Chapter Text
“Pound it!”
Chat Noir grinned, thankful for the akuma breaking up his boring day. His schedule as Adrien was monotonous; school, fencing, Mandarin, tutoring… it was enough to make anyone go crazy.
“What do you say we do another patrol of the neighbourhood? Y’know, just to make sure everything is back to normal?” Chat suggested, grinning at his partner. He wasn’t willing to give up the freedom of being Chat Noir just yet.
“The Miraculous Ladybugs do that for us, kitty,” Ladybug replied, waving at nearby civilians. “Besides, we don’t have long until we de-transform.” As if on cue, her earrings gave a warning beep.
“Better get going then,” Chat said, trying to hide his disappointment.
Ladybug gave him a calculating look at the tone of his voice, searching his face for signs of sadness. Chat forced a smirk onto his face.
She reached up and patted his head before swinging her yo-yo towards the rooftops. “Bug out!” she yelled, swinging past him.
Chat sighed, grabbing his staff and taking off to an opposite rooftop. He crouched behind a chimney and let his transformation fall. Adrien’s head thumped back against the bricks as he looked up at the dimming sky.
“Mmm, cheese,” his kwami said appreciatively as Adrien tossed a piece in the air.
“Charge up Plagg, Chat Noir is not quite done yet.”
Plagg groaned. “Not again. You haven’t even eaten supper Adrien.”
“I’m not hungry,” Adrien said dismissively. It wasn’t true; his fencing lesson had run late, and the akuma attack stopped him from eating when he got home. But he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting at the long dinner table all by himself again.
Freshly transformed, Chat Noir bounded over the rooftops of Paris. The cold November wind bit his face as he vaulted over chimneys and zig zagged over telephone lines. He scanned streets and alleyways for any sign of trouble, but it was a quiet evening. Everyone had gone back to their families for the night.
A savory smell caught the cat’s attention. His stomach growled; the exercise from his escapades had only made him hungrier. He followed the smell unconsciously, getting down on all fours and let his eyes fall half-shut, letting his nose guide him across the cold rooftops. He jumped down onto a railing, then onto a terrace, he was getting so close, it smelled so good…
“Uh, Chat Noir?”
Chat’s eyes snapped open as he jumped back, onto his feet. He stared at Marinette, who stood with a freshly baked lime macaron in her hand. She looked at him with wide eyes, just as confused as him as to how he ended up here. He glanced around, noticing a deck chair, flowerpots, a trapdoor… he had crawled all the way to Marinette’s balcony.
Chat scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still in shock.
“Um… I don’t know,” Chat replied, looking around, as if the answer was hidden on her small terrace. “I don’t know how I got here.”
Marinette considered him carefully. “Are you hungry?” she asked.
“No!” Chat said quickly. “I mean, not really, I wouldn’t want to bother you…”
“It’s no bother,” Marinette said softly. “One moment.”
She disappeared into her trapdoor, leaving Chat to gather his bearings. She had strung fairy lights across her roof, illuminating the small space. He glanced at the book lying open on the deck chair; The Great Gatsby, the book assigned to their English class. He grinned, thinking of his identical copy at home, that he should be reading right now.
The trapdoor opened again, and a plate of baked goods rose from it, quickly followed by Marinette. “Here,” she said, extending the plate towards him with one hand while holding onto the ladder with another. He jumped to take the plate from her hands, tilting dangerously with the amount of croissants, cookies, and macarons on it. He set it down on the ledge to prevent any spilling.
“One more thing,” she said, reaching back down into her room. She climbed up onto the terrace a moment later with a tall glass of milk. Chat stared at her. She flushed under his scrutiny.
“I thought, um, cats drink milk,” she said, holding it out to him.
“Milk actually isn’t good for cats,” Chat replied automatically, staring incomprehensibly at the glass. She had done all this, for a practical stranger who landed on her roof?
