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Cats purr when they're sick or injured just as much as they do when they're content.
Cats purr when they're dying, possibly- probably- as a form of self-comfort.
Ivan is really starting to wish that he didn't know that, because Chat Noir has not stopped purring since they got caught down here.
Restless and unwilling to think too hard about the sound of Chat's soft purr from somewhere behind him (about how weak Chat's purr sounds), Ivan gets up and tries shoving at the rock and debris again. Nothing moves any more than it did the last three or four or thirteen times he's tried.
He... he hasn't exactly been counting.
Ivan can't see in the darkness down here, or at least not more than the faintest shadows, so he doesn't know how hurt Chat Noir is. He just knows that Chat Noir's hurt.
Chat Noir's hurt because Ivan had tried- like an idiot, but he'd tried- to throw himself in front of Chat Noir in the moment that they'd both realised that Ladybug hadn't seen the boulders being thrown their way.
If Chat Noir hadn't slipped around in an inhuman movement to get in front of Ivan instead maybe Chat wouldn't be so hurt.
Ivan would have been okay, eventually. After the battle. After Ladybug wins. She doesn't need Ivan to win the way she needs Chat Noir.
Chat shouldn't have stepped in front of the rocks.
Chat had tried to Cataclysm the ground out from under them first, to get them both out of the way, but he hadn't managed it in time and the boulders had followed them down and penned them in and-
And all but crushed Chat, when he was already injured.
Ivan had managed to get the worst of it cleared, after what must have been several extremely frantic minutes- Ivan doesn't own a watch, and his phone just is as crushed as Chat Noir everything else- but then Chat Noir had been terrifyingly unresponsive. Ivan's still afraid to so much as touch him. He can't see, he doesn't know exactly where Chat Noir is injured, he doesn't want to make things worse. He doesn't want to jostle anything important. He doesn't want to cause Chat any more pain.
Ladybug hasn't come after them.
It's not like her not to come after them, or at least it's not like her not to come after Chat Noir. She couldn't have seen the boulders in time either or they wouldn't have hit Chat Noir. If Ladybug knew that Chat and Ivan were down here, they wouldn't still be down here.
She hasn't shown.
She probably thinks they're both dead again.
Ivan swallows hard at that thought. It's not like it'd be the first time, but he still hates it. He hates the strange blank void in his memories and the way his body always seems to take hours to get the memo that he's not dead, that he's still here, even though it always takes time for the feeling that he shouldn't be to fade again.
(Ivan's fairly sure that it's taking a little longer each time and he doesn't like the implications).
It's terrifying.
He's trying really hard not to think about how often Chat Noir must have felt that way. How many times he's sacrificed himself, without a whisper of complaint.
Ivan knows he's not like that himself. He hadn't even meant to be in this battle. He's only here because Hawkmoth has terrible timing and because Igneous had thrown a rock barrier around the immediate area, trapping most of their class inside.
Why is it always their class?
Ivan can't see Chat Noir in their little rubble-filled cave, but he can still hear him purring. Chat Noir's purr started out loud and keeps fading softer over time, interspersed with hitching breaths and pained whimpers and a beeping sound Ivan is also trying not to think about, because if anyone just does not deserve the barest hint at the hero's identities it's him.
He was the first one they fought.
He was the one they fought before ever knowing that it- that it wasn't him-
Ivan shoves those thoughts away too, slams them into a mental box and locks the key and then visualizes giving the key over to Mylène. It's not exactly the kind of healthy coping mechanism his dad keeps urging him to try but it's the one that works so Ivan's gonna use it and screw whether or not it's healthy in the long run. If Hawkmoth keeps his bullshit up long enough none of them are gonna have a long run, because Ladybug can't bring them back if Ladybug loses.
Chat Noir's purr falters, just slightly. It picks up again a second later, but not loudly enough to cover his Miraculous letting out a final beep.
Ivan's glad that he has to cover his eyes for the flash of light.
Ivan maybe leaps back so fast he slams into the (stupid, immovable) wall of debris when another voice echoes through their tiny space.
(He doesn't know how much air is in here. Or isn't in here).
"Kid, get up. You gotta get up. I know it hurts, alright, but she's gonna need us."
Ivan...
Ivan bristles.
Chat's hurt. He doesn't need to jump back into the fight, he needs to heal. He needs to- he needs to not be here, but he can't jump straight back into the fight, he'll die.
