Blood pounding in her ears, music beating in her chest. Both pumping through her entire body, breathing life into her being. She took a deep breath, hyper-aware of each muscle tensing and relaxing to accommodate her expanding lungs. Flexing her fingers, curling them into fists, she watched the black spandex of her fingerless gloves stretch over her hand. Cold air washed over her exposed midriff and bared arms, a sensation alien to Marinette.
But not to Ladybug.
Exhaling in a whoosh, she made her way to the dance floor, spectators and dancers alike hurrying to make a clear path for her. Pigtails bounced against her shoulders, bared by the sports bra; uniform black spots on vibrant red. Her black trackpants almost indiscernible in the rigged-up club lighting of the supermarket basement, their silhouette visible when a neon disco light passed over her form, also highlighting her red high trainers. She licked at her chapped lips, feeling the mask of facepaint pull at her skin, slathered so thickly that all anyone could see were baby blue eyes on glistening crimson.
Marinette stepped to the centre of the dance floor, designated by being the brightest square area in the room. Raucous cheers burst forth from the gathering, starting a rising chant of her name. Raising her head, Marinette glanced over at the turntables set upon the raised platform at the far end of the room. Volpina looked up from the stack of records she was perusing, catching her eye and extending both hands, palms up, accompanied with a shrug and wide eyes. Where?
Shaking her head, Marinette returned the shrug with a mouthed 'don't know'. Her eyes swept the room again, flitting from face to face and crossing her arms when she couldn't find the familiar cat ear hoodie and cocky grin. Where was Chat?
A buzzer sounded, and the crowd's cheers swelled into a roar that almost drowned out the music. A movement in the corner of her eyes drew her attention to Volpina again, who made a side-to-side gesture with both hands. Change tracks?
Again, Marinette shook her head and gave her the 'ok' sign to proceed. It would take some adjustments, but performing this one solo shouldn't pose a problem.
But if she knew Chat, she wouldn't be performing this one solo.
A boy stepped up to stand next to her, but not the one she was looking for. She held up a fist towards him, which he bumped with his own after a moment's hesitation.
"Glad you could make it, Prince!"
Prince Ali smiled, practically glowing under the roving disco lights. "I had to sneak out!" he yelled to be heard over the music. "Ready to start?"
"Whenever you are!" she called back, giving him a thumbs up. He nodded, then held up the cordless microphone.
"The people of Victorian welcome you! Give it up for Victorian's one and only Dancing Queen; Ladybug!"
Marinette leaned over to shout into his ear, "And its Dancing King, Chat Noir!"
"And …. And its Dancing King, Chat Noir?" Prince Ali added, his confusion making the announcement sound like a question. He glanced up and down the room, no doubt looking for the resident alley cat, but Volpina had dropped the needle and Marinette was already moving.
The tempo of the new track was faster, the beats more pronounced, and Marinette spoke it through her footwork. Her body flowed to the thrum of the music, legs weaving the power step through pure muscle memory, incorporating hops. If there was one thing good about having to run halfway across Paris to get here was that she was already warmed up.
Her arms snapped through the air, feet kicking as she spun and twisted, turned and swayed. The music's rhythm was her heartbeat, her dancing a means to unshackle her soul. As Ladybug, she had the confidence to break. To let loose without concerning herself with what anyone thought. With the face paint on, she had a power within her that screamed to be released. As Ladybug, she could take on the world.
Dropping the ground with a sweeping motion from her legs, she performed a six-step and transitioned into a hand glide with her right palm planted on the ground, lifting her body into the air while the other tapped the floor to push her into spinning faster and faster with the beat. Then, abruptly as if someone had cut the power, the music stopped.
She stuck out a leg to stop her spin, the other held suspended in the air as she froze. Her lungs cried for air, but she remained still. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the spotlights on her and the weight of every eye in the room.
Then the music returned, right at the intense drum beats. She rolled back into the six-step, then the windmill, building her momentum up into a flare. The cheers of the crowd were lost to her ears, the beat the only thing that mattered as her limbs flashed through the moves with practised ease.
There was no way she could have distinguished those footsteps from the crowd's stamping feet and the blare of the sound system, no way she could have made out the black outfit in the hectic lighting even with the fluorescent green accents. So she couldn't explain how she knew exactly when to tuck her legs back in and skid onto her knees, curling in on herself for Chat to jump clear over her in a bounding leap and land with a roll, flashing a cheeky grin and pointing a cheesy finger gun as he snapped his head in her direction.
