Chapter Text
Marinette felt a gentle pressure all over her body, the coldness seeping in through her blankets and rousing her into the wakefulness where the world outside was still coated in darkness. The smell of charcoal, leather, and something sharper like ozone bit at her nose, tickling her senses. Opening one bleary eye revealed a shock of white-blond hair brushing against her collarbone, the owner wrapped tight around her and using her chest as a pillow.
Chat?
Her heart skipped a fearful beat when she caught sight of the feline ears nestled amongst the tresses of his hair.
Feline ears almost as white as his hair.
Marinette’s breath lodged in her throat, a painful bubble that she struggled to breathe around. She struggled to control the pants raking her body, afraid the movement would wake up the predator twined around her. She had to get out from under him, had to help him. But how? Chat Noir had been akumatized, something had gone horribly wrong and she hadn’t been there to help him. Marinette could only struggle to hold her breath and pray that the person now dangerous enough to destroy the world slept on.
But he was also purring, the deep vibrations rumbling through his body and rising his chest up and down. The dichotomy of how he looked and what she knew of him warred in her brain. As she slowly tried to maneuver out from under him, he gave a sudden yowl of anger, squeezing at her middle painfully tight. “Marinette…”
Chat Blanc’s voice was soft and deep, dangerous in a way that clawed through her stomach and hooked on something heated there and pulled. Marinette’s cheeks flared with heat despite the situation as he slowly raided his head to peer at her through only one half-lidded, electric-blue eye. She bit back the gasp that threatened to escape, not knowing whether it was from fear or something else.
He looked playful. He looked pained. He looked a myriad of emotions that bounced through his expression, back and forth, running the gamut in a brief, heartbreaking moment.
Chat seemed to settle on playful, for the moment.
Before Marinette could even process what was happening, Chat was rubbing his face all over hers in a kittenish display of ownership, his clawed hands gripping at her shoulders and sharp nails digging pin-pricks into her pyjamas. His face was as freezing cold as the rest of him, just as she remembered him being. Is he… Is he scent marking me? she wondered dazedly to herself. Oblivious, Chat continued rubbing against her, the purring increasing in volume with each subsequent pass of his face over hers. It was all she could hear, the sound vibrating deep in her marrow.
He licked at her nose, his tongue like sandpaper, and she scrunched up her nose in an effort to dissuade further attempts.
“Gross, Chat.”
When he laughed at her in response, his teeth were as white as his suit, and so very very sharp.
Marinette struggled to free her hand from beneath the blanket, reaching out to stroke the wayward bangs from his face when it was free. He leaned into the touch, a soft contented purr starting again somewhere deep in his chest. “What happened, Kitty?” she whispered forlornly.
“Don’t call me Kitty, Princess.” His voice took on a sudden hard edge even as he turned his face into her palm, nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin of her wrist. “That’s what Ladybug calls me.”
Marinette chewed nervously at her lip, unsure of how to navigate this delicate situation. “Sorry,” she started. “What should I call you?”
Chat shook his head, one shoulder lifting listlessly in response. “Whatever you want other than that.”
“Handsome?”
He barked out a laugh, fangs flashing blindingly bright in the moonlight filtering through her windows. “Sure.”
Marinette swallowed down the lump of fear in her throat. He was still purring, which was a good sign, and she refused to be lulled to sleep by the soothing sound of it. “So what happened, Handsome?”
Chat Blanc shrugged a single white shoulder again. “I stopped an Akuma from going after someone else.”
Marinette blinked disbelievingly at him, mouth opening and closing for a moment. “By taking it into yourself?”
“I didn’t want anyone to suffer anymore,” he snarled, baring his fangs in a vicious growl. “And I was just so angry...” The tell-tale blue energy of his Cataclysmic energy cracked over his clenched fist, freezing the air in Marinette’s lungs. “So, I--”
Thinking quickly, Marinette covered his mouth with her hands. “Okay,” she whispered desperately. "I get it. Calm down.” Please, she pleaded silently.
To her relief, the dangerous energy slowly dissipated until it had settled back under his skin, still dangerous, but locked away safely for now. Chat mumbled something against the confines of her interlocked fingers, but she didn’t dare release his lips yet.
“Now that that’s settled,” Marinette spoke slowly, drawing her fingers back from his face one by one. “I want to know why me? Why come to me, Ki--” A low snarl quickly cut her off. “Handsome?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied when the snarl had died down in his throat.
Marinette jerked her head back and forth; nothing about Chat Blanc was obvious.
