Twenty-One: Black Chats and Witches

Author's Note: Marinette invites Chat to be her date at a Halloween-themed party celebrating the end of a very good month for her firm; Chat has some helpful ideas about who she should go as. Poor Marinette.

(This was originally planned for Halloween but was delayed with my work on NaNoWriNo. It's also a little shorter as I broke it up into smaller chunks so it could appear while I was still working on that project.)

I was whipping up some waffles for the two us, a pleasant start to a lazy Sunday morning in Paris. My apron had managed to keep the worst of my efforts off of the cool casual outfit Marinette had given me during my Chatversary, though I was pretty sure I'd left a streak of flour on the hoodie when I'd tried scratch an itch about where my feline ears would normally be. Despite generally not being transformed on the weekends at this point in our relationship, I still spent a considerable amount of time as Chat and had found the sympathetic feelings of phantom ears and tail hard to ignore.

As Marinette was still in her room, Plagg had stationed himself atop the flour bin and as usual was gleefully providing play-by-play commentary on my efforts. "These would be better with cheese," he said with cackle. "I'd be happy to share some of my stash with you."

I wrinkled my human nose. "I can't even begin to fathom what warmed Camembert would smell like, my tiny friend. But if you bring me a tiny slice, I'll make a special waffle just for you."

"Deal!" he said as he zipped away into our bedroom. A moment later, he appeared with one of his favorite brands, and deposited into the waiting waffle iron after I'd poured the last of the batter I'd mixed up into it. "Hurry… hurry…" Plagg said as he licked his chops and fastened his tiny green eyes on the light for the waffle iron. He might have even been rubbing his paws together in anticipation.

Trying not to laugh, I reminded him: "A watched iron never bakes."

"Whatever," he said, intent on his upcoming snack.

I washed up the last of my equipment and made sure the oven was still keeping the rest of my waffles at temperature, then set about squeezing some fresh orange juice for our mimosas.

"Now, Chat," Plagg suddenly said. He'd taken to calling me by my transformed name on the off chance that Marinette might overhear us.

I moved quickly to the iron and held my nose as I pulled the rather fragrant waffle from the iron and deposited on a plate. "Here," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Please take this to the balcony. Quickly."

"Come here, my beautiful," Plagg murmured lovingly as he took the plate and moved outside. I slowly shook my head, having further proof that getting between my kwami and his favorite foodstuff was danger incarnate.

I was nearly done scrubbing the cheese out of the iron when Marinette made her appearance. "Morning, Purrincess," I said as she came over and I kissed her.

"What is that smell?" she asked after she pulled away.

"I fed my kwami," I said simply.

She stared at the waffle iron I was drying. "I am never using that again. Ever."

I made a show of sniffing at it, much as I would if transformed. "I've gotten the worst out," I smiled.

"I don't trust your human nose," she said, bopping it playfully.

I smiled again. "Breakfast is ready when you are."

"Before we eat," Marinette said as she slipped onto a barstool. "I have a… favor to ask."

"Anything, Princess," I said. I had to catch myself, for normally I'd pop up on top of the counter and sit, cat-like. It was a running joke for her to shush me off the granite. But I wasn't as nimble as Adrien and instead leaned, Chat-like, against the edge.

"You might not say that." She sighed.

"Uh, oh."

"Yeah. So, look. We're doing a party to celebrate the last quarter of sales. Our partnership with House of Gabriel has driven our bottom line up quite a bit, so the bosses have rented out a ballroom at Le Grand Paris."

"You need me to stand watch or something? I can probably get Ladybug to help—"

"No, nothing quite like that." She flushed slightly. "It's… it's a Halloween party, so we're all supposed to dress up. Everyone is bringing their plus one, and the office is well aware that I am seeing someone."

"Nearly all of Paris does, thanks to Alya," I muttered, referring to the candid shots our friend had posted upon our return from Nice a few months back.

"Yeah, exactly. Look… you can totally say no…"

"I'll go."

"Chat…"

I moved around the counter and scooped her up into my arms, kissing her as I did so and trying not to look like I was struggling a bit to hold her (as I was currently lacking my super-strength). "I'll go, Purrincess."

Marinette smiled at me. "All right. Now, let's talk about costumes."

"That's easy," I said, "at least, for one of us."

She looked at me. "The whole point of a costume party is to come in costume," she pointed out. "Your normal outfit—"

"Is a costume."

"True, but—"

"I'm not wearing anything else," I said firmly. "Especially if we are out and about together. I can't afford to not be transformed."

"But—"

"So what are you wearing, then?" I asked, purposefully changing the direction of the discussion.

"I don't know," she said dejectedly. "Hand me my waffles and we'll think through it a bit."

"Go as me," I said as I put her back on the barstool and hopped around to pull the plates out of the oven. "That costume you made for yourself would be purrfect."

"Hell no," she said flatly. "I made that just for you."

"That's not what you said at the time," I reminded her with an arched eyebrow. "Besides, you look great in form-fitting spandex. Purrhaps better than one other woman I know," I added, waggling my eyebrows at her.

Marinette flushed. "I can't wear that."

"Then go as Ladybug," I suggested. "It would be a perfect—"

"Absolutely not," she said firmly.

"Why not?" I asked. "You could whip one up in no time flat."

"No," she said curtly. "Moving on."

"How about another Miraculous Holder? Rena? Queen Bee?"

"No!"

"Carapace?"

"No!" she nearly yelled.

My eyes widened. "All right," I said, realizing I might have pushed her a bit but also unsure why she was reacting the way she was. "Then let's try a different angle. I'm a black cat. Maybe you could be a witch, and I'll be your familiar."

She considered me for a moment, and then that brilliant smile I loved made an appearance. "I like that. Okay, let me noodle some designs."

"Good," I smiled. "I still think Lady—"

"Knock it off, Chat."

"As you wish," I said.