Work Text:
“No, no, no, Bug, you don’t get it! This is serious!” 22-year-old Chat shouted into his baton, waving his hands on the rooftop across from the Champ de Mars. “Santa is sick! He called me and told me he needs sugar cookies for him and three hundred elves or Christmas is canceled this year!”
Ladybug gave a dry look on Chat’s screen. “What. Are you pranking me?”
“It’s no prank, Ladybug,” Chat said, gripping his baton in both hands. “Mrs. Claus is on vacation, visiting her cousin in Antarctica. That’s why she hasn’t been baking, and without sugar, all the elves and Santa are dreadfully sick.”
Ladybug squinted at him.
“You gotta believe me.” He fluttered his eyelashes. “Have I ever lied to you?”
Ladybug sighed explosively. “No, you haven’t. Stop giving me the kitty eyes.” Chat grinned at her, and she scoffed. “What does Santa need us to do?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Chat raised his brows. “I have to bake cookies!”
“You?” Ladybug said, cocking her head at him. “Not ‘we’?”
“Well, your role is a bit different.” Chat rubbed the back of his head. “I need you to give the Mouse miraculous to a very special person: Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”
“What?”
“Yes! And with the Mouse’s power, Marinette and I can bake cookies for three hundred elves no problem!” Chat said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Marinette’s a natural at using the miraculous!”
“What?” Ladybug said flatly. “Are you sure you want Marinette?”
“She’s great, I just love her. She’s our everyday Ladybug!”
Ladybug’s eyes bugged out of their sockets. “What?”
“You heard me!” Chat said, thumping his chest with his clawed fist. “Marinette is perfect for this. Please, Bug? I can’t do this without her.”
Ladybug sputtered. “Chat--”
“You know her, right? You can just give her the Mouse and I’ll go pick her up! Santa sent me a teleportation scroll to the North Pole so all I have to do is take her hand!” Chat sighed. “Imagine, me holding hands with Marinette Dupain-Cheng…”
“Chat,” Ladybug said firmly, “I can’t just--”
“Please?” Chat gave her the kitty eyes.
Ladybug placed three fingers on her forehead, just above her nose. “Ugh, fine. But you have to promise nothing will happen to the miraculous.”
Chat pouted. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do--”
“Then do you not trust Marinette?”
Ladybug furrowed her brow at him. “Kitty. Look, it’s just… It’s hard for me to give out miraculous. I never know what will happen to the heroes when I lend them out.”
“I don’t think Hawkmoth is planning on throwing an akuma in the North Pole.” Chat shook his head and sent his golden locks bouncing. “And if he does here, you’ll be here to take care of it, right?”
“Not without my partner.” Ladybug bit her lip. “I’ll give you the Horse miraculous, too, okay? Just in case.”
“Trust me, Bug.” Chat flashed her a winning smile. “Nothing will happen.”
“You sure?”
“Believe me,” Chat said, placing his hand on his heart. “Nothing at all.”
***
When Chat tapped on Marinette’s skylight, he noticed she seemed a bit out of breath. “Marinette?” he called through the glass, waiting for her to open the door.
Chest heaving, she scrambled up to her bed and popped the skylight open.
“You okay?” Chat asked, but then he beamed as he climbed onto her bed through the skylight. “Ladybug already told you why I’m here, right? Your presents is requested!”
“Here, did, Ladybug!” Marinette said, her cheeks glowing a dusky rose color. “Sorry, Chat. I’m just… amazed that you’d choose me.”
Her tone was slightly dry, Chat thought. She doesn’t sound amazed at all. Chat looped an arm around her shoulders. “You thought I wouldn’t choose you? You’re great! And Multimouse is totally necessary for this plan to help Santa!”
Marinette tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, giving him a skeptical look. She walked down the stairs, and Chat followed. “If you say so.”
Chat ruffled her hair. “I know so. Okay, so, transform and I’ll use the scroll Santa gave me to travel to the North Pole.”
Marinette gulped. She placed the coin necklace around her throat and Mullo floated out with a ray of pink light. “Hello, Mullo.” Her smile was impossibly fond, and Chat felt a sting of irrational jealousy. It was almost like she knew Mullo well, better than she knew him, which was ridiculous.
“Good morning, Mistress!” Mullo fetched a bow. “Are you ready?”
Marinette nodded. “Mullo, get squeaky!”
