series beta'd by mirthalia!

Rating: soft T

7. Romantic Kiss

Chat took a deep, steadying breath and turned to his partner, pulling his feet from over the edge of the roof and sitting on them, tea-ceremony-style. He rested his hands on his knees.

"Listen."

She looked away from the skyline, kicking her heels, sunlight caught in her hair and her eyelashes. "Yeah?"

"I want to kiss you."

"You do?" she teased. "Wow, I never would have guessed."

"And," he continued, refusing to be daunted by her lackadaisical grin. "I have a list of reasons why you should let me."

A girlish giggle, not unkind, but not very encouraging, either. "Reasons I should let you kiss me?"

"Yes."

"All right," she said, pulling her legs up from over the ledge to face him fully in the same position, a knowing, teasing little smile playing around the corners of her lips. "Lets hear 'em."

"Could you take this a little bit seriously?" he growled, slumping. He was pretty sure he'd been blushing for the last ten minutes (aka, when he'd decided to try to go for it – the worst she could say was 'no,' right?) and it was embarrassing. He didn't need her and her unshakeable cool right now, except that he did, because she was the entire point of this.

"I am!"

Chat was dubious.

"Okay, okay," she said, nibbling her lip 'til it flushed. That damnable teasing smirk never faded. "If I approve of your reasons, I'll let you kiss me. How does that sound?"

Better than he was expecting. Far better.

"Okay," he said, taking a wobbly breath. He was suddenly much more nervous now that there was a chance, however slight, that he might actually get his kiss. "Okay."

She cocked her head, still carefree and casual.

"Okay," he said again, clearing his throat. He opened his mouth to voice his first reason, but chickened out before he made a sound. He shut his mouth again, face on fire. Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

"The first reason?" Ladybug prompted, slowly cocking her head to the other side.

"Th-…"–Oh god why–"The first reason…"

"Okay."

He blinked. "What?"

"Okay," she said, as though it was obvious. "I've heard enough."

Chat spluttered. "You haven't even heard the first reason yet!"

"Don't need to," she sang, swaying close enough to smell, that smile never once faltering.

"But-"

"Don't need to."

"But-"

"Chat."

He sighed. So much for that plan.

"Chat." She poked his shoulder, eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. "I said 'okay.'"

Oh.

"As in…" he trailed off in confusion. "As in 'I can kiss you?'"

"Mmhm!"

"But you haven't heard my reasons!"

He had a list! He'd memorized that list! She couldn't just give this to him; that wasn't how they worked!

"Don't need 'em."

"But the list!"

"Chat."

"And-and why? I mean you never want to kiss me normally, why would you just-"

"Chat."

"Ladybug, you're not following the pattern here, and I'm not-"

"Chat."

"What?" he snapped, head swimming from all the blood that was rushing to his face.

She was still smiling that damnable little smile, sweet and teasing and knowing, and it just wasn't fair that she could stop his heart like this. It just wasn't.

"Shut up and kiss me, you dumb cat."

He deflated. "Right."

She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, expectant, and his breath hitched. The brush of her eyelashes over the mask was hypnotic, taunting him with her beautiful mystery, her elegant grace, her unshakable calm, everything that made him desperate to know what she was like under it all: who she was when she slipped, when she flustered, when she was half asleep at noon or wide-awake at midnight.

He didn't know those things, but he knew that she was kind, powerful, brave — that she was the driving force behind them, his best friend, his savior, his guiding light. That she was sitting right in front of him, lips pouted in anticipation of the kiss she wanted from him.

She wanted a kiss from him.

He swallowed heavily, leaning in, uncurling from his seiza, eyes fluttering shut on instinct.

Soft.

Her lips were soft.

They curled into a smile under his, a warm teasing grin he was allowed to touch, to taste, to take in at his leisure, and he did. Touched and tasted and stroked with his own mouth, a fumbling first kiss for the both of them.

"Chat," she sighed against his lips, infinitely delicate, infinitely precious, and he swallowed it like a last meal, feeling it slide down his throat and pool in his stomach — a favor that felt like love in this moment, destined to burn in the next.

He hummed, cradling her head to keep it close, stroking her cheek to let her know that this was his heart she held in the flickers of air, the slick noises between the two of them, in the aftertaste of the bakery goods going stale in the picnic basket behind them.

"I was waiting for you," she whispered, wrecking him with five words and the soft touch of her fingertips stroking his nape.

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh, oh…

"I'm glad you're here, with me," she admitted next, sliding her palm down his chest to rest over his rabbit heart. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He sucked her lower lip between the two of his, needing to stop the flow of her words before they killed him. His heart couldn't go much faster; there was a breaking point somewhere, but he didn't want to find it, not here, not now with gloves between her skin and his touch, not with masks keeping them just short of absolute trust.

She was undaunted.

"You're… you're my heart, Chat."

Oh.

"…I-"

No.

"I love you," he cut over her, because he could hear where that sentence was going.

Not yet, not now, not here.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

He loved her, and he couldn't accept hers like this.

He pulled back.

She blinked at him, surprised, and then the surprise faded into something wry and understanding.

"Silly kitty," she whispered, bringing a hand up to tap his nose. "I'll love whoever you are, I promise."