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“Chat?” Marinette called, walking into her the living room of her new apartment. “Hey, Chat?”
She glanced around at the piles of boxes, not seeing any sign of the cat superhero. She huffed, realizing he must have ducked out when she’d gone downstairs for the latest load.
“So much for help,” she muttered, placing the final few boxes on the floor near the small kitchen.
She stepped toward the single bedroom, intent on locating the boxcutter she left there when a loud whine caused her to turn back, her eyes grazing over boxes to locate the sound.
“Chat?”
“Is that you, Princess?”
She moved closer to where she’d last seen him, a large mound of boxes near the far wall and the small balcony doors.
“Where are you?” She raised her voice, hoping he could hear her well enough since she still couldn’t locate him.
“I’m trapped,” he whined, his voice muffled despite her growing nearer to his location.
“What do you mean? How did you get trapped?” She moved a box or two out of her way when she suddenly caught a flash of blond hair.
“My kwami needed a recharge. The little demon that he is, he knocked one of your boxes. I went to catch it, but it sorta caught me instead.” The blond hair moved as he spoke though it didn’t look half as wild as it normally did.
“Are you okay?” she asked, moving a few more boxes out of her path.
“Yeah, though I can’t say the same for my ego.”
The box above him moved as he seemed to hope he could free himself, but it soon settled even as he groaned in annoyance at his predicament.
“Can you help me, Princess?”
“I’m almost there,” she said, moving past the last few boxes. She leaned over the box trapping him and offering him a small smile. “Hey, Chaton, thank you for saving my fabrics.”
His eyes grew wide as he simply stared.
“You’re yanking my tail.”
“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ as she dragged the box off him. “That box is purely fabric pieces. Maybe a few bolts, too.”
She knelt beside him, her hand ruffling his blond mop of hair.
“This alley cat can’t be that out of shape.” He flexed his arms, loosening them up though a wicked gleam entered his gaze as he caught her staring at him. He stood up, ensuring he had her continued attention. The darn cat!
With his quiet stride, he moved toward the box and opened the tape with one of his claws, unfolding the top and peering inside. His brow quirked as his hand dove into the box’s center and pulled out several other sewing supplies, including one decorative, antique sewing machine made of pure bronze.
“Fabrics, Princess?” He grunted as he lifted the heavy piece from the box, clearly amazed at the weight of a relatively small object.
“Okay, so maybe I fudged a little.” She waved her hand in front of her, unperturbed by his fake hurt though she knew to be wary of that gleam she caught in his eye. She moved to stand, creating distance between them as she added, “I didn’t think one measly box could take out the great Chat.”
“Oh, Princess, you wound me. Here, I saved your valuable treasure from certain demise, and you dare to mock me!” He prowled around the boxes, his stance going low like he wanted to pounce.
She definitely knew she was in trouble then, working to put a door between them.
“I’d never mock the great Chat. Everyone knows he’s one special cat.” A teasing smile formed despite her self-admonishment.
“You are mocking me, Princess. You know what happens to those who mock me?” He leaped over a couple boxes without breaking a sweat, landing mere feet from her.
She shook her head. “What happens, Chaton?”
She’d stilled against the wall next to her bedroom door, not even trying to get away by that point. She realized she wanted to be caught as she caught the naked adoration he held for her in his eyes.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, his lips a breath from hers as he whispered, “They get kissed.”
That’s exactly what he did, too. He kissed her until she gave in, accepting his kiss and returning it with a fervor of her own.
Only when they broke away did she think to say, “Lucky me to have you around to keep me safe.”
“Always, Princess.”