“Eeeee!” Chat said, waving his fists near his face as Marinette did a complicated back handspring. He’d always wanted to see other heroes’ transformations.
Pink ribbons of light surrounded Marinette. She flipped her foot out and was instantly covered in a pink and gray suit. Standing up straight, she whipped her hands over her hair, transforming her pigtails into the patented Multimouse space buns.
Cute, Chat thought, his lips slightly parted. Marinette is amazing.
A domino mask covered her eyes, and as she placed her two fists together, a jump rope formed of light spread between them. She used the rope to jump a couple of times, and then it became more substantial, wrapping around her waist. She ended in a position of power, her feet shoulder-length apart and her fist punching the air.
Chat burst into applause. “Sleigh, queen, sleigh!”
Multimouse rolled her eyes. “Where’s the scroll?”
“Right here,” Chat said, pulling the tiny scroll out of his pocket. “Ladybug stopped by our usual patrol place and gave me the Horse miraculous, too, so we’ll have a way back if Santa doesn’t give us one.”
“I know,” Marinette said cryptically, and then waved her hand. “I mean, she told me. She told me everything.”
Chat smiled. “That’s my Bug. Always thorough.”
“Your Bug?”
Chat had the good grace to feel abashed. He cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, the scroll.” He unrolled it and read the instructions. “Huh. Looks like I need to eat it.”
Multimouse blinked up at him. “Eat the scroll?”
“That’s what it says,” Chat said, and popped the thing into his mouth. The paper melted immediately on his tongue, tasting of eggnog and honey. “Mmm.”
The wind picked up in the room, originating at their feet and gently blowing Chat’s hair off of his face. It was scented with pine and roasted marshmallows. As Chat started fading away with green sparkles, he grabbed onto Mutimouse in a tight hug. “Hold on for deer life!”
Chat’s stomach plummeted through the floor. After a distinct, soft tugging sensation on his belly, he popped out of Marinette’s room and popped into Mrs. Claus’ kitchen, holding Multimouse.
She squeaked, and Chat laughed. “What a way to travel! A round of Santa-plause, please.”
“Really, Chat?” Multimouse squinted at him, seeming awfully familiar. Where had he seen that squint before? “These puns are groan-worthy.”
“Oh, you made it.” Santa was sitting at a long, wooden table decorated with lights in the dining room, looking as green as tinsel. He burped up a blue, sparkly bubble. “Chat, I’m so glad you’re here. And Miss Multimouse, good to see you as well.”
Multimouse disengaged from Chat and crossed to Santa. “Are you all right, sir?”
“No,” Santa groaned, removing his hat to mop at purple sweat drops on his brow. He smelled of peppermint hot chocolate. “But that’s why you’re here, I hope.”
Chat stepped forward, placing a hand over his heart. “We’ll do anything you need.”
Santa waved a hand at the kitchen, which looked as if someone had tried and failed a baking project. “I need six hundred and two sugar cookies by tomorrow. Two for each elf and two for me. Are you sure you two can handle that?”
Chat pressed his thumb against his chest. “Fir sure!”
Multimouse huffed. Then she smiled at Santa. “Just rest, sir, we’ll take care of everything.”
Chat grinned at Multimouse and strode into the kitchen. “Well, shall we get this show on the road? I’m looking forward to seeing all the jingle ladies, all the jingle ladies…”
“Chat!” Multimouse said, following him and leaving St. Nick behind. “Are you suggesting you’re going to put a ring on it?”
Chat’s grin broadened. “Do you want me to?”
Multimouse’s jaw dropped. She flushed red under her mask and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.” Then she pulled her jump rope out from her waist. “Multitude!”
After jumping with the rope, Multimouse split into several tiny copies of herself. Being an adult with no timer had its benefits, Chat knew. We wouldn’t be able to do this at fourteen.
“Chat, you take the sink,” one of the ladies said, whom Chat dubbed Multimouse Prime. Mrs. Claus’ kitchen had a huge, industrial mixer, two ovens and ample, wooden counter space--all of which was taken up by cookie-baking implements.
Chat tossed off a salute to Prime and rolled his metaphorical gloves up. Then he dove into washing dishes while the rest of the Multimice scattered themselves around the kitchen to bring him more to wash.
Chat cleared the sink from the dough-covered bowls and mixing spoons and filled it, using a generous squirt of soap that smelled like a spruce tree and looked like glitter in red gel. Two Multimice brought him a cookie tray full of burnt cookies to empty into a trashcan, which he did before scrubbing the metal tray clean of blackened crumbs.
