Eighteen: Warming Up
Author's Note: Marinette discovers she has a sick (and now soggy) kitty to deal with, which she does with her standard aplomb.
Special Note: As I am taking the plunge and doing the 2019 version of National November Write a Novel Month, I've created shorter chapters for the next few weeks so I can continue to provide fresh content while I am furiously working on that project. (Feel free to follow along if you like over on their website; I'll take all the support I can get!)
I had no idea I'd lost track of time until I heard a loud knock on my bedroom door, followed by the concerned voice of my girlfriend. "Chat? Are you in there?"
"Yes," I called back.
"Did you skip dinner?" she asked.
"No," I said. "I'll be out in a minute."
There was a long pause. "Chat," she replied, "it's nearly 1900."
"What?!" I spluttered, quite literally; water splashed as I started to push myself out of the warm embrace of the tub.
"Can I come in?" she asked, concern more evident.
"Uh, sure…" I said, looking down and realizing I'd actually never dropped my transformation.
Plagg… wow, I'm sorry…
Marinette carefully opened the door and peeked around, her eyes landing on mine. "Hey," I said, slightly embarrassed. "You look like you've never seen a kitty in the bathtub before."
"I've not," she said as she crossed into the bathroom and tried to ignore the water I'd splashed out as she kneeled down next to me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Right. You generally take a bath transformed, then?"
"No," I replied, hoping the flush on my cheeks wasn't that evident.
Marinette leaned down and, after brushing away a damp bang, kissed me gently on the forehead. Pulling back, she narrowed her eyes at me. "You're warm."
"Couldn't tell by me," I laughed. "I've been cold since-well, I left the office early."
"Huh," she nodded. "So you jumped into the jacuzzi instead."
I grinned sheepishly. "I tried a sunbeam on a rooftop first."
"I see," she said. "All right, let's get you out of here."
"Princess?"
"Come on," she said as she leaned over and grabbed a towel. "Let's get you to bed."
"Bed?" I repeated dumbly as I stood and took the towel she handed me – not that it was strictly necessary. The water rolled right off my costume.
"Yes," she said as she pushed up and lent me a hand to step out of the tub. "So typical. Why are men so bad at being sick?"
"I'm not sick," I said defensively.
"And there you go proving my point." She took me by the arm and propelled me to my bed; before I knew what was happening, she'd tucked me in so securely, about the only thing I could move were my feline ears.
"Uh…" I started. "About dinner…"
"Back in a moment."
My masked eyes followed her out, and I heard her rustling around the kitchen. Oddly, I was feeling quite comfortable swaddled in my comforter and without consciously agreeing to it, nodded off.
I'm not certain how long I catnapped, but was pleasantly awoken by the delectable smell of chocolate croissants. "Whatever that is, I want it," I murmured.
"I'm not surprised," Marinette laughed.
I cracked open a masked eye and saw Marinette leaning on an elbow next to me, holding out a small plate of my favorite treat (next to her passionfruit macaroons). "I'm not still dreaming, am I?"
"Why do you ask?" she replied.
"You're in my bed. With baked goods." I smiled slyly. "This has to be a dream."