Sixteen: Someplace Special

Author's Note: Trying to make up for the fact that he ruined Marinette's afternoon of sketching, Chat takes his one-and-only to a special spot. (I make no apologies – this chapter is 100% fluff.)

"When you said 'someplace special,' I have to admit, this was not a spot I would have come up with in a million years," Marinette said.

"I know," I laughed. "That was kind of the idea."

She sighed happily. "You sure have a knack for the unexpected."

I laughed louder, which was sort of a problem; Marinette quickly shushed me, and when that didn't work, leaned over and pulled me into a kiss that quite literally took my breath away. Gasping when we finally parted, I kept the grin but cut the chuckling as I turned to survey where I'd brought us.

We were ensconced atop one of the many floating restaurants that plied the Seine each night, offering four or five star dining with a stunning view to match. You just couldn't beat slowly drifting past some of the best landmarks of the city, all lit and sparkling in the night, and pairing it with good food and better company.

This particular restaurant boat was captained by a friend of Philippe, my normal go-to chef for all things Italian. I'd happened an off-hand comment to Philippe while picking up Lasagna for a quasi-regular rooftop dining night with Ladybug that I was looking for someplace romantic to take my girlfriend; thinking I was referring to Ladybug, he immediately dialed his friend, who insisted I take her up on a dinner for two at some point in the future (no advance reservation required).

After messing up the afternoon for her, I'd immediately thought of that offer and had zeroed in on the proper boat soon after leaving the park with Marinette; landing gently outside the kitchen door on the back of the boat, I'd tapped my claws on the door and was met by Chef Helene herself. "Chat!" she'd said. "What a pleasant surprise!"

A few moments later, we were quite literally on top of the boat, sitting at a small table for two in the tiny open area adjacent to the enclosed helm. Aside from the sailor navigating just behind us, and the waiter who checked in on us from time to time, we were completely alone with the city surrounding us.

We'd already had our appetizer and were awaiting the main course. Marinette had pulled out her sketchbook, and in between bites of the house-made sourdough rolls, she'd quickly drawn several scenes on successive pages as we'd gently moved past them on the river. I generally didn't peek at her work, but tonight I couldn't help myself and kept leaning further and further to her side of the two-top.

I knew I was getting a bit too close when I felt my feline ear brush up against her blouse. "Chat," she said firmly. "If you wouldn't mind…"

"Sorry, Purrincess," I purred as I slid back to my side of the table. Still, for some reason I felt like I wanted to be part of the action; my tail started to tap against the decking, enough that I realized I needed a distraction. Fortunately, the waiter reappeared at that moment, and I ordered a glass of red.

"Red?" he asked, nonplussed. "I would have assumed Monsieur would be more of a connoisseur of white."

"You would," I smiled, "but tonight, I'd prefer red."

"Are you sure, Monsieur Noir?"

"Yes," I said, my smile starting to strain a bit. "If you please."

"Of course," he said as he bowed and disappeared.

Marinette was quietly chuckling. "You? And white wine?" She started to laugh harder, snorting in the process. "That's funny!"

"Exactly," I agreed.

She set aside her sketchbook when our main course arrived, and we settled in on a fabulous ragout. Our conversation was easy, though I found I was having to be careful not to tread into areas that Adrien had gone during the day (or our earlier lunch at her office a few weeks back). I was cognizant that some of her topics were designed to elicit more personal information out of me – a dance we had played from the beginning.

As the dishes were cleared away and we settled in to await dessert, she pulled out the sketchbook again and started at it once more, though this time, it was deliberately earnest. Careful not to get into her light, I slid around once more and to my surprise saw she'd started sketching in a suit. The lines were tasteful, and I couldn't help but recognize that the way she was working the lapels of the jacket bore a certain resemblance to the piping on my costume.

Amazed as I always was when I watched her work, by the time she'd shaded in parts of the shirt, I'd already decided to buy at least two, no matter the cost. "That is stunning," I breathed.

She looked up as if noticing me for the first time. "Oh! Thanks," she said as she scribbled her initials on the bottom. "It's been rattling around in my head for a bit."

"I'll take two," I said, putting words to my thought.

"Chat!" she laughed. "These will be rather high end. I'm not sure you can afford them."

I started to say something and then realized that aside from having purchased the apartment and the extravagantly decadent weekend in Nice, she literally had no idea what I was actually worth. Both of those high-profile expenses I had explained away as one-time windfalls, but it occurred to me if I continued my profligate ways, it might lead to questions I wasn't quite ready to answer.

I donned a sad expression. "I suppose that's true," I said. "I need to keep my catnip supplier happy."

Marinette smacked me in the bicep, which honestly had to hurt her more than me. "Ow!" I said nonetheless. "What was that for?"

"You avoid catnip," she reminded me. "I've seen what it does to you."

I nodded. There had been a few occasions where an akuma had used that very cat-like trait against me; just a few whiffs of even pet-store stuff made me a little fuzzy around the edges. "True," I laughed. "Maybe I am the rich playboy you accused me of being," I said, leaning my blonde mane into her. "And if I were, it would be my prerogative to spend every last Euro I own on you."

Something passed across her face, and then it was gone, but not before she carefully ran her finger down my nose and then bopped it. "You wouldn't have to do that to prove your love to me," she said softly.

"I know," I said. "But it's nice that I can." I waited a beat. "If I were rich."

"If you were rich," she echoed, that vague look on her face once more.

Thinking I was on the verge of erasing all of my efforts of the day, I quickly changed her perspective by popping out of my chair and scooping her up into my arms, kissing her in the process. Twirling around the space with her in my embrace, my tail flapping behind me, I purred happily to her as she pressed her head into my chest. "I love you, Princess," I said very softly. "More and more each day, as impossible as that seems."

"It's not impossible, kitty," she said as she reached a hand to my bell and pulled me lower for another kiss. "For I feel the exact same way."