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“Chat,” Ladybug sighed, staring at the rose being extended to her. She was starting to wonder what would run out first: his resolve, or the amount of roses in Paris.
Also, she was fairly sure he’d taken that one from the guy they just saved.
“You know I can’t take that,” she said, rather than voicing any of those things.
“Why not?” He frowned, sliding his thumb along the rose’s stem. His claw was sharp enough that it snipped off a thorn in the process, which landed at her feet. “You took the one after we fought Glaciator.”
She pursed her lips, so many answers coming to mind but not a lot that she thought she could say. In contrast to the bodysuit’s thick material protecting them every time they dealt with akuma, Chat was delicate like the petals of the rose he held. He put on a show of confidence that couldn’t be shaken, but when it came to talking about feelings - or lack there of - where they disagreed, it was a field of landmines.
She didn’t want to hurt him, but it was difficult to figure out where she could safely tread. Their roles as superheroes with secret identities meant she had no idea what his home life was like, so she pitied him in a way.
I want to keep it professional between us, and this isn’t it, she wanted to tell him. You need to knock it off. I can’t keep doing this all the time.
Above all else, she wanted to say: I already have a boyfriend.
Marinette hurried down the street, checking the time once more with her phone as if it’d suddenly jump up ten minutes. That was just what happened when she juggled two different lives; the world seemed to move faster than she could handle.
The one nice thing about being Ladybug, at least, was that it let her travel as she pleased, much faster than she’d be able to normally. It meant that she was close enough to her intended destination to where she wouldn’t have to worry about being sweaty.
Turning a corner, she could see the building with the ice rink in the distance. Excitement and relief burst in her chest, but she ducked into the nearest alley for one final “check.” Since her phone was already out, she swapped to her camera and took a look at herself
Her bangs weren’t quite right due to the run, but she easily smoothed them back to their original position. The only problem then was her expression, as she still had lingering stiffness from her unproductive conversation with Chat.
(It’s fine,) she thought to herself. (Ladybug time’s over. You’re here now, you’re going to have a great, distracting time, and it’ll all be better.)
She tested out her smile, tilting her head side-to-side while eyeing her face. It wasn’t as good as she’d like it to be, but she didn’t have time to take an acting course. It’d have to do.
Making sure her back was straight, she put her phone away and strolled out of the alley with all the enthusiasm she could muster. Most of it was genuine, but it was frustrating when she couldn’t be at her absolute best when she went out on a date.
Though, Luka had told her repeatedly that he was happy to be near her no matter her mood, and every time it somehow felt like a wedding vow. She shook her head to get rid of the thought before she had to consider using the ice rink to cool her face off.
It wasn’t that hot outside, but it was refreshing pushing the double doors open into the air-conditioned room. Breathing felt fresh, like the first inhale after one’s teeth were newly brushed with a minty toothpaste, and she eagerly looked around for her boyfriend since he tended to arrive early.
She spotted him before he spotted her, as he was sitting on a chair looking at his phone. It was almost automatic to call out to him, but she took the appropriate amount of time to admire his date attire.
Luka wasn’t really a fancy dresser, but it was obvious when he put in extra effort to look conventionally nice as opposed to his typical punk look. Less rips in his clothes, hair brushed more while retaining that bit of fluff, and the shoes with random symbols all over being traded out for more “normal” shoes.
If he were ever to ask her on a clothes shopping date, she would die happily on the spot. Perhaps it was her nature as someone who fantasized about being a fashion designer one day, but the more she liked someone, the more she wanted to dress them up. She already felt better simply looking at him.
She approached, and he seemed to hear her first rather than see her, given the way his head suddenly darted up from his phone to make eye contact with her. She saw the signature sparkle in his eyes and the widening of his smile when he saw her, though it faltered momentarily in what seemed like suspicion.
Empaths; can’t hide anything from them, apparently. After waving at him, she stood beside him and gestured at his ensemble. “I love the black jacket. I’m so used to seeing you in blue.”
He stood up and took her hand, his back straighter than usual at the praise. “Thanks. I didn’t know what you were going to wear, but you told me that black goes with almost everything. I thought it’d be a good idea in case you wanted to wear it home.” He stared off into the distance, thoughtful. “If you don’t think it’d be boring, we can go shopping for matching clothes when I get my next paycheck from my part-time job.”
