I wanted to do another speed write, so here it is.
They're sitting in the living room, and for once they're all together.
Together, except not, because each of them is off in their own bubble and it feels like when they were kids. When they could just be around each other without reason or need to talk or have a purpose to be there for.
Ian and Mickey are beside each other on the couch, watching something from Ian's phone. Debbie absentmindedly braids Franny's hair as she watches some documentary which is playing. Carl is playing a seemingly very intense game of draughts with Lip across the living room table. Liam pours over his homework on the other end. Tami is messaging one of her coworkers in the armchair.
The only one missing is Fiona, and the loss is acute but bearable.
Lip cheers as he manoeuvres his piece to take three of Carl's at once. Carl huffs and rolls his eyes, clearly losing but choosing to continue playing anyway.
It's then that Liam closes his maths book and opens up his backpack, placing the completed homework inside and pulling out a coloured cube.
"Lip." Liam states, tiredly.
"Mhm." He's focussed on the board, trying to absolutely annihilate his brother.
"Can you solve this?" He asks, holding up the Rubik's cube in one hand, staring at it like an enemy.
Lip turns and looks at it, frowning. "No. Why?"
Liam sighs. "If I can bring it in solved my teacher said she'd give me extra credit. We all got one."
"Just move the stickers around." Lip advises.
"I already thought of that. It doesn't have stickers, the colours are just on each piece. It's a fancy one."
"Liam, your teacher's scamming you. Those things are impossible. The only people who can solve them are magicians or just really lucky." Lip tells him.
"They're not impossible." Mickey snarks, rolling his eyes. "Give it here." He makes a gesture at Liam.
"Why?" The boy asks skeptically.
"I can solve it." He explains, like it's obvious.
"Really, Mick?" Lip says with a voice full of doubt.
"Yes, asshole. Now hand it over."
Lip raises his eyebrows but Liam tosses it to Mickey.
"You can solve a Rubik's cube?" Ian questions.
"Yes." Mickey replies as he starts shifting the sides and the middles, turning it around in his palms to figure out the patterns. His tongue pokes out of his cheek as he focusses. "It's been a while, I'm rusty. So it might take a minute."
Lip snorts. "Just admit it's impossible."
"Shut the fuck up, dick."
The rest of the room goes back to their own devices, momentarily entertained by the conversation but ultimately disinterested. Only Ian continues to watch as Mickey plays around with the colours, slowly building the cube to completion. Even Liam turns away, choosing to start on his English homework instead of watching something he doesn't think will yield results.
It's clear no one thinks he'll actually be able to do it.
Ten minutes of clicking pieces ensue, and Ian returns to his phone.
After another ten minutes, the cube is slammed onto the table, six perfectly neat and completed sides displayed clearly.
Ian glances up to see it, and has to double take. Lip looks stunned, and Liam looks at the cube like it's his greatest enemy.
"Woah." Carl states.
"How did you do that?" The youngest Gallagher rages. "I've been trying all day!"
"I learnt ages ago. Found one of 'em in the back of a car we stole. Got bored and used YouTube to learn it. I could probably do it in less time now that I've figured it out again." Mickey shrugs, and Ian looks fucking awed.
"There's no fucking way you just solved that. You didn't mix it right, Liam. I'll make it really messed up, then I bet he can't." Lip challenges, messing up the solved puzzle again.
Mickey shrugs again. "It ain't about how 'hard' you make it, Phillip. It's a system."
Lip ignores him, then presents him with a thoroughly scrambled product a few moments later.
"Solve that." He says, smugly.
"Easy, bitch." Mickey smirks, then starts again.
Ian watches with extreme interest, this time and the rest of the Gallaghers are just as transfixed.
He completes the white side first, slowly building the red, green, blue and orange, then working on the yellow. At a point, it looks almost done, only the yellow corners are out of place. Then, Mickey messes it all up.
"Don't do that!" Ian shouts. "You're messing it up again."
Mickey's attention never leaves the coloured squares. "Fuck off, I know what I'm doing." And he keeps turning the faces until suddenly it all comes together again. "See, Lip. Doesn't fucking matter."
Lip looks horrified. "There's no way."
"That's cool, Mickey." Debbie chirps, grinning at Lip's reaction.
"That's so cool." Carl's eyes are sparkling. "Even Lip isn't smart enough to do that."
"Shut up, Carl." Lip rolls his eyes, kicking at his brother playfully. "It's a kids game."
"Yeah, a kids game you can't do." And then the two are tussling light heartedly.
But Ian's attention is completely on Mickey, who seems absolutely calm about the whole thing.
Later on, they're lying in bed together and Ian won't stop staring at him.
"I can feel you looking at me, man. What's up with you?" Mickey asks, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Solve it again." Ian orders without explaining, extracting Liam's (again messed up) cube from the nightstand to his husband.
"Why? You don't believe I can do it?" Mickey counters, prepared to prove him wrong.
"No, I think you can. But-" Ian leans in to whisper into his ear, "-I wanna see you do it again."
Mickey raises his eyebrows. "Coloured squares turn you on, Gallagher?"
"Mmm. Hot husbands who know how to solve the coloured squares turn me on." Ian grins down at him salaciously.
Mickey laughs and Ian shoves at his hands where they're clutched around the cube.
"I'll suck you off while you do it." Ian tells him, moving down his body.
"I like the sound of that." Mickey drawls and starts moving the pieces hurriedly.
Ian smiles.
Okay, I don't know what happened to this, it wasn't meant to get smutty but my brain went to kink and I obey my brain.
Either way, I hope you enjoyed.
This may or may not have anything to do with how proud I am that I can solve a Rubik's cube.
He doesn’t ask and she doesn’t want to talk about it anyway. It’ll just make them both sad.
But one night a week, they share an evening together in their shared apartment - their home.
Alya always covers for her with her parents. Alya thinks it’s for her standing “patrol” night with Chat Noir, but if Alya had noticed that no patrolling was taking place she hadn’t said anything. Marinette isn’t entirely sure why she keeps her new part-time living arrangement a secret from Alya. It all just feels too fragile, like if she breathes too hard the illusion will dissipate like smoke.
Or an alarm will go off and she’ll wake up from the dream.
Because being transformed as Ladybug while slicing vegetables for a stir fry dinner while Chat Noir observes from over her shoulder feels positively ridiculous.
Ridiculous enough to be a dream for sure.
“So you just wait until the oil is hot,” she explains as she dumps carrots into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. “And then add the vegetables in one at a time. The order is based on what takes the longest to cook.”
Ladybug stirs the carrots around the pan before adding onions, and then mushrooms. Then she hands the spatula to him. He replicates her work with a level of enthusiasm the task absolutely does not deserve.
It makes her smile.
“That’s it?” he asks. “It can’t be that simple.”