"Missed me meow-ch?" he ask-shouted, barely audible over the thunderous cheers that threatened to bring down the basement ceiling.
She smirked, a fresh surge of vitality pulsing through her at the sight of the familiar cat-eared hoodie and brilliant green eyes blazing bright like acidic fire against the black paint obscuring his face. "That one was horrible!"
He slinked closer, leaning over her, their chests mere inches apart. At this distance, she could make out the individual golden hairs of his bangs. "Only the best for you, My Lady."
A laughed bubbled from her lips as she shoved him away. "Shut up and dance!"
Using the momentum of her push to get to his feet, he grabbed her hands, dragging her upright with him. She gave him a light tap on his shoulder and he leaned back further, bending his knees and lowering himself almost to the ground in a Matrix as she vaulted over him. Blending into a hip twist sequence, she shot a look over her shoulder, catching an upside down glimpse of Chat's grin and dripping face paint before he straightened with a snap, sliding effortlessly into a lightning-fast kick step.
And then they danced. Mere inches apart, they toprocked to the beat, their combined motions drawing a flowing line of harmony despite the nature of the dance.
Breaking with Chat came as natural as breathing. He fit in seamlessly with her moves without her having to compensate or even think, allowing her to move as freely as she did when she danced alone. No, better; he enhanced her movements as she did his, each of them complementing the other in perfect, seamless sync without conscious thought. No one in all of Victorian could dance with her like Chat could. They needed no communication save for exchanged glances or an occasional guiding nudge. Moving with him sparked the air between them, the exhilaration that surged through her being bringing her to life and splashing her world with colour. It pushed her, drove her, electrified her with every muscle she strained, every move she pulled off.
As if every time she danced with Chat was like living for the first time.
She shot another glance at Chat as they brushed shoulders, the barest of seconds passing as they read one another's moves. He dropped down low, kicking out his legs in a coffee grinder and sweeping her own from under her as she tilted her body in preparation. Controlling her fall, she flipped herself upside down with the momentum to land on the palm of her right hand, using her left to spin into a glide. With enough momentum, she raised her free hand off the ground and lifted her legs, looking as if she was a bird gliding through the air. Twisting to transition the move into a jackhammer, she pumped her arm to push herself up and down, keeping her body and legs off the ground while spinning on the spot.
Catching sight of Chat as her vision of him sped past, she saw him six-step several times over the floor before curling up and performing a backspin. Her jackhammer turned her away, and during her next axis he was headspinning in place, only the top of his head making contact with the floor.
Stopping her turn, she pushed her body higher, locking her anchoring arm and keeping one leg straight. Tucking in the other leg at the knee to complete her one handed freeze, she saw Chat similarly froze his headspin, his body perfectly perpendicular to the ground, both their movements coming to a screeching halt just as the music gave its final beat and died. The disco lights went out, leaving only enough ambient lighting that their silhouettes were just visible. She held her position for several breathless moments, muscles contorting in her effort to stay still in the sudden silence of the basement.
Then normal lights came back on, and the spell was broken. Chat sat up, straightening his hoodie back over his head, laughing with the crowd's cheers. Marinette smiled, rolling onto her haunches as she paused to catch her breath. Sweat poured from her body, some of the face paint trickling down her cheeks with it, her fringe plastered to her forehead and some strands had come loose from her pigtails to stick to her neck, but it was only now, in times like this, that she felt truly alive.
"And that, everyone, was a performance by Victorian's very own Dancing King and Dancing Queen!" yelled Prince Ali, the sound system projecting his voice over that of the spectators'. "In a few minutes, we will be showcasing a group performance by the Quantic Kids. But in the meantime, I want to take this moment to remind you all that Victorian will be deviating from our usual alternate Friday openings to the public to open next week as well. In celebration of our founding—"
Marinette started as a familiar tanned hand entered her range of vision. Smiling and grabbing hold of it, she was pulled her to her feet, then she found herself almost eyeball to eyeball with Chat Noir.
"Great moves as always, Ladybug."
"Not too shabby yourself, mon chatton," she said, pushing him away by the nose. "Come on, let's go rest up. I'm thirsty."
