She's stunning.
A flash of red, patterened with recurring spots of black swooping across the Parisian night.
His dreams consisted of the light footsteps of a crimson-clanned superheroine darting across the rooftops. Sometimes, she flashed him a smile- one just for him- and her eyes seemed to simply shimmer.
He knew that she was Paris' hero more than he'll ever hope to be. And he didn't mind. It's comforting, and he feels privileged. He feels privileged, because not only does he get to admire her up close; but he also has the advantage of protecting her- of being of use, if slight, to the symbol of luck and perfection- to Paris' jewel.
And there they were now, leaning against one another. It had been an exhausting day, but he had never felt more exhilarated.
Being Chat Noir had always been a freeing, wonderful experience, but sometimes Chat thought this was what he lived for. The nights of patrol when the moon was large and full, casting its dim light like a blanket across the landscape. He liked to imagine how their silhouettes looked like in this rare moment when both were too tired to contemplate the unprofessional pose they were in.
Because he felt so absolutely heavenly, so ironically lucky at that moment.
Ladybug was there, and they were leaning against one another. It was probably something stupidly simple, something friends did, nothing special. But if the wind blew just the right way, he can feel her dark hair brush against his cheek, and he can smell the scent of lilac and jasmine. He can hear her breaths and almost feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeats persisting. He wants to lock the moment away and treasure it in his heart forever. He wants it to plague his dreams every night, because they're not holding hands, and they're not kissing, but she was there and she didn't mind being in close proximity with him and they were both so vulnerable, cold and exhausted but Chat had never felt more alive and warm inside than he did in that moment.
It didn't last forever- none of the good things do. She sat straighter with what he though- what he hoped- was reluctance. The smile of comfort she gave him turned the warmth in his body into a roaring heat that reached the pit of his stomach, the tips of his toes. He was glad for the night that shielded his reddening cheeks for fear it would ruin their moment of intimacy.
She had to go, of course. She had a life behind the mask, one she had to attend to.
As he watched her swing away, he thought of all the things he'd say once he could finally see those sapphire eyes without a mask.
A/N; I attempted angst but I love this kid too much. Favourites and reviews are appreciated!