She laughs. “I mean, I’m not a professional chef or anything, but basic cooking isn’t too hard once you’ve done it a few times.”
The timer goes off, and she flinches at the sound. Her eyes squeeze closed. It’s the smell of grilled onions that ground her more than anything. Then his hand, squeezing her shoulder. She looks at him and his eyes are so warm. It’s impossible not to smile back.
She’s already awake. This is real. She doesn’t need to wake up.
“Pasta’s done,” she says, flipping the heat off. “Do you know where I can find a colander?”
“A what?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunched up in genuine confusion.
“Umm… a pasta strainer,” she clarifies.
“What’s a pasta strainer?”
She blinks at him in shock. “Oh my god! You’ve really never stepped foot inside a kitchen, have you?”
She yanks open a cupboard, and then another, rifling through pots and pans.
“I've been inside a kitchen.”
She snorts.
“What?! I have!”
“Clearly very little cooking took place while you were there.”
He grins back sheepishly and shrugs as she places the colander in the stainless steel sink.
“I can’t believe I married you.”
He pulls away from the stove to step in behind her, his hands resting at her waist as he kisses her cheek. “You don’t even regret it,” he whispers, and she can hear the grin in his voice.
And he’s right. She doesn’t regret it.
Not even a little bit.
…
Ladybug serves out the food on the plates. Grilled veggies and chicken pile up on top of the pasta, and she tops it off with crushed walnuts. Her presentation is as artful as any professional plate Adrien has seen in his very privileged life, and he finds himself doubting that she’s not a professional chef.
He scoops each plate from the counter and brings it to adjacent corners of the small dining table. When they sit, she’s so close their knees bump. He relishes in the contact.
He taps the side of her knee with his own on purpose.
Her smile is positively indulgent.
“You’re like a child, poking and poking for attention.”
“I’m just excited!”
Her cheeks bloom with the color of pink rose buds. “About?”
“That you’re here! That I can touch you!” He offers his hand, and she takes it instantly. “That we can have this.”
Her eyes turn glassy. “Me too,” she admits.
Adrien has never had family dinners like these. Not even when his mother was alive.
He’s never ever going to let them get old.
…
Marinette laughs into her cereal the next morning, remembering Chat’s cheeky expression as shared good byes not an hour earlier. She can’t believe it took her so long to let herself love him.
“You’re in a good mood.”
Marinette startles and looks up into the amused eyes of both her parents, sitting across from her at the breakfast table.
“I am!” she agrees. “I had a really good day yesterday.”
“Anything in particular happen that made it a good day?” her mother asks.
Marinette’s smile wilts just a bit at the edges.
“Nothing in particular,” she says.
“So you’re going to make me guess,” her papa teases.
“Go ahead.” There’s no way they could possibly guess that she literally dreamed up a boyfriend for herself and was now living with him one day a week.
More than anything though, she wishes she could tell them. They would love him.
…
Adrien sits across from his father at the long formal dining table in the Agreste mansion.
Every clink of his silverware echoes throughout the cavernous room.
They don’t speak.
Adrien doesn’t bother trying to make conversation the way he used to. He knows from previous experience that initiating conversation often is either pulling teeth or navigating a minefield and he doesn’t have the energy for either.
But it’s hard to sit still, and the hour-long meal feels like an eternity.
There’s no teasing or banter as they eat. His father would never tolerate a game of footside under the table even if they sat close enough to each other for that to be a possibility. He misses Ladybug’s voice and her laughter. Meals are meant to be shared, and Adrien didn’t know what that was like before Jubilation.
He doesn’t know how to go back to this.
Being dismissed afterwards to his room offers no reprieve. For all that his room is filled with books, games, a basketball hoop, and a zipline, there’s nothing in it. Not for him. It’s all soulless.
He doesn’t even want to sit down.
“Plagg, do you think anyone would notice if I stopped sleeping here?”
Plagg shrugs.
Adrien takes that as permission and transforms.
He lands on the balcony and slips inside into the living room. She’s not there, but it almost doesn’t matter because the silence here is peaceful instead of oppressive.
And it’s already filled with memories of her. Real memories of her.
He stares at the blank wall opposite the dining table that used to hold all his mother’s pictures.
He has an idea.
…
Ladybug does a double take as she walks through the dining area. The wall is covered in framed pictures of her and Chat Noir. Some, she recognizes from the Ladyblog. Others are selfies that she knows he captured on his baton. She pulls the Oblivio kiss from the wall, and touches the glass where their hands are joined.
It’s a kiss that actually happened for all that she can’t remember it. But now, she can remember so many kisses that never actually happened. The first time she saw this picture she wanted to deny its existence. Now, with the way he’s holding her with such care, the way their fingers are interlaced, she doesn’t understand how she ever saw anything in it other than love.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he asks.
“Why this kiss and not the Dark Cupid One? It was first.”
He shrugs. “I think this one was more special? It looks like it was something we both wanted.”
“Do you remember it?“
He shakes his head. “Just looks like our amnesiac selves saw something in each other that maybe took us longer to realize.”
“Not you,” she counters.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that’s true. The way I felt in the beginning and the way I feel now… I don’t know. It’s different.”
She frowns, glancing up from the picture to him. “In a good way?”
“Yes!”
She takes in the picture for another several seconds. He’s right.
She places it back on the wall so she can look at it every time she walks past, every time they sit down for a meal together.
Then she catches sight of the one next to it.
“No! Absolutely not!” she exclaims, ripping it from the wall.
“What? Why not?”
“Why not?! It’s a terrible picture!” Her eyes are half closed and she’s making a creepy grin, and his mouth is twisted in some weird way as he’s clearly in the middle of speaking. It flatters neither of them. Its only redeeming quality is that she remembers the patrol the picture came from and they had spent the whole thing laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
“Why do you want to look at it every day?”
“It’s a real picture,” he says, taking it from her and placing it reverently back on the wall.
And there’s something in the way he says real that has her eyes narrowing. She wants to ask, but he shakes his head.
“Please?” he asks. He’s begging.
It’s a terrible picture. She hates it. There has to be better ones.
She knows he’ll let her take it down.
But he has a reason. The picture means something to him that he can’t explain. She can’t take that away without understanding why.
She huffs. “Fine.”
He grins in pure delight. “It’ll be your favorite by Christmas.”
She groans, knowing he’s likely right.
He laughs, and pulls her into an embrace, kissing the side of her face.
Because she's going to laugh every time she sees it. And like he said, it’s real .
Unlike the rest of her life.
…
“Hey cupcake! You okay?” her father asks, poking his head up through the trap door.
“I’m fine,” she lies. “Why do you ask?”
It’s a stupid question. She’s wilted over her desk doing absolutely nothing. She doesn’t even have a project laid out or a video playing. Of course he’s worried that she’s not okay.
