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mostmagical · 4 months

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Hii @sincerely-kiwi! I'm your Secret Santa for the Ashville discord server Secret Santa exchange!! This got just a little away from me, so I'll be posting part 2 tomorrow :)

Words: 7.2k (Ch. 2/2) Summary:

After yet another late night akuma interrupts her sleepover, Ladybug and her partner are forced to find cover to recharge where an unexpected observation from Chat Noir leads to some equally unexpected revelations for Marinette (and maybe a few scars).

Read Chapter 1 either on Ao3 or below the cut!

The beeping in her ears was insistent as Ladybug touched down on the nearest rooftop from the battle location, Chat Noir sharp on her heels. A clothesline split the rooftop patio in half, long white linens blowing in the slight breeze, and she quickly dashed to the other side.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she couldn’t see her partner anymore from behind the makeshift cover. “Looks like this will do,” she said brightly. “No peeking!”

“You know I would never do such a thing!” Her partner’s voice carried an air of mock-affront, Ladybug only marginally holding back her giggle in response. “I’m a purr-fect gentleman.”

Regardless, her transformation dropped, Tikki spiralling into her hands. She smiled down at the kwami, rummaging around in her purse with one hand for one of the treats she had set aside. She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted down as she tried to locate something in the tiny bag—especially not when she spotted something she had never seen before.

On the other side of the sheet, Marinette could see two socked feet, connected to two pale legs. The sheet stopped at the top of the calf, so she couldn’t see anything other than that. Just two gray ankle socks. So simple and so un-Chat Noir-like she almost laughed in surprise. With him, she always thought of bright colors and patterns. A goofy guy like Chat Noir should be wearing goofy socks, in her honest opinion. The positioning of the sheet meant she could only imagine what else he might be wearing, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t, Marinette’s mind loved to imagine.

He must have been wearing some sort of short pants, considering she could see his bare skin. What kind of shorts would Chat Noir wear? Was he an athlete? Considering the sort of stunts she had seen him do on the daily, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was some sort of rugby player, or soccer— No, not soccer, she remembered with a smirk. So maybe rugby fit him best.

Part of her wondered if he had been getting ready for bed. Maybe he was in pajamas like her and Alya had been. The socks with no shoes certainly told her that he had been inside somewhere. What kind of thing might Chat Noir wear to bed? Did he wear goofy prints and sets with cats all over them? Or… less? No. Her face flushing red, Marinette quickly moved on to another line of thinking.

She wondered what Chat Noir wore on a day-to-day basis. Was he casual? More formal? What kind of colors did he like to wear?

Her mind drifted to the only other time she had seen him without a miraculous transformation, when he had run around in that banana suit. Now, that was an outfit befitting Chat Noir. She covered her mouth with one hand as a giggle threatened to break free at the memory.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a tail I see, m’Lady?”

Startled from her thoughts by the sudden voice, Marinette jumped straight up, breath catching in her throat with a gasp. As she came down, her feet seemed to trip over one another, and she fell backwards with half a shriek on her lips. Her body came crashing down into a collection of terracotta pots, the loud sound of shattering functioning as a backdrop as one broke directly under her elbow.

Marinette clamped her teeth together, bracing herself against the stinging pain in her arm.

Of course. Of course, she had completely forgotten she was wearing the outfit in the first place, and of course with her luck, the one person who couldn’t have possibly seen her in it actually saw her in it. Alya was going to have a field day when she heard about this. Her mind flashed back to their earlier conversation just before the akuma struck.

“What?” Marinette asked, turning to stare at Alya, having felt her friend’s eyes burning into the back of her head.

Alya snorted from across the room, shifting to hold the tray of cookies she held on her hip. “What are you wearing?” she asked.

Marinette looked down at herself, not seeing anything wrong with the black fabric covering her body. “My pajamas,” she answered simply. “I wanted to try making a onesie and I think it turned out pretty okay.” She shrugged, before remembering herself. “Oh! I made you one, too!” She quickly scrambled to her feet, rushing over to the far side of her desk where the pile of orange fabric was waiting for her. “Ta-da!”

The onesie unfurled between them as she dramatically presented it to Alya, orange tail lightly brushing against Marinette’s slippers as it fell.

