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Chat Noir finds himself nestled comfortably beneath the clouds a few short nights after returning home. The darkness cradles him tenderly, inviting him into its shadows. He is sure the sound of the cars going by beneath his dangling feet is cacophonous, but he cannot hear it.
All Chat hears is a twinkling tune of starlight and closeness and love, the song that played during his moonlit dance. The sound of it is faint but welcome. It makes him want to dance, his feet swinging anxiously, but there is no partner to be found.
No, Chat left her behind on a slick street in New York, the rain pouring down on her in rivulets as she desperately cried his name and he pretended that he couldn’t hear her for the sake of his own sanity.
Will Marinette ever dance with him again?
He closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore the sour feeling gnawing at his stomach and climbs to his feet. He imagines a partner for himself, one with soft dark pigtails and wafting scent of vanilla and yeast. It’s a strange but warm combination that makes him feel comfortable and safe and home.
Chat offers her his hand and she takes it, light as air. Their slow waltz is out of sync with the music still playing on in his head, which most definitely was not composed for such a dance, but Chat doesn’t care. With his lovely partner in his arms and the gentle moonlight shining down on them, he recalls a sense of peace he felt not so long ago, hovering above a very different skyline...
He latches onto the feeling like a lifeline. He hopes it will keep him afloat.
With his eyes still closed Chat spins his partner around the rooftop, leading her into turns and dips with a practiced ease. Her laughter like bells rings in his ears and as he leads her out of a particularly complex move, he suddenly feels a gloved hand caress his cheek.
“L-Ladybug?” Chat stutters, opening his eyes to see that at some point during his dance his partner had taken on life in the shape of the spotted heroine, a girl not so different to the one he had been imagining.
“I didn’t take you for a dancer, Chaton,” Ladybug greets, her words teasing but her smile inexplicably soft.
“I… I…” Chat gasps, unsure of himself in the face of the partner he wronged so grievously. He hasn’t seen her since his hasty departure from New York. He doesn’t know if he’s ready.
“It’s not exactly easy to work into the conversation,” Chat speaks finally, watching her cautiously. There’s no malice or disappointment in her gaze like he’d feared, only a tender affection.
“No, it’s not,” Ladybug laughs. “Still, I wish you’d told me. I love dancing.”
“Y-you do?”
Ladybug nods, humming softly. She looks up at him expectantly.
“What? What is it?” He asks, unsure of what she wants. Did he already slip up? Maybe he should apologize again, or offer her another rose.
“Chat, when a lady says she loves to dance, you’re supposed to ask her for one,” Ladybug rolls her eyes fondly. “You’d think with those dance skills you’d know a little something about ballroom etiquette.”
Chat’s eyes widen almost comically. “O-oh,” he chokes. “Right, of course. Well, My Lady, may I have this dance?”
Ladybug smiles coyly. “You may.”
And then they’re off again. Chat is horribly anxious at first, watching himself carefully and moving stiffly, but eventually the edges begin to smooth out. It’s his Lady in his arms, no matter what happened in New York, and they’re partners. Even when it comes to the dance.
Ladybug doesn’t have a problem following his lead. She’s attuned to him in a way no one has been before, and seems to easily pick up on all of the subtle clues he leaves for her. They move as a unit into complex twirls and footwork, ever the perfect team.
“I must admit, you surprised me, Chat,” Ladybug speaks at one point. “How did you learn all of this, anyway? I mean… you’re amazing!”
Chat blushes at her praise but doesn’t look away. He spins her back into his arms before answering.
“I had to attend a lot of formal events as a kid, and my mother thought it was important I knew how to dance,” Chat shrugs, keeping his words purposefully vague. He momentarily thinks back on all of the times he partnered with his mother. Even being half her height and horribly clumsy, she always saved a smile and a dance for him on those nights
Ladybug’s eyes widen. “You learned dance to attend formal events? As a child? What were you even doing there?”
“Family business,” Chat clears his throat uncomfortably. She must see the tightness in his expression because what she says next makes him burst out laughing.
“Hmm,” Ladybug frowns, but humor twinkles in her eyes. “See, I don’t believe you. I think you stayed up all night watching youtube tutorials, otherwise I would’ve seen these dancing moves before.”
“And why would I do that?” Chat asks in between laughs. “What would be the point?”
Ladybug smirks. “Maybe you wanted to impress a certain bug, I don’t know,” she ponders airily, but after a moment drops the pretense. They smile at each other for a moment and Chat feels the heat creeping back up his cheeks.
“Maybe,” he whispers in reply.
They resume their dancing after that. Eventually they begin to tire, their feet moving less quickly and the twirls vanishing altogether, until they are simply holding each other close and swaying to the sounds of the city.
“...I’m really happy you came back, Chat,” Ladybug sighs. With the way they’re clinging to each other it’s impossible to see the expression on her face, but the tightness of her arms around him and the sound of her sniffling says it all.
“I’m not ever leaving again, I promise,” He tells her, wrapping his arms around her even tighter.
And it’s the truth. Chat knows, as he stares down at the ring sitting on his finger that he won’t ever give up on Ladybug again. He can’t.
Somewhere in the city is Marinette, the girl he betrayed when he left her crying in the rain. The girl who forgave him anyway.
Chat wants to be worthy of that forgiveness.
With the ring back where it belongs, his Lady in his arms, and the moonlight shining down on them, he thinks he just might have a chance.