Chapter 1
REGULUS
Regulus Black has seen a lot of weird shit in his seventeen years of life. Like, a lot of weird shit. But never has he been chased through the streets of Paris by a supervillain in a banana costume.
If he had time to think right now, he’s pretty sure this would be the most embarrassing moment of his life. Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to think.
“Cat Noir!” a voice next to him cries. “On your left!”
Regulus glances behind him, ducking just in time to avoid the two banana missiles that are fired right where his head had just been. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Seriously, you’d think that anyone willing to become a supervillain would put just a little more thought into what their powers would be.
Then again, it wasn’t like he’d gotten to choose his; the Miraculous of the Black Cat had simply shown up in his room one day two weeks ago with a note that simply stated ‘you have been chosen to wield this Miraculous - use it wisely’ and nothing else. He’d almost thrown it away, certain it was part of some elaborate prank by Sirius or one of his friends, but something had drawn him to keep it.
From what Regulus had gathered from Ladybug, his experience had been mostly similar. Ladybug had found his Miraculous in the locker of some changing room for whatever sport the other boy played, complete with the same anonymous note and nothing else. Since that day, the two of them had become Ladybug and Cat Noir, the superheroes in charge of keeping Paris safe.
Little did Paris know, its safety currently rested in the hands of two wildly inexperienced teenage boys.
Regulus snaps himself out of his reverie, expertly dodging yet another banana missile. He isn’t the most terribly fit person, but something about his Miraculous has enhanced his physical abilities, a feature of his newfound powers he is incredibly grateful for. His suit, a form-fitting number reminiscent of – you guessed it – a black cat, seems to have a mind of its own at times, guiding him to gracefully weave about the city with superhuman agility. Although the cat ears, tail, and bell that come with his outfit are frankly ridiculous, he supposes it’s a small price to pay for the whole having-powers part.
Across the street, matching him stride for stride is Ladybug. On anyone else, the red and black polka-dotted suit would look ridiculous, but the other boy pulls it off annoyingly well, strong muscles rippling under the suit’s fabric as he runs. If he weren’t currently running for his life, Regulus would take the time to admire how well the boy’s brown skin compliments the maroon of his supersuit, how his dark curls look after being tousled by the wind.
What can he say. Regulus has eyes.
He shakes his head, pulling himself together. However drop-dead gorgeous Ladybug may be, he’ll have time to pay his respects to the boy’s beauty after they’ve defeated this accursed banana villain.
Ladybug meets his eyes, silently glancing toward a nearby alleyway, and Regulus nods. Although they may not know anything about each other outside of being part-time superheroes, he and Ladybug are excellent at working together and anticipating each other’s ideas.
“Hey, fruit face!” Ladybug taunts, steering them into the alleyway. “Why did the banana go to the doctor?”
The banana villain – Regulus didn’t bother trying to remember his name, the whole situation is embarrassing enough as is – whirls toward him, a look of pure hatred on his face. “That’s Bananaman to you,” he spits, yellow fists clenching before storming toward Ladybug – into the alleyway – and firing more banana missiles his way.
Ignoring this pathetic attempt at a retort and knocking the missiles away with his yo-yo, Ladybug smirks. “Because it wasn’t peeling well!” he crows, dancing farther into the alleyway.
Before Bananaman can catch on to their plan, Regulus uses his staff to sweep the villain off of his feet and plants a black boot on the man’s chest to hold him in place. “He’s all yours, Bugaboo,” Regulus chirps with a glance toward his partner.
Ladybug groans, running a hand over his masked face as he saunters towards them. “Really? Bugaboo?”
Regulus flashes him a smile. “Seems fitting to me.”
“Ladybug! Cat Noir! Surrender your miraculouses to me now or face the consequences!” gasps Bananaman as he struggles — quite pitifully — beneath Regulus’ foot.
“Hmmm.” Ladybug pretends to consider the offer. “No thanks, actually. Cat Noir,” he says, turning to Regulus, “any idea where the akuma might be?”
And holy shit.
Ladybug’s hazel eyes are suddenly on Regulus’s and he can’t breathe.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there in shock, mesmerized by those eyes, only that it’s gone on for too long by the time he snaps himself out of it.
“The sunglasses,” he answers, ducking his head away while pretending to clear his throat. Regulus has never been more grateful for the dark mask that covers his eyes and nose; he just knows that his pale skin is quickly turning a devastatingly obvious shade of red.
