Chronologically this oneshot takes place several weeks after the previous oneshot. I wrote this one back in August for a writing collab with several other writers on tumblr and AO3. The prompt for this one was "Take My Hand."
She let out a deep breath, paused and listened, but only heard silence on the other side of the door.
After so many visits she should've been accustomed to the musty stench of decay and neglect, and yet, it stung her nose when she took a new breath.
"Chat?" Marinette finally forced the door open, mentally prepared for the awful creak it would make on aged hinges.
But it never came.
The door swung open with such relative ease that she was almost afraid someone had thrust her into a silent film. The apartment equally quiet, bathed in the waning light of dusk. The long shadows and filtered light only serving to play up the silent movie era.
"Chat?" She called again, taking her first step into the apartment. Floorboards creaked under the weight of her steps, breaking the eerie silent spell of the place.
No one was inside. There was a bed against the wall, covered in expensive blankets and pillows. Beige drapes hung over the window, sporting damages reminiscent of cat claws. There wasn't much else in the studio style apartment, a disused kitchen, and a bathroom, both equally empty.
From the only furniture, it was obvious that the creature that lived here preferred sleeping above all else.
She took another step into the apartment, fingers playing with the strap of a small duffel bag slung across her shoulder. She could feel Tikki in her pocket, the Kwami radiated warmth and comfort as usual.
"I could've sworn I told you to leave," a chilling voice sounded near her ear. She felt the sudden warmth of a body behind her, and the weight of his presence.
"I did," Marinette snapped around to face him, "And now I've come back." She was met with mildly amused cat eyes, made even more unusual by their startling magenta hue.
Chat Blanc straightened up to his full height, before his lips pulled back over sharp canines. "Cheeky." He pushed passed her and into the room. He was almost deliberately too close, and Marinette shuddered when the cold bleached leather brushed her skin.
There was a certain amount of poise in all of Chat Blanc's movements. It was the kind of confidence Chat Noir always had, being a model (or so he claimed) and a superhero, except amplified. Chat Blanc knew he looked good, and knew how to carry himself; so whether or not he was aware he had the attention of the room's only other occupant, he made a dramatic show about flopping on his lavish out-of-place bed.
Dust particles took to the air, glittering in the last rays of waning sunlight streaming in between the tattered curtains. While the rest of Chat stayed indulgently stretched across the bed very much like a lazy feline, his tail swished disturbing the stagnant air.
"If you've come to nice me until I cough up a butterfly again, you can get out. I ate a new one today."
Marinette started to say something, a curse stuck to the tip of her tongue, bitten back. It would be taking a step back to scold him for eating a butterfly, leaving him satisfied with himself and most likely telling her to leave. The fact that he kept consuming akumas made purifying him a chore, but she was winning so long as she got him to cough up more butterflies than Hawk Moth could make.
"Guess, I'll take all this cheese and wine, and party at home then."
That got his attention.
Fluffy white ears perked up, swishing eddies of dust with every twitch.
"I despise cheese." He grumbled, keeping the bottom of his face buried among the blankets.
Marinette sucked in a breath, steeled her nerves, and crossed the distance of the room. She paused next to the bed, hesitating, considering the space on the blankets.
"Don't you even dare."
"Am I supposed to sit on the floor?" she scoffed.
"You aren't supposed to be here at all."
A nervous wiggle shuddered down her body, and Marinette forced herself to sit down on the bed next to him. She settled the duffel bag into her lap and unzipped the top. The pungent scent of cheese escaped into the room, curling her nose hairs, and making her flinch.
"Mmmm look at all this Camembert," she sang, attempting not to breath. Her eyes darted to the side, sneaking a peek at the man next to her.
Chat's fur bristled, his tail flicking up, and slit pupils fixed on the duffel bag in her lap.
"Are you sure you don't want any?" She lifted a wedge of Camembert from one of the round boxes.
"No," Chat lifted his head, and Marinette could see his nostrils flaring with each breath as if savoring the smell in the air.
She leaned closer to him, holding out the wedge. "No, you aren't sure~?" A rumbling growl confirmed that Chat Blanc probably hadn't eaten in more than a day.
He didn't say a word, but was drawn to her hand like a moth to a lamp. A thin pink tongue curled over one lip, then down a sharp elongated canine.
"Don't bite me, Chat," she offered the cheese, holding it out on the tips of her fingers.
Magenta eyes flickered up to her, considering, cautious, before dropping back down to the cheese. She watched Chat Blanc lean in, his mouth open and a drop of saliva oozing from his bottom lip. His fangs glistened in the poor light, sharp... dangerous.
It was everything she had to keep from flinching away. To stay brave in the face of such volatile temperament.
His lips closed around her fingers, taking the piece of cheese and swallowing it whole.
When she tried to retract her hand, his claws shot out snapping around her wrist to hold her still. This time when a shudder wracked her body it was from excitement. Chat's rough tongue curled over her fingertips, cleaning the remnants of the cheese off them one by one. His lips slipped father down, and Marinette could feel her pulse beneath her skin.