Chat Blanc laced his fingers around her thin wrist, his bruising grip sure to leave patterns of blue and black against her skin come morning. Marinette bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood to keep from crying out in pain. He twisted her hand around and bared her palm to his view, laying a long, slow kiss to it.
“I love you,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Before Marinette could think to formulate a response, he had hopped off her bed, landing on her floor with the same elegant grace he exhibited in everything else he did. She was left gasping, but from the declaration or the sudden change of pressure around her she’d never know.
Quickly sitting up in bed, Marinette threw off her comforter just as Chat started batting random knick-knacks off her desk. “Chat!”
Her pencil cup teetered precariously on the edge before falling to the floor with a muted crash. Her pin cushion bounced a few feet away, stealing the curious gaze of Chat Blanc for a few moments before he turned back to her desk. His claws slicing through the expensive fabric stretched out over a section of her desk, however, was the last straw.
“Chat!” she shrieked, heedless of waking anyone else in the house. Her bare feet pounded down the steps to her bed loft, the wood cold in the early morning air, as she sped her way to him.
“Don’t. You. Dare," she gritted out between clenched teeth.
Chat's toothy grin--all white fangs and dark sass--was the most unnerving smile she'd ever seen. As he curled up on the laptop, tucking his tail around him, he looked very much like a cat in cream, an illusion magnified by how bright his suit was. “Hmmm?”
Marinette balled her hands into fists and jabbed them onto her hips. She'd had enough of his nonsense; despite the fact that he oozed threats just by breathing, he was being a brat. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“Hiss-terical.”
As he had apparently expected based on his smarmy smile, Marinette groaned in disgust. “That’s terrible.” Figuring she had nothing to lose by experimenting, Marinette picked up a neon green ball of yarn from her crafting station. “Do you want this?”
Chat’s pupils dilated. Amused despite the fear clawing its nauseating way up her throat, she swung the ball back and forth, and his head followed it. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was drooling. “No.”
“Liar.” Marinette tossed the yarn ball over to the corner near her chaise, hoping he'd focus on the bait rather than the way her entire body vibrated with repressed panic.
He did, much to her relief. Chat leapt off her laptop with his powerful legs, landing across the room and on the yarn, his claws outstretched and a manic look in his bright blue eyes that Marinette was desperate to avoid being turned on her.
He tore the ball apart, rolling over and flipping it over himself. Marinette couldn’t help a giggle as he got more and more tangled, the yarn hanging in strips over his hair and feline ears, wrapping tightly around his waist and hands.
Pretty soon, he couldn’t move, and was yowling for attention again.
“Oh, Handsome,” Marinette clucked, approaching him slowly, as if he were a wounded animal. “Stay still. I’ll get you untangled.”
He wriggled his way towards her, scooting across the floor on his back. Consciously overriding her animal instincts to run, Marinette placed her hand on his freezing cold chest, marveling at the fact that his heartbeat--her partner's heartbeat--pounded as rapidly as ever.
Chat Blanc stilled at her gentle touch, and Marinette idly wondered how long it had been since he had been caressed like that. She knew Chat Noir was a touch-starved boy--why else would he constantly want validation on a physical level?--and the thought always made her feel guilty and strangely responsible for his deprived state.
Realizing she was wasting time in rumination, Marinette carefully began plucking the yarn fibers off of his claws. The strings had been almost shredded. But with her skills of untangling even the most difficult of knots, Marinette soon freed Chat.
As a weird sort of thanks, apparently, he crawled on all fours, circling her legs and rubbing his face on her calves. His face was freezing and sent chills trickling down her spine like ice water.
Marinette giggled again. Despite the danger he represented--his ever-shifting mood and emotional instability were evidence of that--his acting like a true cat was pretty funny.
The drive to release him from Hawkmoth's grip had never been stronger. But until she decided on a plan of action, Chat Blanc seemed to want to play.
Marinette could play with him, as absurd as that thought was. She ruffled his messy hair, secretly luxuriating in the softness of his white locks. “You’re such a gremlin.”
Chat sniffed her shoes, his pouting kissable lips petulant, endearing her further. “Am not.”
Marinette wondered if she had some catnip around her room--and then nixed that thought because a drugged-up Chat Blanc would likely be even more unpredictable.
But she definitely had a laser pointer. Carefully, so as to not kick him in the head, she stepped over him to her knocked-over pencil cup. He followed, smearing snot all over the back of her pajama bottoms, which she tried to ignore.