She really needs to get better at pretending.
“You’ve just been pining away all day. And it’s the weekend.”
“I promise I’m not pining.” She can’t be pining over Chat if she and Chat are together.
Sure, she misses him every moment they’re apart. Even his stupid jokes and his total lack of cooking experience–though she’s being unfair. He’s proven himself a fast learner.
She wishes she could call him or send him stupid texts, wishes that she could bring him over to meet her parents.
Who is she kidding? She’s totally pining.
“We’ve just been worried about you. You’ve been really quiet lately, and sleeping maybe too much.”
She wasn’t sleeping. It was just hard to get up in the morning when everything felt pointless.
“I’m okay. Just… trapped in the routine, I think.”
“Well, come downstairs and break it up!” her father invites.
She forces herself to smile, but she doesn’t feel it.
…
The bell rings signaling the end of class, and Nino starts to pack up, but Adrien is much slower to move. Was class really already over? Adrien feels like he just got there.
Nino bumps his shoulder. “You okay, mec?”
Adrien’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m fine.”
He’s better than fine! He had low-key moved out of his house, and Ladybug was living with him part time! And sure, he can’t tell Nino any of that. And he can’t share anything about his day with his girlfriend either. He can’t introduce his best friend to his girlfriend or his girlfriend to his best friend. He knows they already know each other, so it seems like it shouldn’t matter.
And yet, it’s not the same.
“Do I not seem fine?” he asks.
“You didn’t take any notes,” Nino points out.
Adrien blinks down at the empty document on the screen of his tablet. “I just couldn’t focus.” That much is true at least.
“Anything you want to talk about?” Nino offers.
There’s so much he wants to talk about. He wants to tell Nino all of it.
But his life is all cut up into pieces, more than it ever had been before, and every way Adrien turns he’s bumping into walls that he never wanted to be there. He feels cut off, like he’s looking at the world through the glass of his bedroom window. He should be used to it. He’s no stranger to loneliness. He’s been lonely his whole life.
But now, he’s had a taste of something more.
He’s had a literal taste of home cooked meals, been blessed with evenings full of lively conversation and joyous laughter, felt the warmth of Ladybug wrapped up in his arms as they fall asleep.
It feels so good, he almost can’t believe it’s real.
But there’s no flying alarm clocks here threatening to shatter his dream.
Just six neverending excruciating days between each glorious evening in paradise.
But even if one day a week is all he can have, it’s still the best his life has ever been.
“No,” he tells Nino with a smile. “I really am okay.”
He wills himself to believe it.
…
She wakes up in his arms. And it’s both the best and worst part of her day. Because she loves being in his arms, loves waking up with their heads pressed and their legs tangled together, loves how warm and treasured she feels in his hold.
And it’s also the moment when she has to tear herself away to go back to her normal life.
The life she doesn’t get to share with him.
One day a week is not enough. Not even close to enough.
She steals his pillow to take home. It’s not quite the same, but at least it smells like him.
But it doesn’t change the fact that the clock has reset and she’s six long never ending days away from seeing him again.
She trudges to school the next morning. She’s not excited about any of it, but she also has nothing better to fill her time with.
After class, Rose is talking. Marinette tries to listen. She tries more than once, but she can barely hear a world of it. Something about trying to see a new specialist. And Marinette feels guilty. Rose deserves her attention. Marinette wants to be a part of her life, wants to be a part of all of her friends’ lives.
But she can’t let them be a part of hers in the most fundamental way.
And it’s becoming harder and harder each day with all her friends, with the classes she sits through counting down every minute - not until the bell rings, but until her night with Chat Noir arrives.
For the one night a week where she gets to live .
“Marinette? Are you okay?” The fact that it’s Juleka asking showcases how distant she must be acting.
She summons a smile. It might even pass muster. “Of course! Just tired.”
Four skeptical pairs of eyes peer at her.
An akuma alert saves her from having to answer.
But more than that, that alert doesn’t fill her with unease or panic. That alarm sends her heart skyrocketing and her stomach fluttering in the most pleasant of ways.
That sound means she gets to see him more than once that week.
…
“This is not the time for flirting!”
Chat grins. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last few years it’s that it’s always time for flirting.
She likes it when he flirts. And the more stressed she is, the more important it is because it keeps her out of her own head.
And more importantly than any of that, he thinks she’s amazing and brilliant, and he wants her to know it every minute of every day.
“M’lady! I’m just trying to ensure that if we should fall in battle, the last thing you’ll ever hear is my undying affection for you,” he says while swinging his baton like a bat to reflect the akuma’s powers.
“Gah! I really can't believe I ever agreed to marry you.”
He laughs in delight, twisting around her to shield her from another strike.
Once they’re in the clear, he leans towards her. “You know it was the best decision in your life.”
Something flashes in her eyes, and she softens.
“Why is it impossible to stay mad at you?”
“Love you, too, M’lady,” he says cheekily, knowing full well that she wasn’t ever actually mad.
…
Despite the one akuma, the rest of the week drags on like one of Ms Mendeleiev’s Chemistry lectures. When school is out, Marinette races home, makes a show of packing a bag “for Alya’s” and is out the door with barely a wave. Ladybug swings through the window an hour early, and somehow he’s beaten her there. Her joy at seeing him overwhelms the slight disappointment that she won’t be able to surprise him with a homemade dessert.
“Hello m’la–”
She cuts him off with a desperate kiss. He diligently drops whatever he was holding with a thud, and his arms wrap around her. Her hands tangle into his hair, caressing his cat ears to send him into a purr. She presses every centimeter of herself into every centimeter of him as if she can push hard enough to melt into him so they’ll never be separated again. She breathes in his breath, savors it, wishing she could breathe him in and take a little piece of him with her.
When he tries to pull away, she kisses him again and again until he’s all she can see, all she can feel.
“I love you,” he breathes against her mouth.
“I love you, and I’ve missed you so much. There weren’t enough akumas this week.”
He laughs. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“A week is too long.”
“A week is waaay too long,” he agrees. He takes her hand and leads her to the sofa. “I got something for you. Wait right here.”
She sits as he darts into the other room and comes back with a box wrapped in red paper, decorated with a tiny little ladybug plush and a big black bow.
“Aww! This is adorable,” she coos at the little ladybug.
“Open it!” he urges, his excitement bubbling over. She tears through the paper rapidly and finds herself face to face with a baby doll.
It’s meant to be a joke. She knows that it is, but she’s stroking the plastic baby’s face and hair, and she’s crying.
“It’s Emma,” she chokes out. And his arms are around her instantly.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just — We’ll have an Emma someday. A real baby.”
And it’s so beautiful. She wants it now.
But it feels impossible. She can’t even tell him her name.