“I’m also making some for Nino and Adrien, and probably Chat if I can figure out a good excuse for where it came from,” she continued to rapidly explain. “It’s a little silly, but I think they’d make great gifts!”

Alya stared at the presented outfit, eyebrows slowly raising. “M, that’s really cute! Thank you!” she said, stepping forward to finally place the tray down. “I do have to ask though, why Rena Rouge?”

“Why not Rena Rouge?” Marinette asked, winking. “She’s your favorite, right?”

“Sure, we can say that,” Alya laughed, “but you’re wearing Chat Noir.”

Marinette blinked, again looking down at her outfit. The golden bell she had fitted to the zipper pull glittered up at her. “Yeah, and?”

“Is he your favorite superhero?” Alya asked, a teasing grin on her face. Marinette did not enjoy the lilt of her tone.

Her face colored pink. “What?” she scoffed. “I don’t have favorites.”

Alya once again raised her eyebrows, staring Marinette down over the frames of her glasses. “Mmhmm,” she hummed. “You better hope he doesn’t see you in that, then.”

Marinette laughed. “Yeah, right! Like there’d be any chance of Chat seeing me in this.”

“With your luck?” Alya teased. “I think you better watch what you say.”

“Hey!” Marinette whined, folding the Rena Rouge onesie again and placing it on her desk. “That’s not—”

As if on cue, both their phones began ringing with an akuma alert.

“You were saying?” Alya laughed.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “But I’ll be transformed the whole time anyway.” She walked towards her window as she called for her transformation.

Alya just wiggled her fingers in a wave. “Say hi to your favorite superhero for me!”

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir frantically called from the other side of the sheet, breaking her from her thoughts. “What was that?” An arm-shaped silhouette pressed against the middle-most sheet, the outline of a boy becoming clearer, before it seemed to think better and disappeared. “Sorry! I didn’t see anything but the tail and I just couldn’t help myself!”

Marinette almost laughed, but the prominent throb of her arm had her screwing her mouth shut once again.

“Are you okay?” he called again when she didn’t respond, his voice strained with worry. “What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied. “I just fell, that's all.”

“I thought so,” he sighed. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m—” She cut herself off as she looked down at her arm. Her sleeve was torn, but that was an easy fix. An ugly red gash ran from the inside of her elbow to about halfway down her forearm, trickles of blood staining her skin. She hissed out through her teeth. “I’m fine,” she lied. Without thinking, she tried to brush some of the soil dusted over it away, but only served to hit the edges of the wound, causing her to hiss again.

“If you’re fine, what was that hiss?”

Panicked, Marinette squeaked, “Nothing!”

“No way.” She could hear a worried frown in his voice. “That sounded like an ‘I’m bleeding’ hiss. One of my friends makes that hiss all the time.”

“It was absolutely not an ‘I’m bleeding’ hiss.”

“So are you bleeding?”

Her voice came out small. “No.”

“My Lady.” His voice came out disbelieving.

“I’m not bleeding.”

“Yes, she is.”

Marinette gasped as she suddenly noticed Plagg beside her, looking down at her bloody injury. “Hey!”

Plagg looked up at her with a satisfied smirk before flying back over the clothesline divider.

Before she could make any complaints about privacy, Marinette heard her partner’s voice, quieter than she was used to. It had an air of something— was it feebleness? —to it that she never would have expected from him. “Ladybug, will you please let me see it?” he asked, pleading. “Please?”

Marinette blinked, stunned, and without even realizing what she was doing, she was standing up and walking back towards the sheet. It was only when she arrived back at her original position that she noticed there was a little issue with that plan. “Wait,” she said, “how am I supposed to show you? I’m not– My transformation will cover it up.”

“Don’t transform. Just stick your arm between the sheets here.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “No, I might…” Her voice went quieter as she finally admitted it. “I might stain them.”

“If you do, I’ll buy them a replacement.”

“What?”

“Here.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide as the sheets suddenly parted for her, a small gap about the size of her arm appearing.

“Just stick your arm through here. I won’t look anywhere else.”

Hesitantly, she complied, pushing her arm through the gap slowly. She cringed when she heard Chat’s gasp.

“It’s not that bad,” she defended.

“Not that bad?” She tried to ignore the sudden shock she felt when fingers wrapped around her wrist. Bare fingers. “Look at all this blood,” he continued. “Are you woozy? Does it hurt?”