Ladybug nods, gracefully moving on without acknowledging Regulus’s momentary lapse in human functioning and rips the pair of sunglasses off of Bananaman’s nauseatingly yellow head. He snaps the plastic in half, easily breaking the flimsy material – really, Regulus scoffs, you’d think supervillains would carry higher quality accessories – and releasing a dark purple butterfly. Bananaman cries out as the akuma leaves him, tensing up as his body glows the same shade of purple before returning him back to his normal self. Ladybug makes quick work of the akuma, capturing it with his yo-yo and purifying it before it can fly away and infect another poor Parisian.
Regulus can sense the crowd forming behind them as they help the dazed victim formerly known as Bananaman to his feet, assuring him that everything is under their control and that a counselor will be arriving soon to help him work through the aftereffects of being akumatized. This is his least favorite part. Regulus has never particularly liked socializing. He knows he can be harsh, even mean at times, which is why most of the people in his life know to leave him alone unless explicitly told otherwise.
The fans, however, do not know better.
“Ladybug! Cat Noir! Any comment on Hawk Moth’s latest supervillain?”
“I love you, Ladybug!”
“Cat Noir! Over here, please!”
“When will the two of you quit mucking about and share your true identities already?” one person yells, waving a microphone in Regulus’s face. He blinks, momentarily stunned. Fortunately, Ladybug appears next to him, placing a hand on the small of his back. The touch is not unwelcome as much as it is unwarranted, and Regulus has to do everything in his power not to shrug Ladybug’s hand away.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this slippery situation is all under control,” Ladybug assures the crowd, ignoring the last question and flashing a grin. His honey-sweet voice immediately soothes the bystanders, and Regulus thinks he sees a girl faint. Really. They’ve only been in action for two weeks, but it’s obvious to him that Ladybug is the favorite. The other boy has tried to deny it countless times, something about staying humble, but Regulus can see it clear as day. Ladybug has already proven himself to be kind, charismatic, brave in the face of danger, self-sacrificing to a fault (the other day he’d attempted to — completely unnecessarily — give himself and his miraculous up in exchange for the freedom of a bus full of passengers that had been suspended precariously from the Arc du Triomphe, only to find out that the bus itself had been an illusion the whole time) and, well, obviously quite beautiful.
Again. Regulus has eyes.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ladybug turns to Regulus, extending him a gloved, polka-dotted hand. “And now,” he announces cheerfully, “Cat Noir and I will be on our way. Until next time, Paris!” He gives the crowd a playful salute and uses his yo-yo to swing onto a nearby rooftop. Regulus follows suit, extending his staff to vault away but not before sending a timid wave toward the bystanders that were left.
And now, he can finally breathe.
Believe it or not, being single-handedly responsible for the future of your city comes with a lot of stress.
He follows Ladybug through the skyline until they reach the Eiffel Tower, climbing up to the top floor together. This has become something of a ritual for them, to watch the sun set and enjoy a few moments of silence before they have to go back to their normal lives. Here, he doesn’t have to be Cat Noir, and Ladybug doesn’t have to be Ladybug. Here, they are free.
Ladybug reaches the top first, gesturing for Regulus to sit down next to him. He obliges, relishing the feeling of the cool metal against his skin. They are up so high that all the buildings look like toy houses, the people look like ants, the trees are only little blobs of green against the beige tones of the city.
Regulus will never admit it, but he loves Paris. It is filled with so much history, so much art, so much beauty, so much love. He’ll deny it to the end of his days, but he feels the need to protect it like breathing, like instinct. Perhaps, he thinks, this is why he keeps showing up as Cat Noir; not for the fame, not for the recognition, not for the publicity, but for the ability to give back, to do something tangible for his city. God knows Ladybug could probably do the job without him, but Regulus desperately needs to feel helpful.
He can see Ladybug turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye, chewing on his bottom lip. “Penny for your thoughts?” Ladybug asks as he settles back on the metal framework behind them, making himself comfortable.
Regulus snorts before he can help himself. “My thoughts cost more than a penny. You’ll have to strike a better bargain than that.”
“Fine,” Ladybug replies, playfully rolling his eyes. “A dollar, then.”
Regulus thinks about continuing to protest, but honestly he’s feeling too tired to be petty. Between school, keeping his family members from murdering each other, and saving the world, he’s been stretched pretty thin. “It’s just… beautiful,” he says, gesturing at the city below them.
Ladybug hums his agreement, shifting his position once again. “It makes you feel so big, being up here. Powerful. Like you can do something, and it’ll really matter, you know?”
“Well yes,” Regulus deadpans. “That is a pretty crucial aspect of being a superhero, you know.”