He swallowed again, Adam's apple bobbing, then pulled away and made a smacking sound. This time when he looked up at her his pupils were blown wide, and she could see her reflection in their inky depths.
Her breaths came quicker, attempting to compensate the pounding of the pulse in her ears. She didn't even comprehend the stench of the camembert anymore.
"See I... uh, knew you liked cheese."
Chat Blanc suddenly shook himself. Starting from his head and working it down his body, only to finish with a few sharp lashes of his tail. When he opened his eyes again, his pupils had returned to their previous slivered state.
Marinette made a squeak when he suddenly flopped onto her lap and rolled on his back, so that the back his head rested on her thighs.
"Feed me."
"Excuse me?"
"You insist on coming here, you sit on my nest, you taunt me with treats. Feed me."
Marinette pressed her pointer finger to the tip of his masked nose. "You, don't order me around. You want something, you ask for it."
Chat bared his teeth, and narrowed magenta eyes at her. An irritated growl rose up in the back of his throat, and she could feel it in her thigh.
Tikki felt the change in his temperament and began to buzz hotly in her pocket, readying in case Marinette needed her, and warning her host to tread cautiously.
Don't let him bite you, Marinette. Tikki's warning sounded in the back of her mind. Whatever happens, don't let him bite you.
She bit the inside of her cheek, and pressed forth. "Knock that off."
The growl puttered out in the back of his throat, and Chat blinked up at her. A second later his lips pulled back into a sneer. "You talk like Ladybug."
"Maybe I am," Marinette sneered back. She met his eyes, one for one holding his stare and refusing to back down.
She noted Chat's floofy ears falling in her peripheral, and his jaw went slack.
They could have heard the dust settling.
A low chuckle broke the silence, and Chat Blanc erupted into disbelieving snickering.
"You laugh! But you don't know!" she defended, shutting him up by shoving another wedge of Camembert into his open maw. The laughing died out as he coughed on the unexpected cheese.
Marinette pressed her lips in a tight line, attempting to soothe her anxiety and disappointment. She was tempting fate. If Chat Blanc realized she was Ladybug it could end badly. That was always a possibility. And yet she wanted so desperately to tell him, because she wanted so desperately to confront him. Ask him why he disappeared, and continued to elude Ladybug, why he shunned her help.
She continued to feed him pieces of cheese while her thoughts roamed. Thoughts about her partner swamped her brain, filling her with melancholy for what was lost, but he didn't seem to notice.
When she popped open the bottle of wine to take a drink, he held his mouth open expectantly.
The temptation to purposefully splash it over his face was strong.
Really, Chat Noir was still there, trapped under amplified negative emotions and the effects of akuma possession. But she could see him sometimes. He was there in a look, or an unconscious gesture. As if the cruel white exterior was no more than a murky film on the surface of his heart. He just needed help to wash it off.
I can't do this on my own Chaton, you have to help me.
It was the comforting rumble from his chest that made her realize she'd stopped feeding him cheese and was fingers deep in his mane of blonde hair. Something she's always done with Chat Noir, but never with Chat Blanc.
Shock, like ice, crawled down her back and her nails ceased massaging his scalp.
His purr fizzled out and both of them became deathly still.
"Please?" he asked in a low low murmur.
"What was that, Chaton?" The use of his nickname was a slip, she hadn't called him that since he changed. "I couldn't hear you."
A growl started in his throat.
"I thought you didn't like me to touch you," she teased, making to extract her hand from his hair.
"Pet me, woman!"
Marinette was stifling a laugh when she sank her fingers into his hair, but the smile that broke out across her face managed to make tears well up in the corners of her eyes.
It took longer this time to get his purr to start up again, as he seemed to be fighting it. It wasn't until her hands started rubbing the velvety fur on his ears that the low rumble of thunder broke. It rippled from the base of his throat and reverberated in his chest. She could feel the vibrations subtly shaking through her legs. It made her feel... good.
He cracked half-lidded magenta eyes, "if you tell anyone..."
"Not a soul," she promised, and watched his eyes drift closed once more.
...
Night had completely settled over Paris by the time Marinette gathered her things to leave. She finished storing the rest of the cheese in the dilapidated mini-fridge in the kitchenette, surprised that the appliance still functioned, albeit poorly.
Turning back to the living area, she saw Chat Blanc watching her. His eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. She could just make out his white form sprawled over the bed where she'd left him.
"You're leaving." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, I need to get home before my parents start worrying." Not that Marinette couldn't stay out however long she wanted, or spend the night at a friends. She was eighteen after all. But her parents served as an acceptable excuse not to linger here.
Chat's ears twitched, responding to the wail of far off sirens. A reminder that it was a long walk home, and not always through the best neighborhoods.
He rose up from the bed, and liquid white mass arching up like a macaroni noodle. His tail curled before lashing back and forth, glowing magenta disappearing as he shut his eyes, really getting into the stretch.
"I will take you home."
Marinette could only blink at him. "I can- I can fine. I'm walking fine uh... walking."
