Chapter Text
“So, you mean to tell me, Paris’ super polka-dotted heroine transports her civilian self on a motorcycle?”
Chat’s jaw reached the floor as Ladybug nodded once over her shoulder. Chat Noir couldn’t believe it. Well, no, that’s a lie - he definitely could. If anyone was going to pull it off it would be Ladybug. But still. Motorbikes are dangerous! They had seen many crashes involving the vehicles throughout their years as Ladybug and Chat Noir and, sadly? He’d seen enough twisted metal and shattered visors during patrols to last several lifetimes.
When it came to safety and responsibility, Chat Noir was always at the short end of the stick. Not that he was complaining of course. He just had a duty to protect Paris and the only superhero capable of cleansing akumas.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Ladybug’s halt on the rooftop edge pulled him out of his internal rant.
“A motorbike?!” Was all he could repeat, his jaw going slack once again.
Ladybug pulled a hand down her face with a groan, hopping back to the rooftop. “Yes Chat, we just established this.” Ladybug frankly could not be arsed to have this conversation again. The bike was a gift from her Grandma, promised from years back when she was just 14 years old. Yet all she had been hearing was you can’t ride this, it’s too dangerous or what if you get run over or what if you fall off.
Everyone kept acting like she’d explode on impact the second she touched a motorway. Christ, if they knew what she got up to daily as Ladybug, they’d lock her up and throw away the key. Bracing herself for an even worse lecture from Chat Noir, she shot him a glare. “What is so wrong about having a—”
“It’s cool.”
I’m sorry, did he just—
What?
There they were, standing alone on an abandoned rooftop, the glow of the sunset increasing the sizes of their shadows by the minute. Ladybug faced her partner to look at him fully. His jaw had closed, a lopsided grin slapped on his face, his eyes glinting with mischief.
The argument she’d prepared dissolved instantly.
“What?”
“It’s cool,” Chat repeated, shrugging one shoulder, nonchalant.
Ladybug thought she might pass out with relief. Of all people she assumed would give her shit…
The relief hit her embarrassingly fast.
Even her co-workers had opinions after seeing her arrive at work in full riding gear one morning. It didn’t matter what anybody thought, it’s her own life she was putting on the line.
Not as bad as being a superhero but who’s asking?
Ladybug shook her head and stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean it’s cool?”
“Exactly what you think it means?”
“Enlighten me, Chaton.”
His throat bobbed beneath the bell at his collar. “N- not many people are brave enough to even get their motorbike licence my lady, so good on you.” She was only a few feet away from Chat, he had to remind himself. If he didn’t ask her now, he knew he’d regret it later. “Will you give me a ride?” He purred.
Ladybug stared at him for a full second before groaning into her hands. “You are unbelievable.”
“It’s a valid question!”
“No it’s not!”
“It absolutely is,” Chat argued with a smirk, pointing at her like he was presenting evidence in court. He scoffed internally — what else did she expect? “You cannot casually reveal that you have a motorbike and expect me to not have questions.”
Ladybug’s reply is muffled behind her hands. “I never said that,” she snapped. “I was expecting questions about the bike itself, not you asking if you can cling to my waist - while transformed - riding 80 kilometres per hour through Paris.”
Chat paused, pulling his finger back.
“…So is that a no?”
“CHAT NOIR!”
He cackled, the laughter bouncing across the rooftop, loud and crazy enough to echo on the surrounding buildings. Civilians glanced up briefly. Ladybug hated how quickly the sound pulled a grin from her.
NOPE. Dangerous territory. Abort the mission immediately.
Damn that alley cat.
Ladybug dropped to the ledge of the rooftop. Tapping her fingers, she considered her options. Either she could risk her identity and take him on a joyride or she could shut the idea down immediately and not risk anything at all. On one hand, hearing Chat scream if she took a corner too fast would be excellent blackmailing material but on the other, he could recognise the bike even when Marinette rides it in full gear.
Beside her, Chat dropped down with crossed legs, sighing.
The worst part of it all? She already knew she was considering it.
“Come on,” Chat whined dramatically, leaning in closer and batting his eyes at her. “You know it’d be fun.”
“I know you’d be insufferable.”
“I’d wear a helmet.”
“Congratulations,” Ladybug rolled her eyes, pushing the tip of her finger onto Chat’s nose and getting him out of her personal space. She would’ve combusted otherwise. “You’ve discovered basic road safety.”
Chat Noir pouted, leaning back heavily on his hands, claws absentmindedly scratching the roof. “You’re no fun.”
Ladybug glanced over. To her horror, Chat Noir looked genuinely disappointed. What the hell was she supposed to do with that?! She doesn’t even have any gear for him nor a helmet and it’s not like she can just magically paint her bike a different colour overnight.
She knew it would be fun and exhilarating, especially with Chat’s hands on her hips. She’d have to concentrate very hard on the road.
