Work Text:
Now that the akuma attack was over, Sofia really needed to focus on her assignment.
She took another sip of her iced coffee, allowing herself one last look out of the café's window at the newly restored Eiffel Tower and slightly garish Adrien the Fragrance billboard before turning back to her open word document.
In less than four hours, she had a paper due on the risks of using neonicotinoids for crop protection, and her grade definitely couldn’t afford the penalty awarded for missing the deadline.
Despite its location, the café Sofia had chosen to work in was relatively quiet, containing one or two late afternoon coffee dates deciding whether their date was impressive enough to progress to the dinner stage, and a handful of other students chugging down caffeine whilst desperately trying to piece together their own essays.
That was why she liked it so much: it felt like a sanctuary in which she could shelter from the busy streets of Paris and take a moment to refuel, maybe do some people watching.
Unfortunately, she also had to do her work. Sofia would never understand how Ladybug and Chat Noir fought akumas and kept on top of their day-to-day lives. Her only commitments were to university and tumblr, and she was struggling.
Just as she’d finally resigned herself to refocusing on her assignment, the door to the café swung open with a jingle, and a young couple walked through the door holding hands.
He was wearing a frayed, black hoodie, his blonde hair a total mess and his eyes covered haphazardly with a slanted pair of smeared sunglasses. Sofia wouldn’t have been surprised if he was wearing a pair of flip-flops to finish off that ensemble.
His girlfriend, on the other hand, was gorgeous in her white tank top and flowing blue skirt, with a soft pink scarf tied around her neck that Sofia was almost certain was designer, and her dark hair styled back in a neat bun, not a piece of it out of place.
Why was it that the most beautiful girls ended up with guys who didn’t look like they gave a shit? Sofia wasn’t asking every man to be Adrien Agreste levels of stylish, but come on. At least clean the sunnies before going out.
(Sofia amused herself by considering the fact that this was probably what Chat Noir dressed like when he left the house.)
Their order was placed by him, two coffees and a chocolate chip cookie, and they came to sit down at the table across from hers.
She took that as a sign to stop being nosy and instead stare at her still-blank computer screen when the woman said sternly, “are we going to talk about what the fuck just happened?”, which was practically an invitation to eavesdrop.
"What just happened?” The guy echoed innocently, and Sofia saw him lean back in his chair faux-casually out of the corner of her eye.
Apparently, his girlfriend could also tell that was bullshit, because there was the distinct sound of her kicking him under the table. “Don’t do that PR trained nonsense on me.”
He laughed, holding his hands up in defeat. “Sorry.”
Her expression softened into something marginally fonder before hardening again. “Seriously, though. What did we say about you jumping off buildings into swirling vats of magical goo?”
“In my defense,” her boyfriend started. “I didn’t know that there was a swirling vat of magical goo beneath the building when I jumped off it.”
Sofia choked on her drink.
Were they talking about the akuma attack that just happened? They must have been, but why would this guy randomly jump off a building?
She knew adrenaline junkies were a real danger to themselves, but this was a new level of concerning.
Maybe it was some kind of video game thing or online craze that had passed Sofia over. Trends moved so quickly nowadays, and it had taken her an embarrassingly long time to figure out what 6-7 was.
“You have to be more careful.” Something about the way she said it sobered him up. Sofia didn’t know what they were on about, but it suddenly got several degrees colder in the café, that was for sure. “You cannot do that again. I know you’re used to taking punches from everyone around you, but your auto-response shouldn’t be self-sacrifice.”
Wincing, he placed a hand on hers.
For a moment, Sofia didn’t think she’d let him have the physical contact, but she exhaled deeply and entwined his fingers with hers.
Then, so quietly that she almost missed it, “I can’t stop thinking about seeing you impaled on that railing.”
His knuckles went white from how firmly he was gripping her hand.
“There was so much blood, and I… oh, God, chaton, I didn’t know you had that much blood in you. I didn’t know if you’d come back to me. I can’t do that again. Please don’t make me do that again.” She let out a soft sob, and in one swift movement he was there, his arm enveloping her and his words whispered and making promises it didn’t sound like he could keep.
Sofia suddenly found her drink very interesting.
The discussion of the akuma attack like they were there.
The way the intonation of their voices was so familiar.
The nickname chaton.
Sofia could deny it all she wanted, but she knew who these people were now.
Hadn’t she thought it, the moment he’d walked in?
“I’m sorry, bug.” He said louder, cupping her face with his hand and making the ring on his finger glint from the angle it hit the sunlight. “You want to play more Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 when we get back to the apartment? I’ll even let you win to make up for it.”
Sofia thought that was an incredibly douchey thing to say, but from the way Ladybug his girlfriend chuckled wetly, her face brightening with the small smile she managed to produce, he’d said the right platitude. “Tempting, but I don’t need you to let me win. We both know that’s just an excuse to save your dignity.”
“My dignity? Do I have any of that left?”
She was properly laughing now. “I don’t know... I think you lost it somewhere between the banana suit and the time Nathalie found us in that maintenance closet together.”
“That was perfectly innocent! Everyone was fully clothed, and if anything, you should take fifty percent of the embarrassment for that one.”
She levelled him with a withering look. “I wasn’t the one she made sit through an hour-long presentation on practicing safe sex.”
“The sacrifices we make.” Then, quieter, “saying that, we both know I wouldn’t sacrifice this for anything.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
She leant forwards, pressing her lips to his softly, the remaining tension in her facial muscles melting at the contact.
She sniffed as they pulled back, briefly pressing her fingers under her eyes to remove any smudged makeup. (Her eyeliner was still perfect, though. If the circumstances were by any means appropriate, Sofia would ask for the brand.)
“Okay,” she began, conviction growing with every word. “I’m okay, now. I-the attack just… set me off.”
He nodded, like he knew better than to push it. Something about the way his face was set told Sofia he’d be bringing this up later, when things weren’t so public and she wasn’t so fragile, but for right now he settled for kissing her again and getting up off the floor.
“The service in this place is incredibly slow. I’m going to go and check on our drinks.”
As he stood up, Sofia’s gaze fell to his shoes.
Orange converse.
That was almost worse than flip flops.