Eight: Princess and Knight

It had been far closer than it should have been but given how he'd been burning the candle at both ends, Chat had known that sooner or later he was bound to screw up. Fortunately, his latent feline reflexes had bailed him out yet again.

His first mistake had been nodding off in the backseat of the limousine; normally, he'd have had the driver drop him off a few blocks away, allowing him to sneak into a favorite alleyway, transform and then take to the rooftops to access Marinette's new balcony without drawing any attention. But it had been a brutal week: between filling in for his traveling father by day and then helping Marinette move in by night, he'd been far more exhausted than he'd realized. One too many glasses of champaign at the company party celebrating Bastille Day hadn't helped, and as a result, he didn't wake up until the limo came to a stop in front of the apartment building.

Exiting the limo, he'd thought about rounding the building; he'd recently discovered a small, protected spot by the loading dock he could use for transformations in a pinch, but the sidewalk was clogged with pedestrians returning from various Bastille Day celebrations, and more than a few had taken note of the supermodel's arrival. Sighing, he pushed through the ornate double doors to the small lobby of the building, and found it just as crowded as the sidewalk; there was absolutely no way for him to slip away from fans who immediately recognized him, so with a brilliant smile he set about signing as many autographs as he could and took more selfies than he would have expected before managing to jump into the next open elevator when it arrived.

By then, he'd realized his last chance was sneaking into his own apartment, for any hopes of using the carriage to transform were similarly dashed when several residents boarded with him. Smiling, he signed even more autographs and took yet another photo, one more snapshot sure to be added to the trove of social media posts that seemed to appear each time there was an Adrien Agreste sighting. It was a terrible dance that he knew he needed to keep doing in order to keep himself – and more importantly, his modelling – in the public eye for as long as possible.

Almost as a relief, the doors closed a final time and left him in relative peace as the carriage rose to the fifth floor. He wasn't surprised to be the only person getting off at that level, considering he and Marinette were the only residents; it wasn't entirely by accident, either, for once Chat had discovered which apartment Marinette had fallen in love with, his alter-ego appeared in the offices of the management company soon after and snapped up the remaining leases around her, intent on building a castle for his princess, one that her knight would be able to keep a careful eye on from his own spot at the other end of the floor.

It had been a bonus when the agent he'd been working with happened to mention the entire building itself was on the market; without missing a beat, he'd shifted a few investments in his portfolio to generate some extra liquid capital and pounced on an opportunity that was too good to pass up. As the doors to the elevator finally opened, he wondered if he'd been too cute by half in naming his new real estate division; so far, though, Marinette hadn't given Double-A Properties another thought, nor, it seemed, had she gone out of her way to meet her new neighbor. The irony that she was spending most nights with him anyway – albeit while he was clad in magical black leather – hadn't been lost on Chat, but he'd decided discretion was the better part of valor and had made certain his alter-ego was hardly ever seen in or around the building.

That night notwithstanding.

Now, though, all he needed to do was cross the few meters to his own apartment, transform, and then make his expected appearance on Marinette's balcony that evening. Two steps across the elevator lobby, though, and that strange bonus sense his latent feline abilities gave him brought Adrien up short. While his human hearing was definitely augmented, it wasn't as good as Chat's, so he wasn't sure until the last possible moment someone in flip-flops was coming down the stairwell next to his apartment at a decent clip. A quick sniff of the air, while not completely definitive, confirmed his worst-case scenario: Marinette was about to make an appearance.

Glancing to the door of his apartment, he knew he was too far away to get inside fast enough to avoid being seen, nor was there enough time to transform; besides, he wasn't sure he could come up with a reasonable explanation for why she'd find Chat standing there in the hallway. As her shadow appeared behind the ornately frosted window of the door to the stairwell, he yanked his phone from his slacks and hurled it against the wall, planted himself directly her path, then tensed up his body slightly.

The door burst open and he threw himself in front of his startled girlfriend, curling around her as if he were transformed; hitting the floor on his back hurt more than he expected, but he put it aside as they rolled together a few meters before coming to a stop halfway between their two apartments. Adrien found himself straddling his girlfriend, looking down into two very shocked blue eyes.

"Adrien?" she asked.

"Marinette? How-?" he started before acting as though he had suddenly realized just how close he was to being able to kiss her on those amazingly soft lips; so close, in fact, his latent feline senses had gone into overdrive, confirming for him that her pulse was racing – and that she had apparently recently had a glass of Pinot Noir. Leaning heavily into his model training, he willed his face to turn crimson and tried to look chagrined as he rolled off her, and then helped her to sit up against the wall of the hallway.

"Sorry," he said, grinning a bit sheepishly. "I was reading a text on my phone when I came out of the elevator-" he nodded in the direction of what he hoped was a still-functional phone; from where he was sitting, he could already see a slight crack on the face and tried not to groan. "So much for being aware of your surroundings."

Marinette smiled at him. "Yeah - I didn't expect anyone else to be on this floor. How did you know I was living here now?" she asked.

He let his face redden a bit more.

