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Ladybug strolled along the edge of a quiet plaza just off Rue Cler, where the May Day flower festival was in full bloom. The air was thick with the scent of blossoms and sunlight, sweet and golden as it warmed the cobbled stones beneath her feet. White tents flanked the street like cheerful little canopies, overflowing with vibrant displays, daffodils swaying like miniature suns, tulips in every color of a Paris sunset, roses curling open letting their scent waft through the breeze. But it was the delicate sprigs of Lily of the Valley that drew her in most. Pale, bell-shaped flowers tied with satin ribbons, offered in tiny bouquets to strangers with soft smiles and wishes for happiness.
She leaned against a lamppost, arms crossed loosely, letting her gaze drift lazily across the gentle bustle. No Akuma. No mayhem. Just laughter, sunshine, and the scent of spring. A rare, quiet gift.
“Well, well, well… I didn’t think I’d find a flower among the flowers.” A voice behind her purred, dripping with mischief and something else that caused Ladybug to turn, already rolling her eyes.
Chat Noir strolled toward her with all the exaggerated swagger of a street performer, hands behind his back, his grin unmistakably smug, and clearly hiding something. “Enjoying the view, Bugaboo?”
“I was,” she said, arching a brow, “until a pun storm rolled in.”
“Rude,” he gasped, clutching his heart like she’d wounded him. “Lucky for you, I come bearing peace offerings.”
With a flourish, he revealed what he’d been hiding behind his back: a small sprig of white, the bells wrapped carefully with a red ribbon that matched her suit.
“For you,” he said, bowing with mock elegance. “Lily of the valley. Tradition says it brings happiness and good luck.”
Ladybug blinked, a little thrown. She knew her kitty was sweet, but this surprised her. It was the little things he kept doing that warmed her most.
“You… brought me a flower?” The soft smile on her face made Chat’s heart thump a little harder. Pushing it to the back of his mind, Chat shrugged, his smile softening.
“It’s May Day. I figured if anyone deserved happiness, it was you.”
She reached out, her fingers closing around the stem, careful not to crush the fragile blooms. Her heart did something odd, a flick and a flutter, almost like it tripped on a step and then tried to play it off.
“It’s just a flower,” she muttered, slipping it into her belt like it was nothing.
“Sure it is,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Just like I’m just a sidekick.”
She snorted, unable to stop the smile. “You’re not my sidekick.”
“I knew it!” he said, punching the air triumphantly. “I’m a partner in crime-fighting and flower-delivery.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet… you keep me around.”
She shook her head, laughing under her breath, but she didn’t walk away. Not yet.
They began moving through the festival together, strolling in step without needing to say much. Booths spilled over with blossoms and ribbons, bees lazily hovered around baskets of wildflowers, and children danced in circles with crowns of daisies on their heads. Chat waved dramatically to a little girl clutching a cone of violets; she giggled and blew him a kiss with both hands. Ladybug watched the exchange, her smile lingering.
“You really are good with kids,” she said, almost absently.
He shrugged one shoulder. “They like me. I’m basically a giant house cat with better hair.”
She chuckled again, but softer this time.
A quiet settled over them, not awkward, just warm. Comfortable. Ladybug found herself glancing at him more often than she meant to, watching the way the golden light caught in his hair, how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how the usual weight of the world seemed lighter on both of them today.
“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice low.
He looked over, surprised by the sudden sincerity. “For the pun or the flower?”
“For… all of it,” she said, nudging into him, “But, mostly the flower.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but the smile that slowly spread across his face was one she hadn’t seen often. Not the performative grin or the mischievous smirk—just something quiet. Grateful.
“Anytime,” he said. And she believed him.
Ladybug’s fingers found the little sprig at her belt again, absently tracing the ribbon with her thumb.
They wandered slowly between the rows of flower stalls, not speaking for a while, and not needing to. Every now and then, a breeze tugged at Ladybug’s pigtails, carrying the scent of strawberries and sugar. The sun painted everything gold, washing the street in a dreamlike warmth. She didn’t realize until she glanced down that her fingers were still brushing the little sprig at her belt, the ribbon fluttering gently with each step.
