Thirteen: Raw Nerves

Even Chat's super-stamina flagged around three in the morning; I'd caught my second wind and had finished all of the changes for Kitty Section, but when I turned to get Chat into his costume for the final fitting, I found he'd curled himself into a tiny ball on the chaise and was softly snoring, the bell on his chest gently rising and falling with each breath. Somehow, he'd managed a standard cat position, with his head upon his paws, knees tucked under his chin. And Chat's face had the most serene, angelic look to it in repose, the wide swath of his black mask accentuating the softness of his exposed skin.

I was tempted to snap a photo on my phone, and initially thought better of it. Maybe it was the late hour, or the sugar high I was coming off of (for Chat had apparently received some training from my father and had been ensuring a steady supply of double-chocolate lattes were in my hands all evening); whatever it was, I grabbed my phone and snapped a series of photos of my kitty blissfully asleep from just about every angle. I must have spent a good ten minutes documenting my slumbering boyfriend, and then sat back in my chair to review the new album I'd created. Casting caution to the wind, I chose a particularly good shot of Chat and made it my new lock screen.

Putting my phone aside (after noting it was now closing in on three-thirty), I knew I had a decision to make. I needed to either wake my kitty and slog through the changes for his costume, or follow Chat's lead and catch a couple of hours of shuteye so I'd be able to function in class. Somewhat. My eyes flicked to Chat, and the decision was easy; a moment later, I'd managed to curl myself into him and fell fast asleep.

It felt like only a minute had passed when the alarm on my phone started to shriek; my eyes snapped open only to realize it was actually Chat's baton, and he was already extricating himself from both me and the chaise. "Princess," he said, wide awake and all business, "I've got to go. Please stay here until you get the all clear."

My fuzzy brain took another moment to register it was the akuma alert I had heard; I nodded to him as he quickly vaulted from the chaise and up through the skylight. After all of our time together, I'd learned it was easier to have him think I was staying put so he'd actually leave me alone long enough to transform.

I waited a few moments, and then called for my transformation; poor Tikki had spent the night in my purse and looked a little sleepy when she phased into my earrings. Once the glow of transformation faded, I followed Chat and tried to ignore the fact my phone said it was barely four-thirty. I detested the early morning akumas Hawkmoth threw at us every so often; consequently, I was in a foul mood when I reached Chat outside of the Louvre entrance plaza.

"Milady," he smiled. Seeing him under the lights of the plaza accentuated how tired he was, too, making me realize the two of us had been quite literally burning the candle at both ends. "Despite the early hour, it looks it's an old friend."

"Seriously?" I groaned, and looked across Chat to see Mister Pigeon had yet again rounded up the birds of Paris. "I feel like there is some sort of message here."

"Other than Hawkmoth preys on the weakest among us," Chat replied, narrowing his eyes. "That's not exactly a newsflash."

"I'm not sure that's entirely true, Chat," I said. "There have been some pretty strong people, too. They just were having really bad days."

"I suppose," Chat allowed. "Guess I'm not feeling charitable at four in the morning. This little stunt pulled me out of my girlfriend's arms," he added as he shot a sly look at me.

For a moment, I wasn't entirely sure how to respond, seeing as though I was the girl in question. "Serves you right," I said, deciding for snark. "It is a school night, after all."

His head snapped toward me. "If I went to school," he said carefully.

"I don't have time for this," I said crossly. "Let's get this over with and then we can get back to bed."

It was too easy for Chat, and he pounced. "I'm happy to join you, Milady—"

The yo-yo flew from my hand and bonked him between the ears; normally it was enough to persuade him to quit his antics. This time around, though, my general displeasure at being summoned so early had been channeled into massive wallop. Chat had enough time to look at me in surprise before both paws went to his head and he sank to his knees on the paving stones; his baton fell to the ground and rolled away from him with a metallic clink-clink.

"What was that for?" he mewled through gritted teeth, his masked eyes narrowed accusingly. It was clear I'd hit him pretty hard.

Immediately I dropped to his side, swearing and ignoring Mister Pigeon. "I'm so sorry, Chat," I said, pulling his head into my chest. "I'm a little cranky this morning."

"I'll say," Chat replied, his voice muffled by the fabric of my costume. He pushed back a bit, still grimacing and furiously rubbing where I'd hit him. "I might consent to a spray bottle of water after this."

"Or you could just behave yourself," I reminded him.

"I thought I'd been pretty good, Milady," was his rejoinder.

Sitting there together, I realized I'd hurt him more than physically, for he was right; as of late, he'd not flirted at nearly the same level he once had, owing to his relationship with Marinette. I pulled him into a gentle but firm (and hopefully plutonic-feeling) hug. Oddly, he squirmed a bit.

"I'm sorry, kitty, truly sorry," I whispered into his feline ear as I rocked him slightly. "You've been as much of an angel as a crafty black cat could be; it's not been lost on me how hard you've been trying."

"Mmmph," was his reply as he attempted to push away from me.

"Sorry?" I said, releasing him suddenly.

He fell back gasping. "First you hit me over the head, then you try to smother me," he tried to laugh, between massive gulps of air. "If this is how you treat the people close to you..." he joshed.

I felt my cheeks flaming. Prudently, I changed subjects. "Let's take care of Mister Pigeon, shall we?"

"Just as soon as I only see one of them," Chat replied, squinting.

I sighed. "I'm not going to live this one down, am I?"

"Nope," he laughed.

