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“I need your help,” Marinette says the minute he drops through her window, although it comes out more like Ineedyourhelp. Her kitty doesn’t seem to mind, however. He flops down onto her chaise and stretches languidly.
“Well, I knew you would ask me for help eventually. My advice? Dump your boyfriend-”
“Chat.”
“Get a makeover. Not that you need one, but you deserve a dress montage. I’m thinking new haircut, some manicures-”
“Chaaat-” Marinette whines.
“What do you need help with?” he finally relents, grinning shamelessly.
“Ugh.” She flops down next to him. “I have a date,” she says, face down into a throw pillow.
“With the new boyfriend?” Chat asks, sounding suspiciously happy about it.
“How do you even know about that?” she mumbles, but it comes out more like ‘ow u you ev’n ow bout hat.
Chat pokes her. She smacks his hand. He pokes her again. “Little bird told me. Word travels fast around Paris.”
“Mmphf.” She rolls over, lying face up next to him. “I’m so nervous. I’m going to be sick.”
“He that bad looking?”
“Shut up, he’s a model. Oh my god, Chat he’s a model! He hangs out with other models all the time and they’re gorgeous and he could date any of them but he asked me out! Holy shit, he asked me out.”
“Wha-”
She sits up, looking aghast. “Oh my fuck, I look terrible, I haven’t washed my face since-since 2014! Oh, and my hair is awful and look!” She shoves her hand in his face. “Look at these cuticles you’re right, I need a makeover!”
Chat takes her hand out of his face, but doesn’t let go of it. “What are you even talking about? Marinette, you’re beautiful,” he says sincerely.
Marinette feels her face turn red.
“No really,” he insists, scooting closer. “Your eyes are like starlight and your hair is soft and your smile is- is like a thousand hugs.”
“Stop,” she mumbles, trying to pull her hand away, but he holds firm.
“No, Marinette, you’re one of the most beautiful, most amazing people I’ve ever met. And if this Agreste bloke doesn’t know that already-”
Marinette makes a squeaky noise, drawing her knees up to hide her face in them.
“-then he’s an idiot.”
“Chaaaat-”
Chat laughs and lets go of her hand. “Alright, alright,” he says. “Now what was it you needed help with?”
“I can’t choose what to wear,” she admits, voice pitiful. She drops her legs and sits up. “I keep trying on things and then panicking and then I texted Alya and she just laughed at me! She said Adrien didn’t care what I was going to wear, which is not true, he’s literally a model, of course he’s going to notice what I’m wearing-”
“But you look good in everything,” Chat interrupts, confused. “Why would he-?”
“I don’t know, he just will! Just.” She groans, dragging her hands over her face. “Just help me figure out what I should wear. Please?”
Chat turns a little pink under his mask at her imploring look. Weird, Marinette thinks.
“I-” He shifts. “What were you originally planning on wearing?”
She hops off the chaise. “Wait here,” she says, darting behind her changing screen. The dress she quickly slides on is of her own creation. It’s an off-the-shoulder, pink sundress. The top is covered in a delicate layer of lace that tapers off around the waist. The skirt is short, but flares out, shifting with each step she takes. It’s probably the creation she’s the proudest of, besides a few formal-wear pieces she’s saving.
Marinette quickly dresses, adding a pair of heeled sandals. She takes a breath and walks back out into her bedroom.
Chat goes very, very still when he sees her. She doesn’t think she’s imagining his slitted eyes dilating, which is all kinds of confusing. He swallows a few times, looking seemingly lost for words. Which that's...that’s a first.
Marinette does a quick twirl. “Is it too much?”
Chat opens his mouth. Shuts it again. “No,” he gets out at last. He stands up and walks toward her, stopping about a foot away. “No,” he says again, eyes trailing over her form. “It’s perfect.”
For no reason, Marinette feels her face heat up. “Yeah?” she asks, heart pounding.
Her friend nods, eyes snapping back up to hers. “Yeah. Perfect,” he repeats, taking another step toward her, now fully in her space.
Marinette has to look up slightly to maintain eye contact. She remembers a time when they’d been the same height, and then a few years later when she- much to his annoyance- had been just a few centimeters taller than him. But now, well into their late teens, he’s finally hit a growth spurt and packed on some well-earned muscle. And now she has to look up to see him.
