Forty-Five: Valentine

Author's Note: A month of fruitless searching for the mysterious new Miraculous Box frustrates Chat to no end, but he takes a much needed pause to celebrate the first Valentine's Day with Marinette in their new apartment. Too bad it's on a weekday.

Special note: With a timely assist from Bunnix, eagle-eyed readers will realize I have jumped ahead timeline-wise in an attempt to catch back up to the current calendar, since this story originally unfolded in "real time" until the Manon storyline hijacked my plans. I am also cheating slightly in doubly-eagle-eyed readers may recognize a version of this chapter originally appeared in MariChatJune last year. I've reworked it to fit into the new narrative (identities had not been revealed in the first version posted) and shifted a few key points.

I woke early and rolled out of bed, stretching but not nearly as luxuriously as I could when transformed. Plagg was still snoring in the small bed Marinette had given him for Christmas, surrounded by socks he'd stolen out of my laundry hamper. It brought a smile to my face, seeing how settled the two of us had become with our new reality that my girlfriend, who happened to be slumbering a handful of meters across the apartment from me, was also my partner, Ladybug. I could kind of hear her snoring with what little feline abilities I possessed when I was Adrien, so I knew I had time.

Hearing her brought a smile to my face, for it was unusual to be apart even that minimal distance. I'd had an unusually late meeting at House of Gabriel, though, and hadn't wanted to wake Marinette upon my return; I was well aware that she had been spending plenty of late nights at Chateau Le Blanc, and figured she could use a night off from feline attention. Slipping into my room from the balcony had been the gentlemanly thing to do, even if this particular feline found the prospect of sleeping alone even for a single night disquieting.

I pulled on the well-worn fitness tank-top I'd left hanging on the back of my bathroom door, well aware of how it hugged my Chat-inspired musculature. I was a model, after all, and not above distracting my Princess with the view. Splashing water on my face to chase the last cobwebs away, I smiled at the Ladybug-themed sleeping pants; they had become a running joke since our mutual reveal a few weeks earlier.

The frown came quickly after, for that reminded me we'd not made any progress on locating the mythical Miracle Box from which Manon's kwamis had been from. Master Fu had confirmed what we suspected – there originally had been many other boxes out there in the world, each dedicated to a particular part of the planet - though all had been lost through what the Guardian would only say had been an unexpected disaster. He had incorrectly assumed his box had been the sole survivor of whatever cataclysm had occurred. Wherever it was in Paris, it was well hidden with nary a clue to its existence.

Trying to regain my upbeat mood, I thought for just a moment before grinning and calling for my transformation; it somehow seemed purrfect that I'd appear to her that morning as the feline she'd fallen for. In truth, I now knew that she'd deduced my alter-ego's identity while we'd been in college, and to be honest, I'd been close to making the connection with Ladybug several times. Grinning wider at my now masked visage, I thanked the kwamis yet again that we had been paired by Master Fu all those many years ago.

Out in the kitchen, I quietly snuck out the ingredients to make waffles. Those cooking lessons she'd given me years ago at the Bakery had stood me in good stead since we moved in together, and as it was Valentine's Day, I wanted to flex a bit and give her something special. Being a weekday, we both had to get to work so I needed to work quickly to pull it off. I was also aware that both of us had engagements that evening - she with work, and me doing our regular patrol solo; this would be our only time to celebrate the Lover's Holiday.

I pulled the batter out of the fridge, having made it over my lunch hour the prior day. I set it on the counter next to the special waffle iron that had nearly not made it in time. The little light had just gone off, so I quickly poured in the first round of batter and closed the lid.

While the first waffle steamed into existence, I laid some bacon across parchment paper and placed it into the oven; after setting the timer, I popped open the blueberry syrup I'd ordered from a small vendor in America that promised to taste like freshly picked fruit. The smell as I poured in into a saucepan to carefully warm up convinced me I'd made a good decision.

Humming to myself happily, I continued with my preparations and had just popped open the champagne for the mimosas when a sleepy-eyed Marinette appeared at her doorway and padded her way to the barstool across from me. "You've been busy, Chat," she said, eyes taking in the kitchen.

I leaned over to kiss her. "It's a special day," I said. "And I wanted to do something for my special person." I poured out the champagne into a fluted glass, added some orange juice, and slid it across to her. "Hungry?"

"Very," she said.

Putting on potholders, I withdrew two plates from the oven piled high with waffles and placed one in front of her; mine went beside her. The bacon was already waiting in a casserole and I quickly decanted the blueberry syrup into a carafe. I carefully untied my "This Kitty Is A Pure Bread" apron she'd given me during our lessons and started to pull it over my head; it was designed for a smaller version of me but I'd insisted on continuing to use it whenever in the kitchen.

