CHAPTER 14: Hold my hand and hair

[PROMPT: Hold my hand]

"Okay, Bug, hold my hand and breathe slowly."

"I think Imma throw up."

"No, you're not," Chat Noir stated; he had a little faith in his Lady.

"Yes—" Ladybug burped mid-way "—I am."

"No, you're—"

A gag noise interrupted him as Ladybug jumped out of her seat, "I'll be right back!" she yelped, running straight toward the toilet of the private plane.

Chat Noir winced, a sheepish smile curling his lips into frown; it was all his fault. He had forgotten about the flight when he had the idea to bring Champagne for their run— They never drank alcohol on runs. Unless it was a run for the first being drunk. Well, there, his Lady won hands down thanks to him, or because of him. Maybe the latter was more convenient, considering how poorly she now felt with the hangover.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he headed to the toilet and as he reached to knock on the door, it cracked slightly open.

"M'Lady, it's me," he announced himself before risking pushing the door further. "I'm going to come in, okay?"

His partner's voice was barely a hum but thanks to his sensitive hearing, he could make it as a cue for him to go for it. He carefully opened the door, seeing her kneel down in front of the toilet, her hands cradling both sides of the seat.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head. Well, stupid question; he should have known better.

"Is there something I can do?"

"Hold my hand; throwing up makes me pretty jittery." Following her words, she blindly reached back, and he hastened to grab her hand in his.

"I've got you, don't worry. I'm staying with you."

"This is embarrassing," said Ladybug as a gag eventually rose in her throat.

"It's okay. You can let go," he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring as he kneeled behind her. His free hand then moved, reaching for her forehead as he prayed some wild locks away from her face.

Every tightening of her stomach and throat made his heart twist in guilt. Eventually, the tremors in her body settled down and he knew it was finally over, or at least, he hoped so.

"Do you want some water?"

"Please."

He brought her hand to his lips before slowly letting go of it. "Give me just a minute."

True to his words, he didn't leave her alone for long—less than a minute actually.

"Here." He handed her a bottle of water, waiting patiently for her to clean her mouth and drink a little.

Wobbling on her legs, she stood up, and he helped her, holding her safely until she could stand on her own.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, I already feel better, even if I look like a mess," she muttered while using the back of her hand to wipe the tears that had rolled down her cheekbones.

"Well, you didn't vomit on yourself, so it's all good?"

"Har har. Thanks," she mumbled with a bittersweet tone and he chuckled; it looked like his grumpy Lady was back.

"Don't worry, M'Lady, you still look like a Queen," he whispered fondly.

"Yes. I will. I will be your Queen."

Ladybug cringed in her seat, her eyes snapping open as some fragments of her memory suddenly slotted into place as if her brain was playing Tetris.

As far as she now remembered, this had sounded an awful lot like a proposal (of sorts) and she was feeling guilty for giving such hopes to her partner.

Although…

She turned her head to see Chat Noir sleeping and snoring in the seat next to hers. He was leaning towards her, almost curled against her side, everything in his posture indicating that he had slept with his head resting on her shoulder. The sight of him so disheveled but peaceful sent butterflies (of the good kind) flying and fluttering in her belly. No wonder she'd said yes.

Would it be that bad to spend the rest of her life with this man? There was a time when she dreaded the answer of her treacherous heart but… things had changed in these last months, feelings were finally accepted, and she couldn't help but wonder if she could finally let go.

Let go of the nicked past, the broken memories, the lingering fear… and hold his hand instead, and they would walk toward a brighter future. One they were both writing slowly but surely on their own, and that she realized she wanted them to write together.

The thought of life with him left her mind even more dizzy than the hangover.

Oh, she knew that feeling. It was something called love. She had once experienced it with Adrien. She had loved him so much, but just when she had thought he was reciprocating her feelings, his father had turned out to be the Monarch… Ever since Gabriel was arrested, almost a year ago, Adrien had locked himself up in the Manor, and when he wasn't there, he was in London, running the Graham de Vanilly brand. Marinette still saw him once or twice a month, but somehow, the path their lives took and the distance had allowed her to take a step back, soothe the grief, open her eyes and see what was in front of her.

Don't get her wrong, Adrien would always be her first love; good memories and failed confessions locked up in her heart only for her knowledge. But she knew she had to eventually move on to be happy, and Chat Noir was giving her that very opportunity.

Grabbing hold of Chat Noir's hand, she squeezed it ever so slightly, her fingers intertwining with his as a smile stretching her lips. A smile that spoke volumes. A smile which only showed she had made a decision to look toward her future.

She stole a last glance at her partner's peaceful features and moved closer, her head gently falling to rest on his chest as her heavy eyelids fluttered shut. There was no other place she would rather be. There was no other place which felt like home.