a/n: I totally haven't done this trope before. Never. Nope. XD I love to torture the cinnamon roll. Thank you for reading!

Lovesquare Fluff Week Day 6: Bedsharing or napping. / Marichat

It wasn't all that weird for Chat Noir to show up on her balcony after the sun went down.

Most of the time, Marinette didn't ask why. Because Marinette wasn't supposed to know why. It was Ladybug who knew that Chat spent a lot of time locked up in his house and that he cherished each free moment he could get. That sunset meant isolation and loneliness, and she didn't blame him for wanting to escape.

So she let him in. She fed him cookies and croissants and smiled when his face lit up, only for him to make some awful pun that stole the smile right off her face. Really, this cat was too much.

This night wasn't too out of the ordinary. It was nearing eleven on a Friday night, and Marinette was working quietly on one of her designs. Chat had been here for almost an hour. The scratch of her pencil on her sketchbook and the faint whisper of Chat's breathing filled the room as she worked. She was humming softly under her breath, occasionally sneaking glances up at Tikki, who was hiding up on her loft, careful not to be seen by her partner.

Her humming suddenly came to a halt as she tapped her pencil against her lip. Something wasn't quite right with this one, but she wasn't sure what. Asking Tikki's opinion was too risky, at least with Chat in the room. So that only left him...

"Chat?" she said without looking up from her sketchbook. "Chat. C'mere for a second, please?"

She gave him a while. Waited. Waited. No response came.

Blinking, Marinette turned in her chair. "Chat, did you—oh."

Her voice trailed off as she saw why he didn't answer. Sprawled out on her chaise, with his eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face... it was obvious Chat was asleep.

That explains why he's been so quiet for so long, she mused, lips twitching with the threat of a smile. I should have known. Although...

As much as she hated to disturb him, Marinette wasn't sure how her parents would react if they came upstairs to wake her in the morning and saw that she wasn't alone. She should probably wake him up and send him home.

"Chat," she murmured again, standing from her desk. "Hey. Time to wake up."

Nothing. Chat was out cold.

"Tikki," she hissed, turning around. "What do I do?"

Hesitantly, Tikki came out of her hiding place, eyeing Chat contemplatively. "You should wake him."

"Duh! But how am I supposed to wake him?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "Especially when he looks so... so—"

A soft, quiet whimper made her freeze. Tikki ducked hastily behind the railing of her loft with a muffled squeak, and slowly, gradually, Marinette turned back around to see what caused Chat to produce such a sound.

The tranquility in his expression was gone, and instead, his face was contorted with fear. His clawed fingers were digging into her chaise and he nuzzled his cheek into one of her throw pillows, mumbling something into the fabric that she couldn't quite catch.

Then, brokenly: "Nathalie... please... don't let father take me out of school..."

Marinette's heart plummeted somewhere way below her ribcage, and her breath became a prisoner in her throat. Was... what was happening? Was he having some sort of nightmare? Her stomach clenched at the thought.

"Chat?" she repeated in a whisper, eyes soft and soulful as she took a hesitant step toward him.

When she reached out to touch him, he recoiled away from her fingers. His fingers dug deeper into her chaise and his breath stuttered. Became quick and shaky. "I—I won't do it again... I promise..."

Wait a second.

Nathalie.

Nathalie.

Nathalie was... she was Adrien's father's assistant, wasn't she? Or was it just a coincidence? She swallowed anxiously, recalling the other snippet of his mumbled sentence about not wanting to be taken out of school.

Adrien was afraid of being homeschooled again.

"Oh, Chat," she said forlornly, trying desperately not to linger on that bit of information too long and failing miserably. "Shh... hey. It's a nightmare, ok?"

Her words fell on deaf ears. Chat merely whimpered again, and then he let out what sounded like a sob. And quiet as it was, the noise still sent a spiderweb of cracks through her heart.

"Tikki," she repeated, keeping her eyes locked on Chat Noir.

Tikki seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. She hissed in warning, "Marinette—"

"Spots on."

Red magic washed over her as her kwami was summoned into her earrings, and gently, cautiously, soundlessly, Ladybug slipped her hands underneath Chat's body and hauled him up. She carried him effortlessly up the ladder and onto the loft, moving like he was made of delicate porcelain, and only when she had him tucked into her blankets did she call off her transformation, pleasantly ignoring Tikki's disapproving look.

A disapproving look that soon shifted into something much softer as she saw Chat's still-troubled expression. She said, "I don't like this. But I don't want to see Chat suffer, either."

Marinette barely paused to nod, instinctively crawling into the bed beside him. She pressed her cheek to his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. Then she murmured into his suit, "It's ok, kitty. I promise."

She felt rather than saw him take a deep breath. Felt his shoulders tense.

"I'm right here," she assured quietly, and repeated it over and over again until his the tension in his body dissipated, until his breath became less fragmented, until the things that haunted him in his dreams faded away.

Eventually, Chat stirred and shifted. Mumbled sleepily, "...Mari...Marinette...?"

"Shh," she said faintly, soothingly. "Don't worry. Just go back to sleep. Everything's ok."

Marinette kept her face nuzzled into his back, hoping her words were enough to coax him back into slumber. A few moments later, she heard a soft rumbling noise. Felt his body quake against hers. He was purring.

Marinette finally allowed herself to smile again. That was a good sign.

She could worry about all the details later. She could face the possible reveal of his identity later. All she cared about now was making sure that look of anguish never crossed his features again, awake or asleep.