Fourteen: Happy Chatversary

Author's Note: Marinette is determined to celebrate the "birthday" of Chat Noir – the day he appeared in Paris for the first time. As it happens, Chat would rather forgo with suspense part of things. Be careful what you wish for, Chat…

I couldn't help the way my tail was tapping, more so when I realized that this was part of the game Marinette was playing with me. For she was playing with me, well aware that I both hated being out of the loop and staying cooped up like a common house pet.

That last part wasn't necessarily fair, for my bedroom was sized nicely, and I was free to come and go as I pleased (compared with my pre-Chat days at the mansion). Still, the notion I was stuck in such a small space rankled me to no end. I finally realized I was taking it a bit too seriously when I found myself pacing back and forth in front of the door on all fours like a caged tiger waiting for the evening meal; laughing slightly to deflate the silliness of what I was doing, I hopped up onto my bed.

I curled up facing the door, putting my head down on my paws – my most cat-like position – and then settled in to wait for my princess to call me. I was well aware that I was fully capable of going through that door to see what she was up to; the more important point was the fact that I was willing to respect her wishes, even if they frustrated the heck out of me. And frustrate they did.

My feline hearing still couldn't penetrate the white noise her iPad was making, short of a stray crinkle or rustle that drove my curious feline brain to distraction. And the smells coming from the kitchen were a strange cacophony, though I was pretty certain I had puzzled out what she had done. Still, I decided it would be best to act like she had put one over on me, even if I did know it was one of my all time favorite dishes.

At about the point when I was seriously contemplating breaking down the door, I finally heard Marinette call out from the other room. "All right, kitty, come on out!"

In a movement that would have been a blur to a human, I was at the door and then through it; I landed in a crouch in the middle of our apartment and found she had turned out all of the lights. A candelabra I'd never seen before was on the kitchen bar, eight tapers lit with subtle flames dancing in the eddies of the room. I turned slightly, for Marinette wasn't where I thought she'd be; instead of in the kitchen, she was sitting on the couch, her back to me.

"Princess?" I asked as I moved toward her and then stopped in my tracks.

It took a moment to register that she was wearing feline ears atop the bun she'd created for her hair; I'd seen her do it once before when we'd gone to a cosplay movie night years earlier. The petite ears were as adorable now as they had been then, and I found myself smiling as I crept around the edge of the couch.

I smiled wider when I saw she was wearing the whole Lady Noir costume – her very feminine take on my Chat Noir outfit, complete with mask and a tail that she was twirling in one hand. "Happy Birthday, Chat," she said, and only then did I notice she'd masterfully applied lipstick and eyeshadow in colors that both complimented her and the costume.

"Marinette," I breathed, my jaw agape. "You look extraordinary."

"Thanks, kitty," she smiled wider. "I thought it was the best way to celebrate your birthday." She paused. "Or, I suppose more appropriately, your Chatversary."

"I am both honored and humbled," I said as I leapt up to sit on the couch beside her. "But an ordinary cake would have sufficed."

"There is nothing ordinary about you or our relationship," she laughed. "So this seemed appropriate."

I leaned in for a kiss. "Thank you," I said. "It means a lot, even if it's not really my birthday."

Her blue eyes danced with merriment. "It will have to do until I know who's under that mask," she replied.

"Thank you," I said again.

"Now, before we eat, I have a present or two for you."

I tried not to clap my hands like a two-year-old. "I feel like a kitten," I admitted as she slipped off the couch and walked around to the kitchen. It was hard to keep my eyes off of the curves that were exposed by her form-fitting costume; once more I wondered what kind of effect I had on her by staying transformed.

She returned in short order with two large square boxes and one small one. "Open this one first," she said, handing me one and then sitting cross-legged on the coffee table. "How can you sit like this?" she asked incredulously. "It's quite uncomfortable."

"Not for me," I laughed as I shredded the paper with my claws. "Maybe it's a cat thing."

"It has to be," she smiled, arching an eyebrow as I made quick work of the box.

Beneath the black-and-green wrapping paper (I'd started to notice a common thread) was a small garment box. Using a claw tip to slice the tape holding it closed, I slid the top off and found something wrapped in green and black tissue paper. "How did you find so much stuff in my colors?" I asked, amazed.

"They're not particularly unusual colors, Chat," she chided.

"Black, maybe," I said, arching my own masked eyebrow right back at her. "But this green—" I held up a strip of wrapping paper "—is nearly a trademark of mine."

"Right," she laughed.

