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Bright lights beam down from the posts, setting the area ablaze. The Hotel de Ville is lit up, and outshines the surrounding buildings. Festive lights and mundane house lights dot the city, bright enough to drown out and replace the stars in the sky. It’s a pity, she thinks, because the stars are so beautiful. But this is the city, and the liveliness more than makes up for it. And, in front of the city hall, is an ice rink, dabbled with families and couples and friends. Surrounding it are booths, selling hot drinks and trinkets, even though it’s just a little below freezing.
She watches, as people come and go, just tiny figures in the night. There’s laughter and cheer, and it warms her heart. This is what she fights for, and no amount of evil can smother the joy of people.
There’s a beep, and she pauses her people-watching.
Where are you?
She smiles, and switches to the camera. She zooms in amongst the crowd of people. With her luck, she spots her correspondent in the fray, wandering around hesitantly. She’s dressed well, a pink tuque over her head, a dark winter coat, and a white scarf.
The camera shuts off, and she stands, perfectly balanced on the edge of the building opposing the city hall courtyard.
She opens her bag, a little bigger than the one she usually carries, and pulls out a pair of masks. She puts one back, and smiles.
It’s time, she thinks, for the fun to begin.
If you told Lila Rossi when she first arrived in Paris that she’d be close friends with the city’s superheroine, she would have giggled and told you they were already friends. If you told her after her brush with death via akumatised super fan, she would have told you you were out of your mind. Her? Friends with Ladybug? Yeah right.
But months have passed, and things have changed. Lila in particular. Having one of your lies come true will do that to you.
Sure, maybe it was meant to be a lesson in ‘be careful what you wish for’, or just about honesty in general, but there’s something very eye-opening when you’re dangling off the Eiffel Tower, about to become an Italian jam on the pavement.
So it should be understandable that, following that incident, that she didn’t really want to be around Ladybug, or even remain in Paris for very much longer.
But, alas, karma is real, and Ladybug became her unofficial bodyguard. Not that the superheroine herself enjoyed it, because clearly, though she did save Lila’s life, she wasn’t too pleased about her lies.
“It’s because everyone thinks we’re friends,” Ladybug said after she casually broke into Lila’s apartment, scared the shit out of the girl, and nearly got whacked in the face with a baseball bat. “In case the Papillon uses you to get to me.”
“Great.” Lila said. Paris is wild. “Can you knock next time?”
So, through more midnight break-ins, reluctant cooperation, some domestic banter and – seriously, Ladybug, that is not how you make breakfast – they’ve become quite close. Worryingly close. Like, closer than even Lila painted them out to be when she first arrived.
Not that either of them will ever admit it. Lila still refers to them as “friends”, and Ladybug is hard to catch, yoyo and all.
They’re close, in some way. Some would call their banter ‘flirting’, but Lila just thinks Ladybug thinks she’s so smooth. And Lila enjoys making the heroine blush behind her already red mask.
Close enough for Ladybug to drag her out hours before midnight on New Years’ Eve, without the fear of death. But, Lila is anything if not resourceful, and not even unwashed hair, undone laundry, and a half-hour deadline before Ladybug takes matters into her own hands and kidnaps Lila herself is enough to keep her from looking her best.
Also, it’s New Years’ Eve, her mother is at an embassy party, and Lila really would rather be out with Ladybug than alone at home, or worse, pretending to care about the opinions of her mother’s diplomat friends.
Which is how she finds herself in front of the Parisian city hall, staring around the courtyard, wondering where the hell Ladybug is.
It is nice out, even though she’s sure the ice on the temporary skating rink is at risk of melting. Paris really isn’t that all that cold, to her dismay. The holidays always felt better when she was bundled up and warm while white blanketed the outdoors.
Still, she thinks, and takes a moment to watch the hundreds of Parisians enjoying themselves in the winter. It’s not a bad view, very picturesque.
“Did I keep you waiting?”
Lila spins, elegantly, even in heels, and does a double-take.
The girl who spoke blinks owlishly at her, a small, but bright smile on her face. Black lines over red spider out over her face, and Lila realises it’s a mask. Over another mask.
“Ladybug?” Even in her surprise, Lila keeps her voice down. She takes a few steps towards the girl, dazed. “You’re…”
Ladybug giggles, holding a white gloved hand over her mouth. “My transformation only replaces whatever I’m wearing at the time. So,” she twirls, just for effect, and her frilly pink skirt flares under her deep purple winter coat. The heroine steadies, still grinning. “What do you think?”
The usual costume is covered up by the purple coat, black leggings, and a pair of fabric boots. A light pink scarf hides neck and over her ears are fluffy white earmuffs.
If it wasn’t for the extra mask over the existing mask fused to Ladybug’s face, no one could tell she was the city’s superheroine.
