Just as a quick heads up, this story takes place with slightly aged up characters (only by like about 3 years), but the events of the episode where Marinette meets Chat Blanc did NOT happen in the world of this fic! Just an FYI for when you read, and enjoy! :)
Everything was wrong.
The way his body moved as if he weren't even the one controlling himself. The voices in his head that whispered or screamed his orders. The cold and empty feeling he couldn't shake, almost like a shell with nothing inside.
The Paris skyline, one that he had loved to sit and just watch after patrols with his Lady, grew darker by the minute. Thick and heavy storm clouds rolled over the night sky, distant thunder the only noise he could hear around him. The city was quiet - too quiet. Not a person walked by on the streets, no couples sat together on park benches, no friends meeting up with each other to do stupid things and laugh about it later.
Paris was silent, a shell of what it usually was.
Not so different from him.
He sat on the edge of the Eiffel Tower, unconsciously swinging his legs back and forth. He hummed to himself as a breeze brushed against his face. The coolness he would have shivered at before was now like a sick pleasure. Not that he could feel it. To be frank, he couldn't feel anything.
Not anymore.
The voice that had taunted him for what felt like hours had grown quiet. He was truly and utterly alone watching the city, vaguely wondering if this would be his torture for the rest of his life. Watching and seeing what could have been, only to have it ripped away and be replaced with a deafening silence.
A clap of thunder rang out across the sky. Small rain droplets pelted his face, partially hidden behind his mask. The one that didn't feel quite right.
Everything was wrong.
But he couldn't shake himself out of it. Releasing a deep sigh, he propped one of his legs up towards his chest and rested his chin against his knee. He hummed to himself again, letting his eyes drift shut as the wind blew harder and the rain became more unrelenting. He didn't move from his spot, only let the storm have its way.
A shoe scuffle sounded from behind him.
His eyes shot open. Muscles tightening and his shoulders tense, he slowly lifted his head from his knee. He didn't turn around, only continued to stare out in front of him as the sound of footsteps cautiously drew closer.
If the person approaching wanted him dead, he would have been shoved off the edge already. One of the leather ears on top of his hair twitched as their shoe scuffed against the metal of the tower again.
No, this was something else.
There was another voice in the very back of his mind, so small and so quiet he hadn't even heard it over the booming voice that had been his savior. The man that gave him the power he didn't know he needed, all at the expense of a measly, little ring and a pair of earrings.
But it wasn't that voice.
It was one he thought he recognized; of a blond boy with bright emerald eyes and a cheeky smile. He didn't have to take too many guesses to know it was himself. The boy he had buried behind an unrelenting gift of destructive power.
And he was begging for him to stop, to snap out of it, to listen to its cries.
He didn't.
Slowly looking over his shoulder, his eyes caught on the person that had stopped their approach. Standing there, hands clutched against her chest and eyes wide, was a girl.
He knew who she was. And deep down, he was positively terrified for what was supposed to come next.
"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," he purred, dragging a clawed hand through his hair. The tiny voice in his head made him want to lurch, screaming that, though it was his voice, it wasn't him. "This is quite the surprise, little lady."
He briefly glanced away and slowly pushed himself to his feet, his eyes dragging down his own figure as he stood to face her.
White. A pure white, leather suit from the tip of his neck down to the toes of his boots and the sharp points of his claws. Even the little bell just below his chin had somehow changed from its usual gold to an almost blinding white. And for that reason, the voice only grew louder.
It wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't him…
He pulled his eyes to the girl that had yet to speak. Her eyes were the deepest shade of blue, so kind and alive that he knew he could drown in them for hours. Her hair, which he somehow knew she wore in pigtails more often, hung down by her shoulders, framing her tear-streaked cheeks. And, for some reason, he unconsciously recognized the outfit: small flats, pink capris, a white floral tee, and a jacket over top.
He knew this person. But something, just like everything, was wrong.
He took a slow step towards, a smirk pulling back the corner of his lip to reveal a sharp canine. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
She took a shaky breath and shook her head, fear like no other flooding into her gaze. But she didn't turn to run or leave him to his life of loneliness and misery.
He dropped his smirk and prowled closer, never letting his eyes waver from hers. The girl swallowed, and she opened her mouth to speak. He was shocked she was able to get any words out.
"C-Chat."
