Chapter Text
The first time Chat Noir is in her home, eating her food, all she wants is for him to leave.
At first, anyway. Then she notices how rapidly he scarfs down her dad's pastries, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk's, and it gives her pause.
... Has Chat always been this thin?
She doesn't have long to think about it before her dad gets Akumatized and it's timed to save Paris. Again.
--
It's a random night in late fall, when the days are cool and night is decidedly chilly, when she hears a thump above her while she sleeps that startles her awake. She stares at the door to her balcony with wide, scared eyes before Tikki pops through the wood and returns, possibly more shocked than she.
"It's Chat Noir!" her kwami half-whispers in alarm.
In a flash, Marinette is opening her balcony door, and Tikki's right: Chat Noir is collapsed on her lounge chair, seemingly fast asleep. Or maybe unconscious is a better word; he looks... ragged, run down, not quite as if he'd been in a fight but definitely worse for wear. Sick almost. Fatigued, or...
"Tikki, stay with him," Marinette instructs as she ducks back down into her room and steathily - okay, well, she tries to be - sneaks into the kitchen to grab the leftovers from dinner.
She leaves them by her lounge chair where Chat is sure to see them when he wakes, and disappears back into her room.
...
The leftovers are gone in the morning, plate absolutely spotless.