“No.” There was a gentle prod to the inside of her elbow, right above where the cut began. Marinette hissed again.

“Yes,” Chat said, answering his own question. “I need to patch this up.” There were more prods along the gash, forcing a whimper out of Marinette’s mouth against her wishes. “Sorry, my Lady,” came his gentle voice, “I’m just trying to see how deep it is.”

She worried her bottom lip, trying to ignore the pain and the feeling of warm fingertips on her skin. “Does– Does it look deep?” she asked.

“It might be best for you to see a doctor in case you need stitch—”

“No! No stitches,” she refused. She didn’t even know how she would begin to explain this one to her parents.

“Okay, no stitches,” he relented, to her relief, “but we do need to stop this bleeding and cover it up. I’m worried you might get an infection.” His hand started to gently brush against her skin, sending the hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight. “What did you fall on? There’s dirt all over your arm.”

Marinette swallowed against the lump in her throat, looking over her shoulder at the destruction she left behind. “Uh, someone’s garden, it looks like,” she answered. “A few terracotta pots.”

Chat hummed in such a way that she could imagine his cat ears pressing flat against his head. “Is there a watering can or anything?”

“Uh, I mean…” She scanned over the shattered pots and scattered soil, spotting a squirt bottle just a bit away on a small gardening cart. “Yes, I see a squirt bottle. Why?”

“I need to clean this.”

“What?” she squeaked, turning back towards the sheet and his voice. “No– You don’t– I can just go home.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, firm enough to surprise her. “I don’t want this to get any deeper than it already is, so it’s best I take care of this now.”

“This is silly,” Marinette whined. She tried to pull away, but his grip was strong around her wrist. Struggling only made the pain flare up again. “You really don’t have to.”

“Tikki,” Chat Noir called instead, ignoring her pleas. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here!” Tikki replied, floating into Marinette’s point of view.

“Hide! Don’t let her leave!”

Marinette gasped in her betrayal as Tikki giggled. “You got it, Chat Noir!”

“Wait, you can’t do that.” She glared at Tikki who simply waved and dashed away out of sight. “You can’t turn my own kwami against me.”

“Too bad,” he laughed. “Now, about that spray bottle. Plagg, would you mind?”

Marinette watched in disbelief as Chat Noir’s kwami reappeared from over the sheet and flew towards the squirt bottle. “So, no one’s on my side?”

Chat chuckled again from the other side, his fingers now drawing small circles on the inside of her wrist that she would never admit felt very nice. “Just trying to keep the hero of Paris safe from harm. How are you supposed to throw a yoyo if you end up needing a cast? What if it needs amputation?”

She groaned, her free arm crossing over her chest in protest. Her injured arm was held captive on the other side, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to break free or not. Chat Noir’s soft hand gently squeezed her elbow as he folded her torn sleeve over it. She swallowed. Maybe this was fine.

Plagg flew back over their makeshift divider, squirt bottle grasped between his tiny paws, and disappeared again from Marinette’s sight.

She heard a slight sloshing, as if Chat Noir had shaken the bottle.

“Okay, it looks clean,” he sighed. “It’ll have to do. I’m just going to spray a little water on your arm to clean off this dirt, okay?”

Marinette nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see her. “Okay,” she agreed.

The water wasn’t cold, but it still surprised her when it hit her skin. A gentle hand— feather-light, as if afraid to touch her— brushed at her skin for a moment before more water was sprayed over her arm.

Chat Noir made a disappointed sound. “I really wish I had some rubbing alcohol…” he murmured. His voice was louder as he dictated an instruction to her, “When you get home, wash this again with warm water and then clean the edges with rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. If you have any antibiotic ointments, even better. That’ll stave off any bacteria from making a home here.”

She bit her lip, trying to commit his words to her memory. “Okay.”

“And then cover it with a clean bandage, okay? Don’t just reuse the old one.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” she commented.

Chat hummed approvingly. “I have a first aid certification.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Chat Noir, RN, at your service.”

Her mind conjured an image of Chat Noir, cat ears and all, in a white doctor’s coat, and she couldn’t help the snort that blew through her nose as a result. She paused as she recalled his earlier statement. “Wait, you’re going to bandage it?”