He knew the name. The bittersweetness of the irony of it didn't stop his approach, and he ignored the name. After all, it wasn't his. Not anymore.
A single tear slipped down the side of her cheek, but she paid it no mind. "Chat, please. Please, I know you're in there. And I know this isn't you."
For someone so small, so fragile, he was shocked at how even she kept her voice and how confident she sounded. A flicker of admiration brushed against his mind for the girl no more than a few feet away from him.
He cocked his head to the side, almost as if to study her. He wasn't sure why the thought seemed so uncalled for, or why it was so surprising. Brushing it aside, he ignored the voice that continued to scream - only this time, it was for her to run.
"Chat."
She said the name again. He knew he knew it.
"Please."
It meant something to him. Or something to the voice in his head that felt like it was ready to split his skull to get out. To save…her?
They were now no more than an arm's length away from each other. The way she looked up at him with so much hope, so much admiration, so much forgiveness, made something in him stir.
"Please what, little lady?"
But only for a moment.
"Don't do this," she whispered, her voice finally cracking on the last word.
He raised his hand in between them, and a blinding, almost blue-like glow encased his hand. It swirled between his fingers and out to the side, growing larger as he raised his palm towards her.
He was gifted with destruction, after all. This was the price he paid for the power.
He took another step towards her, his finger a hair's breadth away from her chin. Tears poured over and down her cheeks, and she choked back a sob.
"Chat…"
"Do forgive me, my dear Princess."
Everything was wrong.
With those words, he lunged forward and grabbed the sides of her arms, pinning them against her as her eyes went wide and her breath hitched. His left hand didn't release her, but the one on the right…
Her body was slowly encased in a growing darkness, close to ash. She kept her gaze on him the entire time, never wavering even when the bluebells he found himself entranced by were covered. His right hand gripped the spot he had touched her harder, and a moment later, his claws started sinking through into nothing but dust.
Her face, frozen in time with that shocked and heartbroken expression, slowly blew away as a clap of thunder echoed around him. Her entire body dissolved into the black dust, piling in front of him as the glow around his fingers dimmed to nothing.
Unbeknownst to him, tears pricked the corner of his eyes.
It was like someone had dropped an anvil in his stomach. Staring down at the ash, realization like no other washed over him in a cold grip that felt like death itself.
He knew that name. He knew that girl. The girl…
Marinette.
The voice in his head cried. The sound was so full of anguish, and anger, and guilt, and fear that he felt the sound rip from his own throat.
Falling to his knees, he gritted his teeth together and gripped the side of his head. Curling over on himself, he threw his head back to the sky and screamed with everything he had.
Adrien sat bolt-upright, the last of his scream wrenching itself from his throat.
His eyes were wide and his chest was heaving. A thin coat of glossy sweat covered his entire torso and the back of his neck, blond strands of hair sticking to his skin. Glancing down and around him, the covers to his bed had been thrown astray, and he was gripping one of his blankets so tightly he knew it was a miracle he hadn't shredded it.
He tried to steady his breathing as his chest continued to heave up and down. Letting his shoulders slump forward, Adrien brought his hands up to his face and rested his palms on his forehead.
It was just a dream.
It was only a dream.
One of the worst ones he had had in a while.
And one of the ones that left him feeling absolutely sick to his stomach.
It hadn't been real.
It wasn't real.
Tears ran down his cheeks as he bit back on a sob. The memory of Marinette dissolving in his arms still fresh in his mind, Adrien leaned forward and forced himself to remember how to breathe. He had to take it slow, he had to count each breath he took. He had to calm down.
"Adrien, what are you…?"
A tiny, rough voice from his left had Adrien whipping his face up towards it. Staring up at the cat kwami, Adrien could feel his throat closing as Plagg's face fell from annoyed to concerned in a second.
"I'm fine," he choked out, unable to believe he was actually able to speak. "J-Just a dream."
It was just a dream.
It was only a dream.
That didn't stop Adrien from curling his hand into a fist and pressing it against his mouth.
He had been the one to kill her, he had been the one to end it for his best friend. And by his own power, too…
The blond felt his stomach lurch and his chest constricted. His breath was coming in short gasps, there was blood rushing to his ears, and the moonlight streaming in through his window suddenly seemed all too bright.