He ignored her stammering, and oozed off the bed, sauntering over to the window. The fresh night air that blew in when he threw open the windows disturbed another cloud of dust from the sill. He pushed the tattered curtains aside, and stepped out.
In the poor light from the city outside, she watched Chat Blanc pull his staff from the back of his belt and extend it down to the ground. He mounted the metallic staff with all the ease of a pole dancer, trusting his body to know exactly how to grip it to hold on. His left boot the only thing keeping him anchored to the sill.
Marinette didn't even realize she'd gravitated to the window until he held his clawed hand down to her.
It was an invitation.
This wouldn't be the first time she'd traveled this way, over the rooftops of Paris. She was Ladybug after all, and definitely no stranger to swinging through the streets with her yo-yo. She was also no stranger to hitching a ride with Chat Noir, and letting him pole-vault them through the Parisian skies.
But Chat Blanc wasn't aware of any of this.
She eyed his offered hand, deliberating whether it would be safer just to walk home. If anyone saw her with Chat Blanc it would raise a serious amount of questions. It could be dangerous for both of them. The police wanted him after all; although he was her partner, he was still an akuma right now. One that Ladybug had yet to take care of.
Chat Blanc heaved a sigh through his nose, and curled the tips of his fingers in a "well, c'mon," gesture.
He would think her hesitance to be fear. Fear of heights, or fear of him. It was neither.
Stuffing her worries aside, Marinette realized she wanted this and slipped her hand into his. His grip tightened, pulling her up onto the rotting sill, and into his chest.
"Put your arms around my neck, and don't let go," he instructed. The warmth in his words almost caught her off guard, but made her chest burn. She locked her arms around the back of his neck, her body draped over his front, toes barely touching the sill anymore.
His arm closed around her back, hugging her to his chest, and when he lifted away from the building she shut her eyes out of instinct. She wasn't in her super suit, which left her feeling oddly vulnerable this far off the ground.
"I don't want to make the front page news tomorrow." She warned him. Although it was probably too late for that concern since she was already in his arms.
A chuckle rumbled through his chest. "No one will see us at night."
"No one will see us?" Marinette balked, "You're white! You glow worse than a hotel room under a blacklight!"
He dismissed her concerns with an amused snicker.
Up, up, up, Chat took her. She felt the movement. Could feel the air rushing over them as they got higher in the sky.
"Open your eyes."
She did, peeling her face away from his shoulder to look out across the city-scape. The silhouettes of buildings decorated the landscape below them, glittering and alive with a myriad of lights. A scene she'd seen a thousand times over.
But Chat Blanc wasn't aware of this either. In his mind, he was putting the charms on a lady. Showing off, being smooth.
It was everything she had not to giggle. "It's lovely," she told him instead.
Chat beamed. Seemingly satisfied with her response, he tipped the balance of the staff and sent them careening forward.
Although she was prepared, her stomach still dropped out when he retracted the staff only to extend it again and send them flying up into the night again. Chat's method of travel had never been as smooth as hers, and not something she'd grown accustomed to. She ended up tightening her grip around Chat's neck in spite of herself, and if he smirked she never saw it.
In a fraction of the time it would have taken her to walk, he was delivering her to the balcony above her bedroom. The relief of her feet touching down against something solid shuddered up her entire body.
"This," he began, "will be the last time I escort you home, Miss Dupain-Cheng." Chat Blanc knocked the end of his staff against the balcony for emphasis.
"I never asked you to." She pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped out of his embrace. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were concerned for my safety."
His eyes narrowed at her mocking tone, claws snapped out to hold her chin, tilting her face to meet his. "You are never safe around me," he growled out.
He was close. She could catch his scent, leather, fur, and a natural masculine smell laced with cheese. So close that if she just stood on her toes she'd be kissing him.
Before that thought could even settle he was away from her. Cold air rushed to fill his absence, and she almost fell forward into the balcony railing. By the time she recovered, Chat Blanc was nothing but a ghostly form disappearing behind the chimney of a neighboring rooftop.
"You'll see me tomorrow," she hummed.
...
From two rooftops away, he watched her lift the hatch to her bedroom, and retreat inside for the night.
"She's going to be back tomorrow isn't she?" he asked no one in particular.
There was a part of him that thrilled over the fact that she had been unsuccessful tonight. That he had come away from the evening with all the akumas still fluttering away in his stomach.
And then there was the part of him that sat there, clutching his staff and staring at the space where she had been, with a pensive expression. The part that wondered what she had planned for tomorrow, and when she would show up. The same part that would be disappointed if she didn't show up.
Chat suddenly coughed into his hand, hard and painful. Tears stinging the corner of his eye.
When he pulled his palm away there was a smear of saliva stained purple from butterfly scales.
"Son of a bitch."
The next set of Chat Blanc oneshots I've written are M rated, and wont be posted under Bleached White. At this time im unsure whether to share them here, but you can find them on AO3 under the title Velvet Soft. If you want me to post Velvet Soft here, let me know.
The Bleached White collection will stay T rated.