“You look amazing,” is all Lila can say, because Ladybug really does. “That mask…”
“I made it,” Ladybug beams. Then, pulls out another pair. “One for you, too!”
“I hope this isn’t a present,” Lila says, taking the pair. They’re identical to Ladybug’s. “I didn’t get you anything.” They’re modified glasses. Lila parts her hair and takes off her hat to slip the mask on. It fits surprisingly well, molding into her face.
Maybe it’s magic.
“Don’t worry,” Ladybug says, grinning. “You can pay me back in other ways.”
Lila laughs, then deadpans, “What?”
Ladybug looks over the civilian’s shoulder, and horror dawns on Lila’s face.
“No way.”
“Yes way!”
“I can’t skate!”
Ladybug takes her hand and begins to drag her over to a booth renting skates next to the ice rink.
“It’s a good thing you have me, then.”
“You can skate?”
“I rollerblade. Occasionally.”
“I hope your super coordination applies to frictionless situations.” Lila intones, minorly concerned for her future. “I’m going to look like an idiot.”
“You’ve survived worse.”
“This is Paris, so that doesn’t mean very much.”
“You’ve survived being thrown off the Eiffel Tower! Twice!”
“Yes, and you caught me, both times.”
“Exactly! So don’t you trust me?”
Lila groans, prepares to write her will, and acquiesces.
“Fine.”
Skip to ten minutes later, and things are not fine.
Lila may as well be a newborn fawn for all the coordination she has on ice. Sans friction, her standing stance is reduced to wobbly knees, overbalancing, and flailing arms.
Ladybug, as always in situations that make most people fear for their lives, is graceful and majestic as always. Skating may as well be a second nature for how collected and calm she is.
The Italian would be resentful if her life wasn’t flashing before her eyes.
“Help me!” Lila yells, in lieu of outing Ladybug’s presence to the other skaters. She pitches forwards in the heroine’s direction, and Ladybug catches her hands. Lila steadies, just a little. Then physics remembers she’s on ice and she does a ridiculous kicking movement with her legs to keep herself from falling over.
“I got you,” Ladybug says, grabbing her by the waist. Without her heels, Lila is shorter than Ladybug. It’s probably a good thing. The heroine is smiling, all bright and happy and if Lila wasn’t terrified out of her mind she’d find it cute. “Have you ever skated before in your life?”
“Just because I’m familiar with snow in the winter does not mean I’m an expert at skating!”
“I’ll take that as a no.” Ladybug shakes her head. “Come on.” She pushes off and begins to pull Lila across the ice. Lila’s face is frozen in horror and the look like one’s eaten something unpleasant. Ladybug’s smile widens, just a little, because cool, collected, better-than-you Lila Rossi is terrified of skating.
Ladybug goes a little faster, and her luck keeps them from crashing into the other skaters. Then, Lila begins to swear.
Or at least, Ladybug assumes Lila’s swearing. The Miraculous can only translate the girl’s hurricane of words as variations of “putain”. Judging by a couple of looks some of the skaters throw Lila, the polyglot’s probably cycling through all the languages she remembers.
Lila cuts herself off with a heavy breath, and her words come out cleaner and less profane.
“Cool, cool, cool,” Lila repeats, and Ladybug doesn’t think she’s speaking French. “I can do this. It’s just, not like walking, right?”
Ladybug flashes her a smile Lila doesn’t really catch, and slows to a halt. The girl seems to be practicing deep breathing.
“It’s just like flying,” She says.
“This is nothing like flying!” Lila returns, and Ladybug’s pretty sure it’s not the cold that’s numbing her fingers.
The girl throws her arms around Ladybug and her legs slide out from under her. Ladybug pulls her upright, and Lila wails into Ladybug’s shoulder. The heroine is torn between laughing and maybe getting Lila off the ice before she breaks something.
“You’re a lot comfier when you’re wearing stuff,” Lila mumbles.
“So I’m a glorified pillow?” Ladybug pretends to sound offended.
“You’re a cute pillow, in that case.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Lila. Let’s go!”
Ladybug wrestles Lila’s hands from around her middle and takes them in her own. With that, she pushes off, and begins dragging Lila across the rink.
Lila screams, and it’s almost hilarious. Her face is split in terror, and she’s swearing again.
Eventually, though, the swearing falters, and she looks a little less terrified, only staring at her in an expression Ladybug receives very often. A mixture of murderousness and awe.
“A little warning would be nice.” Lila says, a frozen smile on her face.
“Come on!” Ladybug teases, and spins them. Lila shrieks, but it’s happier, and they go twirling in circles.
