Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This one was bad.

To be fair, they were never good. But some were easier than others. The words would be less sharp, or it’d be over more quickly. Adrien tried to imagine he was in the middle of a better one as he trained his eyes on the floor of his father’s study. The falling sun’s orange light leaked between the nearby buildings of Paris and through his house’s towering windows, pooling onto the checkered floor. Adrien’s eyes were locked onto a streak of sunlight at his feet. He studied how it laid across the black and white tiles as he struggled to block out his father’s voice.

“You can’t know the effort I make to give you opportunities like this,” Gabriel said, moving around pages on his monitor that Adrien couldn’t see. The light from the screen suddenly changed against his face, and by his expression Adrien knew whatever he had pulled up had not been good news. The man exhaled sharply through his nose, scowling. Neither of them looked at each other as he said, “I just don’t understand how you can be so careless. Weeks of planning, all down the drain because of one boy’s selfishness.”

I told you I didn’t want to do it a month ago, Adrien thought, but didn’t say. He barely whispered it in his own mind.

Gabriel placed his glasses on top of the monitor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Adrien glanced up at him, seeing the lines of his face grow more severe in his anger. His father sighed before continuing to run his hands across the monitor screen. 

“Fortunately for the both of us, I’ve had years to learn how to make up for your shortcomings.”

As resilient as he’d become to his father’s words, Adrien couldn’t help but wince. Gabriel either didn’t notice or didn’t have the time to care. 

“I only hope that one day you’ll know better than to make such childish decisions, and maybe we won’t all be stuck picking up your messes.”

Adrien felt a familiar shame settle on his shoulders. But then, why should he? He’d told his father ages ago that he didn’t want to be part of his events promoting Alliance. Plus, he told him exactly when Alya’s magazine release party would be and how important it was to his friends. To him. How was it fair that the Alliance showcase was scheduled for the same day and that he’d be forced to go?

For once, he made a choice. He wasn’t going to let his father convince him to regret it.

 “It wasn’t childish,” he muttered under his breath without thought. 

In the instant the words left him, it was like his heart stopped beating. Blood rushed from his face and sent the hairs on his neck standing upright while every muscle in his body tensed like cannons primed to burst. 

Gabriel’s hands went from swiping fiercely across the screen to a sudden, cold stop. There was silence, and in the silence Adrien found himself scared even to blink. Slowly, his father reached for his glasses, put them on, and turned off the monitor. Adrien stared at the floor.

For the first time since his son walked into his study, Gabriel Agreste looked him in the eye. “I think we are having a misunderstanding,” he said. “I did not ask you a question, I made a statement. You, and your actions, were childish. Irresponsible. You think that your time is important to you? I promise, it is infinitely more so to the people relying on you to do something as easy as to show up, smile, and wave. Yet you can’t even manage that.”

He towered over his son as he tore into him. “You want to stop modeling? Fine. It might have cost us some, but I agreed and gave you a simple solution with Alliance. All I asked was that you attend a few events.” He scowled. “And what do I get in return? You skip a critical showcase to surround yourself with other children, because that is what you are: childish.”

Every word hit like a brick before Adrien went limp to their harshness. Standing in front of his father, he tried his best to be anywhere else. His mind hid in the furthest place it could reach as he gazed deeply into the checkered floor. Black and white tiles were spread in all directions, fixed next to each other on the same plane but never able to overlap. His reflection looked back at him in every square.

Gabriel sighed and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. It felt too tight.

“I don’t enjoy this, Adrien,” he said with a voice at some level of regret. “I do it because I want you to be better. For your family.”

The boy said nothing.

After a moment of silence, his father let go and called for Nathalie to take him to his room with a plate of dinner. Adrien quickly followed her into the hallway without looking back. When they reached his room, Nathalie handed him a meal he didn’t care enough to glance at. There was concern on her face, and he could tell she wanted to say something. But all she gave was a brief  “Good night” as he crossed the doorframe, then shut the door behind him.

The dinner plate clattered as Adrien dumped it haphazardly onto his desk. He wouldn’t bother with it tonight, just like he wouldn’t bother with staying in his room.

Plagg lay curled up on the couch, surrounded by a dusting of crumbs Adrien assumed to be the remains of a slice of cheese. He nudged the furniture with his foot and watched the kwami’s eyes slowly peel open.