(Marry me,) she screamed in her head, eyes briefly shut tight as she reminded herself that they were in public. She could stand to have some decorum at least, settling for squeezing his hand and pulling him in for a quick but affectionate kiss.
Eyes half-lidded when they pulled away, she insisted, “I should be thanking you. I feel better already.”
She knew that he knew something was up, so there was no point in denying it. Best to get it out right away before he started worrying.
“Good. Happy to help,” he assured, voice low but full of love. He outstretched an arm towards the rest of the building, wordlessly asking if they should carry on with the date while they talked. At her nod, they both walked together as he asked, “Was it a rough day?”
“Not a rough day,” she replied, aware how funny that would’ve sounded to anyone who knew she was Ladybug less than an hour ago. “There’s this guy who keeps bothering me, and I don’t know how to make him stop.”
Luka’s brows drew together in concern. “Is it someone at school? You can’t get away from him?”
“S…sort of. It’s complicated.” She did her best to explain without revealing too much information. “I can’t avoid him and it’s better if we get along, but he likes me. He doesn’t listen when I try to tell him that I’m not interested. It might be easier if I told him I was dating someone, but the less he knows about me, the better.”
He listened and nodded along, though she didn’t expect him to fully grasp the situation. Without all the details, she knew it must’ve been hard to understand why it was so complex in the first place.
After a moment, he pointed out, “You shouldn’t have to tell him you’re dating if you already rejected him.”
“I know.” She didn’t actually know, but it was comforting to hear it, especially from him. “I don’t think he’s a terrible guy, but I don’t want to deal with it every time we see each other.”
They’d gotten their respective ice skates by that point and went towards the ice rink. It was relatively empty, so they picked two seats to sit next to each other in as they continued their conversation.
“Sorry if it’s weird to talk about this,” she said regretfully.
“Why would it be weird?” he wondered, so genuine and innocent that she wanted to kiss him again.
“You’re my boyfriend? Listening to me talk about another guy?”
He snorted, putting his ice skates aside to pick up her hand again. He kissed her fingers, then grinned at the way she twitched from the tingling sensation it gave her. “A guy you don’t even like. Why would I be upset about that? I’m just happy you’re alright talking to me about your problems.”
She blushed, partly from the sweetness but also embarrassment because he was right. Why did she have to assume that talking about guys was off-limits somehow?
Maybe it was how she grew up, she supposed. She didn’t have any guy friends for a long time and, even in her superhero life, Chat hadn’t made a big deal of it when she brought in a girl as another superhero to help out.
Luka, maybe not seeing her thought process exactly but getting the gist of it, intertwined their fingers and wondered, “Does he know you like guys?”
“I don’t think so. I never said it, so he probably just hopes so.”
“…Hm.”
“Hm?” She tilted her head, amused. “That was a suspicious hm.”
“No, I—” His free hand held his chin as he tried to explain himself. “I thought of something, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
She pouted. “Well now I want to know even more.”
“But…”
With a purposefully dramatic huff, she pulled her hand away from his so she could cross her arms. Abandoning her own ice skates, she got up from her seat and moved over to drop herself right onto his lap, effectively straddling him.
“Lukaaaa~” she pleaded, sliding her hands up his chest and to his shoulders. With all her anxiety, she’d always been worried about her ability to have a balanced relationship with someone, but Luka had a way of bolstering her confidence and she could see that she had him under her spell.
His hands found her waist instantly, and he gave in happily, “I know you don’t like doing it, but you could lie.”
“Lie?” The thought had never occurred to her beyond the basics of what she had to do to protect her identity.
“What if he thinks you’re into girls?” He smirked mischievously, adding a lightness to his voice. “I’m happy to be your girlfriend whenever you need it, or whatever you want to call me.”
That… wasn’t a bad idea. He was right that it didn’t feel good to lie about it, but it wasn’t like she had to worry about slipping up, since she never talked about her personal life to him.
“I can’t believe my ‘girlfriend’ is telling me to lie,” she joked. “When did you become such a rebel?”