Lila’s laughing, now, and Ladybug feels a warmth in her chest that has nothing to do with the exercise she’s pulling off. Ladybug kicks off with another burst of Miraculous-fuelled momentum, and Lila screams gleefully. Her bangs whip around her face, bits of extra hair falling out of her braid.
“Whoa, whoa, okay, getting dizzy!” Lila warns, and Ladybug slows to a stop near the edges of the rink. “Phew,” Lila says, eyes wide. She clings to the rail. “That was fun, but now the world is going all weird.”
“The world is always weird,” Ladybug says, perfectly fine. It’s not an akuma induced dizziness, so it’s all good.
Lila lets out an unabashed laugh, and smiles a little goofily. Her hair is a windswept mess around her face, tangling a little with her mask, and Ladybug very much wants to brush it neat.
“Hot chocolate?” Ladybug suggests. “Or is it not cold enough?”
“Oh shut up,” Lila grumbles. “Hot chocolate is great no matter what. Even if this city doesn’t know what winter is.”
“Good!”
“Now get me back to the stairs.”
“As you wish, your Highness.”
Lila groans.
Lila nearly trips when she gets back on frictional land and has returned her skates for her heels. Ladybug, bless her quick reflexes and good luck, catches her before she can faceplant with the ground.
“Great, I can’t even walk on or off ice,” Lila jokes, and Ladybug only hums. Then, in a movement that is far too easy, she lifts Lila up into a bridal carry.
Lila doesn’t even get the time to scream, and only stares at Ladybug. Behind two masks is a shit-eating grin.
“You’re just showing off, now.” Lila says, as some of the passersby regard them with intrigued looks.
“I think I’m showing you off, don’t you think?” Ladybug returns.
“How flattering!” Lila chirps, and loops her arms around Ladybug’s neck as the heroine starts for one of the rows of marketing booths.
It only takes a couple more odd glances for Lila to feel a little self-conscious, but Ladybug carries on, quite literally, until they make it to the hot chocolate stand and sets Lila back onto the ground.
“You’re spoiling me,” Lila says, rummaging through her bag.
“Then don’t get used to it,” Ladybug singsongs, pulling out her wallet. “What do you want?”
“Oh no, we’re splitting this.” Lila says, glaring. “Chivalry is for overly traditional relationships.”
“We don’t have a traditional relationship?”
“I lied about you, and you nearly dragged me in public.”
“True,” Ladybug winces. Lila groans.
“I have standards for my puns, so disclaimer, this isn’t meant to be a pun, but let it go, Ladybug!” Lila sulks. “Just for that, I’m buying your drink.”
“Wait, Lila!”
“One hot chocolate, whipped cream with a caramel shot, and one white hot chocolate, whipped cream with a vanilla shot.”
“Lila!” Ladybug whines.
“Consider it the fee for carrying me,” Lila smirks.
“I’m so taking you home.” Ladybug grumbles. Then freezes. “To your house. Where you live. Of course.”
“Of course,” Lila teases, poking Ladybug’s exposed cheek. “How long is your transformation gonna last, anyway?”
“We’ll see,” Ladybug says.
“You have got to stop being cryptic.”
“Nah.”
Lila rolls her eyes, but the hot chocolates arrive, and Ladybug misjudges how much whipped cream one can get on their face.
“Stop laughing at me!” Ladybug pouts, tongue poking out to salvage the whipped cream. Her head tilts back with the effort. A smear of cream is above the tip of her nose. She looks ridiculous. Lila finds it adorable, and says so.
“It’s stuck- on my- nose!” Ladybug sulks in response.
“Are you expecting me to help?” Lila grins.
“Yes, actually!” Ladybug returns, tongue sticking out at Lila. She frowns petulantly.
Lila leans in, and licks the whipped cream off Ladybug’s nose. She pulls back, and hums dramatically. Dramatics is a second instinct, which is good, because she’s just realizing what she’s done.
“White hot chocolate tastes good.” The words don’t really seem to come from her mouth, because there is no way in hell her brain approved of them.
Ladybug’s mouth is hanging open slightly, and Lila’s smiling suavely out of pure instinct. She’s writing her will on the inside.
“I love you.” Ladybug says.
“You what?”
Lila doesn’t phrase the question properly. It’s an anglicism that in any other situation would make Ladybug chuckle and gently correct her. Instead, the heroine takes a sip of her hot chocolate and repeats herself. Casual. Collected. Cool.
“I love you.” She says, like it’s obvious. “I just wanted to say that. I was going to tell you. At some point. Tonight.” With every word, her façade falters and she ends with a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks.
“Cool.” Lila says. Her brain has transitioned to auto-pilot. “Cool, cool, cool.” She blinks. “Wait, no, not cool, I mean, cool, but not like that’s my response to that.” Her free hand begins to wave.