Ladybug rolls his eyes again, but not before a laugh escapes his lips, a tinkling sound like wind chimes in a breeze. “You know what I meant,” he says, nudging Regulus’s shoulder.
They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, watching the sunset paint the city in breathtaking shades of pink and gold. Paris really is beautiful in the nighttime when all the streetlamps begin to turn on and—
Shit. Sunset.
“Shit, shit, shit, I gotta go,” curses Regulus, standing up abruptly and raking an anxious hand through his black curls. Ladybug startles next to him, eyes widening with concern.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, hazel eyes piercing through the red mask covering his face.
“Yeah, just, my parents will kill me if I’m not home for dinner, or, more likely, they’ll kill each other, so I really need to go,” Regulus answers, inwardly cursing himself for getting distracted and losing track of the time.
Ladybug covers a small laugh with a gloved hand, and Regulus narrows his eyes at him but decides to let it go for the moment.
“That’s all right,” Ladybug replies, settling back into his position against the tower’s framework. “See you next time Paris is in need of saving!”
And Regulus escapes into the night.
***
There are many things Walburga Black does not tolerate. Cheap wine, untidy rooms, and second-hand clothes are among them. But at the top of the list is lateness.
Which is why, when Regulus arrives at 12 Grimmauld Place at 7:09 PM, he knows he is absolutely fucked.
His stomach twists as he unlocks the front door, but he wills his hands not to shake and his breathing to stay even. He has learned that showing weakness in front of his mother brings him more trouble than it’s worth.
When he steps inside, any hope of his tardiness going unnoticed dissipates immediately. His mother is sitting at their dining room table, hands clasped in front of her and black eyes trained on Regulus.
“You’re late,” is all she says, her voice dripping with a kind of sweetness that anyone else would mistake for kindness but Regulus knows is thinly veiled anger. Which has not ended well for him in the past.
“I’m sorry, mother,” he replies primly. “I was helping Dorcas study for her biology exam.”
The lie flows off of his tongue like honey. He can’t very well tell his mother the truth, can he? Sorry I’m late to dinner, I was busy cosplaying as a cat and defeating a villain dressed like a banana.
Walburga narrows her eyes. “Your father and I raised you better than this, did we not? Lateness will not be tolerated. And you know I don’t approve of the Meadowes girl.”
Regulus stiffens at the mention of Dorcas. If it were anyone else insulting his friends, he would already have beaten them to a bloody pulp. It’s something he and Sirius have always had in common, this fierce protectiveness of those they love.
But unlike Sirius, he is still in this house. And unlike Sirius, Regulus knows how to bite his tongue.
“I’m sorry, mother,” he apologizes, digging his fingernails into his palm where Walburga can’t see them. “It won’t happen again.”
His mother sniffs. “See that it doesn’t. Now sit.”
They eat dinner together in silence. Regulus doesn’t know why his parents are so adamant about enforcing family dinnertime when they never speak to each other and half the time his father is away on work business. Nevertheless, he indulges his mother’s wishes and sips away at his French onion soup until he can excuse himself from the table and escape to his room. He can feel Walburga’s eyes on his back as he makes his way up the long, winding staircase, and has to force himself to keep a relaxed, steady pace until he finally reaches the safety of his bedroom.
“You can come out now, Plagg,” he says, shrugging off his leather jacket and letting the small, jet-black kwami escape from its sleeve.
“Finally!” Plagg exclaims, his whiny voice grating on Regulus’s eardrums. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Regulus narrows his eyes. Just because Plagg is the being behind the Miraculous of the Black Cat doesn’t mean Regulus has to respect or even like him. “You know it’s not safe for you to be out in the open, especially not around my mother. What else was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, it’s your job to make up excuses if you want to keep your Miraculous. Not my problem,” Plagg shrugs. “Got any food? I’m famished.”
Regulus digs a packet of crackers out of his pocket and tosses it to Plagg. “Here,” he snaps. “Now leave me alone. I’m tired.”
It isn’t a lie. Regulus’s body is sore from all the fighting and vaulting around he’s been doing, and he all but collapses into his bed after taking off all his rings (except his Miraculous, that stays on) and pulling on a pair of pajama pants. Annoyingly, he can hear Plagg munching on the crackers across the room, so he puts on his noise-canceling headphones before popping his melatonin pills into his mouth and closing his eyes. Regulus has always had trouble sleeping, but it has only worsened after Sirius left and he found himself the owner of a Miraculous.
Still, he is so exhausted that he falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, and when he dreams, he dreams of stars, and sunsets, and hazel eyes.