May 28 - Lights Out
Author's Note: Chat may have fought hundreds of akumas, but when it comes to a cranky string of holiday lights, he finds he's met his match. On his journey to rectify the situation, though, he discovers a little something about the true spirit of the season.
Ep: Christmas in May, you say? Absolutely! Especially when it means I can sneak in another story featuring my Roommates duo. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go turn up Ella Wishes You A Swinging Christmas.
Lyra: Sorry, I'm busy singing "I'll Be Home For Christmas, There's No Where Else I'm Allowed to Be~"
MR: Christmas? I'm not ready! I've barely started shopping!
Today's chapter is from epcot97.
"We really need a new tree," I mewled.
"There's nothing wrong with this one," Marinette said from across the room.
"But I can't find it! Wouldn't it just be easier-"
"No," she said firmly as she pulled a fresh batch of cookies from the oven and placed the baking sheet on the granite countertop. "Be patient, take a deep breath, and start again."
Blowing away a bang that had fallen in front of a masked eye, I debated the wisdom of arguing the point. After all, she wasn't the one up to her feline ears trying to wrestle our Christmas Tree into holiday shape. My original plan had been to surprise her with something from a catalog I'd found, one that came pre-lit and pre-decorated; I figured for our first holiday together, it would be worth the expense. Marinette had actually surprised me - kind of - that evening; as I vaulted through my bedroom balcony doorway and rolled into the main part of the apartment I shared with her, this dreadful pile of imitation greenery had been waiting for me atop our coffee table.
Sighing dramatically, I looked over my shoulder at Marinette. "How long has this been in the family again?" I asked.
"I have no idea," she said as she began to slide the cookies off the baking sheet and onto a wire rack for cooling. "All I know is, my grand-mère dropped it off with my mother this morning, and I picked it up this afternoon. Apparently it was the tree she had with grand-père the year they got married."
I pulled back a bit, though my arms remained hidden within the section I'd been struggling with. "Princess, this tree is well past its prime-"
"Chat," Marinette said, and without turning I knew she was waving her spatula at me. "We are going to use this tree."
"Mari, be reasonable! Half of these boughs don't even line up correctly. And these lights-"
"Chat," she said again, and this time I heard the tone that told me I was skating on thin ice. "Maybe you should take a break. Why don't you do a lap around the city or something? Clear your head. And then try again when you get back."
Slightly annoyed with her suggestion, my feline ears flattened as I withdrew my paws and stood. "Fine," I said tightly. "I'll be back in thirty."
"See you then," she smiled, melting my heart and making it hard to stay angry.
Nonetheless, with as much ire as I could muster, I bounded away through my room and out the slider to my balcony; leaping over the railing, I grabbed my baton in a fluid movement and helicoptered my way to the first rooftop, where I landed easily and began to jog along the spine. In truth, I wasn't really upset - well, not at Marinette, at least; it had been a long day for me at House of Gabriel, and working on a decades-old fake Christmas tree hadn't been on my list for the evening. Wine? Yes. Trying to figure out how to put together an ancient piece of… something… without instructions? Not so much.
Snow was gently falling as it had been on and off for the last few days, muting the normal sounds of the city. It felt peaceful and calm, much as the old carol would remind us; landing on a peaked rooftop, I perched for a bit just to take in the early evening scene beneath me. With ten days to go before the holiday itself, Parisians were bustling about the shops below, picking out last minute gifts for loved ones and acquaintances. I'd been making that fruitless run for days now myself, trying to find just the right gift for my Princess, something that could express just how much her leap of faith meant to this once lonely kitty. Shaking my head to throw off the accumulating snow from my mane, I sighed again, wondering how it was even remotely possible to feel anything but love for that woman who had come into my life so unexpectedly years ago.
Movement caught my feline eye, and I turned my masked visage toward a lit window in an apartment across the street. A young mother was on tip-toes, putting the finishing touch of a star atop her well-formed tree; a child of perhaps ten stood below her, holding the box where she'd retrieved the bangle. Mission accomplished, she stepped back and turned to say something to the child; smiling, he put the box on the floor and disappeared from view. A moment later, the tree burst into life, filled to the brim with brilliant white speckles that reflected off of the ornaments that were tastefully - maybe even artfully - arranged.
