Chapter Twenty Three – Celebration
"Y–Y– . . . You d–don't mean . . ." Cat can't finish the sentence, he can only clutch her closer to him and burry his face in her neck, inhaling her Marinette smell to ground himself. "Princess," He whimpers around the lump in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep his tears at bay. Surly she can't be talking about . . . that, can she?
"Kitty?" She asks, shifting her hand up his back to thread her fingers through the hair at his nape. He sniffs and she frowns. "What are you trying to say?" She'd only invited him over so they could have a secret sleepover, not so they could cry on each other's shoulders. Today was supposed to be all happiness!
"You're not thinking a–about . . ." He inhales shakily and raises his head from her neck so he can look her in the eye. Her eyebrows crease in concern and she brushes her hand across his cheek, wiping away his tears. "Please don't say you're contemplating s–s–su–sui–"
"No," She whispers, saving him from forcing 'suicide' from his lips. She strokes his cheekbone with her thumb before wrapping her arms around him in a cuddle again, although she maintains eye contact with him. "No, I'm not talking about that, I just . . ." She bites her lip and glances at a distant point over his shoulder, trying to collect her thoughts and find the right words to say, to make him understand. "I'm just so tired, of everything, and even the things I used to love no longer make me as happy as they used to and . . ." She shrugs. "The only way I can explain it is my heart is tired."
"I understand that." Cat murmurs, going back to stroking her back soothingly. She's wearing her dinosaur pyjamas again, and he wishes he could feel them, feel their softness, their warmth. "Almost two years ago I lost . . . I lost someone very close to me and I still struggle with doing things that remind me of her." His voice cracks and he clears his throat, but doesn't add any more.
"Like what?" She asks, leaning her head back on his shoulder, her fingers tap against his spine absentmindedly and he inhales sharply at the sensation.
"Piano. I used to play the piano with her, and now when I play . . . it's different. The music's the same but it's a different tone." She hums in acknowledgment and he leans his head against hers, letting his eyes slide closed. They stay like that for what could be minutes or hours, neither can tell, but eventually Cat gives her one last squeeze and then loosens his grip on her, although he can't bring himself to pull away from her completely just yet. "I think that's enough sadness for one night." He grins at her and she giggles. "You mentioned wanting to celebrate?"
She nods happily, a grin splitting her face in two and he can't help but grin along with her. "Uh–huh!" She squeals quietly and wriggles out of his embrace, dancing back a step before moving back to him to grab his hand. "What are you wearing under your suit?"
He blinks at her, before a surprised giggle escapes him. "Pardon?"
"Are you wearing your pyjamas?" She doesn't lose the grin, even as he takes what must feel like ten years to nod. "Great! Wait here!"
With that, she spins around and climbs through her trapdoor. He stands there, stunned, with his hand still out from when she released his and his eyes wide with shock. He's just grateful his mouth isn't hanging open so he won't catch any flies. He's also grateful it's too cold for flies. He's still in that position when she climbs back out a moment later, one hand hidden behind her back, but she makes no mention of his position. When she just continues to stare at him, grinning, he pulls his hand back to him and returns her smile, glancing at her and then away nervously.
"You're not going to guess?" Marinette finally asks, bouncing on the souls of her feet in a poor attempt to contain her giddiness.
"You didn't say I should." Cat says, scratching the back of his neck.
She frowns, tilting her head. A moment later she facepalms herself with her free hand. "Idiot! I'm sorry," She smiles sheepishly. "I must've said that in my head."
He snorts slightly and she giggles to herself, before looking at him pointedly. "Um . . . am I guessing the celebration or what you're holding?"
"Celebration."
"Okay." He mimes a thinking position and she rolls her eyes fondly. "Is it a giant cake that says 'suck it, Lila!'?"
She snorts. "No, but that's pretty good."
"Is it physics homework?"
She makes a face. "That wouldn't be a celebration, that would be torture!"
He laughs. "True. Is it a jumping castle?"
"No."
"An all you can eat macaron buffet?"
"No." She starts giggling.
"Ooh! Is it Cinderella?"
"Cat!" She shakes her head fondly.
"What?" He cries, feigning innocence.
"You're a pain in the butt, you know." She tells him and he snorts. "Why don't I just show you, instead?"
"Okay." He readily agrees and starts moving towards her skylight, but she stops him with a hand to his chest.
"You have to detransform first, and put this on." She pulls her other hand from behind her back and holds up a piece of black fabric. Upon closer inspection, he realises it's a perfect replica of his mask, just without the Miraculous magic.
"Did you make this?" He asks, taking it from her to get a better look at it. She nods shyly, biting her lip as she watches him inspect her work. He runs his fingers over it gently, mindful of his claws, and finds where she signed it along the stitching below his left eye. There's a thinnish black elastic band connected to the back of it to secure it around his head, and he tugs on it experimentally. "When?"
"At school today." So that's what she was doing in the art room. "I came up with the idea to celebrate during class, and I wasn't really sure what we would do at the time, but I figured Plagg deserves a break."