“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,” Chat sang as he rubbed his scrub brush over a mixing bowl, clearing it of dough. “Uhh… Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock…”
Multimouse Prime, to his left, took a moment from directing all the other Multimice to laugh at him. “Do you even know the rest of the words to that song?”
“Nope.” Chat chuckled, rinsing the bowl and handing it to two Multimice to dry. He tackled the spoons next, as Multimouse Prime pointed out that they’d have to start mixing soon. “What recipe are you making?”
“Standard sugar cookie,” Multimouse Prime answered, and then demanded that two other Multimice start pulling out ingredients. “Flour, butter, sugar, salt, egg, baking powder, milk. Mrs. Claus should have all of those available.”
At the instruction of Multimouse Prime, Chat took a huge quantity of butter and set it out to soften on the preheating stove. He washed the dishes as quickly as he could, passing the various implements on to the Multimice so they could start pouring dry ingredients into bowls and sifting them together.
Mrs. Claus' kitchen boasted an industrial-size mixer, so after the butter softened, Chat found a chair for the Multimice to stand on to add the 3.35 kilograms of butter and 6.20 kilograms of sugar to the massive bowl.
Multimouse Prime set up an assembly chain: one Multimouse stood by the ingredients and ran a measured increment to the next, who passed it to the next, and so on. There were two lines of Marinette copies--one by the stove and another by the pantry. Multimouse Prime turned on the giant mixer, and the butter and sugar were well on their way to being creamed together.
The Multimice were efficient, and Chat whistled, impressed. “How many eggs do we need?” Chat asked, drying his hands on the towel one of the Multimice handed him. “I can fetch them.”
“For six hundred cookies--” Standing next to the mixer, Multimouse Prime cocked her head to the side, clearly doing some sort of mental math. “Thirty.”
Chat nodded and crossed to Mrs. Claus’ walk-in refrigerator. He gathered two of the dozen-egg containers and brought them out to the mixer, returning for a third.
Then the Multimice began to crack eggs into the metal bowl.
Watching them was almost comical; the eggs were bigger than they were, and each Multimouse had to ride on the shoulders of the other to reach the lip of the bowl. Multimouse Prime wasted no time in directing them to hand each other eggs.
"Some of you are struggling, it seems," Chat said, pointing out the Multimouse at the front of the line precariously balancing an egg on her head.
Multimouse Prime shot him a raised brow. "You don't look pleased, Chat."
"This is just my resting Grinch face." Chat shrugged, laughing. “Do you want me to crack the eggs?”
Multimouse Prime squinted at him again. “Are you sure you won’t get eggshells in the batter?”
“Madam,” Chat said, pursing his lips. “I am perfectly capable of cracking an egg. I make a mean omelet.”
“Fair enough.” Multimouse Prime gestured towards the bowl. “You lot heard him! He’s gonna crack the eggs from now on!”
Chat bowed to Multimouse Prime and crossed to the rest of the Multimice. He plucked up an egg off of one of their shoulders and tapped it on the lip of the mixing bowl. Then he cracked the egg, leaving a perfectly formed yolk on top of the butter and sugar mix.
Multimouse Prime nodded. “There’s one.”
“You sleigh me, Multimouse,” Chat said, chuckling at his own joke. He started in on the laborious process of cracking eggs. “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… Six hundred sugar cookies!”
Multimouse Prime wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t even fit the rhythm.”
But Chat wasn’t done. “On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… a song rhythm lecture and six hundred sugar cookies!”
Multimouse Prime scoffed. She started directing the other Multimice to measure out 150 milliliters of vanilla extract. “On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… three French hugs, a song rhythm lecture, and six hundred sugar cookies!” Chat sang, letting his voice ring out clear and pure.
Multimouse Prime raised a brow. “Three French hugs?”
“We’re French!” Chat cracked a few more eggs. “And I like hugs. And three is better than two.”
Multimouse Prime looked askance at him for a moment. Then she wrapped her tiny arms around his large one, once, twice, three times. She squeezed him tight and then backed off, looking flustered. “There,” she said, running a hand over her hair. “Three French hugs.”
Chat grinned down at her, disposing of the most recent eggshell. “I don’t suppose I could ask for four kissing mice? I’m pine-ing for you.”
