Work Text:
Warm air wafted against his cheek, coupled with an airy sigh.
The world flickered back into focus. Grey static seeped out of his vision as he blinked: once, slowly, twice, and a third time. It was like being turned on at the switch. He remembered to breathe and things started to register.
Then came the pain.
Chat’s knees wobbled as an ache ground its way out of the sides of his skull with the force of a bulldozer. A hoarse groan rang in the air - was that his voice?
His gut lurched in shock as something dark bubbled away from the rim of his vision, and despite how slowly his body seemed to be responding to commands he somehow managed to very nearly jump out of his skin when something tickled his cheek. It was soft.
Some glare that he was distantly aware of began to fade and Chat found his eyes instantly soothed. He felt rather than saw the familiar black casing of his body reappear as the bubbling (his heart tripped over itself as he recognised it for what it was) smoothed away white. The ringing in his ears (which might have been the end of a warbled scream) faded as the last of the white vanished, and that was the end of Hawkmoth’s hold over him.
Oh god. Oh god, he’d been-
Panic spiked straight up through his chest and out of his mouth in a wail.
“Shh… It’s alright, you’re alright.”
His eyes snapped forward, down-
Ladybug’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, a few loose strands of her hair wisping across his face (ah - the mysterious tickling sensation) and her arms wrapped loosely around his waist as she leaned into him. Ladybug. She hummed - he’d said her name aloud, he realised. Ladybug- and she’d saved him.
Warmth rushed through him from head to toe (he wasn’t sure if it was from the added heat of her body against his or his delighted blush at their proximity, but he didn’t really care) and Chat sagged in relief. His hands were trapped between them: he moved to wrap his arms around her-
She gasped. He stopped.
Chat’s brow creased; felt his lips part of their own accord to ask. He hadn’t meant to move his fingers again but Ladybug’s grip on his waist suddenly tightened and she trembled.
A horrible idea occurred to him.
His blood turned to ice, and as it cooled he felt the heat blooming against his stomach, around his hand-
“L-Ladyb-”
She gave a great shuddering sigh and began to slide down his chest but he couldn’t catch her - he was frozen solid. Chat stared straight ahead into nothingness, jaw working silently while she sank, sank, sank… There was a sickening squelch as his claws were pulled free, his fingers chilling in the air as they dripped hot and red onto his boots.
No no no no no no no-
Ladybug silently melted to the ground. Her head lolled and dropped to her chest when her knees hit the concrete; she pressed one hand to her abdomen and held the other aloft, reaching for- But Chat Noir didn’t see. Couldn’t see. All he could see was the red.
He did this. He was responsible. So much blood and he could feel it. It was overwhelming. He could feel the warmth of it and the slickness and the heady coppery smell and the… The taste? He’d bit his own tongue. The suit was an impassible membrane but he could feel her seeping through the black, staining his fingers… His fault.
The thought shook him to the core. It roared in his ears. It seized his heart with a grip like iron and squeezed- No, that couldn’t be right! Chat’s mind tore itself to pieces trying to find an excuse, a way out, there wasn’t a fibre of his being that would ever wish harm upon his lady but-
He had. Somehow, Hawkmoth had dug around inside his skull and pulled from the depths of him some hidden urge to harm. Kill (he nearly screamed aloud as the word registered because she wasn’t- he couldn’t-). After all, akuma possessions were based upon whatever potential evil a person had within them; akumas don’t come from nothing. In his case, from what? He couldn’t tell you. He had no memory of what it was that had driven him to this but the fact was that something had. Not Hawkmoth: him. Chat’s chest was caving in on itself and he knew in that instant that he deserved to die.
It took a murmur of his name to snap him back to the present. He dropped like a stone: face twisting, lungs heaving, hands hovering in the air: how could he touch her after what he’d-
He blinked rapidly to clear his vision because she was right in front of him and he couldn’t see her because there were tears in the way and she was saying his name again, urgently. Her eyes were glazed but they softened when he met them and it hurt, god it hurt.
“Chat,” she breathed, her chest struggling to rise with the effort of staying upright. “Chat-”
He tried to respond but choked on a vowel instead. She blinked, and her gaze wandered over his face, down past his shoulder…
...to a small spotted object lying by his feet.
The effect was instantaneous: it was like the sun had come out.
She was saved (he was saved).
Half laughing, half sobbing, Chat’s head reeled as tension drained from his body and he lunged.
Of course. Of course! How could he forget, so stupid, his idiocy had nearly cost her- he didn’t finish the thought.
Hope lurched through his gut in a nauseating wave, slippery claws scrabbling for purchase of the little cylinder (a laser pointer - she’d tease him for the rest of his miserable life about that, and he’d be grateful for it, so grateful). He thrust it into her open hand and held it there - she couldn’t seem to grip it - closing his ruined fingers to push hers into a fist. Ladybug sighed, eyelids drooping as she began to tip backwards- Chat caught her this time, pulling her carefully against his chest again to keep her hand (it was slipping) in place over the liquid mess.
Relief. He’d never felt it so potently before and he hoped he’d never have to ever again. Relief for his partner. And so selfishly: relief for himself.
Ladybug blinked up at him and offered him a stunning smile, causing the air to exit his lungs in a rush. How could she direct such radiance at him: him. Only because he knew that she expected one in response could he convince his lips to crack into a broken grin. It was watery and ugly and only lasted for a second but he couldn’t deny her what she wanted. His innards curled tightly into themselves as he forced himself to maintain eye contact. It was excruciating, with the nerves and the guilt (the empty hollow in his chest would be there for the rest of his life) and his heartbeat still thundering in his ears.
Chat waited for the words.
...
“Miraculous Ladybug,” he coaxed, tilting her head slightly. It brought her face closer to his, but the usual exhilaration he felt from her nearness was quickly snuffed out. He didn’t deserve it. He never had.
Focus!
He hummed encouragingly. C’mon, Bugaboo...
But she was fading, he could tell. Her eyelids fluttered, and he felt her sag in his arms.
“Miraculous Ladybug!” he said again: loudly, firmly. Ladybug’s breathing came in shallow rattles now, the expansion and deflation of her chest short and slight. It felt like holding a bird. With her clutched to his body he could feel the tempo of her heart slowing…
The cold in his veins was back, making a steady advance through his limbs. Chat repeated the words like a chant, each incantation louder and higher until his voice cracked and why wasn’t she saying anything.
And why was she still smiling at him like that.
Chat’s heart leaped up his throat when her lips twitched. Yes! Her eyes, trained on his, widened minutely in panic and the smile slid off of her face (good, he thought savagely, now she understands). Her breathing quickened and Chat Noir felt giddy, like he was falling through space because, at last, she was going to say the words: his grip on her tightened, like he could squeeze them out of her-
Two words fell from Ladybug’s lips along with a bead of blood and they punched straight through him.
The wrong two words.
“Chat Noir.”