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Plagg was proud.
It wasn't often that he let his chest swell with pride over such mundane reasons. He was a creature that had existed for as long as his Miraculous. His age alone meant that he was more than aware that the simple act of doling out praises at the drop of a hat and the needless bolstering of supple egos was something that—more often than not—caused more harm than good.
Besides, that was more his Sugarcube’s way of doing things.
Nurturing yet firm, she complimented and opposed him in every way. Never had there ever been two beings that differed from each other so vastly, with natures that clashed so horrifically and melodiously. The very fibres of their existence so inexplicably intertwined that they melded into one another, blurring at the edges, neither one of them capable of existing without the other.
Concepts of beginning and end became obsolete upon their conception.
Sometimes—though not often—he pondered his own existence.
At his core, he was a creature of chaos, an ‘it’—not a ‘he’.
Telling was the thrill that rippled up his spine whenever he had the pleasure of witnessing another’s misfortune—those crumpling faces and bulging eyes as a harmless prank takes a turn for the worst. Such a tantalising shiver that raised his fur.
Plagg certainly didn't think of himself as a ‘he’.
But his holders often did—as if their fruitless attempts to bestow a sense of humanity upon him made it easier for them to believe him a benevolent being that shared in their own principles and ideals. Benevolent was a bit of a stretch though, ambivalent was far more fitting—but even that wasn't exactly correct. He supposed it was easier for them to digest—to not think of him as a creature that lacked the oh-so-vital virtues and morals that drew the line between man and beast. As if human beings were the only creatures capable of kindness and compassion, as if the creatures that never learned to walk upon their hind legs were incapable of empathy or mercy.
Humans seemed to take immense pride in crediting their—supposedly—ever-expanding cranial space for such a swollen sense of superiority. In his ever-humble opinion, intelligence did not equate compassion, nor humanity. If anything, intelligence simply complicated the matter.
Humans were good at complicating things. Plagg found it tiring. Tikki found it endearing.
All in all, mortals, especially humans, were inconsequential.
Well, maybe not entirely inconsequential. Tikki would certainly disagree.
No creature was more prone to destruction and chaos than the mortal man—or woman, if he was being honest, not that the difference mattered much to him. Madness and confusion had a tendency to lurk in plain sight, and rarely did they ever discriminate.
And of course, Plagg could not claim that all humans were inconsequential without having to lump his holders in with that statement.
Whether they be past, present or future, his holders were nothing if not significant.
The Ladybug and the Black Cat were not the same as the others. It took more than slipping on a piece of jewellery to wield their power—for Plagg was destructive by nature and by choice. To wield his ring was to stain one’s soul with his mark, a brand that sank itself far more than just skin deep.
Plagg was a creature that didn’t care for the judgement of others, and he certainly did not take well to being told what to do.
He was chaos and destruction, misery and calamity, death and despair. Plagg was everything humanity had ever claimed he was. But Plagg was also unpredictable—a trait he frequently indulged in. He was often stubborn and impatient—mostly because he wholeheartedly enjoyed being a frustrating nuisance. Acts of discord always left a fragrant flavour upon his tongue—a pungent delicacy, much like his beloved camembert.
But that didn't mean the importance of restraint was lost on him.
Usually, it depended wholly on his holder. They were mortal, he never expected much from them anyway—at least not in the same way Tikki expected things from her Ladybugs. He was kind like that.
A kindness that he often found himself extending to his current ward.
Adrien had been younger than expected. He certainly wasn't the youngest that had ever been, but it was a shame, nonetheless.
As gentle fingers had pried open his miracle box, fragments of his physical form had already begun to gather impatiently. His other half had already anchored herself to the mortal plane, brought forth by her own holder, and without her presence he had begun to feel unbalanced.
Slipping fully into this plane of existence, Plagg had peered past wide green eyes to offer a silent greeting to a familiar soul. A single moment taken to mourn an end and a beginning.
Adrien’s eagerness had pleased him at first, but that had soon turned sour.
The boy that had stood before him had been naive, well behaved and soft-spoken in the presence of others—a child who had already become accustomed to unfortunate circumstances.
The mortal world had changed since he had last seen it, but Plagg was more than capable of recognising the sight of a child abandoned.
So, he indulged him, more than he would admit. Tikki would most certainly tease him for it—as if she had the right. It would be her fault if he were to ever become soft. They were more conjoined than Plagg ever seemed to appreciate. No matter how far the distance between them, he could never truly escape her influence.
Even now, as he hovered above the golden hair of his Chosen, Plagg watched as slender fingers tied a shiny, satin ribbon around a neatly wrapped parcel, and indulged in the feeling of contentment that had settled within him. It was a feeling that had begun to feel all too natural as Adrien held up his gift. The bow was made with too much ribbon but still held its shape, despite being a bit lopsided. There was a small, nervous smile on Adrien’s face.
“Looks good, kid”
Adrien’s smile revealed dimpled cheeks as it stretched across his face in a childish grin.
The corners of his eyes crinkled.
He could have mentioned that the bow was too big and that the wrapping paper was a bit crushed at the edges—but what was the point in worrying about such superficial things? He’d worked hard on that gift—sneaking the specially chosen wrapping paper into his bedroom without leaving a trail of glitter in his wake, spending hours online placing bid after bid to acquire the limited-edition figurine, skilfully dodging his usually inattentive father and his persistently annoying assistant. He could’ve burst the kid’s bubble and said that the whole thing was just a waste of time, that he could’ve just bought some little trinket from a street-side vendor and called it a day—he probably would’ve said it had it been anyone else—but what was the point in that?