Chat noticed, too. But he chose to ignore it, instead, pointing out a booth where an elderly florist was handing out little cones of petals wrapped in newspaper. Without asking, he tugged Ladybug gently toward it.
“I don’t need more flowers,” she said, amused.
“It’s not about need, it’s about aesthetic,” he said matter-of-factly. “Imagine the drama if you showed up to the next Akuma battle with a whole bouquet strapped to your belt. Chic and threatening.”
“‘Petals of Justice’?”
“Exactly. It writes itself.”
She laughed, really laughed, and Chat beamed at the sound, momentarily forgetting whatever clever quip he’d been about to make.
The florist handed them each a paper cone filled with bright, mismatched petals. Chat sniffed his dramatically, then sneezed so hard he nearly dropped the whole thing. Ladybug barely managed to keep hers intact as she doubled over laughing.
“You okay there, pollen prince?” she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.
He straightened up, sniffled, and nodded with an exaggeratedly tragic expression. “It’s fine. If this is how I go, death by flower, I accept it with honor.”
Ladybug smiled again, but this time it lingered longer. Softer.
They kept walking, their cones of petals now forgotten as they passed beneath strings of fluttering paper lanterns. Chat reached out, flicking one gently so it spun on its string.
“You really like this kind of thing,” she said.
He glanced at her. “What, flowers?”
“No. Well, yes. But… this.” She gestured vaguely at the festival around them. “Crowds. Warm light. Little girls blowing you kisses.”
He chuckled. “You make it sound like I’m working a street corner.”
“Are you not?”
He gasped in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “You wound me, my lady.”
“I’m just saying,” she added with a teasing glance, “you’re very comfortable being adored.”
He tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” she said, quieter now. “I think it’s kind of… nice.”
Chat paused, walking backward in front of her for a few steps, his expression gentler now. “Everyone deserves to feel adored. Even if it’s just for a minute.”
She ducked her head at that, pretending to adjust the flower on her belt again to avoid the warmth blooming in her cheeks.
They wandered like that for a while, talking sometimes, falling quiet other times, their steps slow and unhurried as if neither of them wanted the moment to end.
At one point, Ladybug noticed a little girl pointing at her, eyes wide with wonder. Without thinking, she knelt down and handed her the cone of petals. The girl stared at her, awestruck, before gently accepting the gift and whispering something to her mother. Chat watched from the side, his heart doing that strange, fond flip it always did when she wasn’t trying to be heroic—just kind.
“You’re going to make me look bad,” he teased as Ladybug straightened.
“You do that on your own.”
“Cruel.”
She grinned, and they kept walking.
Eventually, they reached the end of the plaza, where the festival thinned out and the scent of flowers faded into the background hum of the city. Ladybug stopped, her gaze sweeping the street one more time. Paris always felt different from above, on rooftops and gargoyles. Down here, though… it felt close. Real. Like a memory waiting to happen.
Chat stepped beside her, unusually quiet. His eyes flicked to her hand again, then to the tiny flower still tucked into her belt. The ribbon fluttered with the breeze.
“I meant it,” he said suddenly.
She looked up at him.
“What I said earlier,” he added. “About you deserving happiness.”
Ladybug swallowed, caught off guard by the earnestness in his voice. He wasn’t smiling now, not in the usual way. His gaze was steady. Unmasked.
For a second, it was too much.
So she broke the moment with a crooked smile and a lift of her chin. “Well, you definitely earned yourself partner points today.”
His grin returned, but this time it was softer, quieter. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
They lingered long after the sun began to dip behind the rooftops, after the vendors started packing up their stalls and the petals scattered across the cobblestones like confetti. The city was still glowing when they finally turned toward opposite rooftops, hearts a little lighter, smiles a little softer.
And long after she was gone, Chat Noir stood under a streetlamp, watching where she’d disappeared, and thought—if a single flower could make her smile like that, maybe next time he’d bring a whole bouquet.