Marinette paled at his words, and tried to retract her arm, but Chat caught her wrist. “Lucky for you, my stomach is fully human, and loves milk,” he grinned.
Marinette smiled back, relieved, as he took the glass from her. She leaned on the ledge next to the plate of pastries. She was in her pajamas; she obviously hadn’t expected to see anyone that night, much less have company. Nonetheless, she gestured for him to come over and sit.
Chat’s mouth watered at the sight of the food as he approached her cautiously. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Chat,” Marinette commanded. “Sit. Eat.”
“If you say so, Princess,” Chat replied, picking out the chocolate croissant that had caught his attention and taking a bite. He moaned as the chocolatey goodness melted in his mouth. He heard a slight noise come from Marinette, and he opened one eye to see her face flushed red. It must be the nickname, he thought to himself happily. Chat sure seemed to be able to charm the ladies. He finished the croissant and reached for another one, devouring it just as quickly. Marinette eyed him while nibbling on a macaron.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Chat, but when is the last time you ate?”
“Oh, us superheroes don’t have time for such trivial things,” Chat replied through a mouthful of pastry. “I get my sustenance from the satisfaction of ensuring that Paris is safe from evil.”
“How about the sustenance of protein? Or carbs?” Marinette frowned at him. “Paris can’t be saved if their hero is passed out on a roof somewhere.”
“That’s what Ladybug is for,” Chat said dismissively. “She always knows how to clean up my messes.”
Marinette mumbled something under her breath that Chat couldn’t quite catch; he couldn’t bring himself to care either as a key lime macaron caught his eye. It tasted like a slice of heaven. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of visiting Marinette sooner. Great company, and even greater food; this was the best idea he’d had all year.
“I see you’re reading Gatsby,” Chat commented, attempting to fill the dead air.
“I am,” Marinette acknowledged. “You’ve read it too?”
“I have. I’m a pretty literate kitty. Get it? Litter-ate?” Marinette rolled her eyes, but Chat could see a little smile in the corners of her mouth. “Pretty romantic book huh?”
“Romantic?” Marinette looked at him in shock. “If your idea of romance is greed, vanity and naivety, then yeah, I guess you can say it’s romantic.”
“Aw, cut old Gatsby some slack. I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything,” Chat quoted. “You have to admit, that’s a pretty good line.”
“If only it wasn’t spoken by a man in love with a narcissist,” Marinette retorted.
“If the line rings true, it rings true,” Chat said, shrugging. “Context can only do so much.”
“And it rings true with you, does it kitty?” Marinette teased.
Chat didn’t reply, looking down at his feet. He tried not to think of a certain spotted girl who had made her feelings for him very clear. It was silent for a moment, until he felt a hand reach out and tentatively touch his, where it was resting on the ledge.
“They’re a rotten crowd. You’re worth the whole damn bunch of them put together,” Marinette said softly. The corner of Chat’s mouth quirked up as he recognized the quote. “Nick said it to Gatsby. That’s the quote that I like.”
“That’s a good quote,” Chat said appreciatively.
“Thanks,” Marinette said, smiling back.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, staring out over the twinkling lights of the city. Chat sneaked a glance at Marinette, her face bathed golden from her fairy lights. Her face looked open, real, confident. Their conversation was easy, even though they had only met a few times before. Not at all like the girl who stuttered and tripped and ran from him at every opportunity. He wished he could see this side of her in school more often.
Chat pushed himself up and dusted off his hands. “Speaking of, I should let you get back to your book. Thank you for the delicious pastries and lovely conversation, Princess. My compliments to the chef,” he said with a bow and a flourish.
Marinette giggled. “The baker can’t know I had a boy drop on my balcony in the middle of the night. So unfortunately, he won’t hear your compliments.”
“And my compliments to the lady on her conversation skills?”
“They are being considered,” Marinette teased. Chat sent her a quick wink before letting his staff propel him over her roof and into the shadows.
