Eighty-Two: …Like Sunday Morning

As the staycation continues, a very relaxed Chat decides to treat Marinette with a surprise breakfast.

Marinette's idea of an in-apartment vacation worked wonders on our tired bodies; by the time my eyes blinked open late on Sunday morning, I felt as refreshed and renewed as though we'd actually gone to the villa in Nice. There was a something to be said for the healing power of quiet moments spent with your true love; I had no idea if our respective Miraculous had a hand in augmenting the experience, but if they did, I knew at least one of us was deeply grateful. I stretched slightly, luxuriating in the warmth of the sunbeams streaming full-tilt through the slider to Marinette's balcony while remaining cognizant that a certain head of raven hair happened to be nestled into the crook of my arm. I smiled slightly as I heard her soft breathing, for she had fallen asleep at last after my latest round of exceptionally purrsonal attention somewhere around one that morning.

Yawning, I brushed back my hair with a free hand and smiled a bit wider at the missing feline ears. Plagg had made his getaway soon after we'd begun our festivities on Friday evening, our nod to allowing both of our kwami their own well-deserved quality time with each other. I'd not seen my feline companion since then, though to be honest, much as Marinette had predicted we'd pretty much had eyes just for each other. The entire Miracle Box could have been holding an annual convention and neither of us would have heard so much as a peep.

Twisting slightly to look at the clock on my phone, I realized it was actually earlier than the sun would have had me believe, and I felt a sly Chat smile appear. Carefully, I slid from beneath my fiancé and padded over to the dresser to find my wallet so I could retrieve the credit card in Chat's name. Two more steps and I was quietly closing the bedroom door behind me, searching for Plagg in the still-exotically themed living room. To my surprise, the tiny feline god was lounging on one of the beach chairs, and Tikki was on the other; a small plate of cheese and chocolates sat on the table between them. Judging from the crumbs, it appeared the pair had been enjoying themselves.

Plagg was the first to see me. "Hey, sleepyhead," he smiled.

"Morning, Plagg. Tikki."

"Adrien," Tikki smiled. "Going for breakfast?"

I felt my jaw drop. "How—"

Tikki smiled wider. "I've seen how you dote on Marinette for nearly two years now, Chat," she said, slipping in my alter-ego's name in for emphasis. "And it is Sunday."

Feeling a little sheepish – more, perhaps, because I was standing there in nothing but my Gabriel boxer briefs – I smiled a bit. "That it is," I said as I turned to Plagg. "But I need to leave now if I have any hope of getting what I want."

Plagg's eyes went wide. "Can we get the baked croutons?" he asked as he flitted toward me. "The ones with the melted cheese?"

"Of course," I smiled. "Ready?" Plagg glanced back at Tikki, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Do you want a minute to say goodbye?"

My kwami harrumphed, but that didn't stop him from flitting back to Tikki and holding her tiny arms for a moment. "I'll be back as quick as I can, sugar cube."

"I'll be here."

I tactfully examined my cuticles while Plagg nuzzled – nuzzled! – the kwami of creation, then had trouble not smiling when he approached me once more. Totally unrepentant, Plagg simply arched an eyebrow at me. "What's the holdup?"

"Plagg – claws out!"

The green-black wave of transformation washed over me, and a few moments later I was running across the rooftops of Paris in the early morning sun, my movements on practiced autopilot while my mind considered what delectable items to select for what would likely now be more of a brunch for my favorite bug. I really wanted to get some of Tom's Quiche Lorraine, but was late enough that it was likely sold out already. One of these days, I'd smarten up and pre-order it.

My attention shifted the instant the fabulous smells from the Bakery appeared on the wind, first a whisper, and then something stronger. Sniffing, I realized it seemed heavier than normal on the sourdough end of the spectrum, and that made me wonder if he had decided to do some bread bowls for one of Sabine's amazing soups. Her chili was a firm favorite for me; just the thought of it had my stomach rumbling in anticipation. Then again, if her hot-and-sour soup was on offer, I'd likely clean out her entire inventory in one fell swoop. As I landed on the building just across the street from the Bakery, I belatedly wondered if it was dangerous to arrive without having eaten first.