“Absolutely not,” Multimouse Prime said, and the other Multimice burst into giggles around her. She glowed as red as a traffic light, rubbing her cheeks. “Get back to work, all of you!”
Chat laughed. “How rude-olf.”
As Chat finished cracking the eggs, Multimouse Prime turned on the mixer. The other Multimice started pouring the vanilla into the bowl. Next, they carted the dry ingredients: 15 tablespoons of baking powder, 3 ¾ teaspoons of salt, and a full 8.80 kilograms of flour across the counters. Into the bowl they went.
The mixer’s paddle scraped the thick dough around the bowl, and Chat used a spatula to scrape it down. “Five Miraculous!” he sang. “Four kissing mice, three French hugs, a song rhythm lecture, and six hundred sugar cookies!”
Multimouse Prime rolled her eyes. “That looks mixed enough. Time to start rolling it out.”
Chat quickly wiped down all the counters and sprinkled flour on them as the Multimice began taking dough out of the bowl. There were only three rolling pins, so Chat took one and two Multimice each took the rest.
Chat was trying to come up with a sixth item his true love could have given him when Santa entered the room. “How’s it--urp--going?”
“Sir!” Multimouse Prime said, straightening her shoulders. “The baking is going just fine. Why don’t you rest?”
Chat flashed him a clawed thumbs up. “We’ve got it handled, sir, so don’t worry.”
Santa beamed at them and burped up a bubble that looked like a candy cane. “I knew I could count on you two. Please wake me when you’re done.” The big man shuffled out of the room and into the living room, where he sat down in a recliner and closed his eyes.
Chat turned to Multimouse Prime. “We’ve got to hurry. I don’t know how much longer he’ll last.”
“Understood,” Multimouse Prime said firmly. “Three, four, five, please start cutting the cookies. One and two--and six and seven--please work the rolling pins. Hurry!”
Under a new deadline, Chat rolled out cookie dough as fast as his arms could handle. Once he’d gotten into a rhythm of rolling out some dough and being handed more dough to roll by the Multimice, he quickly churned out many, many flat disks to be cut.
The Multimice used holiday-themed cookie cutters to create shapes out of the sugar cookie dough. Chat put the first four batches into the double oven, and Multimoiuse Prime set the timer.
“So, baking 4 batches of 12, that’s 48 cookies,” Chat said, panting as he rolled out more thick dough. “And 600 divided by 48 is what… 12 and a half?”
Multimouse Prime blinked at him. “I think that’s right. So 12 and a half batches times 8 minutes… That’s 100 minutes. So roughly an hour and 40 minutes, and we’ll be able to frost all the cookies. We should clean up the kitchen in the meantime.”
“Sounds good!” Chat didn’t stop rolling out dough; the Multimice hadn’t stopped cutting, and therefore he couldn’t quit either. By the time all the dough had been rolled and cut and rerolled and recut, his arms were sore. Mrs. Claus had enough cookie sheets to hold all of the cookies, which Chat was grateful for.
Chat took a small break, filling up a glass full of water and downing it in one gulp. Multimouse Prime recalled her power, bringing all her various copies into herself. She leaned on the counter next to Chat. “Well, we did it.”
“Almost,” Chat agreed, beaming at her. “Glad you’re back in one piece--I missed seeing the large you.”
Multimouse smirked at him. Chat thought she looked awfully cute with a smirk on her pretty, pink lips. “The large me, huh?”
“You know what I mean, right? The you that’s… large. That’s bigger,” Chat’s cheeks felt warmer than the ovens. “The you that’s the whole part? Umm…”
Multimouse laughed, and Chat’s heart soared. “The normal me?”
“Trust me, you’re not large at all.” Chat sat his empty glass on the counter and took her shoulders. ”You’re teeny tiny and it’s nice towering over you.”
Multimouse pushed him back by his nose, which felt ridiculously familiar. “You should have quit while you were ahead. Let’s clean this kitchen.”
Multimouse took dish duty this time, leaving Chat to clear and wipe down the counters and wonder where he’d felt someone push his nose like that before.
She began humming a nonsense tune, which sounded familiar, too.
Chat glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Marinette’s great. But whom does she remind me of?
Multimouse was an efficient cleaner; she was done with the dishes before Chat got his head on straight. “You okay there, Chat?”
“Uh, yeah,” Chat said, shaking himself. “Sorry, my mind is elsewhere. Christmas has me feeling extra Santa-mental.”
Multimouse huffed. “You never quit with the puns, do you?”