Adrien shuffled quickly around his room and retrieved a small envelope that contained a colourful card before returning to the gift and slipping it beneath the centre of the bow. Plagg continued to watch as Adrien fiddled with the gift for a few more moments before stepping back, finally appearing to be satisfied.
Adrien made his way toward his bedroom door with the gift held tight to his chest. He paused, his left-hand hovering above the doorknob, as he realised that his Kwami had yet to follow.
Plagg gave a shrug of his shoulders and made a forward gesture with his hands, “Go ahead kid, I got a lonely piece of Camembert that’s in desperate need of my undivided attention”, he purred, attempting to shoo his charge out the door.
Adrien faltered, his hand finally coming to rest on the polish doorknob, a pinched look marring his features—he most likely hadn’t been expecting the noncommittal dismissal from his Kwami—not his fault though, Plagg rarely let the boy out of his sight.
Adrien glanced towards the door, “Uh, you sure you don’t wanna come with?”, he shifted his weight and cast the godling a pleading look.
Plagg sighed, “You’ll be fine kid, I’m sure he’ll love it”. He made another shooing motion with both hands.
Adrien shifted his weight from one foot to the other and leaned his weight against the door in front of him, “Oh, okay”. With his eyebrows still furrowed he cast Plagg one last glance over his shoulder before stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him with a gentle turn of the handle.
Plagg waited, hovering in the air, listening to the footsteps that grew softer as the distance between him and his charge grew larger. The kid had a lot to learn—he wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t going to learn if Plagg kept coddling him.
Adrien had his own list of faults and flaws that needed to be dealt with—but Plagg had lived a hundred lifetimes, each and every one with his charge by his side.
The face his Black Cat wore was different in every one, as were the struggles and misfortunes that they had been dealt. He’d spent thousands of years watching over a single soul—what was a few more to a creature like him? A few more troubles to resolve, a few more obstacles to overcome. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t always remembered—old disappointments had long since grown stale—but the reunions always remained bittersweet and long overdue.
He waited till the distance grew large enough before drifting towards the same door Adrien had slipped out of and phased smoothly through the richly stained wood. He spied Adrien already halfway down the curved stairway and Plagg was quick to make his way to a shadowed corner that was situated high enough to give him an appropriate vantage point.
Standing near the far-right corner of the grand foyer was the bodyguard tasked with shadowing the Agreste heir.
‘The Gorilla’ was a tall, large man that Plagg tolerated for Adrien’s sake. He could admit that his initial assumptions of the guard had not been entirely accurate—but the man hardly spoke so Plagg was excused in his judgement. He’d first assumed the man to be indifferent towards Adrien, however, it had become gradually apparent that he did, in fact, have a soft spot for the boy he’d been hired to protect. Plagg still held his reservations though, after all, the man was being paid for his services.
Not to mention that ‘The Gorilla’ was a terrible nickname—even if it was a rather fitting moniker that had been coined during the man’s youth as a boxing hobbyist.
Adrien however, had grown incredibly fond of The Gorilla—loneliness and close proximity often did that to a child—hence the attempt to gift the man a highly sought-after collector’s edition action figure for his birthday.
Unfortunately for him though, it appeared that The Gorilla was in the middle of taking his leave for the day. With his head bowed and staring into his phone screen, his right hand was already grasping the handle of the front door.
Seeing his target about to slip from his clutches, Adrien gave a frantic shout and increased his speed down the staircase. The Gorilla’s head snapped upwards towards the sound of his name, just in time to witness Adrien’s unbalanced stumble as his feet collided with one another down the last few steps.
Plagg froze at the sight. His boy wasn't usually so clumsy.
The Gorilla took hold of Adrien’s shoulders as he made it to the landing and pushed him upright. Plagg could see the flush on Adrien’s face as he steadied himself.
Adrien hid the present behind his back with one arm. The Gorilla’s hand swept up and down, scanning Adrien for any sign of injury, but was abruptly taken back as Adrien jerked out of his grasp when he reached for his left arm.
Plagg watched intently as Adrien stuffed his right hand nervously into his trouser pocket, presenting the gift with his left. Unable to clearly hear the conversation, he could still make out the way Adrien stuttered over his words, his cheeks and ears erupting with a healthy red flush. Despite his obvious embarrassment, Adrien somehow managed to thrust the gift forward into The Gorilla’s chest.
Confusion warped the bodyguard’s face as he accepted the gift with both hands. The puzzled expression was short-lived before realisation struck and The Gorilla was ripping apart the wrapping paper and pulling Adrien into a one-armed hug. The hulking man pet the boy’s golden head affectionately and ruffled his hair as Adrien returned the hug with both arms around the man’s side. The Gorilla grinned and spoke more words than Plagg had ever heard him speak.
Plagg lingered a little while longer—watching the Gorilla listen with rapt attention as Adrien grinned and spoke enthusiastically, gesturing animatedly—before slowly beginning to drift away from his shadowed corner and back to Adrien’s bedroom.
He dug through his stash and settled on a particularly ripe piece of cheese and settled himself in a spot on the window ledge where he could still make out the swiftly descending rays of sunlight over the nearby rooftops of Paris.
His boy had grown.
Adrien was no longer as meek nor spineless as he was when he’d first fallen into his care. The boy still had his faults and his flaws, but they had time—time to learn and grow and live. After all, they had the rest of their lives together, and Plagg was nothing if not fond of his Black Cats.