“Too sudden?” Ladybug’s voice rises to a squeak. She looks panicked. Lila parkours around her own embarrassment.
“No, no, just, give me a moment. Or ten.”
“Do you wanna sit down, or…?”
“I love you too.”
“What?”
“I love you too.” Lila says, and her smile melts into a real one. “Or is that just a thing we’re doing now? Asking each other to repeat our confessions?”
“That’s good.” Ladybug says. “Good. Yeah. I love you. You love me. It’s good, right?”
“Generally, yes.”
“Cool,” Ladybug echoes. “Um, what do people do now?”
“Well, usually they kiss, but…” Lila fumbles through her phone. It’s nearly midnight.
“First kiss for the New Year?” Ladybug finishes the thought.
Lila smiles, and takes Ladybug’s hands.
“I’d love it.”
The clock counts down, the people cheering, and in the midst of it all, two girls stand, facing each other, hands linked and foreheads touching. Behind matching masks, they maintain warm gazes, smiles on each of their faces.
“Ten!”
Each is thinking of the other, of how it all came to be, of how they went from near-enemies to friends to, so very recently, lovers.
“Nine!”
But maybe this has been in the works for a while.
“Eight!”
Maybe they just didn’t realise it.
“Seven!”
When Lila began seeing Ladybug as more than a reluctant bodyguard.
“Six!”
And when Ladybug began seeing past Lila’s lies.
“Five!”
Somehow, someway, it all came down to this.
“Four!”
No matter what happens, Lila swears, no matter where I go…
“Three!”
I’ll be with you, Ladybug promises.
“Two!”
Their eyes close, and Lila misses the flurry of sparkles that are lost to the ground of lights.
“One!”
They move as one, and their lips meet just before:
“Happy New Year!”
And the seconds begin, ticking into the next revolution around the sun, and they are kissing. They’re warm, arms wrapping around each other, taste of chocolate on their lips, and each of them believe, they’ve never been so happy.
Lila needs air, even if her lover seemingly doesn’t and pulls away first. They don’t part, falling into an embrace, and blue eyes close under a single handmade mask.
“Happy New Year, Lila.”
“Happy New Year.”
“My transformation’s worn off.”
“Should I look away?”
“No. It’s okay.”
And Lila pulls away, slowly, eyes closed, and keeps their hands linked.
“I love you, no matter what.” Lila says.
“I wouldn’t think otherwise.”
Green eyes open, slow, calm, and meets the girl beneath the mask.
It takes a few moments, and then the magic fades, her brain whirs, and she begins to connect the face.
“Hey.” Marinette says, softly. She smiles, and it’s just the same as Ladybug’s.
The class representative that sat in the front of the classroom. Confident without making others feel less. Who hesitated around her and spoke too quickly and blushed to the tips of her ears when Lila complimented her outfit.
Who wore the exact same winter coat Ladybug was wearing.
“Hi.” Lila says, voice caught in her throat, a confused smile on her face. Ladybug. Marinette. Ladybug. Marinette?
When in doubt, flatter.
“You’re beautiful.” Lila says, and decides to add this somehow unthinkable connection to the list of reasons why Paris is absolutely bonkers.
Marinette ducks her head, blushing just as she did all that time ago, and Lila’s hands leave Marinette’s to cup her face. The other girl meets her eyes again. Lila can see Ladybug in her. Can see Marinette in Ladybug.
“I really couldn’t tell.” Lila murmurs, the pad of her thumb brushing over Marinette’s cheek. She has freckles. Lila has never been so endeared.
“It’s magic.” Marinette replies, and her smile shines bright.
Lila’s hand settle over the non-magical mask. The creations suddenly make sense to her. Marinette was known as an artist in their class. The Miraculous really were powerful.
“May I?”
“Go ahead.”
The mask slips off easily, and for the first time, Lila sees her as Marinette. No mask, mundane or magic, no disguises, no pretenses. Just Marinette. Just a normal girl with an extraordinary destiny.
Lila says nothing, and removes her own mask. She folds them both, carefully, and places them back in her bag. Then, she takes Marinette’s hands again. Presses their foreheads together. Squeezes her hands.
“Can I kiss you?”
Marinette, eyes gleaming brighter than her namesake, nods.
They kiss, for the first time without masks, and it’s no different from before.
Warm, loving, comforting.
Marinette’s lips are perfectly soft, despite the cold, and when they part, Lila’s glossy lip balm leaves sparkles on Marinette’s mouth.
“Happy New Year, Marinette.” Lila repeats, and Marinette’s name rolls off her tongue smoothly.
Marinette pecks her on the lips, very quickly. She meets Lila’s eyes and echoes:
“Happy New Year, Lila.”