He might anyway, but Ivan's stomach lurches sickly when he thinks about that and he shoves it into that same mental box and adds more locks. Like a dozen more locks.
Ivan stalks towards this new voice (at least as much as he can stalk in such a small space), and almost grabs for him before thinking better of it. He can't see to make sure he's not grabbing Chat, after all.
Ivan does stop dead when the newcomer- and it's slowly occurring to him to wonder how that's even possible- starts to purr even louder than Chat.
To Ivan's surprise, he hears Chat Noir draw in a shallow breath and let it out in a rusty, worryingly wet chuckle. "Ivan, this is my kwami, Plagg. Plagg, Ivan."
Ivan hadn't thought that Chat was coherent.
He doesn't think about how many times he's tried to get through the wall of debris and failed. He doesn't think about just what he's probably said in the midst of swearing at their situation. He definitely doesn't think about how sometime between attempts seven and fifteen he'd leaned his forehead against the wall and just breathed for what must have been at least ten minutes, trying and failing to calm down.
(Their fights are usually over so much faster than this).
Chat quiets down again right after that. His breathing is still slow and uneven and wet, his purring still stutters periodically, and Ivan immediately wishes he'd kept talking.
Because the dark is fuzzing the edges of Ivan's vision again, greying it out even though it's not like he can see in the first place, and Ivan's own breath catches as he feels the crushing weight of the stone around them again.
He doesn't know if he'd call it claustrophobia, what he has. He's fine in most small spaces. He's fine sharing them, even, and any space he tries to share is automatically a much smaller space than it was without him in it.
He is not okay with the overwhelming press of stone.
"Kid, you gotta- oh. You too. Right, both of you gotta breathe." The voice, Chat's kwami, Plagg sounds-
Ivan was prepared to be furious with him, because he told Chat that he has to fight, but Ivan is slowly realising that Chat didn't get up when Plagg told him Ladybug needs him.
Plagg told Chat Noir that Ladybug needs him and he didn't get up.
Ivan starts breathing, all right. Much faster.
"Oh come on!" Plagg's voice is strained. Chat's still purring, still stuttering, and if Ivan had thought that was at all a conscious action before he doesn't think so now.
"Sorry, Plagg," Chat says faintly, hoarsely. "You know I'm not so- not so good with. With small spaces." He breathes, in and out, and purrs, and Ivan tries to slow down his own breathing and heartbeat to match. "Ivan? You, uh. Are you claustrophobic, too?"
Too?
Ivan had just wanted to get home and start dinner and maybe FaceTime Mylène. He didn't want this. He'd just wanted to go home.
Like Hawkmoth cares what anyone else wants. Like Hawkmoth has ever cared.
"No." Ivan tries to sit down with his back to the wall. He can't do it; he's up again and pressing for spaces between the rocks in no time at all. He should have known, he's tried a few times already. "Not exactly, I just don't like- It's the stone." He takes a deep breath and realises to his surprise that he's matching Chat's kwami breath for breath now. "Small spaces aren't a problem, but the stone-"
He stops, shuddering to a halt.
"Oh." Chat's voice is quiet, and when he draws in another wet breath he's obviously struggling for it. "Lucky. I mean not, I guess, but I'm. It is the small spaces for me."
Ivan flinches, both because this is very much a small space and because it's his fault they're here at all.
Chat's still purring, audible even through the sound of his laboured breathing. Somehow knowing that Chat Noir is claustrophobic makes the sound even less reassuring.
It hadn't been reassuring to Ivan from the start.
He'd had a cat. He'd lost her a few years before Hawkmoth had shown up.
Maizie had purred so much, those last few weeks. She'd curled up in his lap for hours every day and purred like she knew she wouldn't have the chance again.
Ivan shakes himself, hard. Chat Noir is going to be fine. He's not-
He's going to be fine.
Once Ladybug wins, they'll be fine.
(If Ladybug wins. Plagg said she needed help. What if that wasn't just an attempt to get Chat Noir back on his feet?)
"Hey, Ivan?" Chat's voice is odd, backed by his purr and raspy with pain and familiar anyway. "Think you could... talk?"
That's enough to snap Ivan's attention back to his companion. "You're not- not gonna pass out on me, are you?"
"No." There's a too-long pause. "I don't think so."
"Kid." The kwami's voice is low and pained and, oddly, guilty. "You know-"
Chat Noir interrupts him, or tries to. Ivan and Plagg both stay silent through the sound of Chat Noir fighting his way through another coughing fit. His voice is weaker when he finally manages, "It's okay, Plagg. Ivan's here, remember? You're not leaving me alone."