A sob racked through his body, and he ignored his kwami's worried questions.
He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't even think. The memory of his hand against Marinette's side and her dissolving beneath his touch ran rampant through his mind, filling him with a guilt that made him want to be sick.
His stomach lurched again, and he buried his face in his hands.
He had to breathe. He had to breathe. He had to breathe.
He was getting out of control, and his emotions were unchecked. They came in waves, pushing him farther into the nightmare he had been unable to escape until it was too late.
An akuma. There was no doubt in his mind now that he had been akumatized in his dream. And the thought that if he couldn't get his feelings under control, and he would be putting everyone in Paris at risk…
That he would be putting his Lady and Marinette at risk…
"Adrien," Plagg said softly, placing something in his lap. "Here, this might help."
The blond hesitantly pulled his hands far enough away from his face to see his kwami holding up a cup of water for him. Adrien had never seen him before with such a worried or concerned expression, and although a fresh wheel of camembert was sitting on his nightstand only half-eaten, Plagg didn't even spare it a glance.
He slowly nodded and grabbed the cup of water. His hand shook as his grip tightened around it, and he took a sharp inhale through his nose. He forced himself with all of his will-power to slowly exhale through his mouth.
"That's good," Plagg whispered. "Try it again, Adrien. Deep breath in through your nose."
Plagg floated a little higher as he gestured for Adrien to take a deep breath in. The kwami slowly lowered himself again when he needed to release it.
"And out," he exclaimed quietly. "Do another one."
Plagg floated higher and lower, and Adrien slowly felt his heart slow again. His vision became less fuzzy, the buzzing in his ears dimmed, and he felt his stomach release itself. Just a little. The pattern repeated until the blond slowly raised the cup to his lips and took a long gulp.
He sighed when he leaned over and set it on his nightstand. Running a hand through his hair, he quickly wiped at his cheeks for the last remaining tears.
"Thanks Plagg," he muttered, throwing the kwami a watery smile.
"What's going on, Adrien?" Plagg asked, frowning up at his owner as he came to hover just in front of his face.
Raising his hand for Plagg to sit on, Adrien sighed again as Plagg plopped down and waited for the blond to answer. "Like I said, it was just a dream."
"Nightmare?"
"Yeah," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced up at his windows. "Something like that."
"Do you…do you want to talk about it?"
Adrien snapped his gaze back to Plagg. Though the kwami looked a bit sheepish, when he darted his eyes between Adrien and the bed, he could tell Plagg was being genuine with his offer.
"If I'm being honest, I'd rather forget about it," Adrien chuckled, though there wasn't really any humor behind it. "It was…a lot, to say the least."
"You said something. In your dream," Plagg finished as Adrien shot him a confused look. "Before you woke up screaming, you kept saying Marinette's name. Did it have to do with her?"
At the mention of his beloved Princess, and the image of her body turning to dust before his eyes, the blond felt his throat tighten again.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah it did."
"Remember, Adrien, it was just a dream," Plagg cut in, angling his head so his owner would look him in the eye again. "Whatever happened in there, Marinette's okay. Nothing in there can hurt her."
Liar, Adrien thought to himself.
Of course there was always the risk of her getting hurt on any other day. But the fact it was by his own hand? That he was the one to finally end it for her?
There had been so much hope, so much admiration, and so many other things in her eyes that he felt he didn't deserve. Everything was wrong in his nightmare, but that bravery, that courage, and that confidence she had in her voice when she came to save him…there was no doubt that that was his Marinette. That was his best friend.
And she was alive.
At the notion alone, Adrien lifted his eyes back to his window. It was late, and they had school the next morning.
But he found he didn't care less.
Plagg didn't miss the sudden spark behind his green eyes either. Throwing the blankets back, Adrien rushed across the room and threw one of the windows open, even as Plagg sighed and mumbled something about her not enjoying him just popping over in (quite literally) the middle of the night.
Adrien didn't even register the words as his transformation came over him. Pushing away from the window sill, he leapt into the Paris night, running as fast as his legs could carry him across the rooftops.
His Princess was getting a visit from her knight in shining leather.
Chat hadn't meant to make it into a habit. He hadn't really meant to swing by that night at all.
