[Her partner's hurt. Ladybug tries not to look toward the street, where a black form lies motionless, as she launches herself at the akuma desperately, one hand clutching the perfume bottle Lucky Charm had given her in a death grip. One spray right to the akuma's face and the scent quickly overwhelms the akuma's heightened sense of smell. As he sneezes furiously, Ladybug grabs the bandana tied to his arm and rips it in half. She barely spares a glance at the cleansed butterfly and the akuma victim before dashing right to her partner's side.
There's a nasty gash on the back of his head, and blood seeping into his blond hair. Ladybug bites her lip, knowing this is one image she won't be able to get out of her head for a while yet. To make things worse, she hears a familiar, warning beep from Chat Noir's ring. With him still out cold, she has no choice but to pick him up in her arms and dash away before his transformation can wear off in the middle of a street. There's little time left for her, too, she realizes with a cold feeling in her gut.
In her panic, she latches onto the first safe place that comes to mind: her home. She barely manages to place Chat Noir on the balcony chair before leaping through the trapdoor and into her room. Her transformation wears off just as her feet touch the floor. Marinette covers her face with her hands, heart still beating fast as everything finally catches up to her.]
Oh my god. [Marinette looks up toward the ceiling, hearing faint voices which can only mean that he's awake. In his civilian clothes.] What are you going to do, Marinette? [She feels Tikki touching her cheek in concern. She squares her shoulders, breathing deeply.]
I don't know yet, Tikki, but I can't leave him up there without saying anything. [With a quick "You stay down here" to her kwami, Marinette climbs back up to her balcony. Though she'd already had a strong sense of foreboding, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Adrien Agreste standing there. The implications hit her and she gasps before she can stop herself.]
[ adrien wakes up from the haze in a both unfamiliar but familiar area; plagg's knocked out, fatigued, on his chest, though that soon changes when his charge bolts up. costume-less. he had been chat noir... there was ladybug, the danger and he— like always he just acted, and then there was a blackness like his name. he's adrien as he peers very carefully onto the streets, sinking back as he recognizes the area as marinette's family bakery.
his head isn't the only thing that protests at such quick action. plagg recovers just as adrien lifts a hand up to the pain that hits him at the back of the head so suddenly, though the boy's hardly giving any thought to that. he's fully aware of every detail of the injury, and even as he sways somewhat grasping the armrest of the chair he had woken up in for stability, he's not thinking about the gash or the blood at all. ]
What a rude wake up! All this hard work, but I can't even get a proper nap—
Plagg... [ is adrien's distracted response. did he mess up? if he was here, that meant it had to be ladybug that brought him. that brought all the thoughts rushing forward, a million explanations and maybes and implications buzzing through his mind.
ladybug brought him to marinette's house. did that mean ladybug was marinette? no, no, his lady was always so careful about her identity, so maybe instead she brought him to a place she knew was safe, which was marinette's place, which meant marinette at least knew ladybug, that would make sense from that time with le dessinateur wouldn't it and god, his head. ]
And now you're overthinking it all again. Do you even know what you did?
I know, I know— [ did that mean marinette knew who ladybug was? ladybug knew who he was, maybe, unless she just left him here and then bolted but he doubts she would've, not without knowing he was at least okay and had someone who could handle him, so did marinette know who he was or... ugh. ]
Tell me when you've got some cheese and you're done giving yourself a heada—
[ sounds from below. ]
— Plagg. [ he says again, as a warning, though adrien finds it almost silly that he's motioning for his kwami to disappear into his clothes when he'd been sitting there unconscious and exposed for who knows how long, but it's a habit and a reflex.
he's not sure who's coming up. there's a part of him that expects ladybug, and there's a part of him that expects marinette, and then there's a part of him that's saying is there a difference while another tells him that of course there is, there's no way what he's been waiting for would be this simple or this clumsy or as easy as getting clobbered on the head—
it's marinette. she gasps, and maybe she knows, but he doesn't know if "it's marinette" is the answer to the question beyond just "who came out of the trapdoor". the buzzing doesn't stop. the only thing he can muster together in the muddled everything that is this entire situation is a very lame, weak: ]
... Uh. Hey.
[ I'M CHAT NOIR! is not what he proclaims from the rooftops. everything about adrien at the moment betrays his absolutely reeling inside.
