Chapter Text
one
Her new apartment is beautiful. She thanks all of her paid internships and prestigious jobs allowing her to get such a nice place. “That’s the last one, I gotta go soon; have fun unpacking.” Alya laughs as she scurries around to grab her belongings. Marinette rolls her eyes playfully at her friend.
“That’s so rude.” She teases. “But thanks for helping me move. Thank god all the big stuff is here but I’ll have to stock the fridge in order to get Nino to stay for more than 4 minutes.” She laughs. Alya snorts.
“No kidding. Love you, Mari! Make some friends but not the old cat lady!” Alya teases as she flies out the door.
Marinette squeaks out a noise as her friend closes the apartment door and she hurries to lock it. Alone in her new place, Marinette shakes her head while laughing at Alya’s little comment. Of all the people they knew, she was the most likely to be a crazy cat lady. Ever since childhood, her love of cats had only grown.They were such soft and loveable creatures: loyal, smart and capable as well. Alya loved to joke that rather than getting a boyfriend or husband, Marinette would end up with forty cats. Admittedly, she had never fully objected to that plan.
“I guess that’s done.” Marinette sighs, a mere three hours later. She looks around. For the most part, all the boxes were emptied and folded away. She only has a few more clothes to put away into the closet but Marinette decides she’s lazy and shoves them in the back where they can’t be seen at first glance. “Finally.” She allows herself to smile at her new home.
Many people dreamed of getting their own home at age 23 and Marinette had accomplished that dream. Idly, she thinks of her younger 13-year-old self imaging living in a design studio loft; this arrangement however, she perhaps likes more.
She looks around herself and decides that now that she was unpacked and more or less situated -- she could eat.
It is half way through her 3rd slice of pizza when she hears the chaotic banging on the walls. Her nose scrunches up as she stops chewing to inspect what on earth was going on! She hopes it’s not what she thinks it is. The thumping doesn’t seem to cease but soon sounds of heavy boxes dropping and wooden legs squeaking over floors mix into the original noise. Marinette frowns and stands up to hear it better. Perhaps her neighbor was also moving in but without any help of their own? She decides to maybe go over, see if they need assistance and of course, it didn’t hurt to be a bit friendly.
Unlocking her front door, Marinette gingerly walks over to her only neighbor: the insistent noises of moving has yet to cease. She contemplates her next moves for only a second before knocking on the door. Whatever chair her new neighbor was hauling seemed to have stopped in its track; the silence appears strange in comparison. She hears some more soft rustling and finally the door creaks out to reveal a man (possibly) who stands a little over a ¼ of a meter taller than her. He, or they, appears to have interesting daily sartorial choices: long thick green scarf, heavy shades, cat themed beanie enlarging their entire head and a large almost trench coat jacket. Marinette thinks she should be the worried one yet they are clearly panicking and shaking in nervousness. Perhaps they had intense social anxiety?
“Hi!” Marinette says with a pleasant smile. They smile back, only slightly nervously.
“Hello.” They say meekly. “Is there something wrong?”
Marinette frowns slightly. “No, not really. Just- just wanted to come say hi to my new neighbor.” She says finishes brightly. “Though, I couldn’t help but hear your moving; if you’d like I can help you.” She offers.
They smile at her but look as if they were about to duck back into their own apartment. “Uh, sorry for the noise.” They apologize. “And hi, really nice to meet you too. I’m okay with moving and help though.” They say quickly.
“Oh.” Marinette blinks. “Well, if you need anything, just feel free to knock.” She calls as she turns back to her own house.
“Yes, yes thank you!” They say before closing the door quickly. Marinette stares back at it in interest. Clearly her neighbor was a weird one. No matter; it wouldn’t affect her life so she has no reason to stress about it.
-
It turns out, her neighbor is a man who seems to be around her age. A week into her new home, Marinette ran into him right outside and discovered that he had nice blonde hair that was well styled and kept. His smile was sweet, albeit slightly awkward but warm. From what she gathers, he’s a total disaster. On more than one occasion, she’s heard him cause some sort of banging in his house followed by curses. In some way, it’s a funny show she giggles at in the mornings. What will he break next and how well can he swear it off? It’s not often she sees him but when she does, he greets her with a cute and polite smile and they go off on their own merry ways.
“Girl, why on earth are you calling this grown man, Cat?”
