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When Ladybug shows up to their patrol one week before Christmas with a Santa hat perched on top of her head, the red a perfect match to her suit, Chat Noir isn't sure what to think.
On the one hand, cute.
On the other hand...
He thought that with how disastrous last year's Christmas was, with Adrien managing to scare his friends and getting Santa Claus akumatized, this year would have to be better.
But with each passing day in December, he's found his mood plummeting lower and lower.
It's just - nothing has improved since last year.
Maman is still gone, and though the grief is easier to bear, it hasn't disappeared. Nothing with Father has changed in the last year. Adrien sees him most when he's made some kind of mistake that Father feels requires discipline. And as this time for family and cheer approaches, Adrien's life is severely lacking in both.
He hasn't been allowed to go to any Christmas parties or even go on the class field trip to the outdoor ice rink.
And while he keeps overhearing his friends talking about caroling or baking Christmas cookies or putting up lights with their families, those have never been Agreste traditions.
There isn't so much as a strand of garland up at the mansion.
Adrien tries not to let it get to him, tries to treat December as just another month.
If he doesn't have expectations, he can't be disappointed.
But it doesn't quite work that way when everyone around him is in such good spirits.
Like his Lady, apparently, who is humming some kind of Christmas tune under her breath as she swings from roof to roof.
She pauses on a rooftop a few minutes into their patrol, and Chat has to backtrack slightly to rejoin her.
"You see something, LB?"
Chat is busy scanning the streets below for what caught Ladybug's attention, so it takes him longer than it should to realize the thing that's caught her attention is him.
"Is something wrong, Chaton?"
"Everything's fine," he denies reflexively with a wide grin.
Rather than reassure her as intended, his answer seems to have her more concerned as her brow furrows and her lips purse.
"I kind of expected to see a little more of that Christmas spirit from you," she tests. "Shouldn't you be singing Paw la la or something?"
"Not everyone celebrates Christmas, you know," he says, even as something in his chest loosens at her clear attempt to cheer him up. She even punned!
"Oh," she says quietly, then curiously, "Do you?"
"I thought we couldn't know anything about each other," he deflects. He doesn't even know how to answer her question. He wants to celebrate Christmas. His family used to, back when Maman was still alive. But it's not something he gets to do anymore.
She rolls her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to figure you say you do or don't celebrate Christmas."
"Can we just patrol?" he snaps. She blinks at him, looking hurt, and he immediately folds. "Sorry, it's just a sensitive subject."
"I'm sorry," Ladybug says, resting her hand on his arm and squeezing. "I didn't mean to push. But...you know I care about you, right? And if you want to talk about it..."
Chat's heart flips in his chest. His Lady has such a kind heart. "I know," he says, smiling at her fondly. He knows he can't really talk to her about this stuff, but it's sweet of her to offer.
She seems satisfied with that and they resume their patrol.
Chat next sees Ladybug the following afternoon for an akuma attack. Her Santa hat is absent this time. He kind of misses it.
Though he would happily do without the three-storey high candy cane sentimonster she's battling.
"Really?" he mutters. He knows Shadowmoth has about as much creativity as a potato but really? He sighs before launching himself forward to join the fight.
"What, Chaton?" Ladybug teases after several minutes have passed as they dip, dodge and duck, during which Chat Noir knows he's been uncharacteristically quiet. "No line about how we're mint to be together?"
Chat can't help the way his lips twitch at that.
Ladybug's smile widens when she catches him. She swings into the air, lassoing her yoyo around the creature's...waist? It's unclear.
Chat knows the play though and extends his baton, tripping the sentimonster and bringing it down.
Ladybug finds the amok object and walks over to him. "Come on, Minou, last chance," she says.
"Last chance?" he echoes.
"You know, to make some kind of candy cane pun! I know you've got to have a hundred."
He shrugs and watches the way her face clouds with concern. That's the last thing he wants so he wracks his brain for a pun, any pun, anything to set her mind at ease. He's good at this, it should be easy. But his mind is frustratingly blank.
Ladybug purifies the amok and casts her cure.
When he holds out his fist for her to bump though, she covers it with her hands instead and looks at him with those irresistibly beautiful eyes of hers.
"Do you have a little time?"
Chat doesn't understand. "Huh?"
"Neither of us used our special powers, so we're not about to change back," she elaborates. "I thought we could...spend some time together?"
Chat's instincts scream it's a trap, but Ladybug is asking to spend time with him. He's literally incapable of saying anything other than "Yes, of course. I'd love to."
They end up on top of L'Arc de Triomphe, sitting side by side, shoulders brushing, legs dangling over the side.
Ladybug leans into his shoulder and Chat has to suppress the purr he feels building in his chest. These moments with her, especially the ones where she's so openly affectionate with him, are the best in his life.
"You haven't been acting like yourself," she murmurs. "I'm worried about you."
"I'm okay," he promises, giving her one of his best smiles. "You don't need to worry about me."
His smile has no discernible effect.
"Well, I do," she grumbles. She bites her lip, hesitating, before pushing forward. "My best friend—my civilian best friend, I mean—reminded me that Christmas can be a difficult time of year for some people. Chat...do you...not...like Christmas?"
Chat stares out over the city for several minutes without answering, taking in the bustle of cars and people, the Christmas lights strung up everywhere.
He loves her and he wants to know her and he wants her to know him. She's giving him a chance to have at least part of that. He can't tell her everything, but...
He's tired of keeping it all inside, pretending that everything's okay, when it's all a mess.
"I love Christmas," he whispers.
He can feel her eyes on the side of his face, gaze searching him, but he can't look at her. He'll never get this out if he does.