Then she flashed him a smile that just about stopped his heart.
Ah, he thought, his eyes wide. That’s my Lady’s smile.
Suddenly, the quantum masking fell away and everything slipped into place, like tumblers in a lock. Chat wondered why he hadn’t seen the resemblance before. With Chat, if not with Adrien, Marinette was confident and no-nonsense, just like his Bug. She had the same build. The same voice. The same pigtails.
It can’t be, Chat thought, cocking his head to the side as he examined his Lady. Could she really be…?
He frowned a little, furrowing his brow. No. I’ve seen her and Ladybug in the same place at the same time… Unless… It was an illusion by the Fox?
Multimouse dried her hands and approached him. She pressed the back of her hand to his head, as if checking for a fever. “Are you really okay?”
She was his everyday Ladybug for a reason. “Marinette, I have a question to ask you, and… please give me a straight answer.”
Multimouse--Marinette--Ladybug blinked up at him. “I can try.”
Chat placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Is it you, Bug? Is it really you?”
Multimouse gasped, which was all the confirmation he needed. She stiffened in his hold. “How did you know?”
Chat allowed himself to lean on her further, pressing his cheek against hers. “Are you afraid?”
“Terrified,” she whispered back, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulder blades. It was true; she was shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I mean, this had to happen eventually, right? Why not at the North Pole?”
“It is rather pole-erizing.”
She pulled back to smack him on the chest. “The puns! Always the puns!”
“Didn’t they give me away?” Chat said, smiling down at her through tears. His Lady was here. And she just so happened to be the amazing, incredible, fantastic Marientte Dupain-Cheng. Adrien couldn’t be happier. “Do… do you want to know who I am?”
Multimouse bit her lip. “I’m not sure. On the one hand, it would make things easier. On the other hand, what if I got akumatized?”
“If you get akumatized,” Chat said, shaking his head, “we have a lot more than just that to worry about.”
“True enough.” Multimouse sighed. She threaded her fingers through Chat’s bangs and smoothed them off his forehead.
Something between them changed with that casual intimacy. It lit a spark in Chat’s veins, and he was curious if she felt the chemistry, too.
Multimouse leaned forward, her red, red lips slightly parted, and Chat wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Their mouths were hovering inches apart, and all he had to do was close the distance. He yearned to press his mouth to hers--practically burned for it--but he didn't know yet if she was yearning, too.
Multimouse inched forward. They were so close, he could breathe in her breaths. He could stick his tongue out of his mouth and touch her lips with it.
She was giving him a hooded look that jump-started his heart. Chat could feel it pounding in his palate. Multimouse slow-blinked at him, a kitten kiss, and Chat just about came undone.
Just as he was about to close his eyes and go for a kiss, the timer went off.
They broke apart as if scalded, with Chat backing away from her and the counter as fast as he could go without tripping over his own feet. He gulped down precious air, feeling dizzy with the oxygen deprivation.
Multimouse seemed to fare no better. She clutched her chest as if her heart was a caged bird breaking free of her ribs. She glanced up at him and squeaked. "The cookies!"
"Uhh, right!" Chat said, spinning over to the ovens. He opened them and peered inside. “Perfectly golden brown.”
Using an oven mitt, he pulled the cookie trays out of the ranges and placed the next couple of batches inside. As he scraped the cookies onto a massive platter with a spatula, Multimouse set the timer and went back to cleaning the kitchen.
“I’ve never cleaned an industrial-sized mixer before,” Chat told her, tempted to eat one of the sugar cookies, but holding back on Santa’s account. Chat still wanted to reveal himself, but he figured his Lady needed a break from secrets and the waves of his desire. "Have you? How’s it done?”
“I’m not sure; I’ve never done so either.” Multimouse rinsed a rag and wrung it out. "I guess we just wipe down the bowl?"
Chat placed the next four batches of cookies in the ovens. "Sounds good to me. We also need to make icing. I wonder if Mrs. Claus has piping bags?"
"Probably." Multimouse approached the mixer and unplugged it. Grunting--cutely, Chat thought--she started scrubbing out the bowl.
"We'll probably need to dry that afterwards," Chat said, carrying the used cookie sheets to the sink to be washed. As Multimouse finished with the bowl, Chat ran his scrubber over the metal sheets, rinsed them, and dried them.
