Twenty-Five: Feline the Holidays

Author's Note: When Chat discovers an unmarked bottle in one of the kitchen cabinets, his curiosity gets the better of him – much to Marinette's chagrin.

Special note: While this installment was inspired by a recent trip to the veterinarian with my own feline fur babies, no actual Chats were harmed in the writing of this chapter… although he is a little pissed at me. I told Chat I'll make it up to him in the next chapter.

I cooled my feline boots for about a week after breaking my ankle before Marinette finally allowed me to go back to work. In reality, it had pretty much healed in less than four days but my girlfriend had insisted I stay off it as long as possible, while rightly pointing out I'd not actually taken any vacation time since our trip to Nice some months earlier.

My counter that I was saving my time to take her somewhere special for New Year's didn't pass muster. So I spent the back half of the week finalizing the details of our getaway, with daily reminders to Marinette to ensure she blocked the time off herself. Left unsaid – for obvious reasons – was I could take time whenever I needed, owing to my position at House of Gabriel.

A month and a half later – and less than two weeks out from Christmas - I landed on my balcony and leapt into my room after a long Friday at the office. I was looking forward to a weekend of Christmas shopping with Marinette, though I was still having trouble firming up what to get her. She'd not hinted about anything per se. which had begun to frustrate me to no end. Even crouched there on my bedroom floor, my tail twisted at the thought of how unusually resistant to my charm she had been in this one area.

My baton buzzed as I was contemplating my next move and I pulled it out. Marinette appeared on the slightly higher definition screen Plagg had recently added; it made her vibrant blue eyes all the prettier. "Princess." I smiled.

"Hey kitty," she said. "Alya called last minute and wants to go for drinks. She scored a major interview with some notable from the United States and, accordingly, a celebration is in order."

"That's pawsome!" I said, knowing how hard our friend had been working to secure the coveted "get" for the news service she worked for.

"Are you okay on your own tonight?" she asked. "I know we usually do something on Fridays."

"I'll be fine," I said. "I'll perch on the balcony railing caterwauling until you get back, of course. But I'll be fine."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "There's a fresh bottle of red in the cabinet. Use it to sooth your hurting heart."

"If I must," I said, putting a paw to my forehead.

"Incorrigible," she laughed. "Don't wait up."

I kissed her image and then clicked off. Standing, I slid the baton to the small of my back and moved out into the kitchen, scratching my chin with a claw thoughtfully. I'd originally planned on crepes with shredded pork and sour cream, but didn't feel like going through the effort for just one; consequently, I found myself with the refrigerator door open, considering what I had in the leftover department that could go into the microwave in a jiffy. Tapping my claws against the metal, I decided eggs sounded good and pulled them out, along with what was left of a bell pepper and some shredded cheddar.

Setting my items on the counter, I moved to the cabinet that had my olive oil and pulled the door open only to find it was missing; frowning, I moved to the next cabinet, and then the next, wondering if either of us had accidentally stashed it in the wrong spot. With two chefs in the kitchen, and two different cooking styles (though, admittedly, Marinette had taught me everything I knew), it wasn't unusual for us to misplace the odd spice or spatula.

On my fourth try, I found my olive oil stashed beside several other liquids. Pulling it out, my feline nose picked up a faint whisper of something I'd never smelled before; intrigued, I put the olive oil down on the granite countertop and started to root around in the space. Two bottles were clearly marked as sesame oil and vinegar, respectively, but the third bottle was unmarked and had a small decorative ribbon around the top.

My masked eyes watched the amber liquid as I rotated it my paws; it was too watery for an oil, but didn't adhere to the sides of the bottle like a vinegar, either. Tentatively, I sniffed the bottle once more and came up with that fragrance again; considering how large my scent catalog was these days, it struck me as odd that I'd not come across it in my travels as Chat. Putting aside the other bottles, I narrowed my masked eyes a bit, trying to see if there had even been a label on the bottle in the first place; about the only evidence was the ribbon, making me think it was some high-end truffle-oil like substance where the tag had been artistically tied to the neck.

Oddly, the fragrance didn't seem food-like to me, but I wasn't getting enough of it to identify it properly, either. My initial guess was Marinette had opened it, gotten some on her hands, and the residue was what I was smelling from the outside of the glass. Sniffing even more carefully, I was reasonably sure I could determine how she'd been holding it.

There was a simple cork in the top, and I inserted a claw to cleanly pop it out. Leaning down, I took a sniff… and immediately felt this warm, comfortable sensation wash over me.

Sweet kwami, I thought, my masked eyes flying wide open.

For I'd only felt something like that on a few other occasions – when an akuma had intentionally tried to take me down with some pretty potent catnip. Ladybug had managed to get me clear, but not before I'd become more of a liability than a partner.

I tried to put the bottle back down, but that fragrance was… amazing. Unable to stop myself, I'd took an even deeper breath, and the amazing calm I'd started to experience deepened. Within a matter of moments, I was feeling as chill as I had ever felt before in my life; unlike the catnip, however, I was totally aware of myself and my surroundings in this sort of hypersensitive yet low-key state.