[Whatever (small) part of her that had been considering the truth immediately shuts down. Through her shock, one thought remains clear, driven by fear: he can't know. If she had feared Chat Noir would be disappointed by her civilian self, it's doubly true for the boy standing in front of her now. Adrien. Who she's been crushing on since he joined their class.
Inwardly, she shrinks away from the rejection--inevitably given if she reveals herself--and slams the walls back in place. Her eyes find a spot on the ground even as her fingers twist together nervously.]
H-hey. Ladybug--she said. She said you were injured in the akuma attack. [Her words tumble out of her mouth, quiet and disjointed. At least that hasn't changed, though a part of her is still reeling from trying to match Adrien to Chat and Chat to Adrien. They're like pieces of a puzzle that aren't fitting together right, and Marinette knows she has a lot of thinking to do tonight. She has to make sense of this somehow. She has to if she's ever going to face Adrien and Chat again.
Marinette breathes in, forcing herself to pretend she's Ladybug talking to Chat (it's technically true, isn't it?) and the words flow a little more easily. It does nothing to erase the bitter taste of the lies on her tongue, though.]
She couldn't stay, but she didn't want to leave you while you were hurt. [Another deep breath.] I...I can help you clean up if you want?
[ yes. yes, it's not that simple, he just wouldn't be able to... know her that easily through a mistake— his mistake, though he can never quite consider his jumping into the fray to make sure she's unharmed a mistake.
inside, there's unwilling deliberations. remember the history book? ladybug's "secret" mission when you had to protect marinette? she's never there but at the same time always there, in the same way you are— all things he shuts down immediately. he'd sworn he wouldn't wonder too hard about it; ladybug didn't want him to wonder.
and if she wasn't telling him now, she still didn't want him to know, did he? she couldn't stay.
there's that familiar disappointment bubbling in his chest, but it's fair, it's her choice. marinette is here, remember, so he gathers the slivers of chat. focuses on her. on the now. ]
I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh? [ hhhow is he supposed to act? like adrien, out of comfort? chat, because that's the truth? beyond the question of ladybug, there's a liberation here now that someone knows, even through the discomfort that the no strings attached freedom's clicking with a part of his very rigid lifestyle (that's a risk, isn't it? it's always a risk in these cases, for marinette too). still, it's the former that gets the shadow of a: ] Princess.
[ out of his mouth, before he even knows what he's doing. it's not quite as strong as it would've been with the black mask. his smile is much more adrien than chat at the moment, too, when he finally wipes the carefully pensive look on his face and replaces it with something reassuring. ]
... Sorry, that was probably— [ weird as hell? too much too soon? shoving this giant everything on her with no warning? just move on from that. adrien shakes his head. probably a mistake, but he ignores the consequences. ] —I mean, thanks for the offer. Would that be okay? If it's not too much trouble. I can't really go home like this.
[ gabriel agreste would never let him out of the house again. ]
[Princess. Wow, it's weird hearing Chat's words from Adrien's mouth, so completely has she separated the two of them in her mind. But there really is no denying it now. Marinette's hands twist together even more as she forces herself to look up, though she still avoids his eyes. She's always been terrible at hiding things, and there's no way she can disguise the conflict she's feeling from Adrien.]
I-it's okay. I won't--tell anyone. [With the stuttering and the pauses, it doesn't sound half as convincing as she'd hoped. What am I doing? This is Chat I'm talking to. Get a grip! Marinette squares her shoulders, forces her voice to stop shaking so much.] I won't tell anyone. I promise.
[Before she can lose the burst of determination, Marinette studies him critically, gaze lingering on the blood in his hair.] Patching you up isn't a problem. Where else are you injured?
[ that almost nets marinette a laugh, though it all comes out as an awkward chuckle. he's still not entirely comfortable, and he's still not entirely certain what to do about this... but he supposes if anyone was to find out, marinette was one of those that were... fine. marinette was good.
idly, he wonders what she's thinking—this is probably odd for her. weird. beyond understanding, and he gets that. muted adrien agreste is about as far from chat noir as it gets; that's exactly what he aims for. ]
... That means a lot. [ genuinely. at her question a hand goes up to the back of his head, touching the injury there tentatively (with a small wince). ] It's just— my head, I think.