Multimouse sauntered over to him. Wondering what she wanted, Chat pressed the small of his back against the counter. She was giving him that hooded look again, and he gulped.
"Chat," she practically purred, "I need something."
"Take it," Chat whispered, gripping the counter behind him. "Whatever you need from me, take it."
“Not from you,” she said, shaking her head, and Chat’s heart sank into his stomach. “You’re blocking the way to the drying cloths.”
“Oh!” Chat wanted to leap away from the counter, but that would just make him crash into her, she was standing so close. He inched around her, careful not to touch her. He was a livewire, his every nerve on fire with the desperate need to wrap himself around her.
“You okay?” Multimouse asked, almost too innocently for his liking.
“Just feeling a little Claus-trophobic,” Chat joked, pretending to tug at his collar. If he weren’t already working up a sweat, he would be soon.
Multimouse looked like she was about to scold him for his pun, but the timer went off. “Can you get those while I dry the mixer?”
“Sure.” Chat swallowed hard. Distracted, he watched her retrieve a drying cloth and stroll back to the massive mixing bowl, her hips naturally swaying with her movements. He shook himself and crossed to the ovens to retrieve the cookies.
He changed over the batches, setting the timer anew, and scooped the newly-baked cookies onto a plate to cool. That timer is going to be the death of me, he thought ruefully. We were so close!
By the time Chat had washed the cookie sheets, Multimouse had dried the mixer and plugged it back in. She placed the used rags in a pile on the counter. “I don’t think we should use the mixer to make icing. We’d have to clean the thing again.”
“It’s easier to clean one mixer than it is to clean a bunch of bowls, though,” Chat said, cocking his head at her. Don’t you want to know who I am, Ladybug? Or are you just… in denial?
“True, but if we want different colors, we’re going to have to dirty some bowls anyway.”
Chat nodded. “Good point. I guess we can get started on that right now. Do you have the recipe?”
Multimouse tapped her temple. “All up here.” She furrowed her brow, clearly doing some mental math. “We’ll need about 9 kilograms of confectioner’s sugar in total, half a cup of vanilla extract, 1 cup of light corn syrup, and 6 ¼ cups of room temperature water. Oh, and food coloring.”
“What’s the corn syrup for?”
“That makes the icing glossy and shiny,” Multimouse said, shrugging. “Mullo, no more squeaking.”
Pink light flowed over Multimouse, releasing Mullo from the miraculous and Marinette from the suit. Chat’s eyes widened. “You’re recharging them?”
“Yes,” Marinette said, reaching into her pocket for some cheese. “I need to use my power again to frost the cookies.”
Chat didn’t expect her to use her power again so soon, but it made sense. After transforming again, she split into a dozen tiny copies of herself, and Multimouse Prime began directing the Multimice to divy the powdered sugar up into separate bowls.
At a loss for something to do, Chat wiped the counters down again. He didn’t want to get into the way of Multimouse Prime and her workers.
He leaned on the counter near her. “You know, my Lady--can I call you my Lady?--we have great chemis-tree,” he said, waggling his brows. “It’s snow joke.”
Multimouse Prime took a moment from commanding the Multimice to add water to each of the bowls to squint at him. “That is terrible. You oughta be ashamed, Chat Collins Noir.”
“Collins?”
Multimouse Prime waved her hand. “A middle name I just picked for you.”
“I’ll have you know, I have five middle names, and they all start with A. My initials are--”
“Chat,” Multimouse Prime said, holding up the hand she’d just waved. “Wait… until I’m back into my whole self, maybe? I want to be able to give you all my attention rather than splitting it twelve ways.”
Chat bit his lip. “But you still want to know who I am, right?”
Multimouse opened her mouth to answer, but the timer went off. Chat groaned. “Sorry, Kitty,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ll tell you after you get the cookies.”
Grumbling, Chat crossed to the ovens and opened them. The cookies were, as usual, perfectly done. Chat was beginning to wonder if Mrs. Claus’ ovens were magic. He was tempted to dump the cookies onto the plate, but decided to gently scrape them off with the spatula instead.
After setting the timer for the new batch, Chat returned to Multimouse Prime. He was on tenterhooks; of course he wanted to know what she thought about him.
“Multimouse,” Chat murmured, lacing his fingers in front of his face. “I can’t take it. Please, please tell me if you want to know who I am.”
Multimouse steepled her fingers in front of her lips. From the flickering of her expressions, she looked like she was having an internal conversation. Chat couldn’t bear waiting any longer; he hopped from foot to foot. Eventually, by the way her expression had settled, Chat knew she’d come to a decision.