“It does bother me that someone’s bothering you like that,*” he answered honestly, “so I think you should do whatever you have to. Let me know if it gets worse or not.”
“Aw~” She pressed herself against him, feeling him move so she could wrap her arms around him. “Why? Are you going to take care of him for me?”
“…My mom might if she hears,” he admitted. She laughed, and he tried not to smile as he continued, “She’s happy for me finally getting a 'co-captain.’ She knows I’m more happy with you than with anyone else.”
The heartfelt statement sobered her up from the brief fit of mirth. She pulled away enough to look at his face, touched. “I make you that happy…?”
He stroked her cheek, but his eyes flicked down to her lips occasionally, seeming torn between whether he should kiss her face or simply admire it. “Yeah, and every next verse we play just makes me happier. I don’t even want to move right now.”
She brought a hand up to his wrist, running her thumb along his racing pulse. Voice tender, she said almost as a reminder, “But we came here to ice skate…”
Shaking his head, he disagreed, “I came here to spend time with you, and I’m doing that right now.”
The position he was in might not’ve been fully comfortable - the seats were only so-so to sit on - yet he appeared to be in heavenly bliss with her on his lap as she was. She tried to remind herself about the money spent, the fact that they’d bothered to plan this date in the first place, and how much of a waste any reasonable person would tell them it was to not ice skate in an ice rink.
Then, she realized that she didn’t care. With a coy smile, her hand slipped atop his shoulder and under his jacket to drag it down his arm. “Can I wear this after all?”
Luka was positively beaming, not minding the semi-awkward shifting they both had to do in order for him to get it off. She made herself more comfortable in the meantime, and he proceeded to throw the jacket over her shoulders, waiting for her to slip her arms into the sleeves before letting go.
“…Oh, Luka!” she fake-gasped, her hand flying up in front of her gaping mouth. “You forgot to bring a jacket to the ice rink! You must be freezing, I can’t let you go out there when it’ll be even colder.”
The outer corners of his eyes creased up in delight. Teasingly, he wondered, “Should we leave?”
“Of course not! If I get up, you’ll be more exposed.” She cuddled against him, pointedly ignoring how warm he felt as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll just have to share my body heat with you. It’s the safest way.”
His laughter so close to her ear was even more warm and, in the back of her mind, she thought that she might not have to lie after all.
“I don’t want you to give me roses anymore,” Ladybug told Chat, firm but still as gentle as she could.
There was a twitch to his lips. He twirled the rose in his hand, asking, “A friend can’t give another friend flowers?”
“It’s not the same thing when I know you have feelings for me,” she explained, “and we’re superheroes. We can go on patrol, we can talk like friends do, but not this.”
“I guess that includes hanging out?” The question was fine on its own, but there was a bitterness to his enunciation.
“Not dinner. No dates.” She was tempted to point out that he’d asked her out last time and set it up as a clearly romantic date without her being aware of it, but resisted so as to not rock the boat any further than she already had. “Don’t kiss my hand either.”
“What did I do wrong?” he demanded, thoroughly baffling her with whatever angle he was looking at this from. “I’m doing my best. Chat Noir and Ladybug, Ladybug and Chat Noir; everyone loves seeing us together.”
“I don’t. Not like this. I don’t expect Paris to respect that, but I hope you will.” After making a motion with her foot to imitate drawing a line in sand, she pivoted on her heel to face her back to him. She took a few steps away, paused for effect, then turned her head to say, “And one more thing…”
His cat ears visibly perked, because somehow he must’ve still thought that this could’ve been something positive for him. “Yeah?”
She exhaled through her nose, waiting just long enough for his ears to relax again. Then, she dropped the bomb, “I’m not into guys.”
“You—” Chat’s lips parted, and one could almost see the gears turning in his head while he processed what she said. A solid ten seconds passed and his mouth dropped fully open, his face flushing red like she’d either embarrassed, shamed, or thoroughly scandalized him with the implications.
Without another word, she leapt from the roof and threw out her yoyo, satisfied where things had been left and feeling secure in the fact that she hadn’t genuinely lied to him.
At the end of the day, she wasn’t into guys; she was into one guy.