“I have to,” he said assuredly. “If I leave it open, it might just keep bleeding, or it’ll get infected.”

“Oh…” She furrowed her brows. “But where are you going to get a bandage?”

Chat Noir went quiet for a moment. It felt like he had finished cleaning the wound, and his hand still holding the underside of her forearm tapped a pattern on her skin with one finger.

“I got it,” he finally said. “One second. Stay still.”

The warmth of his hand left her, and she was surprised to realize she missed that anchor. Without it, she was reminded of the ache of the gash on her arm. She tucked her free hand under her armpit to try and support her own weight, chewing her lip.

There was a quiet rustling noise on the other side, followed by the very familiar sound of tearing fabric.

Marinette jolted, reacting immediately. “Chat, you better not be ripping up someone else’s laundry!” she growled. “I don’t care if you promise to replace it!”

“I’m not,” he replied. “This is my shirt.”

“What.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda old and I have plenty more at ho–”

“You took off your shirt?” Marinette interrupted. “Like… the one off your back?”

“I mean, yes, it’s the only one I had.”

Don’t picture shirtless Chat Noir, don’t picture shirtless Chat Noir, don’t picture—

She wished she could bury her face in her hands.

“Ladybug?”

With a flaming face, she realized she had been silent for far too long. “I– uh, you thank– Thank you,” she winced, hearing herself stutter— Ladybug wasn’t supposed to stutter—, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“No problem,” he said, as if it really didn’t matter to him that he had actually ripped the shirt off his back just to clean up her bloody mess. “I’m going to touch you again, okay?”

Marinette made a short grunt of acknowledgement, bracing herself for the feeling of his warm hands on her skin again. It came with the feeling of soft cotton fabric pressing against her, the dull ache growing sharper as he pressed against her wound.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

She chose to be honest. “It– It hurts a little, but I’m okay.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved. “It looks like the bleeding is slowing down.”

Considering all she felt was ache and wet, she decided she would take his word for it. They fell into what Marinette thought was a comfortable silence— him dabbing at her skin, and her standing still and allowing him to care for her. She tried to imagine it was just a regular trip to the nurse’s office.

In the dark. On a rooftop. In the middle of the night.

Totally normal.

After a few moments, the dabbing ceased, and instead she felt a dry cloth begin to be applied to her skin, gently wrapping around her arm.

Soon enough, Chat Noir broke the silence. “I’m really sorry, again, by the way,” he said, regret mixed with sincerity tinting the edges of his tone. “I know you said not to look and I promise I wasn’t, but I just happened to glance down and thought I saw a tail and what else could I do? Not mention it?”

Marinette steadfastly ignored the way her cheeks heated up. She couldn’t exactly get mad at him when she had been doing the same thing, after all. “It’s not your fault that I fell, you know,” she told him instead.

“It kinda feels like it is.”

“It’s not.”

Chat Noir once again fell silent on the other side of the sheet, quietly continuing his work.

Marinette tried to focus on anything other than the feeling of his fingers pressing against her skin or the melancholy hanging over them, but it was too heavy. She swallowed the lump in her throat hard enough to hurt, a dry, aching feeling pulling at her insides.

She knew what she had to do. “It is a tail,” she admitted.

Chat’s hands stopped moving. A pause fell between them. After a moment passed, he asked, “Why are you wearing a tail?”

She chewed her lip, almost regretting her decision to come clean, but she pushed through the nerves. “It’s part of my Chat Noir onesie.”

“Your what?”

He had genuine shock in his voice, clearly having heard what she said. With a laugh on the edge of her lips, Marinette tapped the bell on her zipper, letting its quiet chime answer his question for her.

“A bell?” The grip on her wrist tightened for a second before it went lax again, as if he had realized what he had done. “Oh man, I want to look so bad. Why did you do this to me?”

She laughed then, wishing she could see his face. “Just wanted you to ‘B positive,’ I guess.”

He gasped, and she could just imagine his little cat ears perking up on his head. “Oh, milady, I’m O positive you always know just what to say to make me feel better,” he laughed.

Marinette grinned, proud her little distraction worked so well. “Hey, why did the cat go to vet school?”

“Hmm… To take care of his lady?”

“No! To become a purr-fessional!”

He laughed again, loud and full. “God, I love you.”