We made short work of Monsieur Ramier and opted not to allow him to purchase breakfast for us, though Chat's stomach did let out a massive rumble while we discussed it. Once we'd sent him on his way, I paused before leaping away. "How's your head?" I asked.

"I have a lump, believe it or not," he said, frowning. "It didn't disappear when you called your Miraculous Cure. I have to admit to being a bit worried it will be visible when I transform."

"Lean down," I said, and Chat lowered his head. I parted his wild mane with my gloved hand and found to my horror a bit of a goose egg right where I'd nailed him. "Holy kwami," I breathed. "Well, your hair hides it-"

Chat pulled back suddenly. "Right," he smiled but it was perfunctory. "I've gotta scat," he saluted as his ring chirped. "Later."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the Louvre plaza in the pre-dawn. I stared after his departing form, stymied for a moment before realizing there was a real chance he'd recharge and double back to the Bakery to ensure I was safe. Hurriedly, I tossed my yo-yo to the sky and sailed into the early morning; despite the insistent chirping of my earrings, I took the cautious step of landing a rooftop near the Bakery to survey the scene, and to my horror, saw Chat landing in a crouch on the patio of the Bakery.

Swearing again, I leapt over the edge of the building and landed in the alleyway beside the bakery, dropping my transformation as I ran for the door of the residence. Which was locked. Frantically, I looked at my kwami who rolled her tiny eyes and phased through the door; a moment later, I heard the latch open and I pushed through, bolting up the stairs and through the next door into the kitchen.

My father turned from where he was brewing a cup of coffee, surprise on his face. "Marinette? Were you out?"

Being bakers, both of my parents were generally up well before sunrise, a key fact I had forgotten. Wondering how much worse the day was going to be, I suppressed a groan. "I thought I heard something in the alley," I explained, trying to keep the lie from showing on my face. "Like a cat. Or a dog."

Papa looked at me askance. "A stray?"

"Yes," I nodded vigorously, wondering how much Chat was overhearing. "There was an... akuma alert, and I wanted to make sure it was safe."

Chat cleared his throat, and the two of us turned to see him leaning against the stairway railing, paws folded and tail twisting with displeasure. Even his ears were askew. "Did you find it?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Chat?"

"Princess," he said, eyes narrowing further. "I thought I told you to stay inside."

"You were here?" This was from my father. "All night?"

Both Chat and I swung around to face my father.

Chat spoke first, all traces of his displeasure with me washed away; instead, a slight flush appeared on his cheeks. "Actually, I was here all night, yes, Monsieur Dupain-Cheng." Pausing, he swallowed before continuing. "I'm sorry, I should have sought permission first."

"It was my fault," I stepped in. "I'm making him an outfit for the concert tonight, and it's taking me longer than I expected. He... was a trooper, waiting for me, and fell asleep on the chaise."

Papa looked at Chat again. "Uh, if it helps... the, uh, costume can't come off," he added, his face flushing a deep crimson.

I tried very hard not to laugh at his discomfort.

My father turned back to me. "I would have preferred you'd asked first, of course, but..." he started, before turning back to Chat. "You're family, now, Chat. Sabine and I trust you; please know, you are always welcome in our home."

Chat let out the breath I knew he'd been holding and smiled. "You don't know how much that means to me, Monsieur," he said happily.

"Call me Tom, Chat," he smiled.

"Yes, Mon—Tom," Chat said.

I kissed Papa. "We'll get out of your hair," I said as I hurried to Chat and tugged him up the steps to my room. As we ascended, I whispered: "Did you have to tell him about the suit?"

Chat groaned. "I was floundering a bit," he admitted. "It seemed like something he might want to know. I got the distinct impression he thought I was... perhaps..." Chat coughed. "You know. With his daughter."

We paused on the landing below my trapdoor and I tried to mask my humor at his continuing discomfort. Chat was every inch a proper gentleman, and had never made an untoward advance; I also knew that despite all of the flirting and endless innuendo, he accepted I wasn't even remotely ready to take our relationship to a more, shall we say, intimate level – and, as he had already freely admitted to me, neither was he. I was quite comfortable that he'd never force the issue, either.

"Hence telling him about the suit," I supplied.

"Exactly." He smiled sheepishly. "Nothing wrong with the truth."

"No," I agreed.

We started up the trapdoor to my room when Chat's stomach let out another massive rumble. I paused and turned back toward him and sighed. "I don't have enough time to feed you and get you fitted," I said.

Chat looked torn; normally, he wouldn't turn down a chance for food, but he also knew how much work was left on his costume. He sighed. "Let's do this," he said after a moment. "I... I got injured a bit during the akuma attack and think I'm going to lay low. If you can get back here for lunch, I'll make sure I'm ready and waiting. If that's enough time for you?"

My eyes widened, for that told me my little yo-yo attack had persisted through transformation. I resisted the urge to reach up and look for the bump. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," he smiled. "My quick-healing will take care of it, but I just need some time to recover."

I nodded. "Yeah, I can make the final changes over lunch."

He followed me up into the room and then started up the ladder to the skylight. "Good," he smiled again. "Then I'll be here on your roof at lunch."

"Chat - wait!" I said, catching his tail.

He frowned. "You know I hate-" he started before I yanked.

Chat was strong enough that he could have prevented himself from being pulled backwards, and into my arms; he didn't, of course, allowing me to plant a kiss on his lips, silencing his objections. He smiled as we pulled away from each other. "You needed a proper goodbye, kitty," I reminded him.

"Indeed I did," he laughed as he saluted and then vaulted into the early dawn.