She clings to him as the tears come. And he holds her, his hands rub her back and he coos soothing sounds and words into her ear.
He’s so strong. He seems to accept their situation so easily, it’s almost not fair.
“How do you do it?” she whispers.
“Do what?” he asks softly, leaning his head against hers.
“Go back and forth?” she says over his shoulder. “Keep this life and your regular life separate?”
He turns her head to look at his, his eyes swirling in concern.
“I just— I hate going back,” she continues, desperate to keep talking before the tears overwhelm her completely. “I can’t talk about you, and I can’t introduce you to my parents, I can’t tell you about any of it! And I can’t— None of it feels real!”
Her sobs break past her defense like a dam braking, and he yanks her to his chest once again.
“I just want this all the time.”
He kisses her head, her hands, her cheeks, and then her mouth, never letting go of her.
“How do you do it?” she asks again.
His catlike eyes search her face.
“I thought keeping everything separate was what you wanted,” he finally says, his thumbs stroking each of her hands. “I can do it because if this is all you’re able to give me, I will take it. But I don’t want to go back either. You broke out of the dream, M’lady. I would have stayed there forever. I survive losing the dream every week because I know it will come back.”
She blinks rapidly, trying to fend off the burn of threatened tears. He thinks she’s stronger than him, but she knows that he’s wrong. He’s always been the stronger of the two of them. He carries so much that always felt She loves him so much.
“But if you’re telling me this is what you want full time all the time? I will tell you my name right now. Just say the word!”
Hope bubbles up in her chest, and she nods rapidly.
“No.”
They both bolt to their feet at the unexpected voice.
Bunnyx is standing there in the center of the living room.
It’s so strange to see anyone there who isn’t them, Marinette feels dizzy. She blinks a few times, and Chat squeezes her hand. She knows he will follow her lead.
Marinette clears her throat. “Why are you here?”
“Ladybug, I’ve told you — you can’t know each other’s identities.”
A rock lodges in her throat, and she blinks back tears.
Why can’t they know?
“We wouldn’t tell anyone!” Chat Noir insists.
Bunnyx smiles softly, but it’s tinged with sadness. “I know, but you’ll get caught.”
“Monarch already knows we love each other,” Chat Noir argues back. “He’s seen us together. We haven’t been subtle during the last batch of akumas.”
“He’s seen Ladybug and Chat Noir together,” Bunnyx concedes. “It’s your civilian sides that allow him to figure it out. And then one of you always gets akumatized. And it’s a Chat Blanc situation every time!”
“Chat Blanc?” Chat echoes.
“Do you want to explain it to him, or shall I?” Bunnyx asks. There’s no bite or malice to her tone.
Marinette turns to him, let’s her finger caress the side of his face. “I told you,” she chokes out, “our love destroys the world.”
He yanks her into his arms, and rocks her fiercely back and forth, shaking his head. “There’s no way, m’lady.”
“I saw—“
“He’s right,” Bunnyx tells her with a smile. “It’s not your love. It’s your identities and it’s not anything the two of you do. It’s not your fault. Not ever. Not a single time. It’s Monarch.”
Marinette sobs harder. It isn’t fair. The only thing she and Chat had ever done was try and protect Paris over and over again. She wants to love him with all of herself, she wants to love him openly.
Why can’t they have that?
“I think you’ve made your point,” Chat says coldly over her shoulder. “You can leave now.”
“No, wait!” Marinette objects, twisting in his arms to face their uninvited guest. “You said, it’s our civilian side that messes things up?”
Bunnyx’s answering smile stretches across her whole face. She taps her own cheek. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
A portal opens up behind her and she backs into it. “Don’t have too much fun, kids!”
The portal shrinks into a dot and they are alone once again. Marinette turns to Chat, grinning.
His eyebrows are scrunched up in that adorable way when he’s confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Ladybug and Chat Noir can date! Outside and in the open! We just have to do it as our hero selves!”
“We can have more than this,” she says, “if you want.”
He answers her with another kiss that steals all of Marinette’s breath.
The other woman turned to her, over-exagerated expression of disbelief at full force. "Whaaaat? Kate Bishop, Team Ruff will be victorious."
"No way, Team Fluff is gonna win." She cooed at the small golden retriever with a blue bandana around his neck that was cuddled in her lap. "Isn't that right Lucky?"
"Lucky was street dog, he is totally Team Ruff."
She straightened his bandana, cuddling close and snapping a selfie of the two of them. "Look at his fur and his cuddling, he is totally Team Fluff. Besides, the blue looks better on him."
Yelena scoffed again. "Fanny would look good in either team's colours, but she is smarter, going with Team Ruff."
Kate leaned over, sinking a hand into the thick fur around the akita's neck and scritching above where the orange bandana had settled. "Just look at all this fur, Fanny is totally for Team Fluff no matter what you make her wear."
Yelena smacked her hand away. "Do not suggest such blasphemy." She wrapped a possessive arm around her dog. "Fanny cheers for Team Ruff, don't you?"
Fanny boofed in response.
---
Kate had quickly devolved into a smitten mess, cooing at every puppy as it was introduced, regardless of team, although she continued to cheer whenever Team Fluff scored.
Yelena was not so wishy washy in her loyalties, saving her energies and attention for the Team Ruff puppies.
Their respective dogs had long since fallen asleep, Fanny had settled on the cushion next to Yelena and away from Kate, sparing herself the disturbance of their antics and serving to push the two women closer together. Lucky was barely affected by the constant shifting of his mom and now lay sprawled across both laps.
Despite several tense lead changes, Team Ruff pulled ahead.
"Ha!" Yelena smacked Kate's upper arm forcefully. "See! Team Ruff!"
"Ow." Kate rubbed at the now sore spot on her arm. "There's still a quarter and a half to play. Team Fluff can totally take it back."
"Team Ruff will hold them off."
"You're gonna eat those words when Team Fluff wins."
"Is not going to happen."
---
Yelena was smirking. Ten seconds left and Team Ruff was ahead. "See, Team Ruff is better team."
And then a puppy from Team Fluff scored just before the clock hit zero.
Yelena's jaw dropped open and Kate leapt up, dislodging a now awake and disgruntled Lucky, whooping loudly. Lucky whined and curled up on the floor away from the couch.
"No. No way."
"Yes! Team Fluff takes it back in dramatic fashion!"
Kate turned and grabbed the shorter woman, pulling her up and off the sofa as she spun them around in joy. "Yes!" Without thinking she leaned down and planted an eager, sloppy kiss on Yelena's lips.
Yelena froze for a second and then softened, kissing Kate back.
The returned affection seemed to clue Kate in to what she had done and she pulled back, instinctively dropping the other woman. "I ... I ..." For once, she had no idea what to say.
"Congratulations Kate Bishop. Looks like you picked winning team."