The previous summer, he had (quite unceremoniously) popped by for a late night visit to Marinette after one of his patrols. He had just been passing by on one of the rooftops, glanced just in time to see Marinette eating sweets on her balcony, and his sweet tooth couldn't resist such delicacies, especially when they were freshly made from the best bakers in all of Paris.
He had sheepishly landed on the railing and asked if he could stay. The bluenette had almost immediately agreed, and before long, the silence turned to small talk, and the small talk to them exchanging stories in between fits of laughter.
Chat had been going to school with Marinette for three years. Or, Adrien had been.
Three years of their relationship growing from a terrible misunderstanding, to her stuttering every other word around him (though he wasn't ever able to really figure out why), to where they were now: a common ground where both could hold a genuine conversation with the other. And he loved every second of it.
Adrien was able to get Marinette to talk to him like he was a normal person. But Chat? She talked to him like he was a friend she had known her entire life.
Since the night he had come to visit, it had become a regular occurrence. Every week, on a few special nights, he would poke his head in just outside her window sill or right above her trap door to the balcony. Plus he always made sure to add in a cheeky grin whenever he could get her to jump a little at the sight of him.
The two had laughed at stories from their daily lives, cried over sappy movies they watched on her computer, debated over who had actually won the matches when they played video games. They had baked treats when her parents were out of town, and spent nights doing almost nothing and everything together, just as Marinette and Chat Noir.
And he loved it. He loved the times when he would get to see her after patrols, he loved sitting together on her balcony just to enjoy Paris' night sky, and he loved spending it with who quickly became his best friend.
But something different had happened lately, something that he didn't notice until a few weeks earlier.
When he shamelessly flirted with her just to get her to blush, she flirted back.
When he would kiss the back of her hand good-bye after each of his departures, he noticed the sometimes unusual blush that would stain her cheeks pink.
And, most of all, when she wasn't looking, he caught himself just watching her and picking up on the little things - how she stuck her tongue out when she was concentrating, the little dimples in her cheeks when she would truly smile, the way she seemed to glow when she laughed.
His heart had started to beat a little faster anytime he went to visit.
And it sort of terrified him.
The butterflies he would get around her flew from his mind as he vaulted over another chimney and kept running.
His could-be-growing-feelings for the bluenette wasn't what terrified him now.
Finally stopping to catch his breath just across the street from the bakery, Chat's eyes immediately locked on the figure standing on her balcony.
Marinette, her hair pulled back in her usual pigtails and already dressed in her night clothes, leaned against the rail with her chin propped up in her hand. A small smile had tugged the corner of her lips up, and her eyes slowly drifted shut with what looked like a peaceful bliss.
Chat was sure his heart stopped as his breath caught in his throat.
He was across the street and on her roof before he even had a chance to tuck his baton away again.
Tip-toeing across to the spot just behind the chimney, he poked his head around and simply watched her.
Marinette mindlessly tapped her bare foot on the floor of her balcony, and she released a long sigh as she dropped the arm holding her chin back across her chest.
The breath she released was like an angelic orchestra to his ears. She was alive.
She was so very alive.
He felt the tears welling up again, and he knew he had gotten his answer for the night. He had no other reason to stay. It was late enough as it was, and he needed to go. Marinette was alive. Marinette was safe. And it had only been a nightmare.
Averting his gaze from the girl he had been so afraid he lost, Chat made a move to jump back to one of the other roofs.
Her voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Chat?"
His body completely froze as he whipped his head around to face her. She was looking up at him, one eyebrow quirked in confusion.
His Princess turned her body to face him fully, and she uncrossed her arms over her chest to place them on her hips. Keeping an eyebrow raised in his direction, a small smirk lifted the corner of her lips as she asked, "What on earth are you doing up there, alley cat?"
Having been caught red-handed, a light blush crept out from beneath his mask. Clearing his throat, he hopped down onto the balcony and dipped into a low bow.
"Is it such a crime for a knight to come and see his Purr-incess?" he asked, smiling up at her even as he tried to keep his tears at bay.
"At 12:30 in the morning?" She fixed him with a dead-panned stare.
"Cats are known for being nocturnal," he chuckled. Everytime she blinked, or moved, or just breathed, he could feel his heart swelling with utter relief. As well as the lump building at the back of his throat.
"Just as they are curious," Marinette smirked. Walking towards him, she stopped no more than a foot away from him and poked him in the chest. "Now spill, kitty. What are you doing out so late? Your patrols don't usually last this long."