The next few hours passed amazingly well; Marinette found me lounging atop the breakfast counter, one paw wrapped lovingly around the bottle, my head leaning on the other, tail gently swishing back and forth to music only I could apparently hear. She took one look at me and her jaw dropped. "Chat…?"

"Did you know I can hear the couple in the apartment upstairs?" I asked her eagerly. "They seem to be having a disagreement over the best Pinot Noir in the city." I shook my head. "I had no idea they could argue for hours over such things."

Marinette's eyes hit on the bottle. "Have you been drinking?" she asked as she approached.

"No," I said. "In fact, I poured myself a glass of wine but never touched it." I pointed a claw tip to the glass. "It's there on the counter if you want it."

Her blue eyes came up to mine. "Your eyes… have you had catnip?"

"No," I smiled. "Why would I? You of all people know what it does to me."

She looked at the bottle again. "What is that?"

"This?" I replied, looking down. "I don't know, but it smells amazing," I said as I took in another lungful.

"Where did you find it?" she asked as she gently pried it out of my paw.

"It was in the cabinet," I said, lazily pointing to the door that was still ajar. Somewhat shocked, I realized the eggs and other items I'd taken out from the fridge were still on the counter. "Oops," I said, smiling. "I was going to make dinner and kinda forgot."

Marinette took a sniff of the bottle and looked at me. "I don't smell anything," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Where was this again?"

"That cabinet, next to the olive oil and vinegar."

"Vinegar?" She let out a gasp and put a hand to her mouth, trying to hide a smile.

"What's so funny about vinegar?" I asked. "I love it on salads, but I've never used it in a pun."

Marinette moved around to the back of the counter and corked the bottle; for some reason, it made me sad. "I think you've had enough of this," she said as she made for her bedroom. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'll be here," I smiled again.

She was only gone for a few moments; when she returned, she pulled me down for a kiss and then rechecked my eyes again. "How are you feeling."

"Fabulous," I said. "Like I have no worries at all."

Marinette sighed. "This is my fault, kitty. Want some coffee? I'll explain as I make you dinner."

"You don't have to do that, Purrincess," I said.

"Yeah, I do," she laughed.

One cup of coffee later, I was on one of barstools and feeling less centered than earlier. My masked feline eyes were watching carefully as Marinette replaced the eggs and started my omelet. "So," she started. "You remember the Christmas party we had at the office earlier this week?"

I nodded. "How could I forget? I've been eating leftover salad for days now."

She smiled. "Funny story. Several of the other ladies I work with know I'm dating you."

"No surprise there."

"No," she said, and I could see her face flushing slightly as she giggled. "But they got me what they thought was a cool joke gift. Something I could use to… control you."

My masked eyes narrowed a bit and for the first time in a few hours, I felt a little more like myself. "Control?" I laughed a little nervously. "I'm already putty in your hands. What more could you want?"

"I know," she laughed. "Anyway, I thanked them and shoved it in the bag I'd used to bring the salad supplies." The flush crept higher on her face. "I must have stashed it with the vinegar and oil."

"What was it, exactly, Princess?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "Some sort of aphrodisiac?" I paused for a beat. "I thought being in black leather-"

"No," she said quickly cutting me off with a good-natured glare. "Pheromones."

"Pheromones," I repeated. "Why do I feline I should know what those are?"

"Technically, that bottle is artificial," she explained as she flipped my omelet over and slid it onto plate. "That particular one is popular with veterinarians, apparently, for it calms cats down and makes them rather… pliant… during appointments."

The other masked eyebrow went up. "Really," I said. "Well, if I needed any further proof how cat-like I've become, there it is."

Sliding the plate across to me, she nodded. "So it worked, then?"

"I already do everything you ask me to do, Purrincess," I reminded her with a sly smile. "But purrhaps. I certainly felt quite centered and very Zen-like. Extremely relaxed, but not fuzzy around the edges like catnip makes me feel." I took a bite of my omelet. "This is wonderful," I said, before adding, "and you're planning on disposing of that bottle, right?"

Her eyes danced with merriment. "I was originally, but now that I know it is effective…" she said, trailing off wickedly.

I paused for a moment, tapping my tail thoughtfully against the barstool. Marinette continued to smile, and then saw something in my face. "Hang on—" she said, her eyes growing wide.

Instantly, I was over the counter, trailing a meowrrrr in my wake, and had bundled her up into my arms; slowly, I started to rub my face against hers, ramping up my purring as I drew tiny little circles around her belly-button with a claw tip.

Marinette let out a startled gasp and dropped the spatula she'd been holding; as it clanged to the floor, she twisted around and locked her lips on mine. Parting a few minutes later, she asked between heavy breaths, "What brought this on? Don't you want dinner?"

"Aftereffects," I said, momentarily pausing my purring as I stared lovingly into her deep blue eyes. "For some reason, I'd like to skip straight to dessert."

Cackling wildly, Marinette pulled me back down to her again for a kiss, but not before adding: "There's no way I'm getting rid of that stuff now…"