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Light snowflakes drifted softly over the rooftops of Paris, catching the glow of streetlights and warmly lit windows before melting away. Just enough to land, but not enough to stick. The city below felt hushed and content, wrapped in warmth and quiet excitement as Christmas Eve settled in. Somewhere beneath them, laughter echoed faintly, doors opened and closed, and the low hum of holiday cheer drifted through the streets.
Above it all, Ladybug and Chat Noir sat side by side on an old rooftop near the Trocadéro. It wasn’t their usual spot, but it was close enough to feel familiar. Their legs swung gently over the edge, boots knocking together now and then. A small awning overhead offered some shelter from the snow, though a few flakes still slipped through. Moonlight stretched their shadows long behind them—two figures outlined against the stone façade.
Earlier that evening, there had been an akuma—an enchanted snowman wielding a candy cane lance. The candy shop owner had been lonely on Christmas Eve, his sadness shaping the magic. It hadn’t been an urgent fight, more clumsy than dangerous, filled with laughter and near-misses. When the lance had finally snapped in half, Ladybug hadn’t really wanted the night to end quietly.
So after agreeing to meet back up once they’d transformed, they found themselves here instead—grateful there was nothing left to do but enjoy the peaceful night air together.
Chat rocked back and forth, rubbing his hands together as his tail flicked behind him. He exhaled, a small cloud of breath blooming into the cold.
“Okay, tell me Bugaboo,” he said, bringing his hands to his mouth to let the warmth calm his nerves, “do you think Santa brings gifts to superheroes too? Or are we stuck on the ‘normal kids’ list? While I think Chat deserves it, I’m not sure the other side of me does.”
Ladybug chuckled, adjusting the blanket she’d draped across her lap—soft wool, hand-knit, now dusted with melting snowflakes.
“I’m sure the other side of you earned just as much as Chat did, but regardless, with how many times we’ve saved Paris this year… I think we’ve earned a spot on the nice list in either form.”
Chat grinned as he leaned back on his hands, glancing sideways at her. “Then I hope he brings me what I really want this year.”
She raised an eyebrow, smiling at him. “Okay, I’ll bite. What does this cat wish for?”
“You.”
She froze slightly—just long enough to register the word—before she heard him chuckle. She sighed and nudged his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” he replied, though his voice was softer than usual.
Ladybug leaned against him as the first sparkle of the Eiffel Tower’s light show began in the distance. “Thanks for coming out tonight, Kitty.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, My Lady,” Chat murmured, right before his hand slipped and his back hit the roof beneath them.
Ladybug giggled and turned to look at him. “You okay there, Kitty?”
“Never better,” he groaned, then paused, his eyes catching on something above them. He tilted his head, squinting slightly, before a grin spread across his face. “Is that… mistletoe?”
Ladybug followed his gaze. Sure enough, hanging directly above them from the awning, was a small sprig of green leaves and white berries, tied neatly with a red ribbon.
Her eyes snapped to his. “You planned that!”
Chat laughed, loud and full. “I actually didn’t, but I wish I had.”
Ladybug studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. I guess someone wanted to spread holiday cheer all the way up here too.”
“I guess so.” Chat grinned before turning to her, eyes twinkling in the evening lights. “So… tradition?”
She glanced up again, then back at him, pretending to weigh the idea. “Well, technically, we are sitting beneath it…”
Chat’s breath caught in his lungs. She leaned toward him, snowflakes clinging to her hair and lashes as she scooted closer.
“I suppose a Christmas kiss wouldn’t hurt,” she murmured.
Chat’s heart skipped as something hopeful settled deep in his chest. “Are you serious?”
Ladybug leaned in just enough for their noses to brush. Chat closed his eyes in anticipation, and then she pressed a soft, feather-light kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Merry Christmas, Chat.”
He opened his eyes, stunned. “That’s it? Just the nose?”
Ladybug laughed. “You have to work a little harder for the lips, kitty.”
He frowned, then smirked and clutched his chest. “She’s cruel and beautiful. Dangerous combo, not sure how I’ll survive.”
“You always survive, kitten.”
They settled into a comfortable silence as the snow began to fall a little thicker around them. Chat huffed softly before grinning at her, eyes bright. “Well then… I know what my New Year’s resolution is.”
Ladybug arched an eyebrow and pinched her lips. “Let me guess. ‘Kiss Ladybug before midnight’?”
He leaned over, brushing her shoulder, his voice low. “No. Just… keep earning her heart, one rooftop at a time.”
