The view from her balcony is actually quite nice, that he knows, but he certainly doesn’t drop by every once in a while just to admire the view. As Chat Noir, he has the ability to climb to the highest places of Paris, and he can enjoy frankly breathtaking views of every corner of it, but he doesn’t enjoy them as much when he’s watching them all alone.
He enjoys the times he gets to laze around in a rooftop with Ladybug, and treasures every moment he’s with her – especially those were the pressing threat of an akuma is not on their minds – but much to his displeasure he just doesn’t have the knowledge necessary to just drop by Ladybug’s place to hang out with her and there’s no one in the city that’s closer to Chat Noir, in his superhero suit, than Marinette. Granted, they didn’t use to be as close as they are now, but those are details that he doesn’t really concern himself with.
The first time he landed on her balcony, after the Weredad incident, was kind of an accident. Well, not an accident so much as him just vaulting through the rooftops mindlessly and spotting her balcony and suddenly feeling overcome with the need to see her. It was a Saturday, around 9 o’clock, when his feet touched on her balcony floor and knocked on her latch door, and he vividly remembers the confusion on her face when she peeked and saw him standing there.
Now it’s as easy as breathing. He tries not to do it too often but, sometimes, when he feels too lonely for Plagg’s company to be enough, he fails miserably at resisting the urge to run to her house. She always greets him with a smile.
And that’s what he’s going to blame for the absolute mess he makes that night.
She steps outside, two mugs of hot chocolate balancing precariously on a tray, and smiles at him. It’s brilliant, her eyes full of light and crinkling at the corners, her mouth relaxed and shiny pink, a tiny bit of the white of her teeth peeking out from in between her lips, her cheeks rosy from the cold December air. And that’s when he absolutely loses control of the use of his brain and kisses her.
He doesn’t really think about it, he just leans in and kisses her, as a greeting, as a holy grail, as if this was something they did all the time, as if this wasn’t the very first time he kissed anyone without any akuma involved or some kind of cruel twist of fate that will make him forget about it afterwards. His mind takes a leave and his body just takes over, putting his hand on her shoulder and pulling her in, leaving a quick kiss on her lips.
It’s not until after the panic subsides, when he’s running home, heart stuttering in his chest, with his entire self feeling as if lit up by an everlasting flame, that he realizes she leaned into him too and that when he looked back at her as he left he saw her standing there touching her lips with her fingers.
The look she had on her face in that moment doesn’t allow him to fall asleep until 2 am.