“Hm? Did you bring back some more food for dinner?” Plagg yawned, covering his mouth. As he turned around Adrien knew he’d done a poor job of hiding his feelings. Plagg shot into alertness at the sight of him. “Whoa, you look terrible! What happened?”

What didn’t happen? the boy thought. He swallowed hard to clear his throat.

“I need to leave,” he said. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, eager to be gone already.

The kwami paused, seeming like he wanted to pry more, but the look on his friend’s face must have been enough to stop him. He closed his mouth and gave a short nod. It was all Adrien needed.

“Plagg, claws out.”

There was a flash of light that bathed the room in green before it vanished as quickly as it had come. Then, in the stillness, Chat Noir took a deep breath. 

When he let it out things felt just slightly more right in his life, and he leapt from the room that could no longer hold him. The window was silent as he cracked it open and slipped out into the coming night, bounding over streets he knew by heart, hoping that a girl in a certain bakery was still awake.

Chapter Text

In that moment, there was no greater comfort than the feel of rooftops beneath Chat Noir’s feet.

With the setting sun painting the city in warm tones, he ran, vaulting across chimneys and window overhangs. Wind swept past his face and drowned out the pounding in his chest, pushing him to charge forward faster and faster.

He chased its calling whistle until he neared a familiar scene. Looking across from the set of buildings he ran along, Chat saw a bakery sitting on the street corner with golden lettering on its windows. The sign on the door read ‘Closed’.

Without skipping a beat, he pivoted and slid down the steep slope of the roof. As he felt himself begin to fall off the edge, he reached for the staff fixed to his back, unclasped it, and extended its end to the street below. It shot out onto the brick with a metallic clang. Holding on with one arm, he let the momentum swing him toward the bakery roof. Once it came in reach, he dropped onto the floor and scooped up his staff, which shrunk as he clicked it back into place on his suit.

The roof balcony was furnished with a single chair and table, surrounded by plants that seemed content in their pots and well-fed by the Parisian sun. Mini paper lanterns hung in strings above, glowing faintly in the growing darkness of sunset. Chat had always liked the balcony. There was a hominess to it he found unfamiliar, but more than welcome.

In the far corner was a trap door that led into the building. Walking towards the entrance, he noticed a slip of green paper wedged between it and the floor. A smile spread on his lips.

A few months ago, Chat had been in need of a friend. His father was his father, and that meant angry. So angry that Chat ran, much like he had today, into the city streets to get away. He wasn’t sure if it was by luck or some subconscious compass, but he ended up at the same balcony. Marinette was standing by the railing and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the first sign of help he saw. 

It wasn’t like Chat Noir hadn’t spoken with her before, he figured. There was that time Nathaniel had been akumatized. Then there was the first Glaciator mess the night Ladybug stood him up. He didn’t particularly like to remember that night, but he still felt warm when he remembered Marinette’s face as he showed her the candle-lit rooftop. 

With the Weredad situation and another unfortunate night for Andre the ice cream guy, he guessed Marinette and him had talked enough that he could at least hang out until he pulled himself together. Even if she didn’t really know who he was.

But when he landed on the railing in front of her, wondering if he could stick around a minute or two, he found something he hadn’t expected. After a few awkward hellos and quiet moments, they began to talk. Some stories and laughs later and suddenly the talking wasn’t just to fill the silence. They enjoyed it.

Minutes fell away to hours as thoughts of his father and all other parts of the world left Chat’s mind. When it was far too late into the night for any person to be awake, the two yawned their goodbyes, both leaving with lighter hearts than before.

It only took a week for him to come back. Not out of needing a place to run to, but because he missed it. When she saw him on the balcony, she said the same.

After that he started to visit whenever he could. They even came up with a signal for when to stop by and when to not; a red paper in the trap door for no, and a green one for yes.

It had been a couple of weeks since he was last able to come over, though. Despite his father saying events for Alliance would be few, he quickly discovered that only meant not every day. He hated that his first visit back after time away was out of a need to escape instead of just wanting to see a friend. 

A twang of guilt balled into a lump in his throat that he unsuccessfully tried to swallow. Now looking at the bright green slip stuck in the door, his heart skipped a beat. 

He knocked.

