Instances like this are rare. It almost feels unreal, sitting there with him beneath the moon. The vast city of Paris stretches out before them; it's so expansive and otherworldly that she can't believe there's nothing else they can do. This tranquility, this stillness, it's unusual, unsettling, yet it's present. Her indigo gaze scrolls across the other rooftops, then scales the heights of the Eiffel Tower before it sweeps through the streets in search of something, anything. There's really nothing.

"Just savor the mewment, my lady," Chat Noir urges her with that smirk of his.

She scoffs, then tears her eyes away from the world below them. A look of uneasiness flickers on her expression before it dissipates, softened by a smile and a sigh. "Fine," she submits with a wave of her hand, "but only because you've persuaded me."

His grin widens, and, emboldened by her words, promiscuously leans closer to her. "Well, I am the master of purr-suasion. That makes me curious though…what else might I be able to convince you to do?"

Ladybug raises an unimpressed brow at him, and folds her arms. "At the moment, the most I'm convinced of is that you need a lesson in personal space."

She pokes his chest with her finger, and then fluidly urges him out of her bubble. He pouts at her, rubbing the same spot disappointedly.

"Meow-ch." He huffs goodheartedly, making Ladybug giggle, "you wound me."

Both of them direct their eyes back to the city, but it's only a few seconds later that their stares return to each other. This time, however, their voices don't fill the silence. Instead quiet surrounds them, and Marinette feels that same sense of familiarity register with their eyes locked as they are. A part of her argues that it's Chat Noir, of course he's familiar. They've risked everything for each other, put their lives on the line for each other, they've always been by the other's side through thick, thin, and everything else. That being said she's never pushed to discover who he is under the mask. So why…does she feel like she already knows?

Her mind wanders to those times he's mentioned how they might know each other, and she wonders….do they? Could they really?

"LB?" His voice pulls her from her thoughts.

She blinks, surprised, but realizes now that, while she was transfixed by his eyes and the questions they cause her, she's leaned closer to him than he ever did.

"I…" She fumbles at first. A voice at the back of her head tells her to pull away, to reestablish the space between them, but she can't. His viridian green stare holds her in place, captivated.

He reaches up, hesitates, then cups her cheek, and she witnesses as the planes of his face morph in a way she's never seen before. It's as if all his arrogance drains from him, replaced with something deeper. Something sweeter. Something sincere. She searches for dishonesty, deceit; she searches for something that would reveal that look—so loving—to be nothing more than another one of his meaningless advances on her…but it's not there. She can't find anything beyond the tantalizing mixture of care, compassion, and craving.

Whereas she can't find her voice, Chat Noir hasn't lost his.

"Ladybug…" He begins uncertainly. "I know you said we can't share our secret identities, but I want you to know that I…"

He trails off for a second, appears to brace himself for rejection, then continues.

"I love you, Ladybug."

Her breath hitches.

"I'll still love you if I ever meet the girl in the suit, and I'll still love you if I never meet her. I've told myself again and again that someday you'll fall for me, someday you'll return my affections…but…but I can't keep waiting for someday, my lady, because there might never come a time like this…when it's just the two of us without the weight of—"

She captures his mouth in a kiss. It's a heady, desperate, loving kiss that sends electricity shuddering through her body. The pulse electrifies her nerves, frenzies her thoughts, sends her heart hammering, and releases dozens of anxious butterflies loose within her tummy all the while awakening desires that were once dormant in her subconscious. It's those same wishes that compel her to press her body against his, to cling to him when he lays her on her back and kisses his way down her neck, to frantically map out his figure with her hands, to memorize the way his body feels adhered to hers. She feels imprisoned in her own ecstasy, but it's such a paradisiacal sensation that she can't even complain. There are no questions that rise to shatter the happiness, only succulent euphoria that motivates her every tender action.

"Lady…" Chat says her name, but not in the tone she expects. He sounds puzzled. When he sits up, straddling her with each of his hands framing her hips, she recognizes a cat-like look of bewilderment.

"What?" She asks him, now equally as confused.

"There's no zipper," he states, his mask creasing as he furrows his brows.

"Zipper…" She repeats as she looks down at herself, eyes wide when she notices he's right. Sitting up abruptly, and consequently putting a bit of distance between them, she studies her suit and frowns. "Huh, you're right….I never noticed."

Chat strokes his chin thoughtfully and attempts to pinch of the fabric, but inadvertently catches some of her skin as well.

"Ow!" She hisses as she swats his hand away and rubs her arm protectively. "That's me, Chat."

"Sorry!" He says in hurried remorse. "It's just…Unless this thing is super stretchy, I don't see how I'll get it off you. Why isn't there a zipper, damn it!"

"I've never needed one," Lady defends herself with folded arms, to which Chat Noir gives her an incredulous look and points at the bell on his own suit.

"Neither have I but I still have one."

Marinette studies him, before she reaches out and toys with his golden bell. He automatically looks excited. She laughs under her breath, but leans closer and attempts to revive the mood.

"Down, kitty," she whispers.

He chuckles but grins mischievously. "On you?"

"How about I go first," she breathes. Once again, she kisses him. He automatically returns her affection. Just like before, voltaic wave pulses through her. It causes all the same reactions. It's almost as if they didn't run into that road block until she attempts to unzip his suit.

She pulls on the bell once, twice, three times. She doubles the force behind her yanking, and even tries so hard that she begins tugging poor Chat's neck with every motion.

He puts his hands on hers to still her attempts, looking almost stunned. "Bug-a-boo, I know kitties wear collars but that doesn't mean I like being choked."

"I'm sorry," Lady responds whilst pulling on the bell one more time only to achieve the same result, "but the zipper must be stuck or something."

"What do you mean?" He inquires before he tries to unzip his suit too. It doesn't work. His eyes widen in surprise and he cocks his head to the side. "Hmm. That's strange. Try again."

He gestures for her to do so, and she does. She tries several more times, but is only ever met with the failure. They take turns, back and forth, but no matter what they try or how they try the result is the same time and time again. They brainstorm, but none of their ideas work or they just aren't efficient from the get go. Chat attempts to tear her suit with his nails; he formulates a plan where he makes it disappear with his Cataclysm; Lady attaches her yo-yo to his bell and tries to pull; she even tosses up the idea of searching for scissors or a knife—neither of them think that's a good idea.

"Why don't you just use your Lucky Charm?" He asks her after quite a while, to which she shakes her head. "I don't want to de-transform."

She shies away at the look he gives her.

"Are you for real?" He demands.

"Do you mean 'fur-real?" She counters sheepishly.

It makes him snort and he shakes his head. "Haha, very funny, but no. Not what I meant."

"What then?"

"We're literally one zipper away from getting it on, and you're worried about…your secret identity?"

She flails a little bit, but eventually folds her arms. "So?"

The annoyance that faintly tinged his face fades, and he can't help but smile at her, then chuckle and shake his head. The sensual intimacy that once permeated the atmosphere has dwindled now, and all that remains is his dedication and adoration for her. He toys with a lock of her hair and leans forward to peck her forehead.

"You're the craziest girl in hiss-tory." He tells her with a tiny smile, and she beams up at him delightedly. "Like I said, I'll love you when I meet the girl behind the mask, and I'll still love you if I don't."