Ivan hunches in on himself, even knowing that it's too dark to see. Too dark for him to see. He suddenly can't remember whether or not that rumour about Chat Noir's night vision is just a rumour. He thinks that Alya would know. He wishes he paid more attention to the Ladyblog.
Chat Noir doesn't deserve to be trapped here alone, but he doesn't deserve to be down here with Ivan, either. He should be with Ladybug, if Ivan could just stop screwing up.
"Kid-" Plagg takes a very audible breath. He lowers his voice, but they don't have that much space, Ivan can still hear him. "It'd hurt a lot less-"
"I know, Plagg."
"-you could still-"
"I know, Plagg." This breath in is more than just wet. It rattles on the way out in a way that sends prickles of dread down Ivan's spine. "Please. Go help her. We'll be okay."
"You will not," Plagg mutters, but he doesn't say anything else.
It takes Ivan long, dark minutes to realise that the kwami has left.
"Hey, uh, Ivan?" There's a sound of shifting rubble that makes Ivan wince, and only partly because it's accompanied by a too-sharp inhale and a smothered gasp. "It's alright if you'd rather not, but... you think you could come over here?" Something very tentative touches Chat Noir's voice as he adds, quieter, "It's easier if I know there's someone else right here."
Ivan's hands close into fists and he takes a deep breath of his own. Somehow, even though Plagg's gone again now, the way the kwami had urged them both to breathe has stayed with Ivan.
He doesn't know that he could have said that so easily if he were in Chat Noir's place.
He doesn't know what else he can do, so he nods uselessly and crosses over to sit next to Chat Noir.
Ivan doesn't want to sit too close, because he doesn't know exactly where or how Chat's injured, but there's not much space and Chat Noir presses what Ivan thinks is his shoulder hard into Ivan's knee as soon as he sits down anyway. Ivan can feel him purring now.
He swallows and tries not to feel sick.
"Thanks," Chat Noir mumbles, his purr kicking louder for a second before quieting back down. "I don't- I don't like feeling trapped. Helps knowing I'm not alone." Guilt creeps into his voice as he adds, "Not that- I mean, you can't be happy about being trapped here, either."
Ivan doesn't spend most of his free time in the air, up on rooftops, leaping between buildings like gravity's just a suggestion that he forgot about somewhere along the way. Ivan's far from thrilled (stone pressing in on all sides, smothering his sense of self-) but he's still probably better off than Chat Noir. "Could be worse."
He wants to take the words back as soon as he's said them.
It could be worse. He could be seriously injured or dying on top of being trapped. He could be where Chat Noir is.
Chat shifts again, a hiss slipping out of him, and turns just enough to put more of his side into contact with Ivan. Ivan can tell now that Chat Noir's on his back, lying carefully still except for where he's trying to shrug into Ivan, and that brings too many different awful possibilities to mind too quickly. Ivan tries to shove this into the same mental box as all the rest of his dark thoughts, but the box is already full at this point.
"Could be," Chat Noir agrees, shifting against Ivan again and then catching himself. Ivan tries really, really hard not to notice either that Chat's wearing some kind of overshirt now, or that said overshirt is... sticking, in a lot of places. Something tacky and warm pulls at the fabric. "Could be alone."
Ivan abruptly realises he's reached out and pulls his hand back, trying to surreptitiously wipe it off against his pants. Great. Now his hand is sticking, too. He's gonna have to give in to his dad's increasingly pointed suggestions about therapy if Ladybug doesn't win soon. "Your kwami thing wouldn't have left you alone." Ivan's more sure of that than he should be, for only having known Plagg as a voice in the dark for a few minutes.
Chat Noir's laugh sounds painful. "No, probably not. But Ladybug might need him, and he'd probably have ended up trying to- well, Plagg's got a lot more power behind his Cataclysm than me. He might've tried it, and this really isn't a stable enough area to do that to."
"He has his own Cataclysm?" Ivan can't keep the curiosity from his voice, but he does keep back the surge of bitter frustration. He would have urged Plagg to try it if he'd known. Failing would only have killed them faster, instead of leaving them both to die slowly in the dark.
Or for just Chat Noir to die, and leave Ivan waiting in the dark next to his cooling body.
Yeah, okay, therapy's gonna have to be a thing. Maizie had been rough enough that Ivan still has her collar hanging on his bedpost. Maizie hadn't been trying to distract and reassure him through her failing purrs-
Ivan's eyes narrow.
