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Chat Noir is just finishing up his patrol for the night, ready to go back home so he can get some sleep and eagerly await Christmas morning, when suddenly, his baton begins to ring. He frowns as he stops on a rooftop and picks up the call.
“Hello?”
“Adrien,” Marinette says, seemingly urgent, “we have a problem.”
In an instant, Chat feels anxious. What sort of problem could they possibly have?
“Is something wrong?” he asks. “Is Hugo sick? Did Emma have a nightmare? Is Louis sleepwalking again? Or—”
Marinette laughs on the other end of the phone. “No,” she says, “the children are fine. They’re all safe, tucked into bed, and fast asleep. You don’t have to worry about them.”
Chat breathes out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it?”
“I left the kids’ Christmas presents at the bakery,” Marinette says. “Could you pick them up on your way back here?”
Oh.
So that’s what she wanted to tell him. Every year, the two of them leave the presents with Tom and Sabine, just so that none of their children stumble upon them in the house while they’re playing hide-and-seek—or any other game, for that matter, but after the fiasco from a few years ago, it’s safe to say that both Marinette and Adrien are wary of the kids playing hide-and-seek during the holiday season. With how busy the two of them have been during the past few days, both of them had forgotten to pick up the gifts.
“I can do that,” he says, “and I can put the gifts under the tree, too!”
“That would be great, thank you, Adrien.”
“Anything for you, my lady. See you soon.” Chat closes his baton and changes his route.
Soon enough, he reaches the bakery, detransforms, and texts Sabine to let her know he’s here to pick up the presents. He hates to bother her this late—they’ve had a busy week, after all, and are probably heading to bed—but she texts him back quickly. He climbs up the stairs of the apartment building and gets to their door just as Sabine is walking out.
“Here you go, Adrien,” she says as she hands him the bag of presents.
“Thank you,” he says warmly. He reaches out and takes the bag from her hands. It is quite heavy, though he supposes that is what happens when you have three kids.
“This will be Hugo’s first Christmas, right?”
“It is! He may not understand presents and Santa yet, but I’m excited.”
Sabine smiles fondly. “Send us pictures, okay?”
“Don’t worry, we will.”
They exchange a few more pleasantries before Adrien bids her a good night and heads out. It’s nearly eleven at night; the sooner he can get the presents under the tree, the sooner he can go cuddle with Marinette and get some sleep before the kids inevitably wake them up early in the morning.
Not that he minds, of course. He loves seeing the kids’ faces as they open up their presents in the morning. It is truly a joy to see the happiness on their faces, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He stops in an alleyway, transforms, slings the bag of presents over his back, and makes his way back home.
Home.
He smiles. For the longest time when he’d been younger, he’d struggled with a place to call home. It had resulted in many lonely holiday seasons, especially after his mother had passed. It had gotten even worse after his father had proven to be Hawk Moth
But now? With the house he’d bought with Marinette, with three children, and a hamster, it’s safe to say he does have a home, filled with the people he loves.
Several minutes later, he reaches their house. He can already see the Christmas tree through the living room window; its lights glow brightly, making it stand out from the other windows around the house. Chat opens the window and slides through. He makes his way towards the Christmas tree.
He crouches down and takes the bag of presents off of his back. He carefully begins to take them out, organizes them under the tree. Soon enough, a pile of presents sits there. He steps back and admires his handiwork.
“Finally,” he mutters, “time to get some rest.”
Chat turns around, ready to call off his transformation. It’s time he gets some sleep so he’ll be well-rested when the kids wake him up in the morning.
“Plagg, claws—”
And suddenly he stops in his tracks.
Oh, no.
He’s frozen in place.
This can’t be happening.
“Chat Noir,” a familiar voice asks, “what are you doing here?”
He stares at the stairs, where a pair of green eyes peers at him. One of her hands is wrapped around the railing, and she watches him warily as she clutches a stuffed cat toy with the other.
“Em—I mean, uh, child!” Chat’s voice rises in pitch with each word. “What are you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”
Isn’t she supposed to be in bed?
Chat is sure Marinette had said they were all in bed by now, right? There is absolutely no way she managed to sneak downstairs without Marinette noticing, unless. . . .
Unless Marinette has fallen asleep, too.
Great.
Emma pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m waiting for Santa.”
“Oh,” Chat says, “b-but you’re not supposed to see Santa! That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
“I wanted to say hi!”
“Well, you can say hi to Santa in other ways! Didn’t you leave out cookies for him?”
“Yes, but isn’t Santa supposed to be the one that puts presents under the tree?”
