Work Text:
Luka’s hand strums his guitar as he squints down at the strings, wound tight and newly tuned, illuminated by the soft moonlight. His fingers move back and forth, up and down, in the same pattern —a mind-numbing pattern if he’s being honest—trying to find the right one. A major or C minor. Two of the simplest chords he could play, and he can’t choose.
They’re just so different . The whole song is different really—but the next chord will determine what direction the song will take. And as it stands, he isn’t sure what direction he wants the song to go.
A major. Light, familiar—like he’s walking on air. He’s used the chord a million times in a million different songs, and he feels the urge to fall right back into those patterns, take the song in the path its ancestors have paved. But those songs have already been played, learned, and finished. They’ve lived and died in their own melody, and Luka isn’t quite sure he wants this song to go in that direction. Not again.
C minor. It’s darker, a tad more elusive. He’s heard the chord played in a significant number of leitmotifs , heard it in the background of some sad musical reprise. But Luka isn’t so sure it’s sad, just sort of melancholic. There’s something that lingers in the note, but it’s not, like, pouring-rain-as-you-walk-home-after-getting-rejected-by-your-crush, just sort of misunderstood. If he could, he’d reach over and wrap the note in a hug.
He’s about to launch into his millionth session of replaying the same chords over and over again when he hears a thump.
Heart racing, he turns his torso around, feet planted stubbornly on the floor. It could be an intruder, but who would rob Liberty ? There’s just loads of weird and wonderful(ish) statues and beaten up music instruments scattered around. And besides, wouldn’t a house-house be more convenient?
All of those thoughts disappear when he catches a glimpse at what’s actually causing the noise and it’s—it’s a cat. A black cat.
More specifically, it’s Cat Noir .
For a split second, Luka’s sure he’s imagining it, but no. It’s Cat Noir, the leather-adorning, smart-tongued superhero, perched on his windowsill like—well, a cat. His hands are wrapped around the sill, claws digging into the wallpaper, and with his head turned to the side and moonlight filtering through the strands—it looks like a scene straight out of a Ghibli movie.
“Cat Noir,” Luka says plainly, trying to incorporate some tone into his voice, but alas, he can’t get his mind and mouth to communicate very well. “You’re here.”
“Thought I’d stop by,” he smiles, and it’s kind of lopsided. Not quite a smirk, but there’s something there . “Check on you.”
“From what I hear, Marinette is your favourite to check up on,” Luka copies the smile, but he’s sure it’s not as natural as when Cat Noir wears it. He’s also not quite sure why he brings up Marinette, only that it burns another matchstick sized hole in his heart.
“She ran out of sweets to give me,” Cat Noir grins, which Luka is sure is a lie—Marinette lives in a bakery —but, in the totally-innocent interest of staying with Cat Noir for a little longer, he decides to let this detail slide. He does his best not to ponder just why he wants the superhero to hang around.
“Hm, I may have something for you then,” Luka smiles knowingly, just barely letting the expression shape his face. He pads around near the desk, and pulls out a bowl of chocolate treats.
“ Mon dieu , it’s beautiful ,” Cat Noir’s eyes widen, and it’s like a love spell between him and chocolate .
“Bad idea to have some so late in the night,” Luka grins, swiping it away from Cat’s gaze. “You’ll get a stomach ache.”
Cat Noir juts his bottom lip. “Please? You know you can’t resist un chat errant et pauvre .”
Oh, he’s playing a game. Well, game on. Luka taps his pointer finger on his chin theatrically, humming in thought. “I don’t know, Chaton, Ladybug might give me a hard time—probably would give you a hard time."
“ Arrete tes betises , she would encourage you to feed all the strays, all that good-Samirtan lifestyle,” Cat Noir strides toward Luka, until they’re facing each other, cat-green eyes staring into murky blue ones. He leans forward, whispers. “Personally, I’m here for a little fun along the way.”
