Twenty-Five: Puss In Boots

Author's Note: As ChubbyUnicornMama and I went through our final list of chapters for #MariChatMay2019, we discovered this chapter for May 25th hadn't been claimed. We flipped a coin and I lost, so you're now stuck with me for another five thousand words.

CM: Only 5k? I'll believe it when I see it.

Since we are nearing the end of the month, I've decided to take a page from own work and cast the time spell from the Miraculous Grimoire so CM and I can be part of the team that created Miraculous. If it works, I can be hired to correct any other problems in your own timeline. (CM: Better send us back in time far enough so we can learn French…)

I also discovered I had an excuse to revisit our adult versions of Chat and Marinette many months after they started to share that apartment facing the Eiffel Tower. It's their second Christmas together, but not quite – Chat is alone, as Marinette is on one of her first business trips as part of her new career.

It was snowing in Paris on Christmas Eve.

I stood on the balcony outside my suite at the apartment and watched the large flakes lethargically fall from the sky, thick as anything I'd seen in years. Strictly speaking, I didn't need to stand there as Chat Noir, as Marinette had the unfortunate luck to be the most junior designer on staff forced to visit a fabric supplier over the holidays. She was actually someplace far warmer at the moment, a fact I had pointed out during our last FaceTime together; sadly, she wouldn't commit to bottling up the sunshine and bringing some back for her kitty.

Still, it felt wrong for me to be in the apartment as Adrien. For a year and a half now, I'd managed to keep my Princess from learning who she was sharing the space with, though she had started a very subtle campaign to try and pry that information out of me. I knew my days of anonymity were likely numbered and hoped I could eek it out until the summer, when a more romantic reveal would be possible. The gray days of winter just weren't right, but it would take every ounce of Chat cunning to keep her off balance until then.

I tilted my head and extended my tongue, catching a few flakes like I had years ago as a child. Only now I had the enhanced feline taste buds, which were able to detect the makeup of the water that had gone into those particular flakes (they were a bit salty tonight). I closed my eyes and wished warm thoughts for my soulmate, then retreated to the relative warmth of the apartment.

The coffee I'd been sipping was sitting on the kitchen island and had gone cold; I dumped it out and ran a new cup through the Keurig, my claws tapping on the granite countertops while I waited. Then, mug in hand, I took my usual cat position atop the coffee table and sipped the hot brew while taking in our tree and the lighted Tower beyond. We'd decorated it together last weekend, just before I helped her pack for her trip; although, to be honest, I was pretty much just in the way, placing myself between her and the suitcase in an attempt to delay the inevitable.

She'd laughed, and fended me off, and then I'd accompanied her to the airport the next morning to see her off. It had been a while since someone I'd cared about had left me behind, and as I sat there, sipping my coffee, all I could think about was that first Christmas after I'd become Chat – and after my mother had disappeared. Perhaps that was why I both looked forward and dreaded the holidays each year. But spending the last few with Marinette had made them more bearable. Tomorrow, though, would be the first time I'd be completely alone.

I drained the last of my mug and vaulted back to the kitchen in an easy leap, rinsed my mug, and then found myself out of reasons to avoid going on patrol. I turned off all of the lights save for the Christmas tree, and then exited via my balcony to leapt into the falling snow. Within minutes, I knew I'd picked up a crown of white on my blonde mane, and wished I'd remembered to put on the beanie Marinette had knitted me. I shook it off, belatedly realizing it would be a losing battle.

Somewhat coincidentally, Ladybug had also informed me two weeks ago that she had a family issue and would be away until the new year. She'd never left me alone in Paris before, but had assured me I was more than up to the task – something I'd never heard her say to me before. In our early years together, in fact, I had suspected she felt I was often more of a distraction, and while that had partially been true, ultimately, I'd proven to her I was her equal. Hearing her actually say it, though, was a new experience.

But that also meant I'd been abandoned by the two people I felt I was closest to at the trickiest part of the calendar for me. It would be a test in more ways than one.