"I…uh…." Chat's voice trailed off as he stared down at her. Those bluebell eyes, the ones that he thought he would never see again, watched him carefully as her playful grin slowly slipped away into a frown.
He couldn't say anything, not if he wanted to lose the composure he was so desperately trying to hold on to. He had to keep it together for her, not to mention the rest of Paris. What he had seen had been nothing but a dream, just a trick his mind played on him.
And yet, when he felt her slip out of his hands, he felt his heart slip with it. It shattered at just the idea of never being able to see her again. And here she was, gazing up at him with that concerned look in her eye that brought his composure to its tipping point.
"Chat, what's wrong?"
Everything was wrong.
Everything in that damn nightmare had felt too close to reality.
He couldn't take his eyes off hers, but he didn't say anything. Chat swallowed, his hands twitching with the want (the need) to reach out to her, just to know once and for all that this wasn't another cruel trick his mind was playing on him.
A breeze brushed against them. In only a t-shirt and sleep shorts, Marinette shivered and crossed her arms back over her chest. She glanced towards the sky, clouds rolling in from what had been a clear night.
One of Chat's ears twitched. There was a distant rumble of thunder. He felt his stomach drop.
"There must be a storm rolling in," she exclaimed quietly, stepping around him and making a move towards her trap door. "Do you want to - Chat?!"
He hadn't been able to stop himself.
Lunging towards her before she could make it to the trap door, Chat wrapped both of his arms around her middle as her arms flew out to the side in shock. Burying his face in the back of her shoulder, he squeezed her against his chest, unable to even comprehend the relief that she stayed in his arms.
She didn't fall away into dust. She didn't leave him forever.
Marinette was still alive.
"Chat?"
A shiver went up his spine as he took a shaky breath. Unwilling to let her go, Chat swallowed again and opened his mouth to apologize. For what, he didn't really know.
"I - I thought you were…" Chat started, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. His lip quivered and he shook his head against her back. "I thought I'd made you…."
A silent sob racked through his body, and he shuddered. "I'm sorry Mari. I'm so sorry."
He didn't realize she had turned to face him until he felt a warm hand against his cheek. He cracked open his eyes just enough to look down at her. Marinette hadn't moved away from him, and she was still wrapped tightly in his embrace. One of her hands was on his chest now, the other still cradling his face.
He felt like he was drowning in the concern and worry in her gaze, and she gently darted her thumb out to wipe away a stray tear.
"I'm right here, Chat," she whispered. Moving her other hand up to his face, she held her gaze with his as if to ingrain the words into his very soul. "If you want to talk, I'm right here. Good, bad, great, awful, I'll be there through it all. I promise, Chaton."
He could barely formulate a nod as another rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.
"I promise."
Chat broke in her arms.
The pain, the hurt, the regret, the guilt, and the fear of losing her all poured out in his tears as he buried his face into her shoulder. His sobs were muffled as she wrapped one of her arms around his middle while the other wound itself behind his neck. Burying her hand into his hair, Marinette pulled him closer as she carefully guided them to the floor of her balcony.
Chat slumped forward, almost all of his body weight on her as he leaned further into her embrace. Marinette rested her chin on the top of his head, holding him as he choked back on sobs and tried to regain his breathing.
A part of him added to the guilt as he thought of the burden she was taking with him. His problems weren't hers, and they didn't need to be. But as she brushed her fingers through his hair, and trailed her hand up and down his back, he knew he wouldn't have been able to pull himself away even if he wanted to.
Maybe it was selfish of him. But cats were always known to be protective of what was theirs.
And for as long as she would allow it, she was his Princess. And he had no intention of ever letting her go.
By the time Chat lifted his face from her shoulder, small droplets of rain showered the rooftops and mixed with the tear trails down his cheeks.
Thunder rumbled above them again, louder than before, but quieter than the one he had heard in his dream.
Marinette brought her hand back to his cheek again, brushing away the few tears that were left behind. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, reveling in the way her fingers brushed against his skin. The warmth alone sent a shiver down his spine, and it took everything in his will-power to keep down the purr threatening to escape his chest.
"Come on, kitty," she muttered, a gentle smile lifting her lips up. "Let's get you inside?"