Stooping over and trying to work around him clinging to her legs, his cold, possessive touch raising goosebumps on them, Marinette found her laser pointer pen. She plucked it up from the floor, seeing Chat’s mystified expression. “What’s that?” he asked, pawing at it, but she held fast to the little item. “Is it a toy for me?”
Marinette dodged his questing hands and tapped the pen against her lips. “You could say that. It’s more a toy for me, though." Marinette wondered if this would work, but realized with a shot of quick despair that she'd committed herself to this course of action. "Think fast, Chat!”
Pressing the button, Marinette shone the red dot of light on the floor. Chat Blanc’s neon blue eyes widened, and he immediately crouched down to the floor, his butt in the air and wiggling. Her panic slightly abated by the ridiculous sight, Marinette stifled her nervous laughter, moving the laser back and forth.
If she didn’t allow herself to consciously recognize the seriousness of the situation–Chat Blanc in her bedroom in the middle of the night was as serious a situation as she could think of–she’d be fine.
She was fine.
Chat launched himself forward with a waul, landing on the laser and scratching up her hardwood floor with his frantic attempts to catch the scarlet light. His hair stood on end, and as Marinette shook her hand around, Chat whipped himself in circles, following her devious dot.
He was… cute. That thought struck Marinette with its utter wrongness so violently, nausea punched her in the throat. Her fear thrummed beneath the surface of her skin, forcing sweat to her palms. Ice took up residence in her belly; if she got through this night without throwing up, she’d call it good.
If she got through this night at all, she’d call that good.
Chat Blanc eventually exhausted himself, so he lay on his back in front of the chaise, his chest heaving with his ragged panting. He looked pitiful to her, which wasn’t an emotion she particularly wanted to conjure.
Deciding that he’d had enough, Marinette shut off the laser and sat down beside him, folding her legs under her. Discarding the laser pointer at her side, she filed away the effectiveness of the tool–maybe if Chat acted up again, she could turn it on again and let him go haywire.
Surely exhausting him would help. If he was focused on something other than the way her heart rattled around in her throat, something she was sure he could hear with his acute sense of hearing, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t pick up on the vice grip of her panic.
Marinette didn’t know what he’d do if he smelled fear on her. He might go berserk, she thought, which was always the problem with Chat Blanc, wasn’t it? His mercurial moods meant she was a hair's breadth away from pissing him off and ending the world.
Surprising her out of her thoughts--when it really shouldn’t have--Chat Blanc curled himself around her, throwing his arms around her hips and burying his face in her thighs. His claws punctured her pajama pants, but she was too focused on how close they were to drawing her blood than to think on how she’d have to repair the tear.
What should she do?
What should she do?
She had to placate him. She had to soothe him. That irritated her; she shouldn’t be made responsible for appeasing a ticking time bomb. The fate of the world was on her thin shoulders, and oh! How she hated that.
At that moment, she hated Chat Blanc. She hated him for coming to her, for forcing her to deal with his trauma. She hated Hawkmoth for akumatizing him.
But most of all, she hated herself.
She was blaming everyone but herself for Chat Blanc being here, when she knew–she knew--that his akumatization, his overly dramatic state, was her fault.
And blaming her kitty, her partner, wasn’t helping anything.
Realizing she had to put aside her reservations and take care of him as best as she was able, Marinette carded her fingers through his hair, scratching circles into his scalp with her blunt nails and setting off his purring again. Even his scalp was freezing cold, and her fingers soon grew numb and tingling, which made them tremble for another reason than fear.
Chat Blanc rubbed his face against her, the rumbling in his chest growing louder and louder as she rubbed behind his feline ears. They were soft; he so rarely let her touch them as Chat Noir, and she wondered if they, too, could feel her caress.
Highly likely, since they moved along with her fingers and he pressed himself into her touch in an implicit demand for comfort.
“Like I said…'' Marinette grinned down at him despite herself, trying not to recognize how cute the predator in her lap was and failing. Chat lazily turned to peer at her with one winter blue eye cracked open. “Gremlin.”
Chat poked his lower lip out in a ridiculous pout that she recognized on her partner, forcing tears to spring to her eyes. Would she ever get her kitty back? Was she doomed to manage Chat Blanc’s moods forever?
No, she decided. She couldn’t leave him like this.
“Am--”
A cry left Blanc’s lips as Hawkmoth’s pink moth mask snapped into place over his white features. As Chat arched his back in her lap, a gasp tore its way from Marinette’s throat, rasping across her throat like a wire brush.
