Disclaimer: I don't own Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Author's Note: I already changed the rating and put tags accordingly so, I apologize for a bit of domestic violence.

Desideratum

Chapter 13

The first time he put his key to use was one evening, when the sun was lowering into the sky, and the scent of wet pavement lingered in the air from the earlier rain.

He had come to take Cadence for a walk, but as he opened the door, he was greeted by silence. Upon advancing further into the apartment, he realized why that was. Marinette was asleep on the couch, with Cadence nestled up in the crook of her neck, their midnight dark hair mingling together. He smiled.

Cadence rose upon feeling his presence, peering up at him with curious, half-lidded eyes that widened in excitement as realization sunk in. Signaling him to remain silent, Luka lifted him effortlessly in his arms, careful not to awaken his mother. Despite shifting slightly and releasing a soft sigh at their movements, the woman continued to sleep, unperturbed.

"She's tired," Cadence whispered helpfully. "'Cause she had a project to work on last night."

Luka's expression softened at the explanation. "I see," he murmured. "Can you go grab a blanket for her? In silence."

The boy nodded eagerly, and as soon as his father set him on his feet, he tore off in the direction of the stairs, only to return a mere minute later with a dark-blue, fleece blanket.

"Go find a jacket," Luka suggested, taking the offering. "I'll take you out, as promised."

With another nod, Cadence disappeared once again, leaving his parents alone.

Luka unfolded the blanket and gently laid it over the sleeping Marinette, before crouching down beside the couch. Now that his son had pointed it out, he could clearly see the tiredness etched in her features; there were faint dark circles underneath her eyes, and the fact that she had not sensed his presence spoke volumes.

But she looked calm. Her cheeks were rosy, she was taking in deep, even breaths, and her body seemed more relaxed than he had seen it in a long time.

While he was lost in his thoughts, she shifted again, causing a lock hair to slide over her face. It was practically a no-brainer when he reached out to return it to its place.

As he did so, he was momentarily distracted by the silkiness of her hair and the softness of her skin, and he ran his eyes over her features. How she could be so beautiful was beyond him. The two of them were by no means old, but regardless of that, the years had completely passed her by. Sleeping like she was—calm, warm and small, swallowed by a soft, dark blanket—she was the same precious girl he had met so much time in the past, the girl that had him wrapped around her finger from the moment she addressed him for the first time, the girl that had made him fall in love with her at first sight.

And there were times like these when he wondered… what had gone wrong for them to end up like this—separated and full of resentments?

But there was no time to delve deeper in that matter, because his son came downstairs, and Luka realized in that moment that the past mattered less than he would have wanted.

What he had to focus on now was the present—and that present was Cadence. Cadence and his happiness.

When Marinette woke up, night had fallen. The room was dark, the only source of light being the bustling city below.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, she called out Cadence's name. She frowned as a soft, warm blanket that she didn't remember having used slid down her body to pool around her lap. The young boy was known for taking care of her, but he usually woke her up to tell her to go to bed. Then again, she had been so tired this time, that she had even failed to sense him slip out of her arms, so she could understand if he told her she hadn't reacted to his attempts at rousing her.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed tiredly, swinging her legs over the edge of the couch. "Cadence," she called again.

Thoughts of dinner were filling her mind as she realized that all she had received in response was silence. She opened her mouth to shout again, louder this time, but stopped. Cadence wouldn't ignore her—and perhaps more importantly, he wouldn't be so quiet, even if she were asleep.

Panic in her system, she flung the blanked off her and was about to stand up when a key turned on the lock and the front door opened. Familiar footsteps ran down the hallway, and she heaved out a sigh of relief. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her racing heart, opening them back just in time to see her son leap onto the couch, beside her, grinning as he threw his arms around her for a hug. She returned the gesture eagerly, burying her nose into his hair. Her gaze rose as the light switched on; another set of footsteps approached, and Luka came into her line of sight, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"Don't ever do that again," she warned, her temper flaring. Her hand smoothed over Cadence's head as it rested on her shoulder.

Luka smiled lightly. "Marinette, there is no other person he could have been with than me."

"I imagined," she snapped. "But that doesn't matter. You need to tell me when you take him."

She was not mad—she was annoyed, but she was relieved more. Her eyes were guarded, but there was an underlying veil of fear in them that shone brightly as she clutched Cadence to her chest. And he realized in that moment, she had been truly scared.

His eyes softening, he crouched down beside the couch. "Hey, it's okay," he soothed, laying a hand over her forearm. "I promise I will. But you were sleeping…"

"You could have left me a note," she countered. "If you hadn't come when you did, I don't know what I would have done."

Cadence laughed in her arms. "Mom," he whined.

Marinette titled his chin up, looking down at him. "You have no right to say anything," she told him. "You know how precious you are to me."

The boy grinned, hugging her in response.

She kissed the top of his head. "Go get changed and I'll start dinner, alright?"

With a nod, he left the comfort of her arms and jumped off the couch, storming upstairs.

Marinette watched him leave, making sure he was out of sight before she turned her gaze to Luka. "Don't ever do that again," she repeated, her tone cold and hard.

He blinked, surprised. "Marinette, we've already been through this. He couldn't have been with any other person than me."