[ both physically and mentally. magic suits and all meant injuries anywhere else were pretty hard to get, so at least he doesn't have bruises to go with this headache. ]
Okay. [Seeing the flinch as he touched the injury snaps everything into focus. The concern washes away the nervousness, her stutter all but gone when she speaks up again.] I need to clean the blood away first before I apply medicine.
Come on, you can-- [She breaks off abruptly, the confident, authoritative tone suddenly disappearing in a squeak. A flash of horror on her face is all he's able to catch before she turns away.
Oh no. The pictures. She got so caught up in the conversation, she'd forgotten one very important fact: Adrien's face is plastered everywhere in her room. Panicking, Marinette practically throws herself at the trapdoor she was about to lead him through.]
Be right back! [It's not quite an undignified yelp, but it might as well be. She pauses as she's lowering herself down and glowers at him with all the ferocity she can manage.] And don't you dare peek!
[She slams the trapdoor shut and becomes a whirlwind of action, pulling down the glossy posters as quickly as she can.]
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for adrien
There's a nasty gash on the back of his head, and blood seeping into his blond hair. Ladybug bites her lip, knowing this is one image she won't be able to get out of her head for a while yet. To make things worse, she hears a familiar, warning beep from Chat Noir's ring. With him still out cold, she has no choice but to pick him up in her arms and dash away before his transformation can wear off in the middle of a street. There's little time left for her, too, she realizes with a cold feeling in her gut.
In her panic, she latches onto the first safe place that comes to mind: her home. She barely manages to place Chat Noir on the balcony chair before leaping through the trapdoor and into her room. Her transformation wears off just as her feet touch the floor. Marinette covers her face with her hands, heart still beating fast as everything finally catches up to her.]
Oh my god. [Marinette looks up toward the ceiling, hearing faint voices which can only mean that he's awake. In his civilian clothes.] What are you going to do, Marinette? [She feels Tikki touching her cheek in concern. She squares her shoulders, breathing deeply.]
I don't know yet, Tikki, but I can't leave him up there without saying anything. [With a quick "You stay down here" to her kwami, Marinette climbs back up to her balcony. Though she'd already had a strong sense of foreboding, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Adrien Agreste standing there. The implications hit her and she gasps before she can stop herself.]
u3u ugh i tl;dred im sorry
his head isn't the only thing that protests at such quick action. plagg recovers just as adrien lifts a hand up to the pain that hits him at the back of the head so suddenly, though the boy's hardly giving any thought to that. he's fully aware of every detail of the injury, and even as he sways somewhat grasping the armrest of the chair he had woken up in for stability, he's not thinking about the gash or the blood at all. ]
What a rude wake up! All this hard work, but I can't even get a proper nap—
Plagg... [ is adrien's distracted response. did he mess up? if he was here, that meant it had to be ladybug that brought him. that brought all the thoughts rushing forward, a million explanations and maybes and implications buzzing through his mind.
ladybug brought him to marinette's house. did that mean ladybug was marinette? no, no, his lady was always so careful about her identity, so maybe instead she brought him to a place she knew was safe, which was marinette's place, which meant marinette at least knew ladybug, that would make sense from that time with le dessinateur wouldn't it and god, his head. ]
And now you're overthinking it all again. Do you even know what you did?
I know, I know— [ did that mean marinette knew who ladybug was? ladybug knew who he was, maybe, unless she just left him here and then bolted but he doubts she would've, not without knowing he was at least okay and had someone who could handle him, so did marinette know who he was or... ugh. ]
Tell me when you've got some cheese and you're done giving yourself a heada—
[ sounds from below. ]
— Plagg. [ he says again, as a warning, though adrien finds it almost silly that he's motioning for his kwami to disappear into his clothes when he'd been sitting there unconscious and exposed for who knows how long, but it's a habit and a reflex.
he's not sure who's coming up. there's a part of him that expects ladybug, and there's a part of him that expects marinette, and then there's a part of him that's saying is there a difference while another tells him that of course there is, there's no way what he's been waiting for would be this simple or this clumsy or as easy as getting clobbered on the head—
it's marinette. she gasps, and maybe she knows, but he doesn't know if "it's marinette" is the answer to the question beyond just "who came out of the trapdoor". the buzzing doesn't stop. the only thing he can muster together in the muddled everything that is this entire situation is a very lame, weak: ]
... Uh. Hey.