“Um, yes?”
“So why are you here instead?”
Chat fumbles, not exactly sure what to say. How is he going to get out of this one? Emma is a smart kid; there is no doubt she is suspicious of him. It’s obvious he isn’t going to be able to get out of this one very easily.
“Uh, you see,” Chat says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I, um, Santa is busy! Delivering presents to other places! He asked me to give out presents to the kids in Paris in his place. So here I am, delivering presents.”
Emma narrows her eyes. “Santa always delivers presents, though!”
“Well, yes, but he needed me to cover for him this year, since he has a lot of places to go. You see, we’re very good friends. He trusts me to deliver his presents for him.”
That should be a sufficient response, right? Chat stares nervously at his daughter, watching the way her brows scrunch up in concentration as if she’s thinking.
He’s worried. What if he’d given himself away? What if this is the reason she realizes Santa isn’t real? She’s only six, and quite frankly, he would prefer to keep up the illusion of Santa existing for a little while longer.
“You’re lying to me,” Emma says with a frown.
Oh, no.
“I-I am not!” Chat stutters. “Really, I mean it, I just—”
“You must be lying,” Emma declares, “because Santa always delivers presents. So if you’re the one who’s delivering presents, that must mean you’re Santa.”
There is silence.
Chat can only stare at his daughter with wide eyes. She stares back at him with satisfaction, looking giddy when she realizes he has nothing to say.
If he’d currently been untransformed, Adrien was sure he would’ve heard Plagg snicker.
“So I’m right!” she exclaims. “Chat Noir is Santa!”
“N-No,” he says, “really! I’m not Santa.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure.” Chat frantically tries to think of ways to prove her wrong. He suddenly points outside. “See! There are no reindeer outside! And I don’t have a sleigh!”
Emma moves from her place on the stairs and rushes away towards the window. She peers outside. “What if you hid them?”
“They’re not there, see? Why would I hide them?”
Emma seems to deflate at the claim. She turns back around, fiddling with her fingers anxiously. “So you’re not lying to me? But Santa always comes to give gifts! Even if there are lots of kids for him to visit!”
“Well yes, but—”
“So does that mean Santa didn’t want to come see me because I’ve been a bad child this year?”
Oh.
And suddenly, her questioning makes a lot more sense.
“No, no, of course not!” Chat says, instantly feeling guilty as he sees his daughter looking sullen. If he’d been Adrien, he would’ve run up to her and scooped her up in a hug as he whispered reassuring words to her.
Emma looks away from him. “But. . . .”
“Okay, fine, you’ve got me.” Chat walks up to her and crouches down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. He uses his other hand to gently tilt her head up to look at him. “You’re a very smart kid.”
Immediately, Emma seems to light up. She looks at him with wide eyes. “So you are Santa?” she breathes.
Chat nods, finding himself unable to say no.
Emma squeals in excitement. “I can’t believe it! So you are Santa! That’s so cool! Wait,” she pauses. “Does this mean you did hide your sleigh and the reindeer?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he says, “they’re on the roof.”
“Can I see them?”
“Uh—”
“No wait!” Emma exclaims, “I have to go tell Maman and Papa! And Louis and Hugo, and—”
“No, no,” Chat shakes his head in horror, knowing Marinette would never let him live this down if she hears about this, “you can’t tell anyone else!”
She cocks her head to the side. “Why not?”
“W-Well, if they know, it can’t be our little secret, can it?”
Emma seems to ponder over that. “I guess you’re right.”
“Great,” he says, feeling calm again, “this can be our little secret. Do you promise not to tell anyone?”
She nods solemnly. “I promise!”
He smiles and ruffles her hair fondly. “Awesome. Now, why don’t you head back to your room to get some sleep? You can open the presents in the morning. And,” he adds when he sees her pout, “you can even have cookies and hot chocolate when you open them with your family. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Emma grins. “Yeah!”
“Perfect.” Chat gets to his feet. “I’ll see you later, then? Make sure your parents don’t notice you’re awake!”
She nods as she walks over to the stairs, but suddenly, she pauses. She looks back towards him. Chat watches in confusion, before she rushes over and throws her arms around him.
“Thank you, Santa, for the presents!”
He can’t help but smile, and carefully hugs her back. “You’re a very good kid, Emma. Don’t forget that.”
She hugs him one last time before scurrying back towards the stairs. She waves, and makes her way up the stairs and back towards her bedroom.
Chat waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And finally, when he hears the sound of a door quietly close shut upstairs, he lets out a sigh of relief.
Opening presents in the morning is definitely going to be fun.