"Wait - you weren't coming to visit me, were you?"

"No... I was just getting back from hosting a Bastille Day party for House of Gabriel employees. Father is out of town, so guess who had to fill in for him."

"Fill in—wait, just getting back?" Her eyes went wide. "You're the reclusive rich guy?"

"Is that what they call me downstairs?" Adrien chuckled, getting at least partial confirmation that, until that evening, his efforts to stay off the radar had been somewhat successful. "I guess so, though I'm not sure about the rich part. Or reclusive. But I can see why they are saying that – I'm out and about more than I'm here, given my line of work."

"Oh."

"So, you're my new neighbor?" he asked, keeping his face expectant. "What are the odds?"

"Incredible."

Adrien tried to keep his face frozen with his megawatt smile, for he could already see wheels beginning to turn in Marinette's expression, making connections he wasn't yet ready for her to make. Despite being bone weary, he decided Chat would need to pay some extra attention to his girlfriend that evening to try and shift her thoughts; he knew his girlfriend, however, and while he might be able to throw her off the track for an evening, he was going to need to come up with a better plan for hiding his alter-ego's identity. Revealing he was living in her building was going to be a problem, though, no question.

Marinette's eyes had been searching his face before she continued. "I thought you were still living at the mansion?"

"It was time for a change," he replied. Neither persona was good at lying to her, and he cursed when his eyes darted away as he answered. Chat did something similar, and when Adrien looked back at her, he could clearly see she was thinking she'd seen something familiar.

Shit!

He smiled again to defuse it. "Like I said, I'm away more often than not. But I'm glad to know you're here. Maybe we can get a cup of coffee sometime?" he asked, reaching a hand out to help her up.

"I'd like that – assuming you can talk to the enemy."

He felt himself tense, for he still had a ton of anger over what his father had done. "What father did was unacceptable," he said darkly. "I did try to talk him out of it, but once his mind is set..."

Marinette put a hand on his arm. "I know you did," she smiled. "I never thanked you for that."

"No need to," he smiled before faking a yawn; the way Marinette looked at him, though, he thought maybe he'd overdone it. "Sorry, it was a long day. I've got to turn in – early photo shoot tomorrow."

"Do you ever get tired of those? Of the life of a supermodel?"

"I might not have chosen it for myself, but it has allowed me to do things I never thought I'd be able to do," he replied, thinking of how it had allowed him to help her. "So... no? Or maybe more specifically, not yet."

"What would you do if you didn't model?"

"I don't honestly know," he replied, lying again. For he knew his one overriding desire was to be by her side, forever, but it was too soon to tell her that. Grasping at straws, he felt his eyes dart away again. "Maybe write a book?"

Marinette laughed. "I'd read it. Especially if it's the inside scoop on the dog-eat-dog world of fashion models."

"More like ca-"

Something in his tired brain managed to prevent him from issuing a very Chat-like pun at the absolute last minute; faking a cough to cover his near gaffe, he smiled slightly. "Sorry, I'm a bit parched after the speech I had to give. I'll see you around?"

"Absolutely," she replied.

He watched her turn for her apartment and then, as quickly as he could without actually breaking into a sprint, he grabbed his smashed phone from the tile, jammed his key into his apartment door and moved inside the space. He gave hardly a glance at the minimalist furnishings as he pressed the door closed behind him; instead, he did break into a run toward his own balcony, calling for his transformation as he sprinted toward the night. Chat leapt to the railing and vaulted upward, driving his claws into the soft ornamental concrete overhang just above his apartment. Flinging himself upward, he landed in a crouch on the now-empty roof and sprinted across the granite tiles toward the far end, leapt upward once more and did a barrel-roll into a ball to drop swiftly onto Marinette's patio with a soft rubbery thump.

From his crouch, he scanned her apartment and saw she was just coming through the door; he waited for a moment and then skulked inside her living room nearly silently, watching as she leaned against the door with her eyes closed, presumably replaying her encounter with his alter-ego. Knowing he needed to get that train diverted, he stood up, intentionally dragging his arm against his side as he did so, making a subtle rustle of fabric; it was just enough that Marinette's eyes popped open in his general direction.

Moving toward her, he saw her smile. "Hey," Chat said softly. Pulling her into a hug, he pressed her into his black-cladded chest. "I caught the last of the fireworks on my way over. I bet the roof was a clawsome spot."

"It was," she smiled as she reached up to run her finger along the edge of his mask. "I'm sorry you weren't here."

"Maybe next year," he replied.

As it looked like she was getting ready to say something else, Chat decided to forestall that and gently leaned down to press his lips to hers; after a moment, he heard her pulse quicken and the tension that had been in her frame diminish. The adrenaline of the transformation had revived him somewhat, tempering perhaps his weariness long enough to celebrate Bastille Day with Marinette in his own way. If she happened to set aside thoughts of Adrien for a few hours as a result, well, so much the better.

Picking her up in his black magical leather-clad arms, he nuzzled her with his nose before moving toward the bedroom, singularly focused – as he had been for some time now – on Marinette. And only Marinette.