[ I'M CHAT NOIR! is not what he proclaims from the rooftops. everything about adrien at the moment betrays his absolutely reeling inside.
C'EST LA VIE. ]
don't be it's great ;o;
Inwardly, she shrinks away from the rejection--inevitably given if she reveals herself--and slams the walls back in place. Her eyes find a spot on the ground even as her fingers twist together nervously.]
H-hey. Ladybug--she said. She said you were injured in the akuma attack. [Her words tumble out of her mouth, quiet and disjointed. At least that hasn't changed, though a part of her is still reeling from trying to match Adrien to Chat and Chat to Adrien. They're like pieces of a puzzle that aren't fitting together right, and Marinette knows she has a lot of thinking to do tonight. She has to make sense of this somehow. She has to if she's ever going to face Adrien and Chat again.
Marinette breathes in, forcing herself to pretend she's Ladybug talking to Chat (it's technically true, isn't it?) and the words flow a little more easily. It does nothing to erase the bitter taste of the lies on her tongue, though.]
She couldn't stay, but she didn't want to leave you while you were hurt. [Another deep breath.] I...I can help you clean up if you want?
you're greater aaaa
inside, there's unwilling deliberations. remember the history book? ladybug's "secret" mission when you had to protect marinette? she's never there but at the same time always there, in the same way you are— all things he shuts down immediately. he'd sworn he wouldn't wonder too hard about it; ladybug didn't want him to wonder.
and if she wasn't telling him now, she still didn't want him to know, did he? she couldn't stay.
there's that familiar disappointment bubbling in his chest, but it's fair, it's her choice. marinette is here, remember, so he gathers the slivers of chat. focuses on her. on the now. ]
I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh? [ hhhow is he supposed to act? like adrien, out of comfort? chat, because that's the truth? beyond the question of ladybug, there's a liberation here now that someone knows, even through the discomfort that the no strings attached freedom's clicking with a part of his very rigid lifestyle (that's a risk, isn't it? it's always a risk in these cases, for marinette too). still, it's the former that gets the shadow of a: ] Princess.
[ out of his mouth, before he even knows what he's doing. it's not quite as strong as it would've been with the black mask. his smile is much more adrien than chat at the moment, too, when he finally wipes the carefully pensive look on his face and replaces it with something reassuring. ]
... Sorry, that was probably— [ weird as hell? too much too soon? shoving this giant everything on her with no warning? just move on from that. adrien shakes his head. probably a mistake, but he ignores the consequences. ] —I mean, thanks for the offer. Would that be okay? If it's not too much trouble. I can't really go home like this.
[ gabriel agreste would never let him out of the house again. ]
no you
I-it's okay. I won't--tell anyone. [With the stuttering and the pauses, it doesn't sound half as convincing as she'd hoped. What am I doing? This is Chat I'm talking to. Get a grip! Marinette squares her shoulders, forces her voice to stop shaking so much.] I won't tell anyone. I promise.
[Before she can lose the burst of determination, Marinette studies him critically, gaze lingering on the blood in his hair.] Patching you up isn't a problem. Where else are you injured?
no YOU
idly, he wonders what she's thinking—this is probably odd for her. weird. beyond understanding, and he gets that. muted adrien agreste is about as far from chat noir as it gets; that's exactly what he aims for. ]
... That means a lot. [ genuinely. at her question a hand goes up to the back of his head, touching the injury there tentatively (with a small wince). ] It's just— my head, I think.
[ both physically and mentally. magic suits and all meant injuries anywhere else were pretty hard to get, so at least he doesn't have bruises to go with this headache. ]
I'm sorry lol
Come on, you can-- [She breaks off abruptly, the confident, authoritative tone suddenly disappearing in a squeak. A flash of horror on her face is all he's able to catch before she turns away.
Oh no. The pictures. She got so caught up in the conversation, she'd forgotten one very important fact: Adrien's face is plastered everywhere in her room. Panicking, Marinette practically throws herself at the trapdoor she was about to lead him through.]
Be right back! [It's not quite an undignified yelp, but it might as well be. She pauses as she's lowering herself down and glowers at him with all the ferocity she can manage.] And don't you dare peek!
[She slams the trapdoor shut and becomes a whirlwind of action, pulling down the glossy posters as quickly as she can.]