The two are close, so close that Luka can feel the words in his brain and on his cheek, feel how Cat Noir’s breathing is slow and steady, the very opposite of his shallow breaths that are lined with prayers of god give me strength . He’s completely frozen, out of things to say—which he notices when Cat Noir leans even closer… and grabs a handful of chocolate, which he subsequently shoves in his mouth.
“You’re evil,” Luka manages, mirroring the frankly devious smile that Cat Noir is sporting. The superhero laughs.
“Not part of my job description, but I’ll take it,” He chews and swallows the last of the chocolate. “Wow, that’s amazing.”
Luka shrugs. “Just standard chocolate, really. Stuff you’d get anywhere.”
Cat Noir nods, like he’s heard the words but forgotten to understand them. “Ah, makes sense.” he looks away, and Luka suspects there’s something unsaid there, but he doesn’t push it.
“You’re a guitar player,” Cat Noir remarks, staring at the guitar that’s lying on his bed, abandoned. “Do you write any music?”
“All the time,” Luka says honestly. “Not much in playing a story that isn’t yours.”
Cat Noir sits down on the bed, tentatively, and Luka joins him too, feeling the bedframe squeak with the added weight. He’s nervous, Luka realises, and it makes no sense—this is Cat-fucking-Noir , who battles superheros on a daily basis. What’s so nervewracking about Luka ? In any case, Cat Noir relaxes, rests his chin on his palms and his elbows on his knees. “Will you play it for me?”
“Play it?”
“The song,” Cat Noir says, excitement lacing his tone. “The one you were playing when I came in.”
“Oh,” Luka looks at the guitar, threads his fingers through the strap. “It’s not finished yet.”
“Play me what you’ve figured out,” Cat says, smiling. “You don’t have to, of course, but—”
“No, no, I want to,” Luka smiles, and he means it more than he should. Taking one last deep breath, he picks up the guitar, and begins the song.
It starts off fast-paced. The quick tempo, the airy notes—it’s like he’s walking in a park, feet squishing the tall grass, like his head is light and easy to carry. It’s filled with higher, staccato notes with a few bright chords sporadically chiming in.
And then it shifts. Luka purses his lips together, does his best to encapsulate the emotion of the song—turbulence. Minor chords in slow, menacing sequences overtake the brightness, and the piece has shifted to bring out the lower notes—the kinds that would normally end up as background. It’s a tad strange, but Luka’s not opposed to it.
And then…he’s stuck.
He drops his hands, sighs as he turns away. Then, remembering he has company, he turns his head up so he’s looking straight at Cat Noir. And Cat Noir? He looks mesmerised.
“ Mon dieu ,” Cat Noir mutters, looking at Luka. His green scleras are aglow. “It’s…magnificent.”
Luka chuckles. “I’m pretty sure you’d say that if I played a nursery rhyme.”
“ Pfft , yes, but this time I mean it,” Cat Noir grins. “You know, I happen to be a musicien myself, and my professional opinion is that it’s magnificent.”
Luka blushes. What the hell’s happening to me? “Well, thank you.”
The two of them are silent for a while, knees brushing against each other and arms barely a hair’s breadth apart. It’s close enough that Luka can see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes—breathes like he’s discovering it for the first time.
Luka bites his lip, stares right into Cat Noir’s eyes. “Why are you here, Cat Noir?”
Cat Noir opens his mouth, and by the mischievous upward furl of his lip, he looks like he’s about to make a joke—but he changes his mind. “I don’t know, Luka. I don’t know.”
There’s definitely something melancholic there.
Luka might be quiet, unassuming at times, but he’s far from uncurious—in fact, Anarka Couffaine used to joke that he would suit the whole black cat superhero shtick better than whoever the, ahem, “toothy-grinning blond” is. Right now, he can’t stop thinking about who the hell is behind that mask, who really is the toothy grinning blond, and it’s mad. It’s mad because he knows that secret identities are secret for a reason, and it’s mad because all the rules seem to make no sense when it comes to Cat Noir.
And he’s trying to ignore it very, very much.