"Growing up, my parents were always really busy," he offers tentatively. He steals a glance at Ladybug out of the corner of his eye. She shows no sign of wanting him to stop. The little ball of anxiety inside his chest relaxes slightly and he continues, "Christmas was this one time of year where we'd be together as a family without—" Father disappearing into his atelier to design or take business calls, where Maman's social calendar wasn't jampacked. He can't say any of that, though. It's too revealing. "—distractions," he finishes instead.
He sighs, trying to think how he can put this. He knows from listening to his friends now that his family's celebrations weren't exactly typical. Apparently other families didn't wake up and get dressed for the day before sitting down to a formal breakfast and then open gifts in an orderly fashion in the professionally decorated living room, pausing after each gift to record which business associate or acquaintance had given which present.
But even if it was a little unorthodox it was time when they were all gathered together.
Together. A family. Happy.
"It was...special to me. Having that time together. And since Maman died, Father doesn't celebrate anymore. So..." Chat shrugs helplessly and dares to look over at Ladybug.
She looks horrified.
Quickly he replays what he said over in his mind and winces. He'd mentioned Maman. Crap.
"Sor—"
"Oh Chaton," Ladybug cries, throwing her arms around his neck, ending up half in his lap with the force of it, and squeezing him tight.
Chat hugs her back automatically if a little awkwardly. But when she shows no inclination to let him go, he relaxes into her embrace.
Her hug doesn't fix things, of course, no one can do that.
But it helps.
It's an entire three days later that Chat transforms for his solo patrol to discover Ladybug has left him a message, providing him with coordinates of where to meet her instead.
It's a little strange, but he heads out to meet her dutifully.
He tries to think why she asked him to meet her as he jumps over the rooftops. Does she have some kind of lead? Something she wants him to keep an eye on? Someone who—
Chat stumbles as he takes in the rooftop ahead.
It's strung with multi-coloured lights, red and green, but also yellow, orange and blue. Christmas carols play from what must be Ladybug's phone. There's even a small artificial tree (and Chat marvels at how she got it up here; this must've been so much work).
And there in the middle of it, facing him with the sweetest smile on her face, is Ladybug, wearing her Santa hat.
"Merry Christmas, Chaton," she greets when he finally comes to stand in front of her.
"What is all of this?"
"You said you don't get to celebrate Christmas anymore, sooo I thought maybe we could celebrate it together?"
Chat blinks against the sudden stinging of his eyes. "You did all of this for me?"
"Of course," she says. "It was the least I could do for my favourite partner."
He can't help but look around again in wonder, amazed that she did all of this for him. And then, as always his eyes are drawn back to Ladybug.
"Thank you."
She grins and pulls out a green elf hat from behind her back. He ducks down so she can plop it on his head. He's grinning too when she's finished, and then she takes his hand and his heart squeezes.
"Come on," she says, leading him across the rooftop. "Let's trim the tree."
He gapes at the sight of the boxes of ornaments. It was enough that she'd brought a tree, but he gets to decorate it too?
"Isn't this going to make a lot of extra work?" he can't help but ask. "We're just going to have to take them down again."
The look she gives him at that is full of fond exasperation. "Let me worry about that," she says, handing him a little red ball on a hook.
They decorate the tree together, singing along to the Christmas music playing and bumping arms, shoulders and hips companionably as they work.
Halfway through, Ladybug surprises him again, offering him a plate of cookies and a thermos of hot cocoa.
"These are delicious!" he exclaims around a mouth full of cookie, sending crumbs flying.
Ladybug just smiles. "They should be. I made them myself."
Chat's heart can't possibly swell up any larger in his chest without killing him.
"Is there anything my Lady can't do?"
"Plenty," she laughs. "I wish we could've baked together, but well..."
Secret identities. He understands.
He puts aside his treats so he can hold her arms, look into her eyes and try to impart just how much this means to him.
"This is perfect. Seriously, Buguinette. Thank you so much."
Chat wants to hug her, but he doesn't want to cross any lines. He never wants to do that, but especially not now when she's given him such a perfect gift. So he settles for squeezing her arms to try to convey his affection and gratitude.
Ladybug has no such reservations, moving forward, wrapping her arms around his chest and holding him tight enough to make him feel safe and cherished.
"I'm so happy you like it."
"I love it," he murmurs. I love you, he doesn't say, though he thinks it. He doesn't want her to have to reject him. Doesn't want to do anything to ruin this perfect moment.
The way she smiles up at him, soft and tender, has him thinking she heard it anyway. She doesn't say anything, though, just resumes decorating the tree. Chat joins her and soon it really does look like Christmas. All they're missing is a little snow.
It doesn't start to snow, but the music on Ladybug's phone cuts out. Chat's pretty sure that's the cue that this night has come to an end.
"Thanks again, Ladybug," he says.
"Come here in the middle of the roof," she suggests. "So you can take in the whole thing."
Chat follows her instructions, joining her in the middle of the roof and looking around. It's colourful and festive and tackily beautiful. Like something out of a children's book.
He turns back to her, beaming. "It's perfect."
"Not quite. We're not finished yet," she murmurs. What more could she possibly have planned? "Look up, Chaton."
His breath catches when he does, seeing the sprig of leaves and white berries dangling above their heads.
Mistletoe.
When he looks back at Ladybug her cheeks are pink. Before he can say anything, tell her she doesn't have to or ask if she's serious, she lifts up on her tiptoes and kisses him firmly, briefly, perfectly in a warm press of dry lips before pulling back again.
"Merry Christmas," she says.
"Buh," Chat articulates.
Ladybug's giggle is like tinkling bells, and then with a flick of her yoyo, she's gone, leaving Chat slack-jawed and weak-kneed on the rooftop.
Chat Noir’s life isn’t fixed. He’s still going home to a cold, lonely house. But knowing that the most important person in his life cares enough to try to give him a perfect Christmas experience...
He’s feeling the Christmas spirit.