Chapter Text
He normally came by once a week, usually during the weekend; a trend that started after Marinette had been the target of yet another akuma. Chat Noir had dropped by her house afterwards to see if she was alright, only to be seemingly awed by her room and had refused to leave until he had inhaled a croissant and they played at least three rounds of Mecha Strike III. Not that she had minded, she had been quite shaken from that day’s akuma. It was nice to have company; especially someone she knew and someone she trusted completely, yet could be someone else with. When he had departed later that night, she had thought that that was to be the end of their bromance, yet three days later, a polite knock sounded against her trapdoor. Sometimes they would watch a movie, or play a video game, or discuss her latest creations. Other times — the worst times — he would be silent and withdrawn, and she would make futile attempts to coax a smile out of him. Those visits made her feel so helpless, and angry with herself, for both of her identities had failed to break his walls. But luckily, those nights were few and far between, though she worried about what he went through on the other six days of the week.
Chat Noir crouched down and tapped once against the trapdoor. The cat was getting impatient — he normally had a mug of hot chocolate enveloped in his hands by now. He checked the little computer in his baton. 10:45. 15 minutes had past since he arrived. He shivered slightly; winter was steadily descending onto France. He bit his lip, unsure whether to leave or see if she was okay. In the end, his desire to see her, even for just a minute, won out, and he cleared his throat.
“Purrincess?” he called out, hopefully loud enough to be heard by her ears only. “Are you alright?”
No reply.
“Marinette?” He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue, but he didn’t say it often. It seemed too… intimate. But he was getting worried. What if another akuma had snatched her away?
“Marinette, I’m coming in, okay?” He wedged his claws into the door gap and flicked the door up. He gave a silent prayer that she was wearing clothes, and dropped down onto her bed, closing the door behind him.
Marinette, hearing all the jostling, started and whipped around in her computer chair. When she saw it was Chat Noir, however, her body relaxed.
“Chat Noir! You scared me! Oh la la la…” she sighed, placing a hand against her chest. Her very pale chest, Chat Noir noticed, as Marinette was currently clad in dark blue boxer shorts and a distressingly tiny grey tank top. He flushed and climbed down the loft ladder slowly while Marinette, oblivious, checked her phone.
“10:50 already?” she exclaimed. “Oh, kitty, I’m so sorry! You must’ve been waiting out in the cold for ages!”
“It wasn’t so bad,” he assured her. “The suit protects me.” Which was only partially true: the suit protected him from injuries, not from the elements.
Marinette frowned, as if she knew he wasn’t telling the truth. “But still, you should’ve let me know you were out there!”
“Princess, I did. I knocked, and called out.”
“You did? Oh, I’m the worst—!”
“No, no, Princess! Please don’t blame yourself! It’s not your fault.”
Marinette’s face suddenly crumpled. “Oh, but it is! I saved this homework for last minute, and it’s due tomorrow, and I am very, very dead if I don’t finish this for Ms. Mendeleiev. She’s vicious!” She spun back to the desk. “But, physics is my worst subject! Oh, I’m so dead!” she wailed as she banged her head against the desk.
Chat Noir rushed forward and placed his gloved hands on either side of her head from behind, stopping her from hurting herself further. “Luckily for the Purrincess, I am pawistively clawesome at physics!”
Marinette threw him a grimace. “Oh yeah, I’m doomed!”
Chat Noir chuckled. “No, you’re not.” He adjusted his position so that he was crouching besides her chair, scanning her notes. “See, you’re getting this wrong because you’re forgetting to factor in the—“ He turned his head towards her, and his voice cut off, for long, inky strands hung unbound over her shoulders, tips brushing against the edge of the desk. The scent that wafted off of them was downright hypnotizing, and Chat Noir couldn’t decide if it was vanilla or something equally tantalizing.
“Chat…?” Marinette prompted, noticing he had gone silent. “What’s wrong?” She looked at him, head still bowed and eyes widened with curiosity, and suddenly the blue was too intense for him.
“Oh, nothing,” he croaked, rather pathetically. “I j-just… Has your room always been this hot?” He stood up abruptly and took a step back, away from the fragrance surrounding her. “So much for winter, heheheh… heh.”
Marinette swiveled in her chair to face him once more, sweeping her hair over one shoulder. “Chat Noir, can you help me or not?” she pressed, raising one skeptical eyebrow.
Chat Noir gulped. The air suddenly felt too thin. “You know, maybe I can’t—“ She didn’t even bother for him to finish his sentence before twirling back to her work.
He watched in stunned silence as she gathered her silky lustrous hair into a messy knot and stabbed it with a pencil to keep it up. He said nothing as she leaned forward, exposing the creamy expanse of her back to him. His throat closed and his breath hitched as she looked over her shoulder, and glanced at him with eyes half-mast, lashes caressing her cheekbones.
“You can show yourself out, can’t you? I need to do this,” she told him, voice lower than usual. Then she turned back to her homework, leaving him gaping at her.
Chat Noir’s jaw dropped. He felt strangely affronted. And mischievous. He looked at the trapdoor, and then back at the girl he couldn’t stay away from. He took a cautious step forward, then stopped.
What am I doing? Adrien asked himself. She told me to go.
Well, she actually said you *can* go, not that you should, countered the black cat.
I know what you’re planning, and no way in hell am I going to do it. That’s Marinette! Adrien practically hissed.
Well, good thing she doesn’t know it’s you, Adrien. Adrien could feel the cat mentally smirking.
His body moved further forward. Adrien begged and pleaded, but the cat refused to be ignored.
Marinette felt a covered hand on her shoulder. “Chat Noir? You’re still here? I said you could—“
Chat Noir slightly dragged her chair backwards. Marinette gasped as he then shoved all her papers, notes, and books to the side. “Hey! What are you doing—?” she squeaked, before cutting off with a choke.
Chat Noir perched at the edge of her desk, calves straddling her knees and a devious grin dancing on his lips. His eyes were alight with green fire. He leaned forward, until his nose was inches from hers.
“I have a better idea, Princess,” he purred, breath ghosting across her cheeks. “Why don’t you do me instead?
The next morning, one bystander swore to her friend, that she saw a man, yelling and hollering, fall from the sky, land on all fours, and run away, just before a massive flowerpot shattered on the spot where he landed.