He smiles, before frowning, confused. "How do you know my kwami's name?"
Her eyes widen slightly, before she smiles and shuffles her feet nervously, wringing her hands in front of her. "We met when I was Multimouse. Remember? I had to use cataclysm?"
"Oh, right. I forgot." He smiles shyly. "That battle was crazy."
"Try being the size of an actual mouse." She says and he laughs. "I'm going to wait inside, just come in when you're ready." She smiles one last time before disappearing through the skylight, this time shutting it behind her.
He waits a moment, smiling to himself about the girl that has invaded his heart more than he realised. "Claws in." He says softly, shivering as his suit is replaced with his pyjamas. He's grateful that he didn't bother fixing his hair after his shower, so it's already in Cat's usual style.
"Should I be worried?" Plagg asks, drawing Adrien from his own thoughts of this beautiful, amazing girl that's allowing him to be himself in the comfort of her home.
"Worried?" He frowns at his kwami, slipping the mask over his head. He adjusts it so it's sitting straight, before running his finger along the elastic band to check it's not twisted.
"You're not going to leave tonight expecting kittens, are you?"
Adrien glares at him, cheeks flushing darkly at Plagg's implication. "No. Why would you think that?"
He shrugs, before darting over to the skylight. "Because you're teenagers and your libidos are fluctuating willy–nillily?" With that, he phases through the skylight and into Marinette's room.
Adrien stares at the spot Plagg just was, blinking, before his mind starts working. "Plagg! You can't just . . . go through people's windows!"
He doesn't get an answer (he's not even sure if Plagg heard him), but he still waits for one. After a moment longer, he realises that Marinette's probably wondering where he is and he moves to the edge of the skylight in two steps. From here, he can see the bottom half of her bed, but not her, so she's either on the main floor of her room or sitting at the head of her bed. He does know from experience that, if she is sitting at the head of her bed, she'll be able to see his feet. Maybe. Depends whether there's a reflection from the light on in her room or not. The thought that she might be able to see him standing there, like an idiot, gets his limbs moving again and he crouches, lifts the skylight and slips inside. Marinette grins at him from the head of her bed, Plagg nestled in the curve of her shoulder and neck, purring sleepily.
"No fair!" He says, and Plagg opens one eye lazily. "Why do you cuddle the princess but not me?" Marinette giggles.
"She smells nicer." Plagg says, letting his eye close again. He snuggles even closer to her. "And she gave me a cheese puff."
"And you'll only get more if you're good." Marinette says, still giggling. She notices Adrien's pout and snorts, before gently lifting Plagg from her shoulder and setting him on her pillow. She gives his head a little stroke before crawling on her knees to Adrien. She stops right in front of where he's still crouched from climbing inside and wobbles slightly, gripping his shoulders so she can remain on her knees. "Hi."
"Hi." He grins at her and puts his hands on her waist gently. His grin widens when he realises he can feel her pyjamas, and he strokes the fabric with his thumbs, relishing in the softness of the fleece. "Your pyjamas are soft." He whispers quietly and she giggles.
She shifts beneath his hands and he tightens his grip, his pinkie finding the slit in the side of her pyjama top and fingering the skin there gently. He's never been so close to her without the mask on before (even though he is still technically wearing a mask), and it's like tasting the forbidden fruit; one bite isn't enough, he just has to keep coming back for more. Or, in this case, he wants to remain as close to her as he possibly can for as long as he possibly can.
"So are yours." Her hands shift from his shoulders down to his chest then back up again. "This is really good quality fabric! What's the thread count? It's got to be really high since it's so–oh."
"What?" For a second he thinks he's given away his identity somehow (like, maybe Nathalie got his name sewed into his pyjamas and she can see that?), but when he looks down he can't see anything that could possibly be incriminating.
"Of course they're good quality." Marinette sits back on her heels and he's forced to release his hold on her waist. She points to the label stitched into the bottom, left–hand corner of his pyjama shirt. "They're Gabriel brand."
His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to protest, almost flailing his arms around in a panic, but her face hasn't changed. She's just making an observation, and he calms down. Slightly. "Y–Yeah. They were a gift." Well, not really. The only clothes he own's are Gabriel, and he automatically gets the latest outfits whether he wants them or not.
"Expensive gift." She says, sliding her hand along his forearm to feel the fabric there. When she reaches the end of the sleeve, he flips his hand over and interlaces their fingers. "Was it your birthday?"
He nods noncommittedly, deciding to just take the out she's unknowingly given him rather than dig himself into a deeper hole. "So . . . what is this celebration that you planned that requires me to be in my pyjamas?" He asks, changing the subject.
She raises an eyebrow, letting him know she knows what he's doing, but he just smiles innocently. "You're not very observant, are you?"
"What do you mean?" He frowns at her and she giggles, looking to her right towards her room. He follows his gaze and his jaw instantly drops, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh. My. God."