"I ... you ..."
Yelena smirked again, stretching up to place a light kiss against Kate's mouth. "Good game." She straightened her clothes. "Dinner?"
Kate nodded dumbly.
"I will pay since my team lost."
Kate regained her voice. "Pizza or Chinese?"
"I think a real restaurant is called for."
"Oh, like, go out. I mean, uhhmmm, not go out, go out, just go out as in..."
"Go out, go out."
"Oh. Really?" Kate's voice raised in excitement.
Yelena nodded, smirk deepening as Kate grinned.
"Right, cool, yeah." Kate looked down at her sweats, now covered in golden retriever fur. "I'll just go change real quick."
Yelena shook her head as Kate headed up the stairs and leaned down to pet Lucky, removing his blue bandana. "Your mommy is very cute, even if she makes you cheer for wrong team."
Kate's voice hollered down from above. "I heard that! Team Fluff all the way!"
It’s a Friday evening when Eijirou makes his way downstairs to the common rooms, his pillow and blanket tucked under his arms. He clumsily pushes his bandana farther up his head as he adjusts his grip on the items, before continuing down.
When he arrives, the common room is already filled with his classmates, milling around the kitchen and conversing. Well, his female classmates anyways. Plus Aoyama.
“Kirishima!” Ashido is the first to notice him, and her golden eyes sparkle with delight as she springs forward to wrap her arms around him. “What took so long? We were waiting on you!”
“Ahh sorry!” he apologizes. “Studying with Bakugou ran overtime!”
The pink haired girl grins at him and pops a gum bubble. “Study date, you mean?”
“It’s not a date! We’re just friends!” Eijirou protests, but Ashido slings an arm around him, a playful smirk dancing across her lips.
“Uh huh. Tell us more during girl time. For now, we watch movies!”
Eijirou dumps his belongings onto the floor next to a couch, where Aoyama is lounging.
“Bonjour, Kirishima-san. Don’t you think we should watch The Princess Bride?”
“No, for the billionth time, Aoyama!” Jirou groans, coming out of the kitchen with a juice box in hand. “We’ve seen it like, a bazillion times!”
“It’s a good movie, oui?”
“No,” Jirou grumbles. “I vote we watch Pitch Perfect.”
“What about Cinderella?” Yaoyorozu daintily places herself onto the couch.
“Guys!” Hagakure squeals, bounding out of the elevator. “I think Ojirou likes me back!”
“Or we could start with gossip first,” Ashido comments offhandedly.
She pulls away from Eijirou and whisks off elsewhere while he takes a seat in between Uraraka and Tsuyu.
Hagakure explodes into her story, telling it with such passion and possibly vigorous hand movements, as Eijirou watches her sleeves move rapidly.
Meanwhile, Ashido returns with a bag of full of hair products and skin care. She sits behind Eijirou, only leaning forward to mouth, can I play with your hair?
He nods and the feel of Ashido’s slender fingers thread through his red strands, pulling them loose of the regular stiff style, and combing out the gel. As Hagakure tells her story, Ashido begins to comb and brush his hair, letting it fall to his shoulders in soft, crimson waves.
When she finishes, she begins to work her fingers into the roots of Eijirou’s hair, knotting them tightly into thick braids By the time Hagakure is finished telling her story, Eijirou’s hair is tucked into two, neat Dutch braids.
He runs a finger down the short plaits, and swivels around to grin at his best friend.
“Thanks Mina!”
She beams in response. “Anytime Kiri!”
“Ooh, those are cute, Kirishima!” Uraraka leans over to touch his braids. “Mina, you did such a good job!”
“Kero~You look good with braids, Kirishima-kun,” Asui pokes a braid.
“Thanks guys!” Eijirou beams. Behind him, Ashido is glowing with praise.
“I did do a good job, didn’t I?” she says happily.
As everyone coos over the braids, it’s only Eijirou who catches sight of a familiar blonde, tromping down the stairs. There’s an abnormally placid expression on his face as he reaches the bottom, but once he catches sight of the group of girls, plus Eijirou and Aoyama, his lips curl into his trademark scowl.
“Oi, what the fuck is going on?” Bakugou growls. Eijirou feels a shiver go down his spine as his burgundy eyes take in Eijirou’s braids, and how the girls surround him.
“Baku-bro! Just in time!” Ashido bounds over to the blonde, and grabs him by the wrist, leading him over to the group.
“Let go of me, Raccoon Eyes,” he snarls, and Ashido merely rolls her eyes.
“Oh shut up and look at Kirishima! Isn’t he cute with braids?”
Bakugou rips his arm away from the pink haired girl and squats down in front of Eijirou to look him in the eyes. Eijirou resists the urge to swallow and he feels the hairs stand up on his arms and on the back of his neck. Bakugou’s crimson eyes are mesmerizing, yet critical at the same time, and as much as Eijirou wants to look away, he can’t. He feels naked under Bakugou’s gaze.
Finally, Bakugou leans closer and tugs at a braid.
“What’s with the pigtails?” he demands, but his voice is gruffer than usual and fuck, if Eijirou wasn’t self-conscious then, he is now.
“I did them! Aren’t they cute?” Ashido smirks at Bakugou, her eyes glittering. “Don’t you think he looks cute Baku-bro?”
“Shut up,” he grounds out, and without warning, he seizes Eijirou’s arm.
“B-Bakugou?!” he yelps, as the other drags him off. “Where are we going?!”
“Bye Kiri~!” Ashido sings, waving him off, and the group follows her lead, waving their goodbyes. “Have fun!”
Beauty and brains. Drive and compassion. She could be a fearless leader one moment, and a fun-loving babysitter the next. She was quiet, but her speeches could move crowds to riot in her favor. She was selfless and sweet, but easily made split-second decisions that could cost thousands their lives.
Except it didn't. Because she had one more thing: she had power.
A pair of innocuous earrings. Easily overlooked, and partially hidden by her hair. But they were the secret she guarded so fiercely; the prize of a war that tore a city apart for years.
She kept the power safe, and used it to protect her people.
But in the end, it was all for nothing.
In the end, Fate had the last laugh.
For all her many strengths and talents, she was still just a girl with a loving heart.
And that heart had been lost long ago, to a boy just as sweet, and just as selfless. He too had power, but he used it more for her than for their people.
And when one's focus gets too narrow, it's easy to miss an attack coming from the side.
Some say the battle was lost as soon as Chat fell that day.
They would be right.
For Ladybug loved her Chat Noir, and in that moment, the world had been narrowed to him and only him.
Ladybug loved her Chat Noir, and the city died with him.
Notes: So this is based on this post by @bnhahc. If you check the notes on it you’ll see the conversation split in half LOL but this version has at least a summary of the other one so here we go. This was super fun to write and I would be in no way shocked if the idea made it into other stories of mine.
