A/N: Hello! Thank you for stopping to read my story. Please leave a review, whether you liked the story or not it'd mean a lot to me. Enjoy!


Marinette whirled around the kitchen of her parents' bakery, wiping flour off of the countertops. She hastily searched for and gathered the used cooking utensils that were scattered about, scooping them into her arms before dumping them into the sink. She rolled up her sleeves, wiped sweat from her brow, and cracked her knuckles. Time to get to work.

Technically, she had been working all day. After coming home from school and sitting at her desk, completing homework, she spent the rest of her time helping her parents. Bastille was coming up and the shop had been busier than usual.

Marinette scrubbed the dried batter off the spoons and bowls with fervor, trying to finish cleaning as soon as possible. She dunked her hands in the warm, soapy water, sinking her arms up to the elbows. She scoured the base of the sink for stray forks and knives. Finding a fistful of utensils, she continued cleaning.

Tonight, Marinette was in a hurry to wrap up her chores. She had somehow gained a regular visitor, and he usually came around nine. She wanted to make sure that her parents had no reason to take her away from her guest. Marinette was a gracious host; leaving unexpectedly would be bad manners.

After washing the last dish, Marinette removed the plug at the base of the sink, letting the water drain out. She shook her hands free of water and wrung them dry on her messy apron. She disappeared into the kitchen's storage closet, reappearing with a broom in hand. She began to sweep.

She checked the time as she swept. It was 8:50. He could be here any minute! Marinette faced her work. It was better for her to focus on getting her work done rather than to focus on being late.

Sabine entered the kitchen unceremoniously, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. She lifted her tired eyes to see Marinette, working hard as always. She softened, rubbing her hands that were sore after a day of baking. "Marinette. Chèrie."

Marinette raised her head in surprise, she hadn't noticed her mother come in. "Yes, Mom?"

"Your father and I appreciate your efforts today very much."

"It's nothing, Mom. Really, it's okay," said Marinette, waving her hand as if to brush the compliment away. "I help all the time."

"I know, Marinette. But today must have been the busiest day you've worked. I don't think you've helped out around Bastille before." Sabine rested her body against the countertop nearest the kitchen door. "Either way, you've worked plenty today. You can go to bed. Your father and I can handle the rest of the cleaning."

Marinette stopped sweeping. She looked at her mother in surprise, then at the clock. 8:55. Her mother's timing was perfect. She set down the broom and hugged Sabine. "Thank you, Mom." She buried her face into her mother's shoulder. It wasn't until after she stopped cleaning did Marinette realize how tired she was. She remembered her visitor. "Mom, can I have a few leftover pastries before bed?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Anything you'd like."

Marinette released herself from her mother's embrace, "Thanks again. Goodnight."

Sabine kissed Marinette on the cheek, whispering a goodnight in return.

Marinette collected a few pastries in a box and said goodnight to her father before heading up to her room.

She placed the box on her desk and changed into her pajamas before collapsing on her lounge chair. She turned her head against her plush cushion, looking at the digital clock at the edge of her desk. Its face was lit up in pink numbers, displaying the time; 9:10. Her guest was late. She turned her head back to its original position and stared at her ceiling. What's keeping him? Is he not coming? She blinked slowly. Her eyelids felt heavy. He had better come soon.


"Wake up, wake up, Marinette," lulled a gentle voice.

Marinette roused from her sleep, shifting her head from side to side, the back of her head ground into the softness of her chair. She opened her eyes to see… her guest hovering over her face.

"...what time is it?" Marinette asked in groggy voice.

"12:30."

She gently placed her hand over the face of her guest, spreading her fingers. She then pushed his head back sharply, shifting his balance and making his top half fall back. "You're late."

"Ow… I didn't know we had agreed upon a meeting time," he said, rubbing his masked face.

Marinette sat up. "We didn't. I just expect you to come at a certain time." She tucked her legs into her body and wrapped her arms around them. "I should have known better than to wait. Stray cats aren't very reliable." She punctuated her remark with a sly smile.

Chat Noir clapped a gloved hand over his chest dramatically. "Stray? Princess, I'm hurt." He gave her a pout, to which she giggled before pushing his head away again.