***
Since that night, Adrien dreamt of returning to Marinette’s terrace. He had tried to translate their new friendship into their civilian lives, but it never seemed to go right. No matter what he said to her in school, she just turned red and spoke gibberish. He couldn’t comprehend why she hated talking to the real him. But, it didn’t deter him from wanting to visit as Chat. He frequently found himself taking detours on solo patrols to glance at the bakery, scan her terrace, maybe peek at her window from afar to see what she was up to. It was like a magnetic pull, every day, toward the little bakery, where he could see her smiling eyes again.
Finally, after four whole days, Adrien couldn’t take it anymore. After another supper eaten alone, he was transformed and out his window before he even realized he had made the choice. He scaled the Paris rooftops in record time, sprinting through the darkness, reaching endlessly towards her balcony where she had decorated for Christmas with fairy lights of green and red. He landed gently on her terrace, careful not to make too much noise lest her parents hear. The light was on in her bedroom window, softly illuminating the pink interior. He could see her dark blue head hunched over her desk, working very intently on something. He knocked on the trapdoor.
“Chat Noir?” asked Marinette, popping her head out quizzically. “Come in, you must be freezing.”
Chat gladly hopped down onto her bed, immediately being hit by a wave of warmth. Marinette climbed down the ladder, and Chat took the opportunity to scan the room. It was cute, cozy and bright, and so very Marinette. Her walls were littered with posters and pictures of fashion and friends. Every aspect of the room was personalized with her special touch. Chat thought of his room, of how it always seemed cold and unwelcoming, even to him.
“So, are you stopping in for a snack?” Marinette asked, looking up at him from where she stood in the middle of her room.
“Not really,” Chat replied, swinging his feet off the edge of her bed. “I just came to say hi.”
“Oh,” said Marinette, surprised. “Well, hi.”
“Hi,” Chat grinned back.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? I was going to get a croissant anyway.”
“Well, if you insist,” he conceded with a smile.
Marinette disappeared downstairs as Chat turned to the pictures by her bed. Adrien was featured in quite a few of them, with hearts pinned around. Huh. Maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Even if she was just interested in fashion, she wouldn’t put the face of someone she hated right next to her bed, right?
Chat hopped down from the bed, and his eye caught on her desk. She seemed to have been knitting something, but the shape had not taken form enough to know what it was. The wool was a subtle ombre of purple into pink.
“What are you making?” Chat asked as Marinette hoisted herself into her room.
“Mittens, for my mom,” she replied, setting the plate of goodies down next to them on the desk. “She needs a warm one for deliveries in the winter.”
“They’re really nice,” Chat said appreciatively, feeling the fabric. “Very soft.”
“Thanks,” said Marinette with a smile. She picked up the bundle of wool to show him how it was coming together. “They’ll have grips on them for handling boxes, here, see,” she ran her finger along the palm. “… and I was thinking of making a flap for her fingers, so she can handle money if they give her a tip.”
Chat watched how she handled the wool with care, how focused she was as she spoke of her design. “You’re really thoughtful Marinette,” he said admiringly.
Marinette shrugged. “My mom would do the same for me.” She pushed the plate of pastries towards him slightly, encouraging him to take one.
He picked up a matcha macaron, still focused on the gloves. “You know,” he said suggestively. “If you keep feeding me like this, I won’t be able to stay away."
“I never knew chocolate croissants and macarons were the way to your heart,” Marinette teased.
“Only when they come from pretty girls,” Chat replied, putting his face close to hers and wiggling his eyebrows. She pushed his face away lightly, but not before he saw a blush dust her cheeks.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said, a smile in her voice.
“It’s all part of the charm,” Chat said, leaning against the desk and finally biting into his croissant.
“What’s it like?” asked Marinette. “Being the charming prince of Paris?”
