Three: Dirt

About the only upside to having lost her job was the massive payout she received a few days later; that it came with a non-compete agreement, signed when she joined House of Gabriel, made it a bittersweet experience, though Marinette couldn't deny having a comfortable bank balance went a long way toward assuaging her anxiety at what her next act would be. The terms of her agreement meant she'd be out of the fashion picture long enough that it didn't matter; effectively, Gabriel Agreste had ended her career before it had truly begun. In a blinding insight, she wondered how many other up-and-coming designers had suffered the same fate at the mogul's hands; clearly, it seemed to be part of his strategic plan to remain on top.

There was, of course, always the bakery; her parents had already broached that topic when she'd been there for the traditional Sunday Brunch they had continued even though she hadn't lived with them for a while. Seeing the concern in her father's face had almost been too much, though, so she'd cut it short and gone to a late matinee of an action movie she'd not seen yet; it wasn't lost on her that the fifth Ladybug movie was in the theater next to her. The first one had been so far from what actually happened on the streets of Paris, she'd vowed never to see another, though she knew Alya would likely give her a blow-by-blow account of the latest edition in the coming days. Her best friend had been over the moon when Ladybug had finally gone on a date with Chat Noir in the fourth film; it was one more way the movies were divorced firmly from reality.

After a week of hanging out in her apartment, Marinette grew a bit restless; despite her assertions to Chat, being alone wasn't truly what she needed, and as the hours stretched out ahead of her, she knew she needed to do something other than fighting the daily akuma to take her mind off of her problems, however briefly. While she wasn't truly alone – Tikki and the other kwamis from the Miracle Box had made sure of that – she needed a change of scenery for a bit. Grabbing her purse, she left the apartment and returned two hours later, arms full of flowering petunias, snapdragons, gladiolus and some ivy carefully selected from a small greenhouse she loved, one that was a rather expensive taxi ride away from her place. But it had been worth it; just being among the fragrant plants in the humid interior had rekindled a part of her spirit.

Moving out to the patio, she set her wares down beside the flowerbox that ran along the wall between her unit and the one next door; a few weeks prior to being fired, she'd lugged several bags of potting mix up to her apartment, and neatly stacked them beside the planter. The original idea had been to force herself to take a break from the round-the-clock design work she'd been doing, but for one reason or another, had never truly gotten going on her side project. Now, of course, she had plenty of time.

Swiftly changing into some old cutoff jeans and a ratty t-shirt, she grabbed a pair of gloves and a bottle of water, then set about prepping the planter. Marinette had decanted one full bag and had partially emptied the second when she heard a rubbery thump on the railing behind her. Smiling slightly, she continued pouring the dirt. "It's not quite ready for you," she quipped.

There was a whisper of fabric a moment before she felt the presence of Chat Noir at her side. "I prefer a somewhat larger litterbox," he deadpanned. "But this will do."

"Best I can come up with, seeing that I'm unemployed and all," she laughed as she turned toward him, pulling off her gloves. The smile on his face was open and unconditional, simple pure joy at seeing her; it buoyed her more than she expected. "What brings you to this part of Paris today?"

"Do I need a reason to check in on my friend?" he replied before smoothly backflipping into her chaise lounge. Crossing his long legs, he leaned his wild mane against his gloved hands, subtly flexing his impressive biceps as he moved.

"No," she replied as she arched an eyebrow at him.

Getting the implied message, he leapt from the chair and perched instead on the railing, then waved a gloved hand back toward the chair. "Sorry," he apologized. "I should have asked first." His masked eyes went to the potted plants, and his smile widened. "Doing a bit of gardening?"

"Yeah," she nodded as she settled into the chair he'd vacated. It felt good to sit for a bit. "My mother used to take me to a greenhouse on the outskirts of the city when I was younger; I decided to get out of the house today and picked up some things to brighten my patio."

Chat, despite (she suspected) being in his early twenties, pouted dramatically like the teenager he'd once been. "I thought that was my job, Princess."

"You'd have to come more regularly to do that," Marinette replied without thinking.

The look on her partner's face caught her. "I… assumed you wanted me to stay away," he said carefully. "In fact, I thought it was a bit risky dropping in today. But I really did want to see how you were doing."

It was easy to see from the way his tail was flicking the confusion that her comment had caused; then again, she wasn't entirely sure why she'd said what she said. "You are always welcome, Chat," she replied after a moment. "What happened between us has muddled things, to be sure, but you're still my friend, and I truly enjoy your company when you are free to give it."

His ears perked up slightly. "You do?"

"I always have," she smiled, realizing it was true even as Ladybug. "Have you ever planted anything?" she asked.

Chat's eyes widened. "No," he replied with an honestly that bordered on childlike.

"Come over here, then, and I'll give you a lesson," she said as she pushed herself out of the chair and moved back to the planter.

It wasn't until the sun had gone behind the building and they were cast into shadow that Marinette realized the hour was growing late. Sitting back on her haunches, she wiped the sweat from her brow and turned to Chat, who was hunched in his cat-stance as he gently tamped down the final petunia into the flowerbox. A streak of dirt was on his cheek, which, when she looked more closely, also seemed to have two day's growth of stubble; given how fair his hair was, she knew he was one of the lucky few who could go a few days without shaving and still have the beard look sexy. Reaching up, she wiped at the dirt, causing Chat to turn toward her.

"Got it," she said.

"Thanks," he smiled, those exotic feline eyes on her again. "And not just for getting the dirt. There is a certain peace in this work I didn't know existed."

"My mother always said it helped her de-stress from running the bakery," Marinette replied. "Until today, I thought it was hyperbole. Now I'm a believer."

"Me, too," Chat sighed. His tail tapped at the tile behind him as he considered her for a moment. "Look, would you want to… grab a bite to eat… sometime?" he asked, his face flaming slightly before he added nearly in a squeak: "With me?"

She blinked. "Are you asking me out? On a date?"

"No!" he replied hastily. "I mean, it would be on a specific date, one of your choosing, but—"

"I'm not sure we should," she hedged, and saw his feline ears wilt. "I mean, should you be seen out in public with a civilian?"

"No," he nodded, but the smile on his face told her she'd played right into his paws (she'd found out for sure that afternoon that's what he called his gloved hands). "But I know a place where we could pull it off."

"Chat—" Her partner widened his eyes and did a little quiver to his lip, the most perfect version of Doll Eyes she'd ever seen. She lasted all of ten seconds before groaning. "Fine. How about tomorrow?"

"Clawsome," he smiled. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night at nineteen hundred."