Marinette stood up and walked over to her desk, "If you're not a stray, then what are you?" She picked up the box of pastries and shook it. "You only come for snacks." She returned to her seat on the chair, placing the box on her lap.

"Au contraire, there's much more here than that." he said, shifting closer to Marinette.

"Like what?" Marinette goaded, looking down at the white box in her lap and running a finger over its opening. She loved to play coy with Chat. She knew he'd shower her with affection, regardless of whether or not she meant to be self-deprecative.

He placed his right hand on the right side of her face and nudged it to the left, towards him. He pressed his lips against the softness of her velveteen skin.

Marinette giggled, her face was squished between Chat Noir's lips and his hand. She curled her fingers around his wrist.

He released her face. "You."

Marinette turned her head to face him, blushing. Their noses were almost touching. "Would you care to share these treats with me?"

"Of course."

Marinette opened the box to reveal macarons, eclairs, and croissants. She and Chat Noir took a macaron. Marinette asked him for a reason for his lateness, sparking a long conversation similar to the ones they share any other night he visits.

Chat Noir first arrived at her window sill after a solo night patrol. He was passing by one night and became curious as to why her lights were still on. She had snacks. They had been friends ever since. Marinette enjoyed getting to know Chat outside of his hero persona. Though it wasn't his civilian form, Marinette figured that their relationship was as close as she would like to be. They occasionally shared playful kisses—pecks on the lips or cheek—but they remained platonic, both desiring to stay true to their respective crushes.

The two of them were down to their last eclair and were fresh out of conversation. Marinette was lying on her lounge chair and Chat Noir was stretched out on the floor next to her.

Marinette glanced at the box beside her, then shifted her gaze to Chat Noir, "There's only one eclair left."

Chat Noir turned his face towards her, "Is that so?"

"Yes," she whispered dreamily. "Do you want to share it?"

In the darkness of her room, Marinette saw him nod his head. The open window above where she lay swept in the warm July breeze. Light from cars passing by graced her room, illuminating Chat's face for moments at a time, making him shine brilliantly against the dark blue hue of her room. He stared at her intensely; she stared back.

Marinette felt her stomach flutter. She gasped and raised her head to check the time. 1:40. The action was obsolete, but she needed some reason to break their gaze. She reached for the eclair and split it in half. She gave him his half.

After enjoying the last of their snack, Marinette dangled her hand over the edge of her bed. She felt her eyelids becoming heavy again. "Chat…," she sighed.

Her left hand was hanging directly in front of Chat Noir's face. She had some of the eclair's cream lining her fingers. It occurred to Chat that Marinette was a messy eater. He grabbed her wrist and licked the length of her index finger.

"Chat…!" she exclaimed through gritted teeth, muffling her shout. The action caught her off guard, but what shocked her even more is the fact that he kept doing it. She withdrew her hand before he put her entire finger in his mouth. She brought her hand up to her face. Her fingers had been licked clean. "What are you doing?" She leaned over the edge of her chair to look at him.

He was lying on the wood floor with his hand on his stomach, looking back at her slyly, "You, princess, are a messy eater."

Marinette wiped her hand against her night shirt, "I see you are too."

He chuckled, hoisting himself up against the cushion of her chair. He was level with her face; their noses were almost touching. "Are you upset with me?"

She stared at him with wide eyes and felt her face get warm. Her stomach lurched and fluttered, "No."

"Good." He cupped her face and gave her a peck on her lips.

When he started to retreat, she held him place and pressed her lips firmly against his, kissing him back. As she kissed him, it occurred to her that all the platonic kisses they'd shared had been initiated by him. She released him but kept his face close. "I think it's time for you to go," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his mouth. She removed her hands and stood up. She held her hand out for him to take.

He took her hand and stood up quietly. A car passed by and lit his face up. Only then did Marinette realize that he was blushing. Her kiss had caught him off guard. She secretly hoped that his stomach was doing flips like hers was.

"I guess this is goodbye," Chat Noir said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marinette closed the space between their bodies, "Until next time, minou." She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, which he returned.

He saluted her with two fingers before slipping out of her room by way of her ceiling door.

She watched him leave and waited until he was completely gone before climbing into her bed.