“I know that civilians aren’t supposed to know about a superhero’s private life,” Luka picks his words carefully. “But if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
Cat Noir’s eyes widen, then he softens as he smiles. “You know, you’d do yourself a favour by taking your own advice. From what I hear, you do a lot of listening.”
Luka shrugs. “A lot of people need to be listened to.”
The superhero pokes Luka’s ribs. “Have you considered you might be one of them?”
It’s Luka’s turn for his jaw to hang open. Lips parted and eye brows furrowed, he’s sure he looks like some kind of fool, but he tries not to think about it. “I don’t know.” He turns to face Cat Noir directly.
Cat Noir chuckles. “I spend a lot of time alone—my dad’s strict—so I’m kind of aware of what it feels like to need to be listened to.”
He spends a lot of time alone? Strict dad? Should he be telling me this at all? A flurry of thoughts makes Luka’s headspin, and tries his best to shoo them away. He really shouldn’t be pondering Cat Noir’s private life, and he really shouldn’t be reading into why he specifically gets to know about it. “I’m sorry. That sounds…hard.”
Cat Noir blinks, the smile wiped off his face. “Yeah. Yeah, it… really is, actually. Thanks for saying it.”
He must not hear it acknowledged often. Huh . “No problem. Though, I’ll warn you, I’m more a listener than a talker. When it comes to replying and advice-giving… you’re out of luck.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Cat Noir says, leaning forward, and Luka can’t tell if the action is voluntary or not. “I think you’ve got that covered.”
Luka’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then to his eyes, and then down to his lips again and— damn it . He’s suddenly very aware of what he’s feeling, of what’s happening in between them and it’s terrifying. Because what the hell is Cat Noir doing, with his lips only an inch apart from Luka’s? He’s about ninety-percent sure he isn’t imagining it either, mostly by the small smirk and mischief dancing in Cat Noir’s eyes.
Cat Noir pulls away, as if he’s just now realised where he is, and Luka knows he isn’t imagining the coating of pink that dusts his cheeks. “I just realised—I hope I haven’t woken your sister and mom.”
He knows I live with my sister and mom…?
Luka shakes his head. “Don’t worry, they’re very much deep sleepers. Could sleep through an earthquake if they wanted.”
“Hmm,” Cat Noir hums, staring right at Luka. His head is tilted sideways, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, and his lips contorted into something that’s partially a frown, partially a smirk. He clears his throat, stands up, and Luka feels a twinge of disappointment, a warmth he didn’t quite feel at first leave him.
“I best be leaving,” Cat Noir sighs, and he’s…disappointed? “It’s late and you should be getting to sleep. Take it from the expert, caffeine is not an adequate replacement, no matter what the Americans tell you.”
Before Luka can reply, Cat Noir grabs his hand, leans forward and presses a kiss onto the back of it. It’s delicate, chaste and all Luka can think is oh my god why are his lips so soft? His breath hitches and does his best to not let it show—that and the embarrassing shade of red he’s sure his cheeks are donning.
“Bonne nuit, Monsieur Couffaine,” Cat Noir winks, climbing out the same window he hopped in through. “Until next time.”
Next time. Huh. A regular occurrence, Luka assumes. He has a feeling these visits are going to bring out some feelings he’s doing an excellent job of repressing.
——
Pathetically, and yet, very much predictably, Luka has spent every night of the last week staring at his window.
Physically? He’s at the edge of his bed. Emotionally? He is not opening that can of worms.
Guitar against his thighs and idly playing with some of his favourite chords, he faces away from the window, to look inconspicuous—all to then turn around in hopes that a leather-donning superhero would be perched upon his window sill. But night after night, there’s nothing except an exceptionally starry night to serve as his muse.
It’s gotten to the point that Anarka, Juleka and Rose have noticed. It’s one thing—a frankly embarrassing thing—to have your mom and your sister teasing you about your love life, but it’s entirely another to have your sister’s girlfriend to joke about your ‘mystery lover’. His cheeks get unreasonably hot and cheeks unnecessarily pink, and there’s absolutely no escape.