It started shortly after they all moved into the dorms. At first it was one or two of them coincidentally bumping into each other while trying to make tea, or move around to work off the nervous energy they felt. Questions were never asked about why the other one was down there. Over the days as they prepared for the provisional license exam it only got more prevalent.
It seemed like every night there were more of them down there, usually not acknowledging each other at all. It became a habit to leave the lights on in the common area downstairs, because honestly there was always someone there.
A day or two before the exam was the first time Bakugo found himself among them. The blond wasn’t precisely prepared for the fact that there were no less than six people scattered around the common area, mostly ignoring one another. Kirishima met his gaze - he was the only one to do so - and joined him in the kitchen.
“Quite the damn sleepover down here.”
“Oh it’s always like this.” Kirishima’s words were so matter-of-fact that it caught Bakugo off guard. “Almost everyone comes down sometimes. Only you and Shouto and Deku haven’t so far. … Well, now just the last two.”
Bakugo made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, dismissively. But some part of him was surprised that it was so widespread. If they had all started coming down here for the same reason he had… well. “The fuck is this about?”
Kirishima shrugged. “We don’t ask each other that. Prying isn’t manly.” A pause, and then much quieter. “But it’s nice, not being alone.”
Bakugo rolled his eyes but for once bit back the angry retort. “Do you want tea shitty hair?”
“If you’re already planning to make some, please.”
********************
It was the night after his house arrest ended that Izuku found himself slipping down the hall through the darkness, intending to get a bit of air in the courtyard or something, anything to clear his head.
He didn’t expect all the lights to be on in the common area. He certainly didn’t expect to see a solid number of his classmates sitting scattered around the area. Deku almost slipped back into the elevator and went back to his room, unwilling to intrude, and unwilling to share, but Iida seemed to notice him then and motioned once from across the room.
Izuku sat down not far away from where Iida sat with Ochako half asleep against him. He didn’t say anything to either of them, not wanting to wake her back up entirely, but he did allow himself to take some small comfort in their presence, even as he sat with his knees drawn up to his chest and his gaze unfocused - his mind a thousand miles away.
********************
Aizawa normally did his rounds earlier than this, but he’d been on patrol until now. As a result of when he normally did his rounds, he was normally already back in his room before any of the students had come back down into the commons. As such, he was caught off guard when he slipped into the space and noticed no less than eight of them scattered around.
Most weren’t speaking, weren’t acknowledging each other at all. They were just there. He wondered why for a moment or two, practiced eye skimming over the lot of them. They hadn’t noticed him yet, or at least most of them hadn’t.
Momo was looking straight at him, fingers braiding and unbraiding a small piece of hair. She seemed to decide something and rose, moving across the room with the grace of a cat - and managed to make it all the way to where he stood by the door without any of her classmates looking up to see what she was doing.
“I ask that if this is deemed to be against the rules that none of us be punished.” Her voice was low, and quiet. “The curfew rule is specifically worded as to forbid us from leaving the dorm building, but says nothing specifically about remaining within our respective bedrooms. If that’s wrong I ask that the rule change be posted and this be overlooked because -”
“Hush.” He raised one hand to silence the rest of whatever she was going to say. “You’re correct, the rules don’t forbid this sort of behavior. None of you are in trouble.” Admittedly Aizawa had not anticipated this sort of behavoir as being something that needed to be restricted in the first place.
On the other hand, after a moment or two of reflection, he understood precisely what was happening here. And he had to acknowledge that he was probably a fool for not seeing it before. They were, ultimately, still children no matter how hard they were trying to become pro heroes. “How often does this happen?”
“Well…” Momo seemed to hesitate to answer the question. He said nothing, but continued meeting her gaze levelly, refusing to back down. “I’m usually down here at least once or twice a week, and there’s pretty much always at least one or two people here.” Momo answered slowly, realizing he wasn’t going to let her get away with not answering.
“Just this group, or different every time?”
“I’ve… seen pretty much the entire class down here at one point or another.”
Aizawa had a headache already just thinking about how to address this with each of them. No there had to be a better way than trying to coax twenty students with vastly different issues through dealing with them. Never mind these were things they would definitely need to master as pro heroes. There weren’t enough hours in a day -
Unless… hm. “I’m going upstairs. If this has been going on this long without my knowledge, I’m going to assume none of you will burn down the dorms before morning.”
********************
Aizawa sat quietly as his fellow faculty filed into the space.
“Something on your mind Eraserhead?” It was somewhat predictable that it would be Hizashi that noticed his extreme focus first.
Aizawa waved him off, and the voice hero settled into his place without arguing.
The meeting went as they often did, and he kept quiet throughout, offering his thoughts only occasionally as usual.
“Did you have something you wanted to bring to the table, Shouta?” It was Nezu who asked, as the meeting was winding down.
“I think it would be wise if we extended the counseling we discussed following the training camp attack. That portion served its purpose, of course, the testing was important, but… I think the students would benefit from more regular access to similar services beyond what Hound Dog is able to provide.”
“Are there specific students you have concerns about?” Nemuri asked, cocking her head slightly to one side.
“The majority of my homeroom, if I’m being frank. They are displaying coping behaviors that, for the moment, are keeping things under control enough they might continue to slide under the radar, I have concerns that they won’t be enough forever. If it were one or two I would handle it on the side on my own, but with it being so many, I can’t help but wonder if there are students well beyond 1-A that are so adversely affected.”
“I must concur with Shouta.” Sekijiro added after a moment or two. “This years students have been under a great deal more strain than is average, even for UA. It may be helpful for us to provide them with the sort of support they would normally get on their own if they need it, seeing as we’re now a boarding school and they require special permission to leave the grounds regularly.”
It was somewhat comforting to have the 1-B homeroom teacher backing him up. He wasn’t overreacting.
It wouldn’t happen overnight, Nezu would have to consider it and decide if it was beneficial enough for a broad enough section of students. But Aizawa thought it was likely that it was something that would be done, at least on a temporary basis, as he heard the discussion and agreement of the other teachers.
********************
Bonus Scene
[It was written platonically but if Tododeku of any form bothers you skip this section]
Shouto wasn’t sure how he’d ended up a part of this. But here he was, sitting on the end of one couch with his legs pulled up off the floor staring into space. On the other end o the couch, last he’d been aware, was Izuku, doodling in one of his notebooks.
“Oy. Icyhot.” Shouto’s head jerked around so he was staring at the blond by the elevator, glaring as he did so. “Should wake up Deku before he rolls off the couch.” The blond then moved his hand and let the elevator close before anyone in the commons could say anything else about it.
It was a bit of a breach of the unspoken rules where none of them really acknowledged one another, or acknowledged the reasons they were all here at this ridiculous hour, but as Shouto’s gaze drifted from the elevator to the boy he was sitting closest to, he understood. While everyone had been looking at them when Bakugo broke their reverie, they shifted back to minding their own business. That was… for the best.