This, for some odd, undefinable reason, makes Marinette flush down to her chest. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Chat. His eyes follow the blush all the way down to her dipping neckline.
Chat Noir is checking me out, Marinette distantly realizing. Then, OH MY GOD, CHAT NOIR IS TOTALLY CHECKING ME OUT!
Her blush deepens into a red flush. “G-great!” she stammers out. “Good! So, A-Adrien will like it, you think?”
“Oh, Adrien will definitely like it,” Chat says, alternating with trying to make eye contact, but still kind of looking at the rest of her. Not that Marinette minds per se-
“If he doesn’t, then he absolutely has brain damage and you should dump him and date someone as pretty as you,” Chat finishes, seemingly shaking himself out of whatever trance he’d gotten himself in. He gives her a careless grin, but there seems to be something calculated behind it.
Fighting down her blush, Marinette puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, and who am I gonna find as pretty as me?”
“I mean there’s me-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Marinette warns, rolling her eyes. She picks her jacket up off her desk chair.
“You’re just afraid of the truth.” Chat throws himself back onto the chaise, seemingly rid of whatever just came over him. Marinette wishes she could say the same. Her heart still feels like it’s going a mile a minute, she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking as she unrolls the lacy jacket and slides it on. What the fuck? she thinks. Why am I reacting like this?
“What time is your date anyway?” Chat asks, casually.
Marinette glances at the clock. Then,
“Oh shit.”
He grins. “Alright then, be back before 11, make sure to use condoms, and-”
Marinette throws a notebook off the desk at him. “Omigodshutup! Chat, I’m going to throw up, I’m actually going to-”
“Nope!” He hops off the chaise and at her side in an instance. He takes her hands in his. “Take a breath,” he orders.
Surprised, she does.
“Now let it out,” he coaxes. “There. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to have a wonderful date with this dizty model-
“He’s not-”
“He’s going to buy your dinner and hold your hand and walk you home and if he can wrangle up a single ounce of courage in his cowardly body, he’s going to kiss you.”
Marinette can’t hold back her smile. “Yeah?”
“Yup.” He nods firmly. “It’s going to be the best night of his life.”
“How can you be so sure,” she rolls her eyes, still grinning. “Maybe I trip all over the place and spill food on him and can’t get a word out-”
“Doesn’t matter. Sharing your company should be enough.”
“And if I’m a bad kisser?” she challenges.
“Never. There’s no reality where Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a bad kisser. It’s against the laws of nature, really.”
“And you know this because…?”
“I have my sources.”
Marinette finally lets herself laugh. The tension she’d been holding in all day finally releases, leaving her excited and nervous, but nervous in a good way. She bounces on her heels slightly. “I’m going to be late,” she says, almost apologetically. “But.” Marinette pauses, considering Chat for a moment. He’s smiling fondly down at her, expression not unlike how he used to look at Ladybug. There’s a pang of something in her chest, a might have been on the tip of her tongue. A thing that was never hers, but she might be mourning ever so slightly now.
Marinette hugs him. “Thank you,” she says and means it with every fiber of her being.
Chat hugs back just as tightly. “Think not of it, Princess,” he says grandly. “Your will is my command.” He pulls back, hands on her shoulders. “Now go give that blond airhead the night of his life.”
She snorts. “What do you have against Adrien anyway?”
Her kitty grins abashedly, rubbing his neck. “Ah. Well. Agreste always seems to get what I can’t have, you know? But maybe I’m not too upset about it this time.”
Before Marinette can ask what the hell that means, he whirls her around and beings pushing her toward the door. “You’re going to be late! Text me the dets later!”
“No one says dets, Chat, what garbage movies have you been watching?”
“I say dets!”
“Cringe, good sir, cringe.”
“Cringe culture is dead, you fool.”
Marinette rolls her eyes. She could just as easily stay here all night and banter with her best friend, but he’s right, she has a date waiting. As she makes for the door, she has a bit of a regret that she can’t choose both. And that’s really been the problem all along, hasn’t it? Marinette doesn’t get to choose both, she only gets one of them. And the future she’s seen doesn’t allow for her to chose him.
Sorry, Chat, she thinks, glancing back one more time. Maybe in another life.
With regret in her wake and hope before her, Marinette heads toward the cafe where Adrien awaits her.