That was the problem. The dangerous part wouldn’t be the speed. Forget the motorway. Chat Noir pressed against her back sounded completely hazardous. Oh god. She wouldn’t be able to do it.
And what about Adrien?! She hadn’t even given him a ride on her bike! Not that he knew of course but he would certainly notice it was missing from their garage and become suspicious if Marinette wasn’t home yet all her gear was still accounted for.
Chat’s ears drooped slightly.
Damn it.
It wouldn’t even work. How would they—
“I never said no, kitty.”
The man clad in a black leather practically launched forward, nearly losing his balance in the process. Ears perked, black pupils bulging, almost entirely covering his irises.
Ladybug smiled. She reached up and petted the side of his neck gently. “Follow me.”
They land near the Trocadéro. Chat was bouncing on his feet, his tail swishing, eyes moving. Ladybug couldn’t believe she was doing this. But she hated seeing her kitty disappointed.
Taking a breath, she called out her lucky charm, hoping, begging, praying that Tikki would get the point.
A flash of pink burst above the Trocadéro. Then with a metallic thud that echoed across the empty plaza, a red Kawasaki Ninja 400 decorated in subtle black polka dots landed directly in front of them with two helmets.
Ladybug threw one to Chat over her shoulder and inspected the other. It had comms built into it — nice touch Tikki. Their supersuits probably counted as better protection than actual riding leathers anyway.
Chat Noir mewled with excitement, bouncing his way over to the bike. Before he could lay his hands on it, a force pulled on his tail. He turned to glare at the intruder.
“Woah kitty kitty,” Ladybug tsked. “What are you doing?”
Chat deadpanned. “I’m going to get on the bike.” He tugged at his tail - Ladybug’s grip tightened.
“Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”
“Well, no-“
“Have you ever been a passenger on a motorcycle?”
“Considering I’ve never ridden one period, that would also be a-“
Ladybug pulled him back to stand beside her. “Then be patient, mon chaton. You haven’t even pulled your helmet on.” Ladybug cocked her head to the side. “Do you need help?”
Chat Noir scoffed, mumbling a “No.” Ladybug shrugged and made her way over to the bike. He watched with wide eyes as she swung over the bike, as she pulled it upright with an ease that made Chat’s stomach flip.
Nope. Absolutely not. He had a girlfriend. Ladybug was his best friend. His partner in crime. It was him and her against the world. As always.
Ladybug started the bike and giggled, revving it slightly. The low growl of the engine sent a thrill straight down her spine. God, she missed this. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to ride properly.
Chat couldn’t take his eyes off his lady, her helmet now settled over her face, visor flipped up. She looked his way, her eyes creasing. She was grinning at him. She pointed to the helmet still in his hands and raised an eyebrow.
Chat forgot how to move. Was this cheating? No, it couldn’t be… could it? No! No, of course not. He is in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. They had been in love for years.
Ladynoir could never happen. They had even attempted it after high school was over. It had barely lasted a few months before the cracks became obvious. Months of stolen kisses during patrols, late night rooftop cuddle sessions and avoiding the fact that they pretended the masks didn’t matter as much as they actually did.
They couldn’t cope with not knowing who was under the mask. It had ruined them. Every conversation and argument became a reminder that they were still strangers beneath the masks. They trusted each other with their lives but sometimes that just wasn’t enough. Not when they had no idea where the other disappeared after patrol. Not when they couldn’t comfort each other outside of the suits. Not when one bad akuma attack could erase everything without either of them even knowing who they were mourning.
That would’ve been their breaking point - losing their best friend and having no idea where they had disappeared to, never to be seen again.
It got ugly near the end.
They never raised their voices at each other, not really. There was no shouting involved. The superheroes of creation and destruction had always been careful with each other’s hearts. That had somehow made it worse.
Conversations became shorter and less frequent. Awkward pauses after kisses, hesitation before touching each other became more and more frequent. Every moment together felt borrowed, they were barely working as a team, trying to build a relationship on top of a trapdoor.
Then came the arguments.
Chat wanted to know why she vanished for days at a time outside patrols. Ladybug wanted to know why he flinched whenever she asked personal questions. Neither of them could answer without risking everything.
So they broke. Quietfully, painfully, mutually… they even took some space apart. The guardian had stepped back as Ladybug for a few weeks, finding a temporary holder to step in while she recovered and gathered her thoughts.
This had broken Chat but he understood. It’s not like he hadn’t worked with Scarabella before.
Yet somehow, despite all of that, despite moving on and finding people outside the masks, despite swearing they were better as partners and friends when Ladybug eventually returned…
Chat still couldn’t breathe properly when Ladybug smiled at him like that. “Helmet,” Ladybug reminded him gently, revving the bike again.
Chat blinked once before scrambling to obey. The Eiffel Tower glinted behind her in the distance.
Oh, he was so fucked.