Work Text:
Chat frowns in his sleep.
The first time Marinette noticed was when he accidentally fell asleep during a movie. They had settled into a comfortable position; she had ended up snuggled against his chest while he sat behind her. She had felt it when his breathing deepened. His head had fallen on her shoulder. She didn’t dare wake him. But when the movie was over and it was time for him to go home, she'd had to disentangle herself.
Without her shoulder to keep his head up, he had leaned back against her chaise, frowning fiercely, his brow furrowed behind the mask. He had muttered vaguely, curling into himself. She had admired the strong line of his jaw; not entirely her fault, she reasoned later. He had been clenching his teeth and it made the muscle at the side of his throat tighten. She had longed to trace the sharp lines with her fingers. She'd settled for a quick sketch. The moment captured, she had shaken his shoulder and he stumbled into consciousness slowly. He'd mumbled an apology, but he fell back asleep without moving from his spot on the floor, his head cradled on his arm on her chaise.
Tonight Chat fell asleep quicker than last time. One minute he was watching her work on her latest project, humming to himself and looking around her room like a curious cat. The next he had collapsed on her chaise and was out. Since she knew how heavy he slept now, she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to work on another sketch. He was on his back, his head tilted towards her, an arm curled above his head and his jaw tense. One boot was braced against the floor to the side of the chaise, almost as if he expected to have to get up and run at any moment. The other dangled off the edge. She hadn’t noticed when he got so tall. His chest rose and fell evenly.
She curled onto her desk chair with her sketchbook in her lap. She couldn’t get the set of his lips right. She never saw this look on his face, not even while they were battling a difficult opponent. Not even when Ladybug was in trouble. She threw out a line for the smooth plane of his cheek, shading the hollow that was left by his clenched jaw muscle. She glanced at him again for reference and noticed his whole body was tense, not just his face. Wound, like a rubber band. Does he sleep this soundly anywhere else?
She drew the cat ears nestled into the wild mane of his hair. While she watched him, one of them twitched. It was unfair, how cute he was when he was sleeping.
While she was trying to draw the lines of his neck, he mumbled and turned away, curling into a ball and completely hiding his face. She traveled to a blank corner of the paper, starting instead on the lines of his shoulders, the muscles running the length of his spine. She wondered if Chat had ever considered modeling for an art class. Almost instantly she regretted thinking it. He would be insufferable, bragging about how he was so handsome none of them could draw straight lines anymore. She giggled at the thought.
But she did have to admit he was handsome. She would never ever admit that out loud to anyone. Especially him.
She went back to her drawing of his face. She had most of the linework done, and she started filling in the details from memory, shading where the hair was falling over his forehead, the mask just skimming his cheekbones. She was absorbed in the work. She wanted to get it right. But the curve of his lips was still eluding her. She erased her fifth attempt, halfway convinced she should just leave it unfinished. But she flipped back in her book to the sketch from the other night. There it was. Half pout, half determination. His nose scrunched ever so slightly. That’s what she was missing.
She was working on getting it transferred over, flipping her pages as quietly as she could, when he stirred again. She froze, half expecting him to catch her in the act. The endless teasing if that happened. Unbearable. But he had just flopped over. His arm was hanging over the chaise now. She knew from experience that if his elbow stayed like that his whole arm would be dead when he woke up again.
She sighed as she left her book on the desk, leaving her chair to crouch over him slightly to adjust his arm to lay over his stomach instead. She sat next to him on the edge of the chaise. His jaw was working now, like he was trying desperately to say something. On impulse, she traced his brow with her fingers, following the line over and around to his temple. She tucked a strand of hair behind the shell of his ear, lingering in the hollow where his jaw connected. He had relaxed somewhat when she first started to touch him. But his jaw was still clenched.
She let her fingers wander down, tracing the line of his jaw that was facing up, letting her hand fall to brush against his Adam’s apple just above his collar. She could feel his pulse under her touch. Her partner. Strong and safe and comfortable. She splayed her hand out on his chest over his heart.
She hadn’t noticed how lost she had gotten in her musings until Chat’s hand came up to cover hers over his heart. When she looked back up, his eyes were open. The beautiful frown was gone, replaced with his signature smirk.
“Something on your mind?” His voice was soft and thick with sleep.
“I’m glad you got to sleep.”
“What time is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I should go.” He tightened his grip on her hand, bracing himself to sit up. Their hands fell between them and Chat seemed to notice them for the first time. He looked back up at her. “I dreamed about you.”
“Me?”
“Mmm.” He nodded, lost in trying to recapture his dream. “I remember the feeling.”
“What feeling?”
He met her eyes evenly. “Like I was home.”