Chat's still purring weakly.
"Technically it's always his Cataclysm, he just- I guess loans it to me, is the best way to explain it? But it's not anywhere near as controlled if we- if I'm not transformed, and Plagg can take out a whole lot more with one swipe than I can, so-"
This time when Ivan reaches out and splays his hand over Chat Noir's shoulder, it's deliberate.
Chat Noir falls silent. His thready purr echoes louder without his words to distract from it.
Because that's what he's been doing. He's been distracting. That's what he always does and Ivan should have noticed sooner. "You don't have much longer, do you?"
Chat Noir doesn't say anything.
Ivan moves his hand down. Carefully. The last thing he wants is to crush Chat Noir anymore than he already is.
The tacky feeling Ivan can't keep pretending isn't blood covers far more of Chat's shirt than he wants to think about. Ivan doesn't move far, he only brushes his hand from Chat's shoulder down across his chest and side and the arm Chat's kept away from him, the arm that Chat turns out to be pressing against his side to slow the bleeding that's already down to a trickle. It's not the visible bleeding that's going to get him, in the end. He's lost too much blood but that's not going to matter anyway, not held against the wet hitch to his breath or the way things are shifting under his skin that shouldn't be.
There's enough blood on Chat's clothes and the stone he's laying on to coat Ivan's nightmares.
But he's bleeding internally, too, and that's the part that makes Ivan snatch his hand away and grit his teeth against the hot flash of tears.
"I'm surprised you're conscious," Ivan manages, his tongue feeling thick, and he's more surprised that his voice stays steady.
Chat Noir lets out a rusty chuckle that sounds like it hurts. "Some- some advantages to being a superhero. Lot sturdier than I used to be."
Ivan doesn't laugh.
Ivan can't stop himself from thinking that just means Chat is dying slower.
He wishes Plagg had stuck around and tried.
"Hey, Ivan?" Chat Noir's free hand brushes against Ivan's leg. Ivan makes himself stay still, because between what he can feel and what he saw in the moments before they fell, he thinks Chat's hands might be just as mangled as the rest of him. If Chat Noir wants to try and use them anyway Ivan's not gonna tell him that he can't. "Seriously, you all-" Chat has to stop to catch his breath. That brief period of uninterrupted rambling earlier took a clear toll on him. "You all right?"
Ivan yanks his hand away before it can clench into a fist, trying not to hear Chat's pained hiss as his tacky (bloody) shirt comes with for the briefest second. It's a good thing Chat Noir can't see the way Ivan's scowling as he demands, "Stop trying to be the strong one!" Ivan should have just gotten hit. Ivan isn't necessary to this fight, and he would have been gone quick and back quicker. This isn't like being overtaken by an akuma- they're going to remember this. That's gonna suck enough for Ivan, but he isn't dying hurt. He doesn't want to think about how much worse it is for Chat Noir.
Who's definitely died before, and now Ivan knows that Chat doesn't go quick. He can't unknow that- as much as he wants to.
"Why?" The laughter's faded out of Chat's voice by now. That's almost worse than the way his purring's getting weaker. "So you can be? You don't need to do that."
Ivan hunches over, his hands clenching into fists on his knees, his knees much too hot where Chat Noir hasn't stopped pressing his shoulder against Ivan as if Ivan is somehow a comforting presence. His hands ache. His fingers twitch.
His fingers stick together, where they're coated in someone else's blood.
"I can't do that." The whisper's so ragged and desperate as it tears out of his throat that Ivan doesn't realise at first that it is him. "I'm not the strong one."
Ivan still hates being surrounded by stone. He hasn't taken the subway in months and he's running out of ways to turn down Alix's dares/offers to go explore the underground tunnel network that she keeps finding her way into. (He thinks she's been down there with Kim. He thinks that's a team that probably needs supervision. He thinks it can't be him).
Ivan doesn't like the press of stone, but Mylène's still scared of heights.
"You're plenty strong, but I meant it, you don't need to be." Chat Noir tries to reach over and take Ivan's hand. It doesn't... work very well, both because Ivan won't uncurl his hands, and because Chat can't.
Ivan's going to be sick.
"Stop tryin' to comfort me, you're the hurt one," Ivan says- snaps- pleads.
"We can both be hurt, I don't think it's something you're allowed to claim a monopoly on." Chat Noir's words are getting weaker, but he seems determined to have this conversation now. "I wasn't really trying to be strong anyway. Just to- not be alone."