“He had a cat beanie on the first day I met him covering his entire head! It was fitting. Besides, I like cats so I think it’s a nice nickname.”
“Only you, Mari.” Alya teases. Marinette can see her friend shaking her head even without video chat. She also knows Alya can see her own eye roll.
For once, she’s off her butt yet not working. In the chaos of a new home, she hasn’t had time to bake and misses it a ton. Right now, she has the time to bake a new batch of… something. Her phone is being prompted up by her water bottle as she makes a new batch of dough. Her TV is gently buzzing in the background with the hottest celebrity gossip she really didn’t care about.
“-public statement that in fact his son, Adrien Agreste will no longer be modeling for the company. After over a decade of being the pretty face of his father’s multi-million dollar brand; what will Gabriel Agreste do and where has Adrien gone off to? Many speculate that he’s flown off with a new secret girlfriend, one his father and society perhaps doesn’t approve of. I for one, think it would be incredibly romantic. It does stand ground, few things are reason to live a bustling famous family business. Wherever Adrien Agreste is now… I do hope he enjoys the time with his new girlfriend or maybe boyfriend.”
Marinette mindlessly looks up, seeing that gossiping reporter Lila girl she sees so often on TV. She scowls the slightest bit. “I’m pretty sure that’s just a rumor she made up for the views.” She mutters to herself. “She’s never worried about veracity before.”
“Is that Lila Rossi?” Alya asks over the phone. Marinette confirms it. Alya chuckles. “Yeah, you almost never give off that growl. Why are you even watching her?” She asks.
Marinette shrugs. “She’s on the TV and my hands are covered in flour; I’d never willingly watch her show. All she does is spread rumors and invade people’s privacy. There’s no class in that.” Marinette huffs.
“Yep but people love the talk.”
Marinette scoffs. “They can talk without bombarding a poor teenager.” Alya sighs from over the phone.
“That’s very true. Hey, are you planning on bringing some of your baked goods over to Mr.Cat?” Alya asks.
Marinette thinks about it for a moment. The idea hadn’t struck her but it’s a good one. He’s nervous around her still, but kind. Perhaps a homemade treat would ease him just enough so he doesn’t jump a near meter every time she says hello to him in the hall. It worries her, just a bit, when he leaps like a frightened cat. She can’t even imagine what created those reflexes.
“Maybe.” Marinette hums. “If I can get these muffins to look good.” She stares at the misshapen blueberry muffins. Perhaps this was not the batch to give… to anyone. Just a treat for herself and probably Alya and Nino.
Two days later, Marinette finally has some good looking baked goods to give to Mr.Cat. Macarons, of course, her absolute favorite and specialty. This time around, she flavored them with passion fruit and mango: coconut shavings and lime finish the tropical palette. Plating them up nicely, Marinette opens her door and knocks on his, waiting patiently for the tell-tale signs of frantic noise to signal that he was on his way to open the door.
“Hello!?” He says in nearly a freezy. Marinette blinks at him and he catches his breath. She realizes that he is quite an odd one.
“I made some macaroons and thought maybe you’d like some.” Marinette holds them out for him to take however he only stares at them with confused eyebrows. She thinks he blinks from behind his shades.
His body seems frozen and his hands don’t reach out for the tray: it’s getting really awkward on floor 7. “Thank you.” He sputters out like he’d been frozen in time. Marinette bites her lip and nods.
“Yeah, of course.” She says, nudging the plate closer to him.
“Wow.” He mutters, finally taking the tray. He holds it up close to his face, as if he was seeing something he never thought was possible. Marinette looks at him perplexed but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Wow.” He says again, just as soft as he did the first time. Gingerly, he picks one up and stares at it like it’s his lifeline. Then he pops it into his mouth. Whatever his expression is, it’s something along the lines of shock, amazement and glory. “These are amazing!” He cries up, much to Marinette’s delight. “Wow! It’s like I’m on a beach!” Her smile grows big.
“You like it?” She asks happily.
He grins at her like a child. “Like it? I love it! Patent it please! It’s so good!” He praises her. Marinette pushes away his compliments, feeling the red pink blush appear on her face.
“Oh thanks.” She says, backing up towards her home. He’s kind, that’s no doubt, but he’s excited and she can’t well take thirty compliments. “I’m glad you like them.” Marinette says, escaping to her apartment with a wave. Her neighbor waves back.