Chat’s pale lips pulled back in a pained grimace. With a hideous crackling sound, he ground his teeth, his eyes screwed shut and pained tears leaking out the corners.
“Chat!” Marinette tried to hold his shoulders still to no avail as he thrashed, his hands flung out in front of him and waving. A clawed finger caught her cheek, scratching her, but the bright pinprick of pain was a momentary concern. His tail jerked back and forth beneath him, the metal end of the belt singing against the hardwood.
“N-No, I won’t!” Chat hissed through gritted teeth, the sound making Marinette’s blood run cold. The purple mask glowed over his face, lighting his features in a death cast. His token protests were weak and thready, and Marinette was terrified that he’d lose the fight. If he gave into Hawkmoth… She didn’t know what he would do to her. To the world.
“I won’t!” Chat cried, the harm Hawkmoth was doing to him making him ball his fists, the magical leather being the only thing protecting his palms from puncture wounds.
Tears struck Marinette’s eyes as her kitty continued to fight against the pain, his fists clenched and his limbs stiff. She tangled her fingers in his hair, hoping that by distracting him with pinpricks of pain on his scalp, he’d be able to ignore the excruciating aches Hawkmoth was putting him through. “Chat…”
Finally, the torture was over. A breath she didn’t know she’d been holding left her in a whoosh. Chat’s body melted against her, his chest shuddering with shallow breaths that hurt her ears.
Anger flooded Marinette, her cheeks burning with suppressed rage as she realized who was to blame for Chat’s pain.
Hawkmoth.
He was the one responsible for hurting her kitty, and in her joy to be with him, she’d forgotten that he’d been akumatized. Chat Blanc was just as much of a threat to her and the world as ever, but Hawkmoth was the greater problem. He had hurt her partner, her friend, her love, and come hell or high water, Marientte was going to find him and hold him responsible.
So full of wrath was Marinette that she didn’t notice that her grip on Chat’s shock of white-blond hair had tightened. She drew her hands back, intending to embrace herself in a protective, hugging gesture, but her fingers caught on his locks, prompting a whimper from him.
As she untangled herself, Chat growled, biting his lip and drawing blood. He cracked one blue eye open, tears gathering there before they rolled down his pale cheeks to plonk on the hardwood floor beside them. “M-Marinette…”
His broken whisper ripped her heart from her chest and stomped on it. “You have to find Ladybug.” Marinette kissed his clammy forehead, tasting the salt of his sweat and her own coppery blood as she bit through her cheek. “Right now.”
Chat stared up at her, his blue eyes stricken. He appeared conflicted, as if he didn’t want to leave her–which made sense with his declaration of love earlier.. But she couldn’t help him if he didn’t leave, though he couldn’t possibly know that.
Marinette found herself holding her breath again; was Chat going to leave? Hawkmoth’s purple mask could snap over his features again at any moment. He didn’t have time to waste!
Swallowing, he nodded, much to Marinette’s relief. It struck her chest like a physical blow, her shoulders sagging as the tension flowed out of her like water. “Yeah.”
Peeling himself off the floor and leaving her thighs soaked with sweat, Chat stood, taking shaky steps towards the wall, his hand outstretched in front of him. He looked very much like a man groping about for a safe anchor in darkness, and Marinette nearly wept with how much that broke her heart.
Chat leaned against the wall and clutched his chest, which was still heaving. Marinette stood and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself against his back. The temperature of his suit was freezing cold, as usual, and Marinette shivered with the contrast between her own angry, flushed cheeks and his chilled back. “Are you going to be alright?”
Chat’s cough rattled around in his chest; Marinette felt it more than heard it. “I’ll be fine.” He shook his head, his impossibly soft hair tickling her nose. “I need to find Ladybug and take her--no. No. I just need to find her.”
Marinette released him, hopeful that he’d leave now that he verbally agreed with her. “Take all the time you need.”
Chat nodded, his white locks plastered to his head. He ran a hand over his forehead and whipped it aside, scattering sweat drops everywhere. “Sure. Sure.”
Marinette’s hands hovered anxiously over his trembling shoulders. She wanted to touch him, to soothe his hurts, but wondered if he was better off licking his wounds himself.
Marinette heard him take a shaky breath. Then he pushed off the wall and stood, his back tall and his shoulders straight, cutting a fine figure in the dim light of the room. He plucked his baton off his back and turned to her, his eyes haunted. She was sure he could hear the way her heart slammed behind her breastbone.