Right. Claustrophobic. Chat Noir's too wounded to move and trapped in a small space without his partner or his- whatever his kwami is- and he's claustrophobic, and he's still trying to make Ivan feel better.
Ivan's still trying to figure out if researching crushing injuries when they get out of this if they get out of this will make him feel better or worse. Worse, probably, he's not a healer. He's never wished so hard he was, but he thinks from what sensory information he's gotten that these injuries are beyond any healing but the magical kind. He's pretty sure Chat should be dead an hour ago.
They might have fallen an hour ago.
The fight should be over by now.
Time's doing some funny things in the dark, but it's been a hell of a lot longer than five minutes, and they never last longer than that once Ladybug's called a Lucky Charm. Ivan's not sure if she had yet or not.
"You're not alone," Ivan says gruffly. Miserably. He wants to bury his head in his hands, but the blood on his hands stops him before he can try.
Chat huffs what would probably have been an actual laugh just a short time ago. His breathing's shallower than it was. "Thanks." He's silent just long enough for Ivan's thoughts to start circling again. "You're not alone, either."
"Better if I had been." The words are out before Ivan can bite them back and he suppresses a groan. He didn't mean to say that.
"No, that's never better," Chat Noir disagrees immediately, with surprising vehemence. The hand he'd tried to reach for Ivan with before twitches and there's the faintest sense of claws before he stops trying to move it with another silent hiss. "Pain shared is pain halved, all that."
"Stop talking, you're too hurt," Ivan says tightly, his own hands twitching with the urge to reach back.
(He remembers larger, sturdier hands, hands of stone that had drawn back to throw-
He doesn't reach back).
"I'll stop talking when I'm dead," Chat Noir jokes, and Ivan jerks back, so hard that his head scrapes the stone walls. The pounding of his heart matches the pounding of his head as he lets out a hiss of his own.
"Sorry! Sorry, that was in poor taste, it was a stupid thing to say, sorry!" But Chat tries to reach for him again.
Chat's claustrophobic. He's hurt- shit, Ivan knows now that he's mortally wounded. He's probably scared, even if he's not acting like it. He's reaching out to Ivan because Ivan is there and there's probably nothing Ivan can do to stop that.
He can't let it rest without explaining himself.
"Hawkmoth got me before anyone else." If he says the words all in a rush, they don't hurt as much. (If he says the words all in a rush, he might get through them all while Chat's still here to hear him). "He got to me so much worse than anyone else, no one else got-" His throat closes with a click, but he's sure Chat remembers.
No one else got immediately reakumatised, immediately left hundreds of victims in their wake. Other people have had those victims now, but not like-
Ivan's been too afraid to be angry since. He's afraid to be afraid, too, but fear is still better than anger, fear doesn't feel like it's setting fingers around his ribcage and stretching him into stone, carving out his morals to make more room for itself. Anger had been satisfying up until it wasn't. Now he can't get angry at all without the immediate urge to get away, to make sure he's nowhere near anyone he cares about.
He can't believe Mylène doesn't hate him.
She's still scared of heights.
"Ivan, that wasn't your fault." Chat's ruined hand catches one of Ivan's at last, though he can't do much even now. Ivan can feel Chat's much slimmer fingers against his own and they're- not supposed to bend that way. "That was ours, we didn't know what we were doing yet."
The unexpected guilt in his voice is so intense that Ivan doesn't comprehend the meaning at first.
And then he does, and he swallows and tries not to clutch Chat's mangled hand, because he doesn't think he understands. "Hawkmoth did it. How was it your fault?"
"You should be saying that to yourself, you know." Chat's hand twitches again, like he's trying to hold onto something, and Ivan focuses very intently on holding his own hands right where they are. "But really, we- we screwed up, Ivan. We didn't know yet that Ladybug had to purify the akuma, that's why Hawkmoth could do- all that." Chat's breath is threadier, weaker. There's not enough volume to his voice anymore and Ivan feels cold even where Chat Noir's huddled against him. "It wasn't you. It was never you. We screwed up, I'm sorry we never thought to tell you."
Ivan wants to laugh or cry or both. There's a weight he's been carrying so long that it had started seeming normal, that finally falls away at Chat's admission, but also he can't stand that Chat Noir is apologising to him right now.
The purr's gone now. Ivan wonders if Chat can't keep it up and talk anymore.