Together, they made their way through the crowd and back up the stairs, emerging into an empty corridor. Turning to lean against the wall, Chat huffed, swiping his fluorescent green wristband across his cheek as Marinette walked over to a beat up door with a faded 'Employees Only' sign. Reaching into the broom closet where a minibar had been hidden, she dug out a water bottle and took a long swig out of it.
"What took you so long?" she asked, tossing it at him when she was done.
He caught it with one hand, nodding his thanks. "School, traffic, being fashionably late. You know, the usual."
"Well, me too, but that didn't stop me from showing up on time," she said, sticking her tongue out at him as he finished off the water. He did the same in return, throwing the empty bottle back at her.
"Hey now, gotta make my dramatic entrance somewhere." He swept the sweat-dampened locks of his fringe out of his eyes, running his fingers through his hair as he leaned against the concrete wall. The lighting in the corridor was dimmer, but she could still see him from the tanned arms bared by his short-sleeved hoodie and the fluorescent green accents of his clothes, wristbands, and shoes. She eyed him thoughtfully, her gaze travelling back to the cat ears on his hood.
"You have to teach me that sometime."
He perked up, looking at her with his head tilted to one side before his quizzical eyes lifted in a smirk. "What, how to look as irresistibly attractive as me? Believe me, My Lady; you have way more game than me in that department."
Snorting a laugh, she jabbed him on the nose. "I meant the headspin, genius."
He laughed along with her, rubbing the tip of his nose. "You sure about that? No need for that, My Lady. You already make my head spin."
"Chat!" she exclaimed, slapping him on the forehead with a half-hearted scowl, her voice lacking the venom necessary to really be angry. "I was being serious!"
He stuck out a tongue at her, pushing himself off the wall to stretch his arms above his head. "All right, all right. I'll teach you. But you need something to protect your head unless you like bald spots. Something like a bandana or a cap will do."
"A bandana or a cap, got it," she said, shooting him a wink as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, wiping the sweat off her brow. Marinette took in a breath of air, eyes slipping closed as she exhaled through her mouth. There was always that moment of vivid clarity after a dance, like a downpour washing away the layers of grime from the chaotic picture of her life. Bottled up anxieties and doubts were released in a violent explosion during the scant few minutes she was on the dancefloor, leaving behind no trace they had ever existed. This was that moment. The entire day's worth of tension simply slid off her shoulders, contentment relaxing her muscles and easing her mind. Her thoughts were clear, free. Breaking empowered her in a way nothing else could, instilling within her a glowing flame that warmed her being and refused to concede to anything.
Cotton and heated skin brushed against her bare arm and she opened one lazy eye as Chat plopped himself down beside her. He whistled out a breath, throwing back the hood and shrugging off the sweatshirt entirely, revealing a sweat-drenched black tank top beneath that stuck to his torso and abdomen. Running a hand through his dampened hair and stretching out his legs in front of him, he closed his eyes. The black paint formed a hard shadow across half of his face, almost like a ninja mask. Smudges of the twin stripes on either cheek still remained, resembling cat whiskers.
She smiled, looking fondly at the person she called her partner as he threw back his head, fanning his neck while blowing out another breath.
Eyes still closed, Chat smiled.
"Like what you see, My Lady?"
Releasing an 'ugh' of mock disgust, Marinette stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Still, she smiled.
Infuriating as he could be, Chat was the best partner she could ever have hoped for.
A/N: GOODBYE. I AM DONE. I AM DEAD. THAT'S THE END. NO MORE.
Just kidding, I'm too wrapped up in this hell to stop. XD Besides, I may or may not have this thing fully plotted out already so I'm too deep down the rabbit hole to even think about climbing out.
This chapter killed me because I was looking up break dancing moves and trying to think of what would make sense in what sequence and it occurred to me that majority of readers would be like me and wouldn't understand the dance move names so I tried describing them too and the whole time I was screaming 'I'M A WRITER NOT A CHOREOGRAPHER THIS IS NOT FAIR' so in the end I gave it my best shot and just keeping fingers crossed I didn't create something stupid.
I actually very nearly did, but I asked a friend who I think used to lowkey street dance and he straightened me out so there's that.
Question for you guys; if I ever write another dance scene again (who am I kidding, its coming sooner or later ), would you rather I did it like how I did in this chapter? Or was it too confusing and you'd rather I just write using the names of the moves then put a glossary explaining each of them at the end of the A/N? I'm open to either style, so don't be afraid to let me know!