I was reminded for a moment of doing the same activity with my mother, in the years before she disappeared. It had been a fun experience, a beloved chance for me to spend time with her as we prepared for the jolly old elf's once-a-year appearance. Nathalie had tried to recreate that experience for me the first few years after Mother disappeared, but it had become a cold and austere activity. One intended to keep up appearances, and nothing more.
The tree meant something to Marinette; I'd known that from the moment I'd seen her face when I'd arrived that evening. Much like me, she, too, had Christmas memories and traditions, and as I watched the family in front of me start to work hanging stockings, I realized my Princess had wanted to share that with me, too. Mari had to have seen the tree at her grand-mère's place for years, and the very thought of that threadbare imitation conifer getting a second chance with a new generation suddenly appealed to me. Much like me, it had found a new family and now desperately wanted to be a part of it.
But those lights… they were nearly antiques, to be honest. The string that had been with the materials didn't turn on - at all - and nearly an hour of trying to track down which bulb was the issue had driven me to distraction, despite my legendary feline-enhanced patience. My masked eyes narrowed as they took in the brightly lit specimen across the street, and for a long moment, I harbored dark thoughts of stealing the festive tableau a-la the Grinch.
Not my finest moment as a superhero, for sure.
Turning away, I started a slow jog back to the apartment but didn't get very far; pausing at the edge of the roof I was on, I realized I was just a few blocks from a small family run pharmacy I'd come across during an akuma attack back in July. It had a little of everything, and a small seasonal aisle that had amazing wonders for particular points of the year. Adrien Agreste had become a regular customer in the months since moving in with Marinette, picking up a card here or a small box of her favorite chocolates there. With luck, they might have exactly what I needed.
Grabbing the metallic downspout I was next to, I swung around and slid down to the street level, landing in a cat crouch just outside the festively lit window of the shop. Standing slowly, I looked past the reflection of a feline superhero to see a magnificent tree fully decked out, with a small train running circles around the base. Boxes of various sizes, wrapped in colorful foil paper, were shoved beneath the lowest boughs and looked so homey I suddenly felt nostalgic. Caught in my daydream, I didn't catch the fact that the owner of the shop was standing next to me, slack jawed.
"Chat Noir?" she asked.
I turned, realizing my plan to duck into the alley and transform was now out of the question. "What a magnificent display," I said appreciatively. "How long did it take for you to create it?"
"Thank you," she laughed. "Two days, actually. It would take less if my grandkids didn't insist on helping."
Smiling, I nodded. "Cats can be supremely unhelpful, too," I sighed. "Just ask my girlfriend. I'm always in the way."
"I'm sure that's not true," was the kind response.
"Look, do you sell the lights you have in that tree?"
"You need… Christmas lights?" she asked, eyes widening. "Is there some sort of akuma attack?"
"No," I said, smiling to tamp down her panic. "Believe it or not, I am decorating my secret hideaway. And I need another strip of lights to finish the job."
"You have a secret hideaway?" she repeated.
I figured the girlfriend remark would resonate more, I thought, before answering. "Maybe, but you can't tell anyone you know about it."
"Okay," she said after a moment. "We do sell those lights, in white or multiple colors. I think we only have the one-hundred count lights left in stock though."
"Clawesome," I said as I slid open my baton's secret compartment, verifying I had stashed a small wad of euros for just such an emergency. "I'll take the white, I think..."
Not long after, I was back in the apartment, carefully threading my newly obtained LED lights into the boughs of the tree. I'd been in luck, for when I'd returned, Marinette had already disappeared into her suite, and from the occasional splashes my feline ears could pick up, she was relaxing in her garden tub. By the time she reappeared in the main space, clad in her Chat Noir pajamas, I was curled up on the table, mesmerized by my handiwork.
She padded over to me and gasped. "Chat! My… holy… that's stunning," she breathed as she slid onto the glass top beside me.
"Thank you," I sighed contentedly, tail playfully sneaking to her waist. "The tree just needed a little love," I added as I turned up to look at her. "I obliged, and it blossomed. Just like I did when you gave your love to me."
Marinette's eyes were glistening in the low light from the tree. "Oh, my precious kitty… you didn't need my help."
"Yes I did," I replied honestly as I adjusted my position to hug her. "More than you can ever know."
She leaned down to me and gave me a long, sensual kiss. "I have a feline this is going to be the best Christmas ever, I think," Marinette said as she pulled back with a smile.
I found no reason to disagree and simply pulled her back for a second helping of those divinely soft lips.