Today, a week later, he’s given up. Maybe he’s on Cat Noir’s civilian visitation rotation, or maybe that night was a one-time thing—either way, he has a feeling he’s not going to see Cat Noir for a long time.
It’s stupid to wait every night, especially today at fucking midnight . So he sighs, puts down his guitar and throws the covers on himself.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Luka darts up, eyes falling on the window. It’s Cat Noir.
He’s wearing that stupidly adorable smile on his face, his head is tilted to the side curiously, and it’s taking every fiber of Luka’s being, not to mention just how cute he looks. His leather suit is glowing in a sense, illuminated by the moonlight and stars splattered across the sky, and his hair is so soft.
Luka immediately stands up and opens the window. The cat superhero lets himself in, shaking himself off as his feet land softly against the wooden floorboards. “Missed me?”
Yes. Way too much. “I was wondering if you’d come back.”
“ If ?” Cat Noir grins. “Monsieur, when it comes to you, it was only a matter of when.”
Luka smiled widely, trying not to let it show that internally, he was jumping off the walls. “What brings you here?”
Cat Noir sighs exasperatedly, flopping onto Luka’s bed. “ Life , Luka. Life.”
Luka sits down next to him, and it feels like it’s becoming a pattern. “I know you can’t reveal much about your civilian life, but, like I said, you can always talk to me.”
“Well,” Cat Noir clicks his tongue. “Being unspecific… I’ve had a busy week. Booked every minute with photo—er, appointments for my job, during the day and the night. Not to mention, I’ve got plenty of extracurriculars to keep me busy—extracurriculars I could not be less interested in. Oh, and you know, the whole being-Cat-Noir thing.”
Luka blows out a breath. Geez, Cat Noir really does have no free time. Against his better judgement, he speculates about what exactly Cat Noir’s civilian life must be like, because if it’s anything like the superhero has mentioned, it’s not something Luka envies.
And yes, he does notice the ‘photo—’ slip up, and he does his best not to wonder about it.
“Why don’t you quit?” Luka asks. “The extracurriculars, at least.”
Cat Noir shakes his head. “ Mon père wouldn’t let me do that. He’s made it adamantly clear that I have to do all the things I’m doing. Such is the life of a mod—er, the life of my civilian identity.”
Mod…? Subconsciously, Luka’s mind plays Google autocomplete. Modern art designer? Nah. Modem repairman? Is that even a thing?
Tentatively, Luka lies down on his back, matching Cat Noir’s position. Quietly, he whispers, “I’m sorry, Cat Noir. That does sound awful. I wish I had other words to describe it, but… hélas, my vocabulary isn’t quite with me today.”
Cat Noir laughs sharply. “Boy do I feel you.”
The superhero turns to his side, and so of course Luka does the same, all in the effort to not be awkward (and for absolutely no other reason), so the two face each other. They’re closer than Luka expected, but not uncomfortably so; Luka can’t deny how okay he is with Cat Noir’s steady breaths falling on his cheek.
“You know, you’re un beau gosse ,” Cat Noir says softly. Luka’s breath hitches.
“You think so?” Luka chuckles. He hopes it isn’t obvious just fast his heart is racing, just how fast his head is spinning.
“I know so,” Cat Noir—purrs? Luka scoffs, kind of instinctively and it makes Cat Noir double down on his claim. “I’m serious. If you’re going to trust anyone, you better trust the model.”
It’s only when Luka sits up that Cat Noir understands what he’s revealed. He gasps, sitting up with his hands over his mouth. “Damn it.”
Damn it is right. Luka isn’t a stickler for the rules by any means, but what is Cat Noir thinking , dropping that kind of information? To Luka? He bites his lip, and most of all, he tries not to be flattered. He’s about ninety percent sure it’s a simple slip of the tongue, but it’s a slip of the tongue with Luka, and he must admit, it feels nice to be the exception to the rule for someone so special ( special? When did Cat Noir become that? ). His stomach lurches because he knows that Cat Noir shouldn’t have done it but he’s too falsely ecstatic to dwell on it.
