Noblesse Oblige

Chapitre onze

Author stuff: Who shot (at) Marinette? Let's find out!

...although I think y'all already know...

Chapitre onze

Scaredy Chat

Marinette stood frozen, looking wide-eyed at the arrow in the tree next to her. Her hands guarded the injury – wound? – on her nose. She didn't dare look over to the person who had shot at her. It had hurt. It still hurt.

"Marinette."

The word – her name – said so gently and worriedly, almost panicking over the noise of the waterfall, broke the spell. She drew her gaze away from the protruding shaft to look at her assailant.

Really, it couldn't have been anyone other than Chat Noir. She didn't know why she was so surprised to see him, but she was. And he was standing there, stupidly, blinking at her.

When she met his eyes, she felt something shift between them – a balance of some sort, something she couldn't quite explain. He moved toward her. He was by her side in an instant. His hands fluttering around her face, as if he was afraid to actually touch her – afraid that she might break if he did.

"You shot at me," she said, still protecting her nose. His hands – large and warm – hovered over hers. He gulped, green eyes terrified.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "Oh God, if I had shot a second later. Marinette, I... I could have..."

His voice cracked at those words. He didn't need to finish what he was going to say, she already knew. He could have killed her – an alarming notion, to say the least.

"You shot at me," she said again, glaring.

Some part of her felt bad, but another part felt completely justified in her reaction. Actually, that part felt she could do worse. It was the tears starting to well up in his eyes that kept her from slapping him. She couldn't blame him for feeling sorry.

Chat's knees buckled beneath him, and his arms wrapped around her waist. He held her close and breathed her in. He was all warmth and comfort around her, attempting to shield and protect her.

She felt... out of place, standing there. This was far too intimate of a situation for people who were only recently acquainted. How was she supposed to act? How was she supposed to react?

But she wasn't about to shove him off. He was justified in his reaction as well. He had almost shot her after all – someone who wasn't an enemy, someone who knew his friends quite well, someone he had vowed to help. No, pushing him away wouldn't accomplish anything other than make the situation a whole other mess of nasty.

"I'm... I'm alright," she said, setting her hands on his shoulders. "It's just my nose."

He snapped his head up. His eyes were still wet, but there were no trails down his cheeks. His hands went to her face as he rose, inspecting her nose. He gently guided her face this way and that with the subtle press of his fingertips.

She watched him as he intently studied the mark on her nose. She felt her neck and cheeks flush and hoped that the dim lighting hid it. He was so focused on the task that he didn't notice their faces slowly inching closer together, and she was too embarrassed to move away. Oh, God, was he going to –

"Hey, Adr– ah, er!"

They both jumped apart at the sudden sound of someone's voice. She reeled around, almost slipping and falling on the dew slick grass. She recognized the young man standing sheepishly away from them – though he seemed a little smug about something – she couldn't place his name, however.