His eyes widened and his lips parted. "P-Princess, what about your classes? It's already late, and I've kept you up longer than - "
He was abruptly cut short by the finger against his lips. Though his cheeks were still rosy from spilling his tear ducts dry, they warmed at the feeling of her skin against his lips.
"I stay up late as it is," she replied. "But that's not the point. The point is that I'll waste a good night's rest for you any night, Chat."
Chat was positive his blush spread from the tips of his ears down to the base of his neck. Unable to speak, he nodded dumbly and allowed her to pull him to his feet. The wind and rain pushed against them as she kept one arm around his middle and guided him down to the trap door.
Flipping open the latch, Chat offered her a hand to help her down. Marinette shot him a look, though the effect was lost as a tiny smile poked at the corners of her lips.
He hopped down after her and watched as she quickly pulled the door shut and clicked the lock in place. A deep rumble of thunder followed, and what had been drops turned to pelts of rain against her bedroom's windows.
His ear twitched as she situated the pillows at the head of her bed, pulling over an extra one and even grabbing a stuffed animal. His heart twisted at the extra work she was having to put in for him, and as if she were able to read his mind, those eyes he would find himself drowning in flicked over to him with a stern 'do-not-argue-with-me-right-now' look.
"Chat, even if you wanted to leave right now, there's no chance I would let you out in a storm like that," Marinette said. As if on cue, a strike of lightning momentarily lit up the darkness of her room. "So it looks like you're stuck here, kitty."
Chat felt his lips twitch with the hint of a grin. Hesitantly scooting closer to her, he slid under and situated himself underneath the blanket as she held it up for him. Giving her a single nod, a warm smile broke out across her face and she slid in beside him.
Neither teen looked at the other for a few seconds, the sound of the raging storm outside filling the silence. Lying parallel to each other, their hands were inches apart on the pillows.
Chat curled his into a fist to keep himself from doing something stupid.
No matter how strong the urge was to curl his fingers around hers.
"Chat."
His eyes shot up to hers, his heart skipping a beat at how gently she said his name.
"If you want to talk about…about earlier, just know that I'll always be here to listen," she whispered. A faint pink had crept up to the tips of her ears. "Okay?"
He nodded, slowly blinking as he checked himself for the hundredth time that night that she was really in front of him.
"Okay," he muttered. "It's…not a pretty story. Or a short one."
"Good, bad, great, awful, I'll be here Chaton," Marinette replied, repeating her words from earlier. "And I have all night. For as long as you need."
He still didn't fully understand how she was able to bring his walls down so easily, and with just a few simple words. His heart locked them away all the same.
Taking a slow breath, Chat averted his eyes from her, unable to watch her reaction as he carefully pieced his dream together. From start to finish, he watched his hand curl and uncurl itself from a fist. At the particularly hard parts, he was shocked he didn't draw blood. But he kept going, always at her gentle words that if he wanted to stop he could, or she was still willing to listen if he wanted to keep going.
And he did. Down to the moment that courageous spark in her eyes died away when she left him forever.
Determined not to shed another tear that night, he sniffed and burrowed his face into her pillow. His fist was shaking, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. The nightmare wasn't real. Her dying in his arms wasn't real. But the pain, the guilt, the fear?
Chat wondered if it was something that would ever go away.
He stiffened as he felt Marinette's hand brush against his fist. Almost immediately, he slackened it, letting her take the reins as she gently flipped it over so that his palm was facing down.
Slowly, as if to give him the opportunity to pull away, the bluenette slid her hand beneath his. When he didn't move, only holding his breath in pure shock, she intertwined their fingers together and let their hands rest against the pillows.
Despite the storm whipping wind and rain against the windows, Chat couldn't hear anything but his pounding heartbeat.
"Thank you for telling me," Marinette whispered, her voice cracking on the last word.
"That's why I came to visit you tonight," he replied. Moving slowly so as not to drag his claws too hard against her skin, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She didn't say a word, and he continued. "I just…I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."
"I'm alive, kitty." She reached forward and brushed a blond lock of hair away from his face, smoothing back the ever-mused strands. "I'm safe. I'm okay. And I'm right here. The question is are you okay, Chaton?"
Chat felt a real grin pull his lips back into a smile for the first time that night. "I am now, Mari."