Chat laughed. “Not as glamorous as one might think. It’s a lot of getting beat up by Hawkmoth’s victims. Some damsels in distress,” he winked at Marinette. “And… it can be a lot of fun, having freedom, and special powers. But what’s freedom without people to share it with, y’know?”
Marinette studied his face. Chat suddenly felt vulnerable, realizing he might be sharing too much information with the girl he’d only had a handful of conversations with. Luckily, she didn’t seem to mind. “You have Ladybug,” she said softly.
Chat tried a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Ladybug’s mostly business. She has a life outside the mask, and she always needs to get back. I guess I’m not as attached to my civilian life.”
“Sounds like you need more civilian friends,” suggested Marinette.
“It’s not my friends. I actually have great friends,” Chat’s face lightened up as he thought about them. “It’s… my family life. It’s not ideal.”
Marinette chewed her lip, seemingly lost in thought. Chat regretted bringing it up; he shouldn’t be burdening her with his personal business. He meant to come cheer her up, not make her sad by talking about his problems.
“Sometimes,” Marinette said softly. “We can’t count on our families to make us happy. We have to find the people we can count on, and keep them close.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Chat sighed. “It’s just hard, y’know, to look at my… my family, and see how broken it all is. We used to be happy. Now birthdays and Christmas and Mother’s Day… it all feels so hollow.” He paused, feeling a lump rise in his throat.
He felt Marinette’s hand cover his. “I’m so sorry Chat. I wish I could help. If you ever want a family game night, you can always stop by the bakery. My parents would love to have you.”
“Thanks Marinette,” Chat replied, eyes trained on his feet. “Just talking about it makes me feel better.” He paused for a moment, wondering if he should share more or just let it go. But something about her curious, caring eyes made him blurt out all his thoughts. “I feel like I can’t show my feelings too much in my civilian life, so it’s nice to have a safe space to talk.”
“Of course,” Marinette said. “Anytime. But,” she added cautiously, as if she was scared of overstepping. “You shouldn’t need a mask to be able to talk about your feelings. I’m sure those great friends of yours have would be more than happy to listen to your problems. You’re not being a burden or a downer by showing your emotions. Your cheerfulness is not what makes you likeable.” Marinette paused. “Does that make sense?”
Chat stared at her in disbelief. This girl had effortlessly cracked open his grey sky and let the sun beam through. “Yeah. That makes perfect sense,” he said, awe-stricken.
“Good,” Marinette smiled at him, then glanced down to avoid his piercing gaze. The apples of her cheeks were a bit redder than before as she picked up a croissant and bit in. They sat in silence, Chat pondering the new revelations that she had given him. Finishing his croissant, he straightened up and faced Marinette.
“You’re a wise little lady,” he said, taking her hand and bowing to give it a kiss. “I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Of course,” Marinette smiled at him. “Come back anytime.”
With a flick of the tail, Chat had disappeared out the trapdoor, back into the shadows of the night.
***
“Pound it?” Ladybug asked halfheartedly. They had just finished one of the longest akuma attacks they had ever had. A multi-layered protective forcefield had wound its way around Protecto and their victims, resulting in the need for multiple cataclysms. This attack was hot off the heels of a late night attack the night before, plus a full day of school and bakery duty.
“Pound it,” Chat Noir replied, stifling a yawn. He looked exhausted; the multiple cataclysms certainly hadn’t done him any good. He looked pale under his mask, his normally sparkling green eyes hooded. Ladybug yawned in response.
“Looks like its hibernation time for the ladybug,” Chat teased.
“And cat nap time for you, kitty,” Ladybug shot back.
“Maybe not yet,” Chat said with a small smile and a faraway look in his eyes.
Oh no. Is he planning on coming over? “You need sleep, Chat. I’ve never seen your tail droop so low.” Ladybug pointed at the black tail, dragging on the ground.
“Don’t worry about me, my Lady,” Chat replied with a halfhearted smirk, twirling his staff. “Chat Noir’s got it under control.” He vaulted up towards the rooftops, in the exact direction of the bakery.