“Sorry about this.” Chat looked almost sheepish, staring at his feet and kicking at imaginary dirt. It was such a contrast to the determined posture he’d had earlier that Marinette was taken aback. “I… I won’t bother you anymore.”
“Chat.” Marinette shook her head, cupping his cheeks. She stroked his prominent cheekbones with her thumbs, which were quickly going numb with cold. “You’re not a bother. Come see me anytime, okay?”
Chat Blanc sniffled, the sound tearing at her heartstrings. “Okay.” He tugged his face out of her loose grip and stepped away, holding his baton. With a last glance over his shoulder, he vaulted up onto her bed and opened the skylight. “Goodbye.”
Marinette gulped, her heart slamming in her palate. Would this be the last time she saw her kitty? Hawkmoth had such a grip on him, she wasn’t sure he’d make it to Ladybug alive.
But he had to. Right? She couldn’t lose him!
Despair dried her words up in her throat, but she forced a goodbye past the gate of her teeth. “Good luck.”
With a last, mournful look, Chat slipped through the skylight.
Knowing she couldn’t be seen following him as Ladybug, Marinette counted to thirty, waiting until she heard Chat flee her balcony. “Twenty-eight… Twenty-nine… Thirty. Come out, Tikki!”
“Marinette!” Tikki phased out of the Miracle Box’s hiding place and Marinette had never been so relieved to see those worried indigo eyes. “I’m here.”
“Tikki.” Marinette turned to her with a choked-off sob. Marinette had to act fast; Chat was in Hawkmoth’s clutches and she didn’t know the next time her partner would be targeted. “Tikki! Spots on!”
The pink transformation light flowed over Marinette, and she whipped herself through the skylight with a grace she only possessed as a superhero. Desperate to right the wrong Hawkmoth had done, Ladybug opened her yo-yo, finding Chat Blanc’s green paw print on her GPS.
He’d run to their patrol spot, a rooftop in the 16th arrondissement. Ladybug realized belatedly that they’d have to change that now that Hawkmoth knew where they met up, an idle thought that made her even more determined to help her kitty.
Rage filled Ladybug’s mouth with blood; she realized only after she’d done it that she’d bitten her tongue. She spat the coppery liquid out on her hardwood floor, hoping that her Miraculous Cure would fix the damage to her just like it might fix the damage to her kitty.
She didn’t know how to find Hawkmoth, which was all to the good because she could kill him at that moment. He’d trespassed over a line that was not his to cross: targeting Chat.
Ladybug snapped the yo-yo shut. She was wasting time with anger. Her partner was waiting.
“I’m coming, Chat…”
As she swung through the midnight-dark city, light from street lamps pooled on the concrete, the odor of an approaching thunderstorm tickling her nose. Ozone and asphalt–two scents that didn’t particularly smell appealing together, but she did hope some of the filth would be washed away by the incoming rain.
If only Hawkmoth could be washed away, too…
It wasn’t like she didn’t trust her yo-yo’s GPS, but she breathed a sigh of relief through her nose when she saw Chat Blanc pacing across the roof of their usual meeting place with short, staccato steps. As she watched him curling in on himself, clearly wracked with pain, Ladybug’s heart fluttered in her chest.
Landing on the rooftop behind him with a rubbery thump made him leap three feet in the air. Ladybug winced, vowing to never surprise him again; he was still dangerous, and could have Cataclysmed her out of surprise, after all.
“Bug…” The streetlights lit him from below, giving his face a haunted look. He gazed upon her with so much hope, her hand flew to press against her sternum, where her heart rattled around behind.
Cheeks pinking with fury, Ladybug strode up to him and tore his bell off his collar. She threw the white orb to the ground and smashed it underfoot, letting loose a swear at the man who dared harm her kitty. The Akumafluttered out, and Ladybug wasted no time in catching it with her yo-yo to purify it.
“Bye-bye, little butterfly.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth, acrid like they never had before. She spat again, a globule of blood and saliva narrowly missing the white wings.
Purple bubbles flowed over Chat Blanc, his suit bleeding back to black and his eyes flickering into a gorgeous green. He smiled down at her, seeming a bit bewildered, as akumatized victims almost always were.
Tears pricked the corners of Ladybug’s eyes; she’d told Chat Blanc to come find her, and he had; did her partner really trust her that much?
Chat spoke, sounding very much like a man parched in the middle of a desert. “Bug?”
“Handsome…” Acting on instinct, Ladybug threw her arms around him, cupping the back of his head and pressing her cheek to his.
