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Ladybug thanked the power of magic every day for her superhero costume.
The first time an akuma threw her across a cobblestone pavement, she hauled herself up, dusted herself off, and thought, 'wow, that would've been messy outside the suit'. It occurred often, after that, that particular thought — even when her injuries might have been nothing more than a flesh wound.
Because Ladybug was terrified of bleeding.
Just the idea of detransforming one day to look down at her body and seeing scratches crawling up her skin like a mangled rope ladder—
No. Absolutely not.
Her costume would always* keep her safe.
*(Not always.)
"Chat Noir!" she called, hidden behind a tree trunk, clutching the purse where Tikki — worn out, with no macarons for her to recharge — slept. "Use your Cataclysm!"
He nodded.
Then his eyes widened.
"Marinette, watch out!"
Oh, she watched .
She watched as the akuma smashed a car onto the street in front of her, glass exploding out of all the windows, metal screeching as it ground into the road, stray shards shooting towards her.
Suddenly she was no longer by the tree trunk, but scooped up in Chat Noir's arms as he fled.
Something stung hard on her left thigh and she was too afraid to find out what it was.
"What are you doing?" she said, careful not to jostle Tikki as they flew through the sky. "We can't just leave the akuma!"
"You're hurt, Marinette."
"Nooo…"
"Yeah, your..."
Chat Noir hesitated, and that told the whole story.
Marinette dared to look down.
A deep red flower bloomed through her jeans, right where her thigh was stinging.
She dug her nails into his arm. " Ohhh my God."
"It's okay, Marinette, breathe."
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale — the flower spread, darkening, turning into a scarlet cloud through her pink jeans — oh no, what was the next part?
Her breaths came shallow. "Adrien, I'm gonna be sick."
"We're almost at my place. Just… look over my shoulder. Count all the chimneys we pass."
He clutched her a little tighter, and when Marinette placed her chin where he told her to and watched with teary eyes as they zoomed past forests of chimneys, he kept her in place with a firm hand on her back.
She counted twenty-four chimneys, and got up to about sixty throbs coming from her thigh before she thought she would pass out.
The tell-tale way he gripped her closer was enough for her to know they were approaching his window. She tucked her knees in as best as she could.
From that sloped angle, she felt something hot trickle from the cut on her thigh.
Chat Noir didn't put her down right away — he stumbled up to his bed and set her to her feet gently, keeping a secure hand on her arm in case she fell (which, if the weakness in her legs told her anything, was more than likely.)
"I'm bleeding so much," she whispered, keeping her eyes away from what she now deemed The Danger Zone. Marinette trembled, involuntary tears sliding down her cheeks. "I can feel it."
"I've got you, don't worry. Can I get a look at it?"
Marinette fumbled with the button on her jeans, but her numb fingers proved useless.
She shook her head. "I can't do it."
"Alright, I'm gonna let go of you for two seconds so I can grab my first aid kit. Will you be okay for two seconds?"
Did she have much of a choice?
She knew if she said no he would accept that, and find a way to bring over the first aid kit without leaving her side. But she was kicking up enough of a fuss as it was, and perhaps standing by herself for two seconds wouldn't be too bad.
She nodded.
Chat Noir nodded back.
He stepped away, making for his desk, where the first aid kit was tucked into a drawer.
Marinette's grip tightened on his hand.
They looked at each other.
"You… you have to let go of me, My Lady."
Marinette nodded again. "Give me a moment."
Her nails were leaving marks in his suit. It was not going to be a moment.
"Claws in," he said.
His transformation shimmered away, but Marinette's grasp didn't relent.
Plagg appeared beside them. "Ahh, I could really do with a nice, big wheel of— Marinette what happened to your leg?!"
" Ah," she wheezed, "oh my God, it's bad, isn't it? How bad is it?"
"Plagg." Adrien fixed Plagg with a no-nonsense look. "Could you bring the first aid kit? Please?"
Without so much as a nod, Plagg hurried to the desk.
"Oh no. Plagg's being serious." Marinette almost withered into the bed. "That means it's bad."
"Hey. No. It's fine. It's just a…" He looked down. "...small cut." Adrien grasped her hands firmly. "I'm gonna take off your jeans. Is that okay?"
She nodded, keeping her eyes turned up and away from her thigh.