Ladybug swore, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth and made sure no one heard her. She unleashed her yoyo and shot off towards home. She stopped in the alleyway before her house, de-transforming before entering through the bakery doors. She scooted past her mom, busy with customers, picked up a tray of croissants and made her way up the stairs without detection. She had just taken a seat at on her lounge chair and picked up her book when she heard a knock at the trapdoor.
“Come in,” she shouted wearily.
A mass of black dropped down from her ceiling, settling in a heap on her bed.
“Hi Chat,” she said, trying to insert some pep into her voice. She got a groan in return.
She walked up to her loft bed and peeked over the side. Chat was curled up in a ball, his shock of blonde hair the only visible part of his face. “Long day?” she asked slyly.
She got another groan in return. “Chat Noir is not here at the moment. Leave a message.”
“You’re not going to come down and get a croissant?” Marinette asked. Chat didn’t twitch, instead closing his eyes and letting his breathing even out.
“You know that’s my bed?” Marinette asked, annoyed. “Who says I’m not tired too?”
“I’m not just tired. I’m cat-atonic.” His eye opened to gauge her reaction to the joke. Marinette huffed.
“Besides, Princess, there’s plenty of room up here for two,” Chat said suggestively.
“Or, you take the lounge chair, I take the bed,” Marinette countered. Chat let out a pretend snore in response.
Marinette stood in the middle of her room, contemplating. She was exhausted, all she wanted to do was lie down. And she did not want to take the stiff lounge chair. She looked at Chat, all huddled up on her bed. There was enough room for two…
With a sigh, Marinette climbed the ladder to her bed and flopped down beside Chat. She realized her mistake when Chat’s eyes snapped open. In a flash Chat rolled over so his head was tucked in beneath her chin, his body pressed up against her side. He threw his arm around her middle and sighed contentedly.
“Happy?” Marinette asked, slightly breathless. Her body was tensed up; she’d only been so close to Chat in battle situations before.
“Very,” Chat replied. “I didn’t think you’d actually come up.”
“Well, you were in my bed,” Marinette said defensively. “I was tired.”
Chat just hummed in response, wiggling in a little closer. Marinette let her eyes shut, sliding a hand into Chat’s hair. It smelled like fresh shampoo and the cold Paris night, and something deeper, something distinctly Chat. The hand around her waist was subtly clenching and unclenching, like a kitten kneading.
“You’re a cuddly kitty, aren’t you?” Marinette murmured, her tiredness getting the better of her as she relaxed into his embrace.
“Not with everyone,” Chat replied, just as sleepily, taking advantage of her pliant body to pull her closer. She rested her cheek on his soft head of hair and allowed herself to rest, feeling his quiet breaths on her neck. She must have drifted off, because she had no idea how long it had been before his ring woke her up.
“You’re beeping,” Marinette said sleepily. Chat groaned in response and rubbed his face into the crook of her neck.
“Chat,” she said, as sternly as she could muster. “You’re going to de-transform.”
“Marinette,” Chat returned in the same stern tone. “Five more minutes.”
“You don’t have five minutes, silly kitty.”
“And how would you know that?” Chat asked. Marinette froze, wondering if she had given herself away. But Chat seemed too tired to compute what he had said, instead groaning as he stretched out. Marinette gave a small, involuntary sound when he sat up, taking his warmth with him. Chat looked over his shoulder at her. His hair was mussed beyond repair from her hands; his eyes were half-lidded as he considered her. She suddenly felt vulnerable, curled up in her bed with Chat Noir looking at her intently.
“I don’t want to leave,” he said finally.
I don’t want you to go, got stuck in her throat. “You can always come back,” she said instead.
“Oh, I plan on it,” Chat replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Princess.” With that, he reached up to the trap door and hoisted himself out, leaving only a cold breeze and a warm imprint in his wake.