Shredding the tissue paper in a few passes with my claw (and garnering a cry of outrage at the mess I was generating from my girlfriend), I carefully pulled out a black long-sleeve shirt made with the technical fabric you'd see in high-end fitness apparel; as I pulled it out, I saw it had a pattern that mimicked the honeycomb one in my costume that became visible in the light. "How did you do that?" I asked, awed, as I continued to watch the pattern shimmer as I moved the fabric. My eyes went wide when I realized she'd even added the piping in key locations on the shirt, just as they appeared on my costume – right down to the metallic accents.

"Three-dimensional printing," she said excitedly. "We've been experimenting with it in one of our new lines, and I couldn't think of a better pattern to try it out on. Do you like it?"

"It's purrfect," I said. "And absolutely amazing."

A small day-glow green cat paw logo sat just at the right hip of the shirt, along with a stylized "M" that I knew was part of Marinette's official signature on her work. Pulling it further out of the box and unfolding it completely, I discovered it had an attached hood of the same fabric, complete with two faux cat ears. My masked eyes flicked up to hers, along with an arched masked eyebrow. "Keep going," she smiled.

Setting aside the shirt, I dug further and found a mask in the bottom of the box, made from the same breathable fabric as the shirt. I held it up and saw it was the exact shape of my actual mask. "How…?" I asked.

"Over a few nights," she explained, "while you catnapped on my lap there on the couch. You never even felt the tape measure."

The arched masked eyebrow went higher. "Should I be worried about you doing anything else to me while I was sleeping?"

Her blue eyes danced with merriment. "Most definitely," she laughed, handing me a second box. "Part two."

Setting aside my shirt and mask, I shredded the paper on the second box twice as quickly as the first, and slit the tape holding the carboard together with two claws this time. Once more I tore through the green-and-black tissue paper, this time revealing workout pants of the same technical fabric as the shirt, though of a slightly heavier weight. Two zippered pockets on either side evoked those of my real costume, and she'd even added piping just about the shin to mimic the real thing.

I dug further into the box and found a pair of slippers that looked just like the lower part of my boots, but were made of the same slightly heavier fabric as the trousers; a slight rubber sole ran along the bottom. I looked back at Marinette. "Princess… this is extraordinary."

Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. "I'm glad you like it," she said. "I wanted you to have something other than those tattered sweats I see you in on the weekends—"

"That's so Plagg can get a rest," I pointed out.

"I know," she continued. "But you also tend to stay close to your bedroom, since that old hoodie of yours doesn't cover much."

I nodded. "True," I said, running my hands over the fabric of the pants.

"I want you to be able to spend your non-Chat downtime out here with me," she smiled.

Leaning over, I kissed her gently, still slightly awed by the effort she'd gone to. "That is very thoughtful, Mari," I said. "It means the world to me."

"Here," she said, handing me one last box. It was smaller than the first two.

For some reason, I intrinsically knew this one was very special, and took my time peeling back the wrapping paper. The box was flat, and opened to reveal a pair of gloves of the same fabric, though they seemed to be a thickness between the shirt and the pants; holding them up, I realized she had double-stitched them to make sure my ring wouldn't be visible beneath them. If I wore them while detransformed, she'd not be able to see what the Cat Miraculous looked like in chameleon mode.

I looked up at her again, awed even more. "You've thought of everything!" I gushed, leaning over to kiss her once more. "Thanks!" I added as I tried to leap over the edge of the couch with my gifts in hand.

"Hey!" Marinette cried out good naturedly, leaping from the table to grab my tail and prevent me from escaping. "Where do you think you're going, kitty?"

"I'm gonna try these out!" I said excitedly, one paw on the edge of the couch.

"Whoa, kitty," she said, slowly reeling me back.

Normally, I'm not a fan of people yanking on my tail (figuratively or literally), but tonight I made an exception, allowing myself to fall into an embrace with my girlfriend. I was at a slightly awkward angle, but she still managed to kiss me deeply before pulling back with a smile. "Dinner is ready," she explained, "so let's eat first, and then you can model your outfit for me."

My ears went straight up.

Model?

I laughed nervously, for that was an odd thing for her to say; had she seen more than I realized that morning – something that had tipped her off to my alter-ego? Despite myself, I felt the color rising on my cheeks below the mask.

"That's cute, Mari," I continued to laugh as I moved off the couch and followed her to the kitchen.

Marinette seemed to sense my sudden discomfort and I chided myself for not covering it better. "It's just a figure of speech, Chat," she smiled, then added with a trace of slyness, "not that you couldn't be a model."

Now thoroughly flustered, I unconsciously started to run my hand along the back of my neck. "I'm flattered you think that highly of me."

"Hey," she said good naturedly, "I'm teasing. Now, let's have some dinner and get this celebration under way!"

I smiled, but was now thoroughly distracted by my inner turmoil. Was it possible that she knew who I was, under the mask? And if she did, was that a bad thing? Either way, I felt like I was going to be in hot water with Ladybug.

Happy Chatversary indeed.