Flipping around the filigree of the roof, I slid down a rainspout and landed in a crouch on the sidewalk, eyeing the line of customers that were queued up at the front of the store. Flicking my feline eyes toward the rear door of the kitchen, my conscience got the better of me and I instead vaulted upward, twisted, and made a three-point landing at the end of the queue, surprising the young woman with a stroller just ahead of me.

"Chat… Chat Noir?" she stammered.

"In the fur," I smiled as I shrunk my baton and slid it home at the small of my back.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, eyes wild as she looked up into the sky.

I sighed. One of these days, my appearance on the scene wouldn't be associated with imminent danger. "No, Madame," I replied with my megawatt grin. "I'm just here for the croissants." I leaned toward her and added in a loud whisper. "This is, after all, the best bakery in the city."

"Oh…" she said. "Wait. You eat?"

I blinked. "Of course I do."

"Oh," she replied again. "I suppose you would. Sorry. I guess that was a silly question."

"Not at all," I said as we moved to the door. "Not the strangest by far."

"What was—"

"Let me get that for you," I said as I zipped around her quickly to open the door, hoping to head off the discussion.

Fortunately for me, once we entered the sanctuary dedicated to fine baking, the items displayed throughout the small space held more of an attraction than the feline-themed hero among the patrons. I played it as if it were completely ordinary for me to do my shopping there on Sunday, picking up a small wicker basket before continuing on to peruse the vast stack of macarons calling out to me. I was certain Sabine had managed to figure out – despite my best efforts – I loved the passionfruit ones, for those seemed to have pride of place in the window. Carefully, I slid a dozen into a small box, and then added them to the somewhat overflowing basket in my paw.

When my turn came at the counter, Sabine arched an eyebrow at me. "Chat," she said. "You don't normally enter through the store."

I grinned. "I'm also normally here before you open," I replied as I pulled items out of my basket. "It didn't seem fair to jump the line. Even as a hero of Paris."

"Ah," she smiled.

"Please tell me Tom still has some of his quiche left," I continued, pressing my paws together in prayer.

"Sadly, we don't."

"I smelled sourdough on the way in," I said thoughtfully. "Does that mean you have soup today?"

"I do. Chicken noodle, hot-and-sour or butternut squash."

I grinned wider. "You know what I'm going to ask for."

"Four bread bowls and four servings of hot-and-sour coming right up," she laughed. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it for today." I unzipped my pocket and handed her the credit card with Chat's name on it.

As she rang me up, she looked back at me for a moment. "It was a surprise getting the invite from Marinette for Thursday," she said as she handed me back the card and receipt.

"Thursday?" I asked as I slid them back into my pocket and zipped it shut.

"I'm glad it's an early dinner," she continued, not hearing the confusion in my response. "Let her know that I'll bring dessert. I know she doesn't want me to, but it's the first time we've been invited over and I want it to be special."

I blinked as she slid the two bags containing my goodies toward me. "Uh, I'll let her know," I nodded, trying to make it sound like I was in on the plan and not hearing it for the first time from my girlfriend's mother. "See you then?"

"Wouldn't miss it!"

Hurrying from the store, I carefully adjusted how I was carrying the bags so I could return to the rooftops and run home. My fur brain was not on the trip, though; rather, I was wondering why my fiancé had invited her parents over to the apartment – and not told me about it. We'd been exceptionally careful about our living arrangement – so much so that it was only recently even Nino or Alya had been to the apartment. It wouldn't truly be an issue having her parents over, of course, though it would be the first time – and, of course, the first time since we'd become engaged. My impression had been we'd wait until we had handled the whole Chat-is-Adrien problem; now, I wasn't sure what she was planning.

I hoped I'd be able to ply her with one of the tasty treats in my bag to find out more.