His suit was warm, startlingly so; in contrast to Chat Blanc’s freezing cold temperature, Chat Noir was a welcome respite. This time, it was Ladybug rubbing herself all over him, but she didn’t care. She’d almost lost him.
A broken whisper left her lips despite herself, a shaky plea that she yearned for him to listen to. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Handsome? What did I do?” Chat Noir sounded stunned, though he did wrap his arms around her. She leaned into the comforting touch, wondering if he was giving it to her out of pity. Ladybug couldn’t stand how much he cared. “Bug, are you okay? You’re trembling.”
Ladybug was trembling. She hadn’t noticed until he’d said so, but that didn’t make it any easier to stop shaking in his hold.
She owed him an answer, but she still didn’t want to say it. Her jaw clenched itself without her permission, and she forced the words past her lips through sheer dint of willpower alone.
“You were akumatized, Kitty. You took the butterfly into yourself.”
Ladybug felt his gasp under her cheek as soon as the truth left her lips. He sounded more pained than Chat Blanc had when Hawkmoth had tortured him on her bedroom floor. The noise rang in her ears over and over; though Chat Noir had only gasped once, she replayed the sound in her head over and over, analyzing it to figure out how she could never hear such a gasp from him ever again.
“Ladybug, I’m… I’m sorry.”
Until she felt the burn in her eyes, Ladybug hadn’t realized she’d been crying. Her cheeks were wet, and his suit was wet, and she felt absurdly like she’d disappointed him by soaking him with her own stupid emotions. She pulled back and scrubbed at her traitorous, leaky eyes with the heels of her hands. “Just… Just be careful, okay?”
“Okay.” She saw Chat’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and fixated on the motion; she knew instinctively that she could watch that all day and didn’t know exactly why. “Okay.”
“Chat…” Ladybug didn’t want to ask this question. She didn’t want to put him on the spot. But she had to. She must.
Luxuriating in his warmth and enjoying the contrast between him, her kitty, and Chat Blanc, the threat, Ladybug wrapped her arms around Chat Noir. Resting her cheek against his shoulder so she wouldn’t have to look at him while he answered, she drew a shaky breath over chattering teeth. “What do you think of Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”
Chat stiffened in her hold, a telltale sign that she’d caught him off guard. His heartbeat pounded under Ladybug’s cheek, ticking up a few notches even as she embraced him. “Marinette?”
Ladybug nodded against him, desiring the answer to her question more than anything in the world, but not wanting to let him know she wanted it so much “Yeah. Do you like her?”
Chat’s strained laughter wormed its way into her ears, replacing the gasp but sounding just as pained. “Like her? Where’d you get that idea?”
I knew it. Ladybug sighed, though whether the sigh was from relief or despair, she couldn’t quite tell. He doesn’t like me.
Ladybug pushed off of him in a fit of pique. If he wouldn’t give her a straight answer, well, she… She didn’t know what she would do with him, but hugging him wasn’t it. “Fine, okay, if that’s how you feel.”
“Ladybug?”
“Never mind, Kitty.” Chat didn’t like her. That was fine. Just fine. She didn’t expect him to have liked her anyway, but… It would have been nice.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Ladybug rebuffed his advances all the time. Just because Chat Blanc had declared that he loved Marinette shouldn’t change anything.
Who knew what akumatized victims were thinking while under Hawkmoth’s influence. Chat Blanc’s declaration was clearly a fluke.
Unwilling to think about this prickly situation further, Ladybug slid her yo-yo off her waist, unwinding the string. The emotions of the night had exhausted her; from waking up literally under Chat Blanc in the middle of the night to managing him to watching Hawkmoth torture him… Ladybug was exhausted and emotionally drained, and she didn’t want to deal with Chat Noir’s nonsense anymore.
Still. She’d almost lost him tonight. Releasing her yo-yo with one hand, her fingers trailed over the shell of his ear, making him shudder. “Take care, okay?”
Chat stood on the roof, his shoulders slumped in a way she figured was calculated to earn her pity. She didn’t want to give it to him. “You, too.”
Thank goodness that’s over, Ladybug thought as she swung back to her house, her muscles burning from the brief run across the city. Flying was always fun, but even that couldn’t distract her from the way her thoughts of Chat Blanc chased themselves around and around in her head. It was maddening.
Still, she thought, yawning as she slipped through her skylight, skilled in not making a sound to wake her parents up through many nights of practice, now I can get some sleep.
She tossed and turned until the morning.