“I want to know.”
Chat’s shoulders loosened from their tense position of being hunched around his ears. He breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you, Marinette.”
Multimouse Prime’s cheeks flared pink. “Wait until I’m back in one piece?”
“Of course!” Chat was giddy with anticipation. There were so many ways he could tell her! He could strike a pose, he could bow, he could say his name as a pun… He just had so many options that he’d never thought he could use.
She wants to know! Chat had to restrain himself from cheering and pumping his fist.
But Multimouse seemed intent on torturing him. She took her sweet time making the royal icing, and by the time they’d frosted all the available cookies and baked several more batches, Chat was strung out with nerves.
She hadn’t reformed into herself, saying that she needed to be split into copies in order to help frost the 600 cookies. Multimouse was right, of course, but all Chat wanted to do was reveal himself.
I’ve been patient for this long, he counseled himself, adding the white parts of a candy cane with his icing bag. I can wait just a little longer. We’re on the last batch of cookies and we’ve frosted most of them.
With the end in sight, Chat was able to chill out. A little. He wanted nothing more than to reveal himself in a grand and ostentatious manner--but maybe not, would she appreciate that?--and then kiss her senseless. He wasn’t sure if she’d want to kiss him afterwards--after all, there was still that other boy she’d never given up on--but he was holding out against all hope.
And there was an undeniable bond between them. Chat could sense it; something had changed between them in the intervening years, and Multimouse’s mouth had been awfully close to his earlier. If his desires were shared by her as well…
Multimouse Prime touched his arm, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Anxious, Kitty?”
“A bit,” Chat admitted, tempted to rub the back of his head, but then he’d have to wash his gloves again because he’d touched his hair. He refrained, and finished frosting a snowman cookie, putting the finishing touches of coal eyes and a smile on it. “Reveals are snow laughing matter.”
“Icy what you did there,” Multimouse said, and Chat started.
“My Lady,” he murmured, a slow grin finding its way to his face. “Are you joining the punsters among us?”
Multimouse Prime’s eyes glittered. “Purrhaps.”
Chat barked out a laugh. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more…”
Multimouse Prime gasped, as did the rest of the Multimice, all at once. The sound of a dozen tiny gasps rang in Chat’s ears. “You still love me? Even knowing my identity?”
“Of course,” Chat said immediately. “You’re great, Marinette. I could easily be head over heels for Marinette as well as Ladybug. And now, Multimouse.”
He reached out a clawed finger and gently booped her nose, which was more like booping her whole face. Multimouse Prime giggled. “I think I’m ready.”
Finally, Chat thought. The last timer went off. “Good timing. All we need to do is let those cookies cool and we’ll be able to frost them and be done with this.”
He set down his piping bag and crossed to the ovens to shut them off and remove the cookies. Setting them on a plate to cool, Chat took the cookie sheets to the sink to wash them.
Multimouse called off her power and reformed into her whole self again. She approached Chat and placed a hand on his arm. “We’re almost done. Are you ready?”
“More than I’ve ever been,” Chat whispered, catching her hand in his. He placed his other hand on her waist and turned her slowly in the room in a sort of waltz. She followed his lead easily. One, two, three…
Multimouse fixed him in her beautiful, bluebell gaze. “Go ahead then. Tell me. Who’s my partner?”
Chat beamed at her. In the end, he’d decided on the direct approach. “I’m Adrien. Adrien Agreste.”
Multimouse sucked a breath over her teeth, stiffening in his hold. “No! Really?”
“Yeah,” Chat said, grinning. He turned them slowly, pretending there was music available. “Which is why I was so excited that you were Marinette, my Lady. You’ve been my friend inside and outside of the mask.” He cupped her cheek. “My everyday Ladybug.”
“Chat…” Multimouse’s gaze on him softened, and Chat’s heart leapt into his throat. “There’s something you should know.”
Chat stilled, bringing them to a stop in their dance. “What?”
“The other boy…” Chat’s heart sank, as did his head. There was nothing that she could say that would be good. “... Was you.”
Chat’s head whipped up so he could look her in the eyes. Tears stung his. “Really?”
Multimouse smiled. A world of promise was in that smile. “Really, really.”