"I don't care who he's with—if he's with you or with a stranger. I need to know where he is. So the next time you think of taking him away, you'll have to tell me when you're taking me, where you're taking him, what you're going to do there, and when you're bringing him back. Do you understand?"

Luka scoffed. He knew she was protective of her son, and he understood that, but this was ridiculous. "What do you think I'll do to him? Steal him away?"

Throwing him a harsh glare, she looked away, her entire body tense with anger.

Once again, he found his answer in her silence. "You think I'll take him away from you," he concluded ironically.

"So what?" she demanded, standing up and forcing him to do the same. "You wouldn't do that? You haven't thought of that? You wouldn't be capable of that?"

He laughed disbelievingly. "Marinette, the only one between the two of us capable of that is you," he hissed.

Clenching her jaw, she made a move to leave, but he grabbed her arm, yanked her back roughly, and kept her in place.

"Listen to me," he demanded. "I don't care what you do. We've already established this. If you decide you don't want to be around me anymore, you're free to go. But you're not taking Cadence with you again. Because if you do that, I'll follow you to the end of the world, Marinette."

"Yes, I know," she replied abruptly, harshly, standing her ground and glaring up at him. "I know you're strong and powerful and influential. I know that. But for Cadence, I'm capable of killing. So don't come to me with threats."

Violently yanking her arm out of his tight grip, she stormed away, leaving him to place his hands on his hips, hang his head, close his eyes and sigh heavily in defeat. This was not what he had had in mind when he came to see Cadence tonight…

"I'm sorry," a trembling voice cut loud and clear through the thick silence that had fallen over the room.

Eyes widening in surprise, he turned to see Marinette, halfway to the stairs, hands buried in the back pockets of her jeans self-consciously and large amber eyes staring up at him uncertainty.

"I didn't mean that. I overreacted. But try to understand, Cadence is all I have. Please let me know the next time you take him."

Luka sighed. "I was, Marinette," he repeated. "I was, but you were sleeping, and he said you were tired…"

"It doesn't matter," she insisted. "It doesn't matter if I'm sleeping or if I'm working… It does not matter. I need to know."

As realization slowly dawned on him, followed by understanding, Luka nodded. "Alright."

"Thank you," she whispered, and the vulnerability in her demeanor nearly made him squeeze his eyes shut to block the image out.

Cadence was not just her son. He was not just her family. He was everything. He was her entire world. And the reason why she had kept him away from him, from his father, had not been selfishness, but rather, selflessness. There was no way it could have been easy for her to raise a child by herself, and Luka knew it had not. But she had done it—and she had done it because she had known that witnessing their fights and living in their house would only devastate their child.

Everything—absolutely everything she had done over the past six years—had been about Cadence and for Cadence. Exactly like she had said—exactly like he had refused to believe.

And he had no right to judge her. He had no right to be upset with her. He had no right to feel superior to her. Because she, as much as it pained him to admit, had made the right choice.

"Give me some time, alright?" she pleaded, taking a step closer. "I'm not like Cadence. I need… I need a bit more to get used to everything—to sharing him, to coming home and not finding him here, to you. I'm scared. You know I've always been scared of what lay ahead—of changes, of uncertainty. You know I've always been protective of the people I love. This isn't going to last forever. You won't have to answer to me for the rest of your life, but—help me a little, will you? Give me some time to learn how to trust you again."

His answer, when it came, was a whisper. "You don't really believe what you said, do you?" It sounded like a question, but there, in that room, looking at each other in the eye, they both knew it was a plea.

"Luka, I…" She hesitated. "I'm not going to lie to you. I don't feel like I know you anymore. You just-you're different. You don't hurt people, hell, I remember a time when you can't even hurt a fly, but with the-" Marinette consciously caressed the arm he grabbed, "I had been feeling like I was living with a stranger for a long time before we separated. But no, I don't believe that."

She shook her head, an incredulous smile curling the corners of her lips upwards as she ran her hand through her hair in a desperate manner—the contrast so stark that it nearly knocked the breath out of him.

"I don't know what it is about you that makes me say things I don't mean. But I'm not letting history repeat itself. I can't do that to Cadence. I can't." Shaking her head, she closed the distance between them.

"Let's make a promise," she said, eyes boring into his—begging him to listen, to understand, to agree. "I don't know how much my word means to you after everything—or if it still means anything at all—but please, let's do this. Let's promise that we won't fight anymore. That we won't judge each other, that we won't scream every time we don't agree on something. Let's promise to talk things out—every insecurity, every question." Biting her lip, she fought back the tears that flooded her eyes. "We didn't make good spouses," she whispered. "But let's make good parents."

His entire expression softening, he stepped forward, so close that he could feel her perfume. The instinct to protect that had been lying dormant inside of him for so long came back in a rush, increased tenfold, as he stared down at her small figure. Reaching out, he hesitated, but went through with his action, tucking a strand behind her ear and caressing her silky hair. She didn't recoil.

"I'm sorry for grabbing you like that but I promise," he said, staring straight into her thankful eyes. "Everything will be alright. Trust me on this one." It was the first time in six years that he said that phrase and believed it with every fiber of his being.

A/N: I apologize beforehand if certain parts of this story triggers something to my readers.