s grinning too wide to even begin to finish his sentence.

“Cat Walker was you the first time, too?” asks Ladybug, suddenly realizing.

“It was.”

“Why?” she asks — and that’s the real question, isn’t it?

Chat Noir thinks over his words for a moment. Finding none good enough, he steals hers.

“It’s like you said,” he says. “Maybe, in the end…I was just running.”

“Look at that,” says Ladybug. “Both of us were running, but we still found our way back to each other, huh?”

He opens his mouth to say something — something flirty, something clever, something that’ll make her laugh and smack his chest again. But nothing comes to mind. The only thing that remains is his fears from before, and the knowledge that they’re still there, if only buried under the surface.

If Loveybug is Ladybug, then…what has changed? She’s still the Guardian, with more important things to worry about than the feelings of one boy. Regardless of what mask he may be wearing.

Chat Noir takes a step back, letting his hands slip out from hers. But Ladybug is, as always, perceptive — and now it makes sense how Loveybug was able to read him so easily.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Nope. Nuh-uh. You don’t get to run away from me, chaton. Not now.” Her knuckles come up to rap on his forehead. “What’s in that big head of yours, huh?”

“Big head? You wound me, my lady,” he tries, but she isn’t swayed. When there’s something she’s got her eye on, there’s no stopping her.

It’s one of the many things he loves about her.

Chat Noir sighs. “I just don’t want to be something you have to worry about. Not when you have so many other—“

“Hey,” Ladybug says firmly, cutting him off. “None of that. You’re my partner, aren’t you?”

“But you’re the Guardian!”

“True,” she says, tilting her head in acknowledgment. “But I’m also a girl.”

Admittedly, that’s a fact that’s easy to forget sometimes.

“It’s like I told you: it doesn’t seem fair for me to deny myself something that could make me really happy.”

The way she’s looking at him makes it clear as to what exactly she means by that; if she does that for even a second longer, Chat Noir’s worried his heart might beat right out of his chest.

“But maybe I don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Ladybug continues, making him raise an eyebrow. “God, Loveybug…it felt so right in the moment, but…now I’m kind of embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?”

“You know that boy I like?”

Though it pains him to do so, Chat Noir nods.

“Well, I kissed his hand! And I called him my valentine!” She hides her face in his chest, and he wonders if she can feel the pounding of his heart. “If there was any reason for him to never look my way again, that would have been it.”

Past the voice in his head that urges him to take her pain away however he can, there’s another — quieter, but no less important. Something about that sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

“If you were the one kissing him, I doubt he could ever look away,” says Chat Noir.

“Loveybug was right,” she says, voice muffled in his chest. “You are a charmer.”

“I live to serve.” He presses his cheek against the top of her head. “Just for curiosity’s sake, who is this valentine of yours?”

The name she says is barely audible — but it doesn’t matter. He would recognize it no matter how it were said.

Chat Noir laughs; it starts as a chuckle, escalating into full-blown amusement. Ladybug leans back, glaring at him.

“I really don’t see what’s so funny about my misery, Chat Noir.”

“Believe me, my lady. You’ll be laughing in a minute.” He shakes his head. “You were right — I guess we did really find our way back to each other, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

He steps back. “Watch and learn, valentine,” he says with a wink. “Spots off!”

The look on her face — and her resulting laughter — is worth every bit of heartache he’s been through.