“I don't think I’m very good with the whole secret identity thing,” Cat Noir runs his hands through his hair and Luka pretends not to notice. “I mean, M’lady is on top of it—makes me feel like I’m just stuck playing catch up, y’know?”
Luka’s heartbeat slows. “Yeah, I do know.” Luka pauses, but finds it in himself to continue. “Sometimes, everyone around you is exceptional, and no matter how much people tell you not to compare and that they’re different from you… it ends up festering into something nasty.”
Cat Noir hums in acknowledgement. “And sometimes they have this idea that you’re exceptional and at every turn, you have to live up to it, and they never judge you by the same standards. Then, when you inevitably mess up something, they turn around and act disappointed. As if they aren’t responsible for putting the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Cat Noir chuckes. “ Je m’excuse , I don’t mean to get so off-the-mark and tangenty.”
Luka shakes his head. “Don’t apologise. It’s important to say these things, even more important to have them heard. Granted, I don’t usually use words… but talking it out is just as valid.”
Cat Noir smiles again, and it’s like he’s impressed. “You’re incredible.”
Luka just looks down, biting his cheek. He’s trying to formulate a coherent response but it’s as if his brain has short circuited and currently only has the ability to say: Cat Noir thinks I’m incredible. Cat Noir thinks I’m incredible. Cat Noir—
He steps forward with a thank you on his lips, but when he looks up, he finds that he’s a lot closer to Cat Noir than planned—not that he’s complaining. It’s close enough where the lines of platonic and romantic are blurred, close enough that one wrong or right move could shift things colossally.
Apparently, he doesn’t have to wonder what Cat Noir’s intentions are because the superhero leans in, eyes half-lidded. Luka knows exactly what’s going to happen but it seems that Cat Noir leaves a gap between them, a chance for Luka to back out.
Luka does not back out.
Usually, his kisses are predated with months of pining and dreaming, but this time? It’s sporadic, unexpected, and a tad uncoordinated when their noses bump against each other, but god it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. Cat Noir’s lips are so soft and by the way the two of them fit, Luka has no choice but to think they really are made for each other. He finds the courage to rest his forearms on Cat Noir’s shoulder, and Cat Noir manages to wrap his arms around Luka’s waist, claws gently pressing against his skin. It’s cliche but all Luka can think is just how much the action is making his chest explode in all the right ways, about how he’s never felt so safe and secure in somebody’s arms. In the daze, he swears he can see a glimpse of forever.
It’s a few seconds later when they pull back, eyes shining.
“Mon dieu, we just did that,” Luka exclaims breathlessly.
Cat Noir just blinks.
Luka’s eyebrows furrow. “Is something the matter, chaton?”
Cat Noir gulps. “I—you—I should be going now,” Cat Noir turns around and walks toward the window. He’s about to jump out but he turns around, pauses. “Er, thank you for… having me, Luka. I appreciate it.”
There’s a sinking feeling in Luka’s chest, a lump that’s forming in his throat. “ De rien .”
Cat Noir just awkwardly nods, then leaps off the windowsill.
When Luka’s sure Cat Noir is gone, he breathes. Not the involuntary kind of breathing, but the heaving, longer breaths, and it’s like he’s forgotten what air is like. If not for the events of thirty seconds ago, he’d be sure he has an asthma attack.
Luka hangs his head, sighs. How could he think that any action like that would possibly end in his favour? After all, Cat Noir is a superhero and model, and he’s just… Luka. And there’s nothing more underwhelming than that.
This time, when the Cat Noir’s not coming back thoughts enter his mind, he believes them.
——
“Luka, why don’t you stay and watch a movie with us?” Anarka Couffaine asks, a glint of sadness in his eyes.
Luka musters a weak smile. “Maybe another time, maman. I think it’s best that I go to sleep.”