From underneath there was a thump, like something falling on the floor, then nothing. The silence lasted long enough that Chat began to think Marinette might’ve been busy or forgot to switch the paper from green to red. A sudden, panicky feeling that he was intruding crept into his mind. Just as he turned to leave, the door swung open.

Marinette popped out from the beneath with one hand holding the door open above her head. She was in her pajamas, her two blue ponytails slightly undone. He noticed black marker stains on her fingers and couldn’t help but wonder what new art she was making. Marinette found his eyes and smiled.

“Hi,” she said.

Her voice was instant relief on his mind. Chat sat there for a moment, then returned a grin.

“Hi.”

Chapter Text

As he followed Marinette through the trap door and into her room, Chat tried his best to avoid stepping on her blankets by hanging his feet off the edge of the mattress. Ahead of him, Marinette started climbing down the bed’s ladder. He hopped over the side and onto the floor soundlessly.

The pink carpet at the center of her room brushed against his boots as he landed. Looking around, not much seemed to have changed since his last visit. Sketchbook pages were spread across her desk alongside markers and pens. Paper planes were strung along the walls, where all kinds of posters and pictures of her friends were taped up.

Marinette made her way down the ladder with practiced ease. When she reached the floor, she walked toward her desk and picked up a bowl Chat hadn’t noticed was there.

“Lucky for you, you came after I did the hard work of microwaving some popcorn,” she said, lifting up an inflated paper bag from inside the bowl.

He chuckled. “That’s probably for the best. I don’t know how good I’d be at cooking.”

“Right,” she said. “The skill needed to press a button might be a bit much.”

He rolled his eyes.

Setting the bowl back on the desk, she tore off the top of the bag. Waves of steam seeped out of the opening along with the smell of salt and melted butter. Chat’s stomach growled, reminded of his uneaten dinner.

As Marinette emptied the bag’s contents into the bowl, he noticed there was something off about her. Her shoulders were tight like she was holding her breath, or waiting to say something. Before he could ask her what was on her mind, she spoke up.

“It’s been a minute,” she said, eyes glued to the bowl. There was a hint of something in her voice that Chat couldn’t place. Nervousness, maybe. She shook out the last kernels. “I wasn’t sure when you were gonna come around again.”

Guilt started to bubble up in him. He turned his gaze to the window, watching blue shadows follow behind the deepening sunlight.

“Yeah,” he said. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure when I was going to either.”

Marinette tossed the bag into the trash under her desk, picked up the bowl, and walked toward the small couch next to where he stood.

She sat down. “Did you need some space?”

Chat quickly realized his mistake. “No! No, I just…had some things to work out.”

Realizing how vague that sounded, he sat next to her, fiddling slightly with his hands. The truth, or as much of it as he could give, was what he knew he should tell her. Even if it tasted awful on his tongue.

“The past few weeks have been a bit rough,” he admitted. “I wanted to come over, I really did. Everything’s just been so out of my control lately.”

Marinette leaned forward, looking concerned. “Are you alright?” she asked.

His instinct was to say yes, but that was far from true.

“I’ve been worse,” he replied, not entirely lying. He shook his head out of annoyance with himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want this to turn into me complaining and bringing you into my problems.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said.

“But I should. You’re not some personal therapist.”

Marinette placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “No, I’m not. I’m your friend. And this is what friends do.”

Of course she would say that. She was always helping people — he should have known she’d help him, too. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was handing over his messes for her to clean.

It took him a while, but he finally nodded. She let go of his shoulder and placed the bowl in her lap.

“You know, I always like fresh air when I’m not doing great,” she said. She gestured towards the balcony. “Wanna talk about it over some popcorn and a sunset?”

He breathed in almost achingly, like it was the best offer he’d heard in weeks. It probably was.

“Please,” he replied.

. . . 

She was right; the crisp air on the rooftop felt light and calming in his lungs as he passed through the trap door. Once he was fully out, he turned around and held a hand toward Marinette as she followed behind. She took it and he pulled her up onto the balcony with ease, holding on for a second longer than he needed to.

“Thanks,” she said.

His face grew warm. “Mm-hmm,” he replied, then let go.

The strings of small lanterns above had become brighter as the sun went down, casting pools of green, yellow, and pink onto their shoulders. He watched the colors shine as highlights in the darkness of Marinette’s hair.

She walked past him, leaning her head to the side as an invitation for him to follow. Without thinking, he did.