Her breath caught in her throat at how casually he said it. She had heard him say it a thousand times, but it never failed to make her heart beat a little faster. A strangled noise made its way out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he said. “That just slipped out. I know you don’t really want to hear me say that anymore. I meant ‘love you’ like a friend.”

“R-right…”

She didn’t want to hear that. That is what she had told him before.

Right?

There was a slight tug at the bend of her arm. “Well, you’re all set now,” Chat declared. “Miraculous Ladybug.”

She snorted. “Don’t you mean ‘Mister Bug’?”

“One of us is more miraculous than the other,” he replied. Before she could argue against him, he continued, “You even have your spots outside of the costume.”

“What do you mean?” Feeling his hands release her, she pulled her hand back through the gap. Her arm was now wrapped in white fabric, a black stripe running twice around her forearm, and a neat knot tied at her elbow. She smiled, impressed at how seamless it looked.

“Inside your wrist,” he answered, drawing her eyes to the spot. “You have two freckles. Looks just like Adalia bipunctata.”

“A-what?”

“Two-spot ladybird. It’s a ladybug.”

“Oh.” She giggled. “I have more than that,” she admitted. “In the summer, I get freckles all up and down my arms from the sun. These two just like to hang out year-round.”

“Really?” he gasped. “So you really are a real-life ladybug?”

“Maybe I am,” she teased. “Do you actually like scratches behind the ear?”

“You want to give it a try now?”

She scoffed. “You wish, kitty,” she laughed. “Tikki, you can come out now! I’m all patched up!”

A couple transformations later, Ladybug was back in her suit. She clenched and unclenched the hand on her injured arm a few times, testing the feeling. Her skin stung a bit at the pull, but otherwise it felt fine.

The hanging sheet in front of her shifted, and Chat Noir’s black pointed ears poked through the gap. He had a grin on his face. “Feel okay?” he asked.

Ladybug smiled. “Good as new.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied, stepping fully onto her side of the clothesline. “Well, then I guess I’ll see you next time, milady. Have a good night.”

“Wait,” Ladybug said, watching as his face turned questioning. She stepped closer, throwing her arms around his neck before she could talk herself out of it. “Thank you for taking care of me, Chaton.”

He was stiff at first, but soon melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle. “That’s what I’m here for, Buginette,” he muttered into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, again–”

“No, nope.” She pulled back, placing her hands on either side of his face to force him to look at her. His eyes were wide. “If you ever blame yourself for my clumsiness again, I won’t bring chouquettes for patrol anymore.”

“Whoa!” he gasped, eyebrows raising. “Threat perceived.”

“Good.” She patted his cheek gently before stepping out of his arms once more. “Good night, Chat Noir.”

“Night, Ladybug.”

With a flick of her wrist, she left him standing on the rooftop, heading back home and to her and Alya’s abandoned sleepover.

When Alya saw the wrapping on Marinette’s arm and her torn sleeve, she was understandably concerned.

“What happened to you?” she asked, rushing to her feet.

Marinette grinned, holding her hands up in a placating fashion. “Just a normal little slip,” she explained. “I’ll be right back, though,” she said, heading towards the trap door in her bedroom floor. “I promised Chat Noir I’d clean and change the bandage when I got home.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll explain when I get back!”

Marinette quickly made her way to the bathroom, pulling open the medicine cabinet where she knew her mother kept the first aid kit. She soon located the rubbing alcohol and a few skin-colored bandages to replace Chat’s shirt. Carefully, she undid his work, wincing when she got a look at the gash again. Luckily, it wasn’t bleeding anymore, but that didn’t stop it from looking scary. She set aside the torn fabric on the corner of the sink and got to work cleaning the wound.

Once she was finished, she carefully returned all the supplies to the kit and threw away her used cotton balls. She reached for the shirt as well, but paused when her eye caught on a gray tab sticking straight up.

The label was still intact on the collar of Chat Noir’s shirt.

She only faltered for a second before curiosity got the better of her. Her thumb brushed over the seam, turning it over until she could clearly see a stylized ‘G’ that she recognized all too well.

Eyes widening, Marinette wondered what kind of wardrobe Chat Noir had at home to tear up a designer Gabriel shirt without a second thought.

#ml fanfic #ladynoir #ashville secret santa 2023 #ashville secret santa #miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous #my writing

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