"We should have explained, but we were still learning, too." Chat takes a devastatingly final-sounding, shuddery breath. "I'm sorry."
Ivan starts to respond and finds he doesn't have the words.
Chat Noir didn't take another breath.
It feels cruel that the ladybugs swarm them only seconds later.
Ivan doesn't want to risk accidentally finding out Chat Noir's identity, so he doesn't stick around. He goes home.
He stays there for three days.
Ladybug finds him before Chat does.
Ivan's sitting on his bed, staring blankly at a loading screen and trying to ignore Maizie's old collar at the corner of his eye, when there's a thunk from his window. He tenses and doesn't turn.
He's not sure he can talk to Chat. He doesn't know what we could even begin to say.
Ladybug's the healer, the one whose magic is all creation and life, and in Ivan's head she's the good-aligned one and the light to the dark (and he already sort of associated darkness with Chat Noir, but not like he does now, where the darkness in his head voices screams instead of purring peacefully right up until it doesn't anymore).
So he doesn't expect Ladybug to break his window and jump inside.
Ivan jerks backwards, but she was careful and the glass all fell to the other side. He watches warily as she flicks one arm back out the window and brushes off stray shards, making sure that none of the glass ends up in his room even as he tries to make sure with just his eyes that she didn't hurt herself.
Ladybug plants her feet in his carpet and her hands at her waist and takes a deep breath and Ivan curls in on himself, already withering under the scolding he more than deserves for letting her partner get so hurt. For letting her partner get so hurt that he died, because even if she brought him back it still happened. "I came to say thank you."
Ivan's thoughts crash to a halt.
It takes a couple attempts to start them up again.
Ladybug waits for him to recover, but she doesn't wait for him to recover enough to speak. "Chat Noir wanted to come himself, but I thought you might not be ready to see him just yet, I know-" She swallows, her eyes darting to the side in the first break in composure Ivan's seen. (Unless he counts breaking his window. He doesn't know if he should count that or not). "I-I know that's a hard thing. To watch. To- to keep- remembering, later."
Chat's died before. Ivan has known that for a lot longer than just the past few days.
He doesn't remember where or when he'd first learned that.
Ivan knows about this time. Ladybug likely knows about every time.
When she says she knows, she means it.
Ivan nods, because Ladybug seems to be waiting for some kind of response, and that seems to satisfy her enough to continue. "He- he really hates being alone. He is claustrophobic, that part was true and I'd-I'd really rather you didn't tell anyone about it, but he hates being alone more than anything and you made sure he wasn't, so thank you."
"It was my fault." Ivan couldn't have left if he'd wanted to. He doesn't know that he would have wanted to, unable to take Chat Noir with him.
"It was Hawkmoth's fault," Ladybug counters, one corner of her lip downturned, with all the instant conviction Chat Noir had given the same words. "You can't blame yourself. If we started that, we'd never stop." The other side of her lip curves down, too, the scowl marring her features and jarring Ivan's sense of her as the more reasonable hero. He's starting to think she's not. "I almost started that. Chat stopped me. Ivan, it's Hawkmoth's fault, it was never yours."
He has the sense she's talking about more than just this past fight.
He'd told Chat Noir. Chat Noir probably tells her everything. Not that it's a secret, Ivan hadn't asked Chat to keep it to himself, but it still feels a little like a betrayal.
It feels more like absolution, though.
"You can be angry," Ladybug says, softly. "Or afraid, or sad, or- Hawkmoth doesn't get to take those things from us. He's the villain. You're the victim. Don't let him convince you otherwise." Her stance relaxes, hands falling open at her sides. "And if you ever need any help, let one of us know. Uh, sorry about your window, by the way, I'll fix it on my way out."
When she turns to go, she bumps his desk. When she bumps his desk, the screensaver shuts off, baring his open browser.
Revealing both the window open to an article about internal bleeding, and the second window open to apply for an emergency first aid course.
Ladybug startles, but the look she gives him is equal parts pleased and proud.
Ivan flushes and doesn't meet her eyes or explain himself but he doesn't think he has to. Maybe she's not the responsible one after all (neither of them are, he's realising that now, and it's sort of terrifying) but she is the healer, of course she's pleased. Ivan just- needs to know that he can do something, next time. He needs to do something.
He doesn't want to be a fighter, but he thinks that healing probably takes more strength anyway. He doesn't know yet if he can do it but he knows he's going to try.
Ladybug forgets to fix his window.
But she repairs it with everything else in the next battle, anyway.