Working my way through Paris, I followed the regular pathway I usually took with Ladybug, but my heart wasn't really in it. It was helpful that the city was quiet, everyone tucked into bed early to await the arrival of Père Noël. I smiled a bit at that as I helicoptered over a thoroughfare: that first Christmas as Chat, I actually helped Ladybug de-akumatize someone I'd come to believe was the real Père Noël. He'd helped me in a dark moment, and I found myself idly wondering if I'd see him again tonight.

At length, I wound up in the square in front of City Hall, and dropped down to the snow-covered surface. The massive Christmas Tree for the city was fully lit, glittering especially brightly in the falling snow. All those years ago, as an angry teenager, I'd intended to take it out with my Cataclysm but couldn't go through with it. Tonight, I carefully picked my way across the snow drifts to a spot just below the tree and just appreciated the quiet beauty of the moment.

I smiled wider as I remembered the hat and card Marinette had given me that night, long ago. It had been a warm gesture, one of many she'd made to Adrien and, now, Chat. Once more, I counted myself lucky for having scored such a kind soul as my girlfriend. I turned around and started back across the snow, pausing only when I saw my own footprints.

My boots were designed to look like cat paws, and even had a version of my paw print on the sole. The snow was deep enough around the tree, though, that the only pattern visible was the paw print – the actual outline of my boot was not appearing. In fact, it looked very much like a cat had been working his way around the square – albeit a very big, human-sized cat.

Feeling mischievous, I started to trot around the square, leaving behind trails of paw prints and making it appear as though a virtual army of cats had been caroling around the tree. The snow had started to lighten up, leaving my hard work more or less intact. Before I knew it, I'd made my way halfway across Paris again, paw prints in every conceivable snow covered surface.

As the bells from the cathedrals rang out for midnight, I found myself sitting on the observation level of the Eiffel Tower, looking back across the city I loved and protected. I was filled with the spirit of the evening, and though I missed both of my ladies, I was missing Marinette far more. On a whim, I pulled out my baton and speed dialed Marinette. I knew it was the wee hours of the morning where she was, but hoped she would pick up. Unfortunately, it went directly to voicemail.

"Hey, Princess," I said to her voicemail, "Merry Christmas from Paris. I miss you and love you."

I snapped the baton closed and returned it to the small of my back, and decided to watch the lights as they played over the city for a while longer. Marinette had left me some wonderful Christmas morning pastries for breakfast, and I had an invitation to join her parents for Christmas Dinner; outside of that, I had no place to be, and no one to see.

I was so engrossed I my thoughts that it took me a few seconds to realize my baton was buzzing. I pulled it out like it was a hot potato and flipped open the phone function.

Marinette was on the small screen, smiling. "Hey kitty," she said. "Merry Christmas!"

"Same to you, Princess," I said warmly, kissing my claw tip and pressing it to her lips on the screen. "I'm sorry for the early call," I added. "I'm really, really missing you."

"I know," she said. "I miss you too." She tried to peer behind me. "Where are you?"

"The Tower," I said. "I just finished leaving my paw prints all over the city."

"You what?"

I explained my paw-printed boot soles and what I'd done, and had her laughing hysterically by the end of my story. "Wait until the newspapers get ahold of that," she laughed, tears streaming.

It made me happy to see her. More than I'd expected. "How's the trip going?"

"Well," she said, eyes mischievous.

Something was off. "What?" I asked, raising a masked eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," she said, then she slid the phone sideways.

A small Christmas tree was behind her, and behind that—

I hurled myself off the Tower and spun up my baton; as fast as my feline abilities would allow, I crossed the city, making a beeline for our apartment and my balcony. As I neared it, I could see all the lights were on, blazing like a beacon of welcome. I dropped to my balcony and rolled through my open sliding door, vaulted across my bedroom and rolled out into our living room.

Marinette was standing there, arms wide. "Hello, kitty," she said, laughing. "We got done early, and I took the first flight I could get."

I pulled her into my arms, laughing and crying all at the same time. "That's, like, a twenty-hour flight—"

"Yes," she nodded. "But it was worth it." Marinette pulled me down into a wonderful kiss, and then released me. "Merry Christmas, Chat."

I buried my head in her hair, my heart overflowing with joy, and, for once, at a complete loss for words.