He’s about to get up off the couch when Juleka grabs his arm. He turns around, mildly surprised by the action. Sure, they’re siblings and far more open with each other than with other people (with the exception of Cat Noir, but it’s best not to think about that), but Juleka rarely deemed situations dire enough for her to intervene.
“You should listen to some music,” her voice comes out soft, but not unclear. “Stop the song-writing and listen to something—happy. Let it be Taylor Swift if it has to be. I just want my brother back.”
A wave of guilt washes over him. “I’m sorry, maman, Juleka, I really am. I never meant to sour the mood.”
Anarka shakes her head. “You have nothing to apologise for. Your mystery person however…” she cracks her knuckles menacingly.
Luka sighs. Even after constant begging from Luka’s end, Anarka and Juleka seemed adamant on verbally threatening Luka’s—ahem— mystery lover . It hadn’t started that of course—the first time Cat Noir had swung around, the two had teased him with playfully accusatory threats of swooning for the mystery lover—but ever since Cat Noir’s last visit one month ago, it’d become painfully obvious that something had gone awry, and thus the berated began.
“I’m just tired,” Luka waves off the threat. “I’ll be brand new when the sun rises,” he turns toward Juleka with a thoughtful smile. “I’ll make sure to listen to some music, the happy kind.”
The Couffaine women must be satisfied with Luka’s plan, because they let him go with a soft goodnight and pecks on his cheek.
He collapses on his bed, tempted to spend the night staring at the ceiling and contemplating, then shakes his head. Juleka is right—he has to listen to something, even if it’s Taylor Swift (which he does not appreciate the slander for—music is the truest expression of soul, in any form, even if the form is widely marketable pop music). So finds himself strumming along to The Archer a few minutes later.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He doesn’t look up, doesn’t think about the noise he hears—after all, it’s in his head. It’s become commonplace for Luka’s imagination to conjure up things that hurt him, and it so happens that it’s active just as well when he’s awake.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap—
But his imagination is never that persistent.
He swings his head around to his window in a frenzy and, lo and behold, it’s Cat Noir.
Luka stands up, lets the superhero in without thinking. He’s supposed to have something to say, a speech or a spiel or even a love confession, but nothing comes tumbling from his lips. There’s nothing.
“Hi, uh…it’s been a while,” Cat Noir says nervously, fiddling with his fingers. He’s dorkier tonight, his normal cocky demeanor gone.
“It has,” Luka says plainly. Isn’t he supposed to be mean? Or is he meant to be nice about things, in true Luka Couffaine fashion? There just seems to be a right answer—not one with words.
“I heard you from outside,” Cat Noir says quickly. “I never pinned you as a Swiftie, but you interpret the music beautifully. It’s kind of ethereal when you play it, a little haunting.”
“Hmm,” Luka purses his lips. I thought you were better than foolish flattery. “Just a suggestion from my sister. Something to lift my spirits.”
Cat Noir winces. “Yeah…makes sense.”
Luka waits for Cat Noir to continue, but he does it. He sighs, defeatedly. “I don’t really know why you’re here, Cat Noir.”
Cat Noir sighs his head in defeat. “I know, I’m a mess, aren’t I?”
Luka doesn’t say a word.
“But, I do have something to say to you…or rather, do with you.” Cat Noir says, with more innuendo that he likely suspects.
“Oh?” Luka says, flushing.
Cat Noir nods, a small smile on his face. “First, though, I need you to close your eyes.”
Luka tips his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows, but obeys. It’s probably unwise to trust a technically-stranger who’s climbed through your window in your room, superhero or not, but logic fails him. He’s about to ask what Cat Noir’s planning when he feels two strong arms wrap around his back and under his knees and lift him up.
Cool leather against Luka’s bare skin, Luka can feel the cold air blow through his bangs and through his shirt and sweatpants. He bites his lips, trembling at the thought of how high they must be. He can feel Cat Noir’s bounding leaps as they jump across what’s likely rooftops , and while he’s been Viperion before, it makes all the difference when you’re the one in the costume.
Still, he feels safer than he should in Cat Noir’s embrace.