“Can I kiss you?” Chat blurted out, his hands coming up to cup her face. He felt on shaky ground; he hadn’t expected to ask her so boldly, but here they were. He started rambling, unable to slow the gush of words inside him. “Because I’d really like to kiss you right now and I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day and we were really close earlier, but I didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me and--mmph!”
Multimouse slammed her mouth on his, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging him down to her height by his blond locks. She glided her lips across his, her small tongue peeking out from the seal of them to poke and prod his mouth. He parted for her greedily, and she plunged her tongue into his mouth.
Chat groaned, closing his eyes. One clawed hand moved to the back of her neck to tug her closer, while the other looped around her waist to lift her up high. Multimouse wrapped her legs around his waist, and he leaned back on the counter to brace them both. She licked his teeth and pinned his tongue to the roof of his mouth, drawing a delirious moan from him.
Multimouse smelled of sugar and frosting, and tasted of chocolate and cherries, clearly the last things she had eaten before he’d picked her up at her house. Her taste was delicious; Chat plundered her mouth for more, more, more…
The sound of their lips smacking against each other made Chat blush; the sound of her quiet moans made him hungry for more. His hand roamed up and down her back, pressing her belly against his chest. Being held aloft, she was kissing him down at an angle, and Chat couldn’t get enough of it.
He was just starting to run out of air when he heard a deep chuckle to his right. “Looks like someone’s been naughty.”
Chat blinked his eyes open, turning his head to catch Santa in the doorway, his coal-black eyes twinkling. “Santa, we, uh…” Chat nearly choked on how hot his chest became, flooding into his cheeks. He turned his head to Multimouse and saw that she was faring no better; her face glowed cherry-red, reminding Chat of her taste.
Chat carefully set her down. She stared at her feet.
Santa approached the cookies and plucked one up from the plate. “I’m just teasing you two. You’re both on the nice list,” he said warmly, smiling down at the two of them. He took a bite of the cookie, and normal coloring returned to his cheeks. “Mmm, these are delicious. Thank you for making cookies for my elves and me.”
Multimouse broke away from Chat, picking up a piping bag filled with white icing. “Yes!” she squeaked. “All we need to do is frost this last batch, and then we can head on home!” She gulped. “Right, Chat?”
Chat was spurred into action. He leapt forward to stand next to her and picked up a piping bag. “Yes, let’s do that. Let’s, uhhh, finish the cookies.”
“Yeah,” Multimouse agreed, her cheeks still a dusky rose color. “Sorry, sir. We, um, got carried away.”
“Have no fear, little Multimouse,” Santa said, plucking up another cookie. He ate it, and stopped sweating purple drops. After mopping his face with a handkerchief, he reached into a pocket and offered Chat a teleportation scroll. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Chat took it with a murmured thanks. Santa nodded and shuffled out, leaving Chat to grimace at Multimouse.
Chat and Multimouse finished frosting the cookies in silence, leaving Chat to spiral into his thoughts. Will she ever kiss me again? he thought, circling the drain of agony as he started cleaning out frosting bowls. That was super hot. I hope she’ll kiss me again. I can take her back home and then we can kiss again--provided she even wants to. As he finished washing the bowls, he wrinkled his nose. How long was Santa even there?
“Well,” Multimouse said, twisting her fingers. “We’re ready to go home now, so, um, do you want to eat the scroll?”
“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Chat said, biting his lip. “I’m not in the mood to be elvesdropped on again.”
Multimouse giggled, breaking some of Chat’s tension. He cackled back, long and loud, and she joined in. Soon they were leaning up against each other, gasping for breath from laughing so hard.
“We were making out, and then he--” Chat tried to say, but ran out of words. He was chortling too much.
“I knoooow,” Multimouse said, covering her face with her hands. “Come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Chat popped the scroll into his mouth. It melted on his tongue, tasting of eggnog and honey, and he started fading with green sparkles again. He grabbed onto Multimouse, pulling her close and burying his nose in her hair.
They popped out of Santa’s workshop and popped back into Marinette’s room. Chat released her, stepping back.
“Well, my Lady, um,” Chat said, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s been a long day, so…”
“Would you like to stay for dinner, Adrien?” Multimouse placed her hands on his chest, tracing a little circle over his pectoral muscle. She looked up at him from under her lashes, whispering her next words so quietly he had to strain his enhanced senses to hear her. “Would you like to stay forever?”
Chat pressed a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’d love to.”
And Multimouse--beautiful, talented, incredible Multimouse--beamed.