Chapter Text
Most of the class had already gotten away, but left with nowhere to hide and surrounded by pink statues, Nathaniel stood frozen in place. He couldn’t run. Couldn’t move. It was like he’d already been transformed into a statue, despite the fact that Frightingale had already left to go after Ladybug and Chat Noir.
He glanced around slightly, but there really was nowhere to go besides ducking behind one of the other statues, none of which were large enough to cover himself despite his tiny frame. And unfortunately, the direction in which Frightingale went was also the direction of Nathaniel’s house and the school, leaving no safe building that he could think of on such short notice. So all he had left to do was to stay in place.
“There’s someone! Well, it’s showtime!” A high-pitched voice cried, and immediately after, a bright pink light enveloped Nathaniel’s whole body. He groaned internally, knowing what was coming up next. So he was going to turn into a statue after all. “All you have to do is sing, dance, or rhyme.”
He turned, meeting Frightingale’s angry gaze and slasher-esque smile. Where were Ladybug and Chat Noir?
Sing, dance, or rhyme…
“I—I can’t rhyme.” he confessed. “And I can’t dance.”
His hand stiffened, transforming into a solid pink metal. The metal crept up his arm, reaching his elbow just as Frightingale burst out in unhinged laughter. His only hope was that the heroes would undo the damage she caused and he’d be okay, though he knew how it might end up being a traumatizing memory.
“Yes you can!” another voice cried. A hand slipped into his untransformed one and clenched tightly, intertwining his fingers with their own. “Just give it a chance!”
The metal on his arm receded.
Nathaniel turned his head sharply, only to be face-to-face with his boyfriend, Marc. The other boy’s lips formed a small smile and he squeezed Nathaniel’s hand tightly, which sent a sense of comfort and relief through Nathaniel’s mind.
However, just as the metal disappeared, it started to grow back on his fingertips. Marc noticed, and his eyes filled with panic. He took Nathaniel’s other hand, clasping the rapidly growing metal tightly, and started to step back and forth, like a slow dance.
Oh…dance.
Nathaniel mimicked his steps, moving his untouched hand to Marc’s waist and keeping the metallic one in their grasp. Following suit, Marc placed his hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, and now they were in a better position to be dancing. They continued to step in unison, forming a sort of rhythm.
“You boys think you’re clever, don’t you?” Frightingale cried out, voice shrieking with rage. “Let’s see how easy it is when there’s two of you!”
And just as before, a pink glow appeared around Marc’s body. He took a deep breath, clearly panicking, but even though Nathaniel still didn’t know him all that well, Marc seemed like he was attempting to mask his fear with false courage. And just watching that gave Nathaniel a sense of pride on behalf of his boyfriend.
“You really think I can’t rhyme?” Marc announced, eyes narrowed and mouth set in determination. He continued to follow the dance steps, keeping his hand clenched on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “I’m a writer; I do it all the time.”
Frightingale just sneered, then ran off, likely to go find Ladybug and Chat Noir. But that wasn’t the end, obviously. Marc and Nathaniel were still forced to dance and rhyme or else be transformed into the statues that surrounded them. And even staying quiet and dancing together wasn’t enough, as Nathaniel noticed their clutched hands starting to become metallic pink. So they had to start talking about something.
“Good job, she’s finally gone.” Nathaniel said. He searched his brain for a rhyming word, then finally came up with, “Until the heroes defeat her, we need to hang on.”
“Yeah, to not be statues we’ll need to talk and wait.” Marc agreed. “And don’t worry, your rhymes are great.”
The metal faded again, and despite the pink glow surrounding the two of them, both seemed more or less at ease. He wouldn’t admit it, but Nathaniel had become desperately thankful for the comfort of Marc’s presence in the moment; he knew that if he hadn’t been saved last minute he likely would’ve just given up and let himself become a statue. He’d needed someone to push him into trying to step outside his comfort zone, and when it came to words, Marc was that someone.
Marc kept his eyes focused on Nathaniel’s. “There’s something about this situation we can’t overlook: we could put a villain like her in our comic book.”
“Oh, that idea is really good!” Nathaniel insisted, nodding to cement his point even through the fear that he wouldn’t be able to come up with a rhyme eventually. Despite what Marc had said before and even with that push, he knew in his heart that he wasn’t good with words and language arts at all. “Uh…the heroes would defeat her though; I know they would.”
Another rhyme done. Another close call.
Marc grinned. “Yeah, she’s not nearly as powerful as her precursor. Though I’m biased since that one was Reverser.”
“Wow, you were able to rhyme that name? You’re pretty skilled at this…word game.”
“Hey, that was a good choice for a rhyme. You’ll have to write poetry with me sometime.”
Feeling slightly bolder, Nathaniel took a step backwards and lifted their tightly grasped hands in the air, giving Marc the opportunity to spin. He did, giggling slightly. And they were moving together, closer and closer, the pink glows radiating off their bodies intersecting.
“It’s been fun for us to dance. Though I wish it were under a better circumstance.” Marc told him, moving his free hand to give his boyfriend a sort of odd hug. Nathaniel returned the hug with his free hand, though not pausing in their dance, which now appeared like some sort of distorted waltz. They really weren’t skilled in dancing, not that they minded. As long as they were moving in at least a dance-like way and rhyming, they’d be fine.
“Yeah, I wish so too. But at least I’m here with you.”
And no longer than a few seconds afterwards, the wave of bright red ladybugs flooded the area, transforming everyone back from their statue forms and making the pink glow around the boys fade out to nothingness. As if they read each other’s minds, both Marc and Nathaniel stopped dancing and took a seat on the sidewalk. Nathaniel’s feet ached and his brain was fried from coming up with rhymes, but somehow he was happier than he’d been in ages. As if it hadn’t been a horrific, near fatal-transformation experience, and it was instead a sort of first date.
“Thanks for coming to save me.” he told Marc, taking the writer’s hand in his own. They’d been holding hands to dance so long that it just felt like second nature now. “And thanks for being my writer, even in situations like this.”
“You’re welcome, of course. And thanks for being my artist. When there’s a villain that needs to be defeated with the power of drawing, I’ll be relying on you.”
“I’ll be there; it’s only fair.” Nathaniel laughed, his hair falling in his face. “I’m still rhyming, aren’t I?”
“Wow, you are. Maybe you’re a secret poet. Are you sure you don’t want to be the writer in our relationship?”
“Nah, I’ll leave that to you. You’re way better at it.”
And later, after everything had been cleared up and everyone recovered from the akuma attack, they were asked if they both wanted to be in Clara Nightingale’s music video as extras. Despite having danced so long, they said yes. After all, the whole thing was choreographed, so it was a lot easier. And it sounded fun.
As long as they didn’t have to rhyme, of course.