Work Text:
“You’re joking!” She smacks his shoulder lightly.
“I’m not!” He protests.
“Chat Noir, I cannot be your emergency contact.” It’s one of those things that doesn’t feel like a conversation they should be having. Despite the fact that she trusts him beyond belief, and he’s the same way with her, it feels ridiculous that he even considered her for this.
“And why not? I think you’re a purr-fect emergency contact my lady.” He’s pouting, his ears flattening slightly. Ladybug really wonders how he has so much control over what essentially is a costume piece.
“Because how exactly am I supposed to collect you in an emergency when I don’t know your identity and you don’t know mine?” She crosses her arms and he bumps her shoulder with his own.
“Obviously I’d put the suit on when you had to get me.” She laughs at that.
“Oh so the hospital knows you’re Chat Noir now.” He groans.
“In this hypothetical scenario.”
“And the hospital has the bugphone number or…”
“No, I’m thinking I’d post on twitter.” She can tell he’s joking now. The idea of him posting a message about needing his emergency contact on twitter is hilarious.
“Very funny Chaton.” He finally laughs with her this time.
“No, I have someone else, don’t worry.” He clarifies.
“Then why bring it up?” She asks. He tenses slightly.
“I wanted you to know you’d be one if identities weren’t…” She decides to interlace their fingers.
“You’d be one for me too.” She states quietly.
—-
“See, you are my emergency contact.” He tells her. They’re sitting in a hospital, people taking photos as she helps him fill out the paperwork.
“You didn’t have to fall off a roof to prove that to me.” She responds.
Ladybug remembers him sliding off the roof with a thunk, one tiny misstep. It had ended with her supporting his entire body weight as they made their way to the nearest hospital.
It wasn’t like he could detransform, as the injury was a little unexplainable.
“Right, but the opportunity was right there.” He points at his ankle.
“Can they even do X-rays with your suit on?” Ladybug raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, I could always detransform but-”
“Unexplainable injuries.”
“I don’t exactly think it would go well.” Chat Noir isn’t joking much, a sign about how much pain he’s in.
“Well, now you get to prove your point.” She tries to make him feel better by joking around a bit. He gives her a weak smile.
“See, now that’s the best part.”
—-
“I thought you said we couldn’t be each other's emergency contacts?” His arms are crossed and she blinks at him.
“Did I call you?” She holds her arms out and Chat Noir picks her up bridal style.
“How hard did you hit your head? You’re still transformed, my lady.” He begins moving toward the hospital, and she buries her face into his neck.
“Mmm, sleepy.” She responds. There’s suddenly a jostling and she stares at Chat Noir accusingly.
“Sorry, but no sleep for potential concussed people.” He doesn’t even look at her, he’s only focused on getting her to the hospital.
“I’m not that concussed.” She protests.
“You asked if you called me, and forgot you were in your costume.” He responds. There’s no response for that.
“This is so stupid. I can’t believe my own clumsiness got me into this.” She groans.
“Walk into a wall?” He asks.
“A brick wall.” She mumbles. Chat Noir’s chest rumbles as he clearly tries to hold back his laughter.
“Sorry, sorry, It’s not funny.” He slows as they get into the hospital.
“You’re so mean Chaton.” She’s sleepy again.
“No, gotta stay awake,” He jostled her once more.
At least she can trust him to take care of her.
—-
“No.” She crosses her arms.
“My lady-” he starts.
“You can’t… you can’t do that.” She refuses to look at him, refuses to let him see the tears in her eyes.
“If I didn’t you would have-” She whips her head up at the start of that sentence.
“But you were.” She’s so tired of losing her partner, tired of being expected to just carry on and finish out the battle without him.
“I’m sorry.” He seems surprised when her tears fall, but he pulls her into his arms.
Chat Noir’s heart is still beating, a steady, comforting rhythm. His chest is warm, and it rises and falls in time with his breath. Ladybug can still see it, his body just lying there.
“Do you know what’s so stupid?” She starts. “My first thought after you… after you went down? It was about being your emergency contact.”
She’s sure she sounds hysterical.
“That’s not stupid at all, buginette. It’s so very smart of you.” Her Chaton presses a kiss against her temple as he soothes her.
“You and your stupid emergency contact nonsense got to me.” She babbles, pressing further into his arms.
“Hey, not stupid. It’s worked more times than you’d think.” The rumble when he speaks shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.
“Please don’t do that to me again.” She mutters into his chest. She feels his chest hitch when she says it, like he’s shocked.
“Don’t worry my lady, you’ll only have to be my emergency contact when strictly necessary.”
—-
“You have to admit it’s a little funny.” He grins at her. Ladybug groans.
“It is not. We’re so stupid.” She facepalms.
“But remember the emergency contact thing?” He’s smirking at her. She doesn’t like where this is going.
“Chat Noir, I swear, if you pull an ‘I told you so’ you’re gonna need an emergency contact.” She watches the next joke click in his head.
“Good thing I have the best emergency contact in the world.” He’s grinning at her.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m right is what I am. You’re a great emergency contact.”
“Mon minou, just because we’re dating does not mean I won’t kick your ass.” She threatens playfully. He’s still grinning at her.
“Come over here and do it then. Come make me shut up my lady.” He’s taunting her. She grabs her yo-yo and in one swift movement, she wraps him in it and pulls her partner closer.
Ladybug places her hands on his cheeks, and Chat Noir bridges the gap, pressing his lips against hers.
“I didn’t know emergency contacts were such good kissers.”
“Chat Noir!”