“So,” she said, placing the popcorn on the railing and standing beside it. “What’s going on?”

He walked up and stood next to her. “I’m not really sure how to explain it without saying too much about…you know,” he said, pointing to his mask.

She nodded. “Okay, then. Start with how you feel.”

His head tilted toward the sky, watching the darkened clouds drift as he tried to put a word to his emotions. Wrong, Chat thought. I feel so wrong. 

He brought his head back down. “Pretty shitty,” he said. “Like a person pretending to be something he’s not.”

“Do you not feel superhero-y?”

“No, it’s not that.” His jaw became tight. “The other me is the problem.”

Marinette’s brows arched slightly in surprise. “Oh,” she said.

Memories of camera flashes and pre-written schedules, unending days and missed events all burned in his mind. “There’s almost never a time when I feel completely right in my normal life. It feels so fake — I feel fake.”

“But you’re always you,” Marinette tried to say reassuringly.

Chat’s lips crooked up to one side as he looked away, searching for the right words to explain. “No?” he said in an unsure voice. He shook his head, given up on trying to figure it out himself. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, really.”

He almost hoped that would be the end of it, but Marinette eyed him in a way that made it clear she was waiting to hear more. Reluctantly, he hoisted himself up and sat down on the railing before he continued.

“When I’m normal, I don’t get to do much,” he said. “It’s a lot of, ‘Stay here, go there, don’t try anything stupid.’ Not exactly liberating.”

Chat looked down and the checkered floor of his father’s study flashed before his eyes. Then a boy without a mask, dressed in all white clothes he didn’t choose, standing in front of people he didn’t know. His nose scrunched slightly and an uneasy fluttering began in his stomach. He blinked hard before finding his voice again. “Without the suit, everyone can see me. They see me, except it’s not me. It’s whatever they want me to be.”

Most of the time that was a prop who spoke little and smiled more. Chat held one hand in the other, skimming his thumb along the edge of his ring. “But when I’m wearing this, it’s armor,” he said. “No one knows who I am. No one can tell me not to act the way I do, the way I want to, because they’ll never know I was doing it in the first place.”

His thumb came to rest next to the dark ring, which had a comforting feeling on his finger. “I’m Chat Noir, and I’m free.”

The smile he gave then was laced with sadness. He let go of his hand and grabbed the railing, looking toward nothing. “But it doesn’t last,” he said in a quieter voice. “Eventually, all eyes fall back on me.”

Marinette looked at him for a time. He began to worry he’d overshared when she reached a hand to his. 

“I’m sorry, Chat,” she said sincerely. “If there was something I could do to make all of that go away, I would.”

He believed her.

“I know you can’t come over when you’re…the other one,” she said, “but when it gets too much, I’ll be here. You can tell me as much or as little as you need to and I’ll listen. You won’t be alone.”

He let her words hang in the air. Trees on the street below rustled in the absence of them talking, and for the first time in too long, he felt entirely safe.

Under the glow of the lantern strings and waking stars, he kissed her cheek.

Her face was warm and inviting. He heard her breath catch, then pulled back. A tingling like electricity lingered on his lips. Chat found his voice while his heart beat eagerly in his chest.

“Thank you,” he said.

After a moment, Marinette’s head slightly moved, which he assumed was a nod. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice much softer than before. “Of course.”

For a time they chose just to exist in each other’s company without words. Occasionally, one of them would take a piece of popcorn from the bowl and pass it through their lips. The last stretches of the sun fell behind the cityscape and the bright eyes of streetlights opened wide to greet the night sky. 

The city remained just as awake as it always did; from the roof, Chat could see street vendors with carpets laid out before them, covered by Eiffel Tower miniatures and buttons that read ‘Paris’ in a hundred different fonts. People and cars came and went, some louder than others, down the brick streets. It was a sight Adrien Agreste almost never saw, but to Chat Noir, it was comforting and familiar. As he looked on, an idea popped into his head.

“Do you wanna see a better view?” he asked Marinette.

Curious, she turned to him. “What do you have in mind?”

With a knowing smile Chat unclasped his staff from his back and waved it around in his hand. “All good things,” he said before extending the stick to the balcony floor. “‘Up, up, and away’ kind of stuff, if you’d care to join me.”

He exaggerated a joking bow. She laughed and pushed his shoulder in