Adrien undid her button and tugged down the zip. Marinette wasn't far gone enough to not feel herself flush, but among blood and cut and akuma , she couldn't find it in herself to do much else other than arrange herself as needed while he pulled down her jeans.
He peeled them off her legs; the sticky blood on her thigh resisted against the material.
"Sit down for me," he said. "And don't look here."
She felt for the edge of the bed blindly and did as told. Plagg drifted through the fogginess in her head carrying a plastic white box, along with some food he kept in his paws until he phased through Marinette's purse. They lapsed into silence while Adrien wiped her up with some tissue, but her lightheadedness was not helped by the fact she could guess the radius of blood.
And it wasn't small.
"Okay, I'm just gonna clean it up. It's not bad, I promise." He unscrewed a cap — a bottle of something — and put a warm hand on her ankle. "This'll sting a bit."
"Can I hold onto you?"
"You can always hold onto me, Bugaboo."
Not taking her eyes off his ceiling, Marinette reached over and took a fistful of the shoulder of Adrien's overshirt.
In her mind's eye she watched a deluge of blood pour out of her thigh with every throb that punched through her, pouring over the curve of her knee, staining the carpet—
"You okay?" he asked.
Marinette was close to tearing his sleeve off the seam. She took a deep breath. She would not torture herself with dizzying scenarios.
"Fine," she said.
"Okay. I'm gonna put this rubbing alcohol on, now. I'm holding the cloth right above your thigh." He paused. "Tell me when you're ready."
She groaned. "Let's just get this over with."
Adrien tightened his fingers on her ankle — a safety measure, Marinette realised, when a cloth full of rubbing alcohol pressed into her wound, and her leg jerked with the same intensity as an electric shock, and it was only his grip that kept her from kicking him in the stomach.
“I love you,” she gasped suddenly.
Adrien’s hand halted. “ What?”
“In case I die,” she choked out, and she felt she could leave the shape of her fingertips into his shoulder blade, “I just want you to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I love you so much.”
For a few minutes, neither of them moved. Marinette gnawed at her bottom lip as that shock, the electric shock that jerked her leg, dulled back to its usual steady pulse. At least the pain distracted her from the blood, but Adrien was radio-silent, and her mind was drifting back towards what had soaked into his cloth.
“W-why aren’t you saying anything?” she asked.
He let out a quick breath through his nose, amused. “You’re not gonna die , Marinette.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “W-well, I mean, I guess that was a bit overkill, but—”
“I love you, too,” he said, and continued to clean up her cut. “And you’re doing so well. You’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
They sat quietly while he resumed. Marinette found that rubbing her thumb against the seams on Adrien’s sleeve and trying to guess what kind of stitch they were made of occupied her mind enough for her to get her heart rate down to a less concerning number of beats per minute.
“Ah, it really isn’t that bad,” he said after a while. “Look—”
“ I am not looking down there.”
“No, seriously, I’m covering it with the cloth.”
Marinette looked, and he was right. The cloth covered her whole thigh, and Adrien’s grip was firm.
“The cut is this big.” He brought his thumb and forefinger together at the back of his hand, barely half an inch a part. “The glass just hit a blood vessel — that’s why there was so much blood.”
“Oh,” she breathed out. “I’ll be okay?”
“Of course, My Lady.” He winked at her. “You’re in my hands after all.”
She rolled her eyes. It almost made her forget the humiliation of saying she was going to die over a cut smaller than her thumb.
Almost.
He bandaged her up within the next few minutes. Marinette didn’t look down even once.
“There.” He patted her thigh. “All better. Can you stand?”
Still holding onto his shoulder, she set her mouth in a determined line, and hauled herself up. Nevertheless she was trembling, and wanted to fall back to the edge of the bed.
Adrien had his hands around her waist as he attempted to hold her up. “There’s… no way you’re going back out like this.”
She sighed. “We don’t have much of a choice. I need to purify the akuma—”
“Why don’t I do it?” he said. “I’ll grab you some sweatpants, you can stay here, and—”
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea. I’m sure once I transform—” She put her left leg forward. Pain shot through her thigh, and she whimpered. “Alright. Fine. Take the earrings.”
Adrien gave her a sorry smile. He eased her back onto his bed. “I’ll be okay.” He reached behind her hair and undid her Miraculous. “You get some rest.”