Marinette mirrored his grin and the pink in her ears spread down to her cheeks, igniting her face in a rosy glow. Chat felt his heart skip again, before she wiggled her eyebrows at him.
"Besides, I am a big girl, you know. I can take care of myself."
"I have no doubt about it, Princess," he chuckled. "You'd do just fine without this knight pestering you. Especially from your beauty sleep. Not that you need any of it, of course."
He threw in a wink, and she rolled her eyes. Chat chuckled again, feeling a lightness in his chest that he hadn't in a while. His eyes drifted shut as he let the moment sink in: he was peaceful, he was content, and he would have been satisfied to never let go of the feeling of her hand nestled in his. Right along with his name on her lips.
"Chat?"
"Hm?"
"What if I want to keep my knight around?"
His eyes flew open, and he openly stared at her. The blush that had tainted her cheeks deepened.
"What?" he asked, voice suddenly hoarse.
"You said I'd do just fine without my knight," she replied quietly. Marinette squeezed his hand ever-so-slightly, and he returned it in kind. "What if I want to keep him around?"
Chat swallowed, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Well, I hear you aren't supposed to pick up strays, no matter how dashingly handsome they are."
"I suppose he's a little handsome. Only a little, though," she returned, her eyes darting around his face and momentarily pausing on his lips.
Chat felt his heart skip a beat. "Yeah?"
"He has the worst jokes I've ever heard, and the cringiest pick-up lines," Marinette continued, glancing away as she feigned innocence to think over the list in her head. "Not to mention he's a terrible baker."
"I only burned that one batch that one time," he mumbled under his breath, scowling lightly as she giggled beside him.
Her smile slowly fell away as her expression turned serious again. "But he's also brave. And good-hearted. He makes me laugh when I'm happy, and makes me smile when I'm about to cry. He puts up with my music tastes, and watches any and every movie we want together. He is a gentleman, even if I hate to admit it. But he's one of my closest friends, and not really one that I ever expected. But I'm glad, beyond anything else, that I got the chance to know him. And that I - that I got the chance to…to fall for him."
Marinette took a slow breath, her eyes darting to anywhere and everywhere but him.
"So, truth be told, I have no intention of getting rid of my knight anytime soon. I guess…I would just want him to know that I'd always be there for him. I am here for him. And I'm not going anywhe - mff!"
Chat didn't hesitate in tugging her forward.
Gently brushing his lips against hers, he waited until he felt her sigh against him before putting more into the kiss. Whatever hesitation he thought he had with his feelings for the bluenette flew from his mind.
Because he was completely hers, whether they both knew it or not.
Bringing up the hand not still intertwined with hers, Chat slid his hand around the back of her neck and cradled her head. As her fingers slid down from his hair to cup his cheek, he pulled her closer, drawing a long, slow kiss from her lips.
He trailed his fingers down her jaw and brushed his gloved knuckles against her cheek, catching her small intake of breath in his lips. She was so soft, so gentle with each movement, he felt like she would break in his arms if he took things too quickly, no matter how much the passion stirring in his chest begged him to.
Or as if she would disappear at any moment, slipping through his fingers and never coming back.
The slow rhythm found between them was put to a halt as Marinette released a shaky sigh when the two finally parted. She slowly opened her eyes, glossy with a passion and want he wondered if had been growing for a while. Much like him, he had been determined to keep their relationship platonic, sure that that was what she wanted.
It seemed she thought the same.
Unable to resist the grin that spread out across his face, Chat leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, his thumb stroking her jaw as a breathy chuckle escaped him.
"Make no mistake of it, Princess," he muttered, placing a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. "This knight is fur-ever yours."
Marinette scrunched her nose, shaking her head with a scoff. "What am I going to do with you, Chaton?"
"I'm sure we can figure it out," he shrugged, his grin softening as he stared back into blue. "Because I'm not going anywhere, Marinette. I'll always be right here."
Leaning forward, he sealed his promise with a tender kiss, and the storm outside finally began to slow.
Because for the first time in a while, everything was right.
Hey readers!
I've been on a little Marichat role lately, and this idea popped into my head the other night and I'm honestly pretty happy with how it turned out! Let me know what you guys think in the reviews! :)
And, as always, I hope all of you lovely people have a fantastic morning, afternoon, evening, or night!
-Summerwinds