His right hand loosely wrapped around Izuku’s shoulder, shaking the smaller boy gently. “Midoriya.”
The smaller boy woke with a muffled gasp as he tried to steady his own breathing. “Shouto I’m sorry I -” His voice was low, obviously trying not to garner any additional attention.
“Shh. It’s fine.”
He settled back to his original place on the couch, and then looked over at Izuku, still half-curled where he’d been napping. “Come here.”
Izuku looked confused for several seconds, but eventually did as he was asked. Shouto shifted them both around until they were settled into a reasonably comfortable position, with Izuku half leaning against Shouto’s body.
No, Shouto wasn’t sure how he’d ended up a part of this at all, but he was glad that he had. Because in the smallest things, like offering a friend comfort, there was healing.
AN: Full prompt is “You carried me Bridal style across Paris and now half of France ships us together.”
This is set directly after day 1.
I’m obviously really late with these but i will be finishing out all the prompts as soon as i can!
Marinette had gone to sleep worrying about her parent’s reaction to Chat saving her, she should have been worried about the rest of Paris’ instead…
The morning started out so well, the Akuma had been cleansed by Tikki overnight so not only had her wounds healed but Chat had been able to stay for morning cuddles before running off home. Marinette in a great mood and up early for once, had picked out a cute pink spotted sundress to wear and had even collected a box of matching pink Macaroons for the class, to pass on her good morning feeling.
To top it off the walk to school had been quite and full of sunshine, Tikki chirping away happily from her side purse as Marinette hummed a contented tune back. In all honesty it was one of the best mornings she’d ever had and she lazily daydreamed Chat would stay the full night again if this was how her mornings went.
It wasn’t until she stepped into the shade of the school building that things started to get odd, odder than usual. Kim was the first to be strange shouting about how she was the ‘Chat’s Meow today.’ Marinette just smiled an awkward confused smile before rushing onwards towards her classroom. Only to be watched by groups of gossiping girls who stood whispering in the corridors. Normally she would have put it down to teenage paranoia if she hadn’t distinctly heard her own name and Chat’s several times as she passed.
Frowning she decided there must be something in the air this morning and she rushed ahead into her empty classroom, quickly sitting down in her seat and enjoying the peace once more only for Nathaniel of all people to break it.
He lingered by the door for a moment before steeling his gaze on Marinette and moving towards her with determination. She moved to offer him a Macaroon in response to his approach but she didn’t even manage to get the words out of her mouth before Nathaniel’s shy voice clamoured over her own.
“I’m happy for you!” he blushed before darting past her to his chair burying his face in a text book.
“Um, thank you?” Marinette blinked owlishly, startled, before shaking her head a little trying to brush the peculiarity off.
“MARINETTE!” the voice caused her to jump, eyes whipping towards the door Alya was now tearing through.
Alya practically threw herself onto the bench, sliding close to Marinette and grasping her by the arms forcefully.
“Alya wha-“Marinette exclaimed.
“You didn’t tell me you were dating Chat Noir! No wonder you said my OTP wouldn’t sail, girl you should have told me I would have everyone shipping Marichat in hours, I already got a head start! It’s all over the Ladyblog!” Alya blurted everything out without breathing, her words punctuated by a slight shake of Marinette’s shoulders until she finally let go to thrust her phone towards Marinette.
There was a quiet pause as Alya’s words sank into Marinette’s brain, the confusion plain on her face. She opened and closed her mouth a little as if trying to find words that wouldn’t come.
“Alya, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about?” she questioned exasperated, “What even-”
“Read it!” Alya pushed her phone into Marinette’s hand in answer, a webpage of the lady blog open its title big on the screen: ‘Marichat, The Purr-oof.’
Marinette frowned scrolling through the article skim reading, her expression schooled flat as she swiped through the attached pictures. As she browsed her school mates entered the class occasionally throwing her comments; ‘You’re so cute together!’ ‘He was so brave!’ ‘Congratulations I suppose but even you could do better than a mangy sidekick.” She brushed them all off, even Chloe’s rude compliment her mind engrossed with the pictures instead…
It was horrible! Not the idea of her dating Chat, anyone would be lucky to date him, but rather the events themselves. Marinette hadn’t realised it had been so bad, having been injured she never saw the damage and Tikki had restored the city before she’d awoken but photos didn’t lie and they showed a clear path of chaos and destruction city wide; this had been a dangerous battle for sure. Her heart swelled for her black kitty, he must have been so brave and so strong but so very alone. Her eyes watered at the thought as she scrolled back through the photos more carefully, examining the details further
It started with blurry phone photos of him dashing in to save her from the collapsing room, the entire side of the building having slid away in the quake. He’d scooped her limp form into his arms and carried her bridal style away from the collapse. Then were a series of HD press photos of Chat Noir cradling her bleeding form to his chest a roof over from the school. These photos were from too far of a distance for her to read his expression but he hunched as if pained and she could see the flick of his agitated tail between shots. He’d scooped her back up in the next photos, tucking her head into his shoulder and gently resting her arms on his chest so as not to hurt her, before the last few shots of them together showed him leaping away to other buildings across Paris. Marinette felt a brief glimpse of pride at her Kitty for thinking fast in a risky situation; he hadn’t taken her directly home, hadn’t risked her even when the stakes were so high and even with Ladybug was missing too. Her Chaton was such a clever cat.
Marinette had completely missed the conversation between Alya, Nino and Adrien going on around her. Her attention locked on the photos until Adrien addressed her directly, his face peering into view over her desk.
“So you’re not dating Chat Noir?” posed Adrien curiously, a little too innocently.
“Not even a little, he was just being his typical hero self.” She didn’t stutter, hadn’t in months, and there was a sort of easy fondness in her tone that was quite telling of the affection she held for Chat. Even Alya was raising her eye brow in response, whilst Adrien had just coloured slightly.
“That’s a shame, I’m pretty sure he’d be lucky to have you. You’re amazing Marinette.”Adrien announced proudly, without a hint of shame despite the blush still on his cheeks.
Marinette just flushed a matching scarlet at the compliment whilst Alya jabbed her in the side unsubtly. Marinette turned redder the long the silence stretched before she finally broke, thrusting the box of treats forward. “Ah, thanks Adrien, I- Um – Macaroon?”
Well, I just up and wrote the damn Casablanca thing.
This is unbeta’d and much of it is taken from the movie script. It has a slightly different ending, though, which I hope you’ll like. I did cut out several of the important scenes to the actual plot of the story, so if you haven’t seen Casablanca...go see Casablanca and then come and read this.
One final note, I think Humphrey Bogart gave marvelous hugs.