It’s clear by the soft thump when they land, wind still just as strong. They’re outside, he notes. Setting Luka down carefully, Cat Noir wraps his hands around Luka’s eyes and guides him a few steps forward, then to the right.
“Okay,” Cat Noir whispers, breathing against Luka’s ear. “You can open your eyes.”
Cat Noir peels his hands away from Luka’s face, allowing Luka to open his eyes and…
Holy fuck.
The rooftop that they’ve landed on is decked out, accompanied by a diminutive moon and twinkling stars. The normally dingy floor is carpeted in rose petals, and there’s a blanket fort in the corner, with a propped laptop open to Netflix in the corner. The sheer number of pillows alone are enough to make Luka’s heart leap.
“Mon dieu, Cat Noir…” Luka says, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “What is this?”
“You know, after that kiss,” Cat Noir whispers the word, as if it’s something forbidden. “It got me thinking, really thinking. Until then, I hadn’t…it didn’t occur to me…” Cat Noir shakes his head. “I had a sexuality crisis.”
Luka’s mouth forms an ‘O’ shape. In his own turmoil of is Cat Noir fucking with me it didn’t occur to him that Cat Noir might have gone through a similar situation, with the added weight of am I attracted to guys . He feels a bit stupid, if he’s being honest—it’s not like he woke up knowing he’s queer, no matter what Anarka and Juleka proclaim—not thinking of Cat Noir’s side of things. His cheeks burn.
“I won’t say I have everything figured out,” Cat Noir admits. “I’m still new to the idea of being queer, still new to the idea of queerness in general but…I’m bi—bisexual.”
A small smile crept up on Luka’s face, then carved out his cheeks. “That’s spectacular, chaton.”
Cat Noir beams, as if it’s the first time he’s heard that. “Thank you, Symphonie . You know, if the result is compliments, then I might have to get into more sexual crises."
Luka pretends not to notice the nickname.
“My compliments are free of charge,” Luka snickers. “But I doubt sexuality crises are ever solved only once.”
Cat Noir hums in acknowledgment, then sits down among the blankets. He pats the spot on the floor next to him, an open invitation for Luka to do the same. Tentatively, he sits, ever-so-slightly leaning on Cat Noir’s forearm as the superhero scrolls through the selections.
“You like horror?” Luka asks, glancing at Cat Noir sideways. “Somehow, I never pinned you for a horror fanatic.”
Cat Noir shrugs. “I dabble. I watch horror flicks on Netflix but when it comes to recommending a good quality horror movie to watch…you’re out of luck.”
“I’m not a horror fan, but I’m similar when it comes to paranormal shows,” Luka remarks, remembering how many he’d binged when he was in his spooky/paranormal phase.
“Okay…” Cat Noir bites his lip. “I guess that leaves us with the classics. Titanic sound good?”
Luka hesitates, then nods. “I’ve not watched it myself, but I’ve heard…reviews.”
Cat Noir chuckles. “You’ve heard mixed reviews—no one can decide whether it’s a masterpiece or a waste of time.”
Luka shrugs. “I don’t know, I think it’s found its place in history.”
Cat Noir looks at Luka, mildly awestruck. Luka sends him a confused glance, but the superhero just shakes his head, then whispers, “it’s nothing. I just like hearing you talk.”
“Right back at you, Whiskers ,” Luka grins. “Shall we watch the movie?”
Cat Noir nods, hitting the unpause on the laptop—of which Luka has to bite his lip not to smile at the black paw print sticker on the corner—and allowing a silence to befall them. It’s not unkind; it’s the kind of comforting embrace that Luka has dreamed of, wished since he could form coherent thoughts. Is this what running back home feels like?
Twenty minutes later, Cat Noir straightens and abruptly pauses the movie. He stares right at Luka, and deadpans, “This is bullshit.”
Luka chortles. “I was wondering when you’d say that.”
Cat Noir shakes his head. “No, just no. I won’t have my first date with you be wasted on this abomination. I’ll find something else.”
