Chapter Text
“How dare your father talk to you like that!” Ladybug snapped, fingers curling into trembling fists.
Chat Noir winced and immediately tried to walk things back.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he insisted, holding up his hands placatingly. “I was being pretty emotional, and he doesn’t have a high tolerance for feelings. It was a long, stressful day for him too, and my hysterics were the last straw.”
She snorted and stomped her foot. “That doesn’t give him the right to talk down to you and brush aside your feelings like that.”
He tried to interrupt, but she steamrolled ahead.
“You’re not hysterical, and how you feel matters, Chat Noir. What kind of father treats his son like that?” she seethed.
Internally, Chat flinched.
His expression darkened as he muttered, “Mine does…and it’s not a big deal. He’s always like that.”
He shook his head and reached out to her, resting his fingertips lightly on her forearm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I just wanted to feel like someone heard me, you know? I just wanted to vent. I don’t want you to fight my father or anything, so please calm down, Ladybug. Please don’t get akumatized over something stupid like this.”
The fire abruptly went out in her eyes as she realized that she was only making things worse for her partner.
“It’s not stupid, though,” she whispered, gently taking him by the arm and guiding him over to the edge of the roof to sit.
She tucked one leg underneath herself so she could angle to face him as she laced her fingers through his.
“I’m sorry, Chat Noir. I know you just wanted someone to listen, but I can’t help wanting to jump in and fix your problems for you. I’m like that,” she explained sheepishly. “I can’t stand by and watch someone I care about suffer and not do anything.”
His eyes widened, and his jaw descended several centimeters in surprise at her words.
Her brow scrunched up, crinkling her mask. “You do know that I care about you, don’t you?”
He swallowed. “I mean… Yeah, but…”
Shaking her head, she blew out a long sigh. “Chat Noir, you are my precious partner, and I care about you more than I can put into words. If there’s anything I can do to help you, just say so. I’m always here for you.”
He gently tugged his hand away from her, moving his arm protectively across his body so he could rest his hand on his opposite arm in a small attempt at self-comfort.
His eyes dropped to the street below.
“Thank you, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do for me,” he replied glumly. “Your partner isn’t the one with the problem; it’s the guy behind the mask who needs you.”
A long, heavy silence stretched between them.
Chat Noir was just about to thank her for listening and get to his feet to go when Ladybug finally spoke.
“What’s his name?”
Chat blinked, turning to stare incredulously at his partner. “What?”
“The guy who needs me…what’s his name?” she repeated, a steely determination set in her eyes.
He quirked an eyebrow. “…You’re sure about this?”
She nodded resolutely.
“What about secret identities?” he pressed with suspicion.
Her expression twisted into a grimace. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready to tell you who I am…not yet.”
“‘Not yet’,” he echoed, mentally noting that her answer implied that, eventually, a day would come when she would be ready. “Not yet” was infinitely better than “never”.
“Not yet,” she repeated shamefacedly. “If you’re okay with me knowing who you are but not knowing who I am…I’d like to do whatever I can to help the guy behind the mask.”
He considered, weighing his options.
There was always the possibility that knowing his identity would change things between them…but maybe that would be for the better. It would be hard not knowing who she was, but maybe it would be worth it.
“…Adrien Agreste,” he whispered.
He watched as her expression cycled through what he thought looked like surprise and panic before a flicker of what he hoped was delight flashed across her face.
Before he could be sure, she got ahold of her emotions and slammed the floodgates down on them, replacing them with a carefully neutral look.
“Thank you for telling me,” she breathed, voice tight with suppressed tears as she circled an arm around him and pulled him into a close embrace.
He melted into her, resting his head against hers and nuzzling her hair. “Thank you for letting me tell you.”
They sat like that for a while in relative silence.
After a bit, Ladybug tentatively reached up to stroke his hair.
He purred quietly, letting go of the instinctive impulse that had been instilled in him by his parents to put on a cool, composed front in public.
“It’s going to be all right, Chaton,” she whispered periodically.
In her arms, he felt like it just might be true.