Sign me up.
Music poured from the piano as Sam worked his magic. Han Solo strolled around his saloon, taking in the crowd, the same dower look on his face that had been there ever since Paris. Money was flowing left and right, and so were the drinks. The books would tell him later that it had been a good night, but Han Solo? He didn’t have good nights.
Smoke drifted out of the gambling room, and Han sauntered in to see how things were going. Routine. The door banged open with the glee of a drunken patron anxious to have his luck at roulette, and that’s when he heard.
Storming back into the main room of the saloon, Han growled at Sam.
“I thought I told you never to play—”
Under the brim of a white hat, his eyes locked with hers—the unforgettable brown eyes of Leia Organa.
**
Han swirled the whiskey in his glass before downing it. He looked into the empty glass, but instead of seeing the table beneath it, saw Paris.
The quaint little boulevards that they drove along together, people walking about unhurried, unworried. The streets fell away to the winding roads and tree-covered hills. Leia’s head against his shoulder, and the way she snuggled up beside him when he put his arm around her…
The champagne bottle popped open in his hand, and she smiled serenely when he handed her a glass.
“Who are you really? What were you before? What did you do, and what did you think?” he asked softly as they sat together on the divan.
“We said ‘no questions,’” she reminded him, smiling through her lashes. Han chuckled and raised his glass.
“Here’s looking at you, princess.”
There was dancing, dinners, evenings—oh, so many wonderful hours spent connected at the hip…
“Franc for your thoughts?” She asked one afternoon, while they were relaxing in her apartment.
“In America, they’d only bring a penny. Guess that’s about all they’re worth.”
“I’m willing to be overcharged,” she promised, sitting down beside him. “Tell me.”
“I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Why I’m so lucky. Why I should find you waiting for me to come along?”
“Why there’s no other man in my life?” Han nodded. “That’s easy. There was. He’s dead now.” He could never forget the steel in her voice when she said that.
“I’m sorry for asking. We said ‘no questions.’”
She’d leaned into him then, her head nestling into the crook of his neck, her cheek against his shoulder.
“Only one answer can take care of all of our questions,” she murmured.
He remembered her kiss, too…all of them, so unique, yet each magnificently the same, so electric, but comforting, fiery, yet chilling him to his very bones.
And then came the Nazis, with their hatred and destruction and anger.
It was in that small café in Montmartre…“As Time Goes By” drifted sweetly from Sam’s piano, and the finest champagne in all of France was theirs to drink.
“With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love,” she remarked, tucked once again close to his shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad timing. Where were you say…ten years ago?”
“Ten years ago? Let’s see…I was having a brace put on my teeth,” she chuckled. “Where were you?”
“Looking for a job.” And where do you see yourself in ten years, he’d wanted to ask. With me? That’s where I’ll be. With you. Han leaned in and kissed her passionately, hoping to convey his feelings. After all, it was the only answer they needed.
Exploding shells interrupted, and Leia jumped.
“Was that cannon fire, or is that my heart pounding?”
“It’s the Germans.”
Leia’s face became serious. “You must leave France, darling.”
“We must leave,” he’d corrected. He wasn’t going to leave without her.
“Princess, princess, what’s wrong?” He turned her gently to face him, his thumbs swiping across her cheeks to dry her tears.
“I love you so much, and I hate this war so much. Oh, it’s a crazy wolr.d Anything can happen. If you shouldn’t get away, I mean, if, if, something should keep us apart, wherever they put you and wherever I’ll be, I want you to know…” Her tears had overwhelmed her then, and she’d turned her mouth to his for a kiss. Han had gently obliged. “Kiss me,” she pleaded in a harsh whisper. “Kiss me like it’s the last time.”
And the last time it had been.
Han looked up from his empty glass to where Sam sat across the table.
“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine…”
**
A few nights later, Leia watched her husband from the window of their rented room as he snuck out to the Underground meeting. She was worried about the man, yes—after their years together, and all the things they’d been through, it would be impossible not to be attached to him.
There was a more overwhelming and confusing feeling, though, Leia knew that the only way to absolve the feeling was to talk to Han.
**
“Go ahead and shoot,” Han dared. “You’ll be doing me a favor.”
Leia stared into his eyes for a few moments, trying to keep up her charade, but in her heart, she knew she could never pull the trigger. The gun dropped to the floor.
“Han, I tried to stay away. I thought I would never see you again, that you were out of my life.”
She started to fall into his arms at the exact moment he stepped forward to catch her. Leia wasn’t sure who was holding the other tighter, but she knew there was no way she could let go.
“The day you left, if you knew what I went through! If you knew how much I loved you…how much I still love you.”
Han’s lips touched hers, and she was suddenly both lost and found.
**
“It’s late,” Han whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“I’ll never have the strength to leave you again,” she replied into his chest.
“What about your husband?”
“I can’t fight it anymore. I ran away from you once. I can’t do it again. I don’t know what’s right any longer. Please—get my husband out of Casablanca. Then—no mater what happens after that, we’ll be together.”
Han looked into her deep brown eyes.
“Alright. I will. Here’s looking at you, princess.”
“I wish I didn’t love you so much,” she whispered. Han held her tighter.
**
Han had sold his bar and packed his bag. He’d made all the important people believe he was about to take Leia and leave the country.
“Louis, have your man go with Mr. Laszlo and take care of his luggage,” Han ordered. “Renault, fill in the names. That will make it even more official. Mr. an Mrs. Victor Laszlo.”
Leia stopped in her tracks.
“Han, why my name?” She pulled away from her husband. “I said I couldn’t leave you again,” she insisted, taking hold of his arm.
Laszlo stepped forward.
“My darling, I know your heart has not belonged to me for some time. Besides, I’m going underground. It wouldn’t be safe for the two of us to be together. I’ll be a lone operative from now on. After the war…I’ll send word.”
Tears brimmed along the bottom of Leia’s eyes, and she hugged him tightly.
“Here’s looking at you,” she whispered, squeezing his hands. Laszlo turned away, and Leia returned to Han’s side.
“We’ve given your seat to another young woman—one of my employees who’s been waiting for her papers for a very long time,” Han explained. He pointed off toward the plane, where a woman wearing a trench coat and a hat waited for Lazslo to bring the papers.
“What’s next for us?”
“Switzerland. Lazslo worked it with the underground. I’m to take over a bar there. They run false papers out of the back room. Help escaped POW’s get back to allied territories,” he explained. “It’ll be rough. Little dangerous. But we’ll be together.”
The plane sped down the runway and left the tarmac, flying off into the clouds. Their eyes watched it until it disappeared into the clouds.
“When do we leave?”
“There’s a Free French garrison over at Brazzaville. Our passage is all arranged.”
They turned together, walking into the night together, ready to face the future together.