First date? It’s not just in Luka’s head? He has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling, remind himself that he’s on earth and not Cloud 9. Though, with how high Cat Noir was leaping earlier…he might as well be.
“Alice in Wonderland?” Cat Noir asks after a few minutes of diminutive grunts of disapproval from looking at the movie catalogue. “It’s…unconventional, but I’d be lying if I said it isn’t amazing.”
“Perfect,” Luka grins, settling back into Cat Noir’s embrace as the superhero lies back.
Cat Noir seems to be unaware—or completely aware—of the effect he has on Luka. At some point around a quarter way through, Cat Noir’s arm wraps around Luka’s shoulder, pulling them closer—Luka takes this as a sign to rest his chin on Cat Noir’s shoulder. And, to seal the nail in the coffin, Cat Noir rests his head atop Luka’s. He only hopes the superhero can’t hear just how loudly his heart is beating.
The movie is comforting, definitely old—but in a cosy way. Between the eccentricity of Alice’s adventures and Cat Noir’s breathing, Luka finds his eyes drooping. No, damn it, he curses. But it’s like a prophecy, the way he fades into a dreamless slumber as he feels a strange purring sound from behind him…
Luka winces when he wakes up—he’s much too groggy to tell what’s happening, only that there’s something sharp digging into his collarbone, and the weird position he’s in. His legs are folded, for one, and torso is twisted—backwards? And there’s something…
Holy shit. It’s Cat Noir.
Goddamn, how could he forget the date he was on last night, with a superhero no less? How’d he forget about that movie they watched, how Cat Noir’s arms twisted around his body and how they stayed like that, for…
Actually he has no clue what time it is.
It’s dark, but there’s a sliver of orange blending into the midnight hue of the blue the night sky is, with a few expectant stars scattered across the expanse and a petulant but fading half-moon. The Eiffel Tower sits in the background, a monument tiny by perspective, blackened against the rising sun. It’s peaceful and Luka really doesn’t want to get up.
Especially because Cat fucking Noir is resting on him, chin digging into his shoulderblade and arms hanging off his torso. His blond hair is pressed up against Luka’s skin, tickling Luka’s neck and he looks majestic. He looks majestic .
He’s about to shut his eyes, cram a few more minutes of sleep but the cat superhero stirs against him, groaning and stretching out in true cat fashion. He sits up sleepily, hair sticking up in spikes like a rockstar and squinting at Luka, then smiling.
“G’morning, Blueb’rry,” Cat Noir purrs, voice noticeably lower than normal, gravelly and resounding. His morning voice.
Luka grins. “Good morning, Whiskers,” Luka reaches over and ruffles Cat’s blond hair. “Sleep well?”
“Aside from the inevitable neck-ache…I slept wonderfully,” Cat Noir smiles, staring at him with the same softness of the rising sun behind him.
“You know, I had a really good time last night,” Luka smiles warmly. “A really nice time.”
Cat Noir laughs. “I’m happy to let you know I plan to do a lot of that in the future.”
The superhero leans forward, cups Luka’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. Their eyes are shut, breathing steady and Luka can’t help but drink in Cat Noir’s presence, in how warm he is. The superhero tips his chin forward, lining up their lips, and presses a kiss onto Luka’s mouth. It’s not fireworks, it’s not sparks, but it’s a candle. The kind that flickers in the dark but ultimately burns.
“I want this,” Cat Noir whispers when they pull apart. “I really, really want this.”
“I do too,” Luka’s voice falters. “So let’s have it.”
“It’ll be tough,” Cat Noir murmurs. “You can’t know who I am.”
“One day,” Luka squeezes the superhero’s hands. “And until then, we can do…this.”
“Sweeping you off your feet?” Cat Noir grins.
“Yes,” Luka chuckles. “But the visits, the dates…I want you, Cat.”
“Okay,” Cat Noir whispers, then positions them so they’re facing the Eiffel Tower. They don’t know how long they stay like that, only that it’s long enough for the sun to rise and for Paris to awaken.