A Masked Getaway

Ladybug

Moronic. Idiotic. Stupid. Dumb. Mindless. Brainless. Foolish. Words circled through Ladybug's head as she considered which most accurately described her wonderful (said in a sarcastic voice) partner's idea to take part in Mr and Mrs Valentine Island.

How he'd even considered this to be a good idea was beyond her range of thought.

Anthoney had signed them up in an instant, announcing it to the rest of the bar as though they were the prize winners at Crufts. Then an influx of couples began to sign up to join them in the contest, resulting in a tray of interestingly coloured cocktails arriving from the bar.

They had been forced to stay for the remainder of the night, drinking and attempting to make conversation with Adrien and Kagami. It had been the most awkward and forced evening of her life. As soon as the last cocktail had been taken (by Kagami), Ladybug had used the excuse of a headache to lead herself and her partner back to their room and away from the happy couple.

"I'm sorry," Chat Noir had said for about the thousandth time since they left the bar.

She placed her small bag down on the kitchen table, before heading to the fridge and pulling out a cold bottle of water for herself, freezing as she started to shut the door, before reopening it and throwing a bottle to her partner.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Making her way to the staircase, she walked up towards the balcony on the opposite side of the bedroom, pulling the door open, she stepped out and moved straight to the wall, which ran the length. She looked out into the ocean, watching the reflection of the moon bounce and wave under the soft movement of the water. She could hear the gentle undertones of sloshing water caressing the sand as it moved forwards and backwards. The view was beautiful. One that you paid extra for on a vacation like this.

"The way the sea sparkles reminds me of your eyes, always so full of life and determination."

She snorted. "How drunk are you?"

"Why do you think I would only say something like that when I'm drunk?"

She returned and gave him a glare he could infer meant come on, Chaton.

"You know I always say nice things to you, M'Lady. I don't need liquid courage; I'm full of it."

"You're definitely full of something." She turned around just in time to see him walking over to her, her back resting against the cool brick and her heart beating hard against her chest. He'd been flirting all evening, and she couldn't help but hope the dress and the confidence were playing on her side, at least enough to make him see her again.

"Tsk, why are you always so mean?" The smile on his face completely destroyed the air of annoyance he was trying to display.

She pushed off the wall and stepped toward him, allowing her fingers to caress the buttons on his shirt, right from the upper area of his neck to the lower abdomen where everything was as firm as she could ever imagine. She fanned her hands out on his stomach, feeling the sudden intake of breath and concave of his stomach. Moving her head upwards, she caught him gulping, causing.

"Where did you get these muscles?" His throat moved from the pressure of the swallow, and her lips tingled with the want to kiss it.

He stepped back, out of reach of her hands, and began to rub behind the back of his neck. "I, um, I quit my job, which had a clause requiring me to look a certain way. As soon as it was verified by my lawyers, I started to make my body the way I wanted it to look. Plus I like going to the gym; it gives me time to think things through and sort out my mind."

"So you've always wanted to look like Dwayne Johnson?" she mused, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

"What? I'm not that big." he stated, looking down and tapping over his body.

"Let me guess, you have a tattoo hidden somewhere? Maybe a little ladybug to keep me close at all times." Her drunken flirting took a lot to be desired but she was chilled at the moment, relaxed thanks to the liquid courage.

"Oh, yeah! Right here!" He pointed to his heart, yet all she could see was how the tight shirt pulled over his pec, leaving nothing to the imagination. If there was a tattoo there, and of a ladybug, she most certainly wanted to become acquainted with it.

She giggled at both his response and her thought. "Is this the real you then? The free and uncovered Chat Noir?"

"Still trying to figure it out," he said, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes.

He moved over to sit on one of the loungers on the balcony, and she couldn't help but feel she mighthave touched a nerve by asking him such a personal question.

"I'm sorry," she said, moving her way over to sit beside him. She took his hand in both of hers and couldn't help but find joy in so much skin to skin contact.

"It's okay. It's just...an identity crisis—I suppose—with no solid answer."

She played with his fingers, twisting and turning his Miraculous as she thought how she could respond to that. "I have some ideas," she started, "if you'll let me help."

"What's that? That I'm impulsive and an idiot? I wouldn't blame you if that's what you thought."

Was he really that unsure of himself?

"No, of course not. You're kind and courteous. Brave and courageous and you're so sacrificial it's annoying."

He shrugged. "But that all comes with the suit."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Chat Noir wouldn't be this way unless you were like that under the mask too. Like, remember the time that you needed a break and gave up your ring."

"You mean quit?"

"I refuse to see it as quitting. You were just having a break. We all need them sometimes."

Chat Noir let go of her hand and stood up, walking over to the railing once again and looking out over the sea. "I left you, and I shouldn't have." His voice was small, almost as though he was admitting a sin.

"I've never held it against you. You came back to me, and that's all that matters."

"Catwalker was just as—" he slammed his hands over his mouth, the action and the words taking their time to slowly soak in. He knew Catwalker's name. No one knew Catwalker's name—she wasn't even sure Plagg was privy to that piece of information.

"Chaton. How do you know his name?" He shook his head manically and she could feel the panic freely flowing through her body, "Chat Noir. What are you not telling me?"

He shook his head again. This had to be some kind of joke. "You know who it was, don't you?" Shaking his head, he attempted to deny it, right up until the point he was nodding.

"Who was it, Kitty?"

"Why do you need to know?" he questioned. fear evident in his voice as he spoke from behind his hands.

"I don't need anything. I want to know."

She'd never seen him look so apologetic about something he had no control over, but his face now looked as though he wanted to drop to his knees and grovel.

"Kitty?"

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I know their identity, but I don't think you're going to want to hear it." His eyes remained closed as she studied over his posture. His whole body was tense, almost statue-like. "It was Adrien Agreste."

Out of all the names he could have said, why did it have to be that one?