“Thank you! You are a gift from god.”
“Ah ha, thank you.”
Marinette closes the door and takes a breath; never has she become so red so quickly before.
-
“He was kind! Strange but uh, kind.” Marinette admits as she’s out with Alya for coffee. Alya snickers.
“Mr.Cat’s an excited one isn’t he?” She teases. Marinette nods her head.
“I don’t think he’s ever gotten a homemade gift before. His reaction was just pure shock. Also, I can’t patent fruits in a macaroon, that’s not how it works.” Marinette says. Alya laughs and points to the nearby ad sign for Brand Agreste .
“If you’re famous and rich you can patent anything.” Alya points out. “All you need is to get noticed by Gabriel Agreste and voila, patent pockets if you so choose to.”
Marinette rolls her eyes.”Sure, like that’s ever gonna have.”
Alya clicks her tongue and takes a sip of her coffee. “You never know~” She says in a sing-song voice.
“It’s Gabriel Agreste-” Marinette reasons. “Everyone knows he doesn’t do charity work. Ever. Not even a hint of gossip for the nosy Lila Rossi.” Marinette’s nose scrunches up in distaste. Alya chuckles at her reactions.
“Goodness, you say that like you personally know her; I doubt you’ll ever have to deal with that girl.” Alya says. “But you are right...I heard his son is nice though.” Alya says with a mischievous smirk.
Marinette sends her a look. “Stop.” She says drily and Alya raises her arms up in surrender.
It takes them a near 2 hours to finish their coffee and conversation. Eventually though, Alya has to leave and Marinette has work. Marinette heads home on the busy subway, humming to a song stuck in her head. Her body sways with the melody and each subway stop. She chuckles-- ah the busy ultimately unimpactful life of a common Parisian civilian. Many people resent around the world resent their anonymity; Marinette cherises it.
Exiting the lift doors, Marinetet quietly walks toward her apartment door. She hears complete silence; Mr.Cat must not be home. Perhaps he’s at a friend’s house or at work. Marinette reaches the apartment door and unlocks it. A smile appears on her face as she opens it; even a month later, she’s proud of having her own home.
Before she can walk in, the lift announces it’s use once more and out of it comes Mr.Cat running at top speed: it’s rather noisy and shocks Marinette enough to gasp and turn around. Mr.Cat has only sunglasses on, the scarf is clutched in his hand. She has only a second to note that for once, he’s not wearing a long trench or winter coat: he wears casual clothing, jeans and a plain black shirt. By the time the second is up, he’s turned towards her with a panicked expression on his face.
“I’m so sorry.” He says in nearly a whisper. She doesn’t even have the time to wonder why he’d say such a thing because his chest is suddenly in his face.
Then-- he promptly barrels into her, running them backwards into her apartment.
Marinette lets out a shriek of surprise as she falls back; she lands on the couch, thank god and she wonders for a brief second how much strength he must have to have pushed her so far into her home. Mr.Cat gets up, apologizing profusely as he shuts the door and locks it. Marinette can barely hear the words through her confusion.
What she does hear though, is hoards of people and sounds of camera flashes and shutters. They are clamoring but for what… she doesn’t know. Mr.Cat stayed close by the door, not speaking a word and even going as far as bringing his finger up to his lips when Marinette tried to question him on what on earth he was doing! It seems like forever when the crowd outside her apartment finally dissipates and Mr.Cat lets out a sigh of relief.
His tense figure drops and he turns to look at her with an apologetic smile. Marinette’s standing now, she crosses her arms and with a scowl, taps her foot impatiently: she waits for an explanation.
“Hey, Neighbor.” He chuckles lowly. “I’m sorry for… all this… and that.” Marinette barely gives him a smile.
“Why did you do that?” She asks, quick and cut to the point.
Mr.Cat awkwardly scratches his neck. “This…” He starts. “... it’s not going to make sense but please don’t scream.” He pleads with her.
Marinette scoffs and raises a brow at him. Scream? Please, why would she scream? Was he some mass murderer? Probably not based on how he acted; he was much too frantic to be one. “Okay…” She motions for him to explain.
Mr.Cat takes a break and lifts his oversized sunglasses off his face and-- Marinette is speechless. He smiles shyly at her and she wills herself not to scream; instead, she gasps.
“Adrien Agreste?”