My face wrinkled slightly as it caught on one of my feline ears. "Ow!" I said as I struggled a bit.

"Hold up," Marinette laughed as she came to my rescue, getting up on her tip-toes to carefully unwrap the apron from my unruly mane. "There," she said as she set the apron to the side and kissed me for good measure.

"Thanks," I laughed.

"Anytime," she chuckled as she slipped back around to her seat and then finally looked at her plate. "These… these are paw-shaped," she said, looking up.

"Yes," I smiled as I laid the offending apron on the countertop and circled around the island to sit beside her. "I special-ordered it."

She looked back down. The waffle was a perfect facsimile of my Chat logo - with one change. I had added a tiny heart pattern inside the pad. "This is adorable!"

I leaned over and hugged her. "A tiny something," I smiled as I kissed her. "Now, try this syrup before it gets cold."

We dug in and I was pleasantly surprised that the waffles had come out as well as they had. I didn't normally do a yeast-based version, but the fluffiness was fantastic. Marinette agreed as we were clearing away the dishes. "I'd love for you to make those again," she said.

"I'm on it," I laughed. "And I'm glad you enjoyed them. I had a good teacher, you know."

"Just 'good?'" she asked, mock-frowning.

"Okay, the best," I answered quickly, then pulled her into a hug with a deep kiss.

"I've got to get ready for work," Marinette said sadly, after I let her go.

"Me, too." I kissed her goodbye and retreated to my bedroom, and she to hers.

The day passed uneventfully; I was booked for an auto show that day, standing next to a car and smiling. Some of the gigs felt like they were eliminating my brain cells, and this was high on that list. I was so bored, in fact, that I shucked out of the wardrobe they'd made me wear and removed the makeup in world record time. I fairly ran out the exit of the exhibit hall to locate the first empty alley I could find in order to transform back to Chat Noir.

Patrol was thankfully uneventful, though I'd had the unexpected pleasure of roaming Paris with my good friend, Viperion. I'd found him sitting atop one of his favorite hangouts, strumming his lyre thoughtfully; he was alone on the Lover's Holiday, apparently, though I thought his alter-ego had been dating a record executive from his label. I didn't need my feline sensitivity to realize something had gone wrong, so I invited him to tag along, an invitation he quickly accepted. Luka and I had our ups and downs over the years, but he was a trusted friend and a valued member of our team – and had the driest sense of humor I had ever encountered.

We parted ways a few blocks from the Liberty, which made me smile. Some of my best memories from my teenage years had been spent jamming with Kitty Section on the deck of his mother's eclectic boat. Last I'd heard, she was touring once more with Jagged Stone, which had to be story unto itself.

The apartment wasn't too much further, and as I sailed through the relatively quiet evening, I thought of all of those prior Valentine's Days that I had furrvently hoped would be the night – the one when Ladybug finally said "yes" to my advances. It had never happened, of course, and ultimately I'd begun to close my heart to the possibility. It had let me to Marinette, though, and in a surprising turn, right back to Ladybug. Life can be funny in a warped kind of way.

Landing on my balcony, I rolled into the bedroom and right out into the main space. I'd not expected Marinette to be home and had intended to grab a cup of coffee before turning in. Instead, I tumbled right into my girlfriend who was busily setting something up on the counter.

"Princess?" I asked, rubbing my head where it had crashed into her thigh.

"Do you normally do that when I'm not here?" she countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I smirked as I stood up. "You're back early."

"As are you." She'd placed herself in front of whatever she'd been working on.

My masked eyes narrowed and I tried to sneak around her. "What is that?"

"Nothing," she said, deftly dodging me. "You are a curious one, aren't you?"

"Cat," I said, pointing to my chest with a claw. "What is that?"

She stepped back from the counter. "I wanted this to be ready when you got home."

I felt my green feline eyes widen. Behind her was a top-of-the-line Keurig, the one that accepted pods but could also make several different types of espresso beverages. My eyes flipped back to Marinette. "Princess, that's-"

"The least I can do," she said. "And before you go worrying about how much it cost me, I got it through my father with his steep discount at the equipment supplier he uses." She laughed slightly. "I know how much you subsist on coffee. I figured it might as well be high quality."

"What an extraordinarily thoughtful surprise," I breathed. "Thank you."

She drew me into a hug. "Happy Valentine's Day, Chaton."

I buried my head into her soft hair. "Here's to many more, mon cherie."