She didn’t answer, but her chest thumped as warmth bloomed low in her stomach. She reached out and slid her fingers into his, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment before letting out a quiet giggle. “Actually… since we’re already doing traditions…”
She leaned away, grabbing a small package she’d set behind them earlier when she’d arrived. It was wrapped in red paper and tied with a simple black ribbon. “I know you may not be used to this kind of thing, since you haven’t really been around other kids, but um, I got you something.”
Chat blinked, the smile lingering as the words echoed back a little louder than they should have, the phrasing catching like a snagged thread before he composed himself. “Oh, you did?”
“Don’t get too excited. I don’t want you to fall off the roof,” she teased. “It’s nothing fancy.”
He smirked, then laughed softly. “Well… this is awkward… but I got you something too.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”
“I guess that means we both made Santa’s nice list.”
They moved away from the edge of the roof, settling near the chimney as the snow continued to drift, light and unbothered. Chat handed her a small silver box, wrapped neatly with a ribbon shaped unmistakably like cat ears. “You open first.”
She took the package and laughed. “You even wrapped it like a cat.”
“Branding, My Lady. Chat Noir special.”
“Special,” she chuckled, “the only thing special here is you.”
“I disagree, now open.”
Ladybug slipped off the bow and opened the box. Inside was a small wooden music box. When she lifted the lid, she found two figures—one with spots, one with cat ears—engraved inside. She turned the dial, and La Vie en Rose played softly across the night air.
Her breath caught. “Chat, this is…”
“I saw it and thought of us and Paris,” he said quietly. “This year’s been… pretty special.”
She smiled, eyes shining. “It really has.”
Then she passed him her gift.
He untied the ribbon carefully, revealing black fingerless gloves lined with soft red fleece. Tiny embroidered paw prints rested on the backs.
“They’re… warm,” he said softly. “You made these?”
She nodded. “I figured your claws get cold up here.”
He slipped them on. They fit perfectly.
“I love them,” he said, voice low and sincere. “No one’s ever made me something like this before.”
Ladybug leaned her head on his shoulder. “Well… it’s been a year. A really good year. I wanted you to have something to show for it.”
Chat was quiet for a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently into his side. “You’re what made this year good,” he whispered. “Even the bad days weren’t so bad when I had you.”
Snow continued to fall around them, soft and steady, as Paris glowed quietly below.
***
Adrien slipped into his room later than intended. The mansion was quiet, in that familiar, hollow way. A clock chimed somewhere in the distance as he sat at his desk before detransforming.
Plagg appeared with a yawn and a stretch, then squinted at Adrien’s expression.
“Oh,” he said. “It’s been that kind of night.”
Adrien didn’t answer, his face scrunched in confusion. He set the gloves carefully on his desk, smoothing them out without thinking. The red fleece lining peeked through at the edges, still warm from holding her hand. He stared at them for a moment before reaching into a drawer for his stashed piece of paper and a pen.
He told himself he was just organizing his thoughts. Nothing serious and yet he’d kept the paper folded, not thrown away, like he knew he’d need it again.
The page stared back at him, filled with previous notes:
Into fashion and design
Loves the Dupain-Cheng Bakery
Blue eyes
Feels safe
Comfortable
He paused, chewing on the end of the pen as he glanced at the last prior note:
Not impressed by Adrien Agreste.
He let out a low huff of laughter before underlining it once, then hesitated, adding: Or pretends not to be.
Adrien tilted his head, considering. He didn’t know why it mattered, only that it did.
He frowned slightly, leaning back in his chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling as tonight replayed itself in slow flashes: the snow, the lights, the sparkle in her blue eyes, her laugh, but most of all, the way she’d said it:
I know you may not be used to this kind of thing, since you haven’t really been around other kids…
He froze. His pen hovered. He hadn’t misunderstood that. He was sure of it. It was gentle and familiar.
He wrote again.
Knows things she shouldn’t.
A question mark followed, then another, as Adrien stared at the words, his heart giving a quiet, uncertain thump. He stared at the paper a moment longer, as if considering another note, then thought better of it as he crumpled the paper, tossing it into the trash bin.
Frowning slightly, he laid his head on his desk as Plagg floated into view.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he said mildly.
Adrien didn’t look up, mumbling, “I know.”
“You’re not supposed to know,” Plagg said, fondly.
“I know,” Adrien repeated.
He sighed again. It wasn’t that he needed to know. Whoever she was and however she fit into his life, she made him feel something other than silence.
He sat up and pulled the gloves on again, flexing his fingers. They fit perfectly.
Adrien smiled to himself and glanced at the trash bin. He leaned down, pulled the paper out, smoothing it with ease before murmuring, “Not tonight, but…”
He slipped the paper back into his desk and glanced at the computer screen. The clock rolled over to midnight. Adrien grinned and muttered, “Some things are worth earning, one rooftop at a time.”
His brain knew it, and so did his heart.