Under Oath | Ladynoir ✓

44 | petit sourire satisfait

RENA ROUGE FOLLOWED LADYBUG DOWN the stairs into the basement of the Palais de Justice, and Carapace followed Rena Rouge.

Her feet moved as quickly as her mouth, skipping deftly down each stone step without a glance. "I find it a tad—just a tad—ungrateful that we, Paris' number one sidekicks, have to clean out the office. I mean, sure, we created these documents, but surely the judiciary has a team of interns or clerks waiting around somewhere to do this. We could be off protecting public safety or something! Kicking evil ass!"

"Just a tad," Carapace echoed, amused by her outburst. Carapace, bless him, was so pleased with the newfound freedom and sense of peace that had descended on the city after the verdict that he was willing to keep helping out, wherever needed. But Rena had a backlog of Ladyblog posts to write, all insider scoops for her online audience.

It was only because Rena was in the company of trusted friends—boyfriend and best friend—that she was complaining so passionately. She was very ready to tie a bow on this whole trial, but now they were being employed once more not as investigators or superheroes or courtroom security, but paper pushers. Filing, tagging and archiving all the transcripts and dossiers from the Agreste case. As if they hadn't been volunteering for months.

"Special request from Heloise, I'm afraid," Ladybug called back, not sounding apologetic at all.

When the trio stepped into the familiar basement office, the door slammed shut and bolted behind them. Rena startled and whirled around at the metallic thud. Chat Noir had a dark claw pressed against the wood, smiling wider than she had ever seen him smile.

"Uh." What was going on?

The shelves had already been cleared. No boxes or dossiers to trawl through. Nothing to archive. Then she noticed the smell. Pastries? Ladybug whipped a chequered in the air and let it float down onto the workbench in the centre of the room. Chat Noir's baton extended with a shink through the handles of three wicker baskets in the corner, and he deposited all three in a perfect row just as the tablecloth settled. By now, both Rena and Carapace were itching for answers.

"We have some news to tell you," Ladybug said. Chat Noir walked to her side and started opening the baskets. The smell of sugar, fruit jam and baked dough grew stronger. Carapace's eyes drifted distractedly to the food before refocusing on the two heroes.

"What is it?" Rena wondered.

Ladybug opened her mouth. No sound emerged. She tried again, and then chuckled and shook her head. Rena could see a flush underneath her mask. What was the news? Finally, words having failed her, Ladybug tiptoed and placed a kiss on Chat Noir's cheek. He hadn't been expecting it, unwrapping a bundle of blueberry danishes (maybe a little too intently), and Rena saw his pointy ears prick right up, his cheeks flushing to match his Lady's. He gave her a soft smile and still wouldn't look at Rena or Carapace.

She understood. Ladybug's indecision, now decided. The many conversations they had about love and letting Adrien go and her anxieties, now settled. She'd chosen to take a leap of faith with Chat Noir, finally.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

She ran into Ladybug's arms and squeezed tightly. This was fantastic news. Carapace, too, caught on and said, "Wow. Congratulations. What a power couple."

Chat Noir cleared his throat. "Thanks, Carapace. There's more. Plagg, claws in."

Huh?

A rush of green magic curled around Chat Noir's body, and when the haze cleared, Rena saw—

"Adrien," Carapace whispered. His mouth hung agape. For a long time, no-one said anything. Ladybug folded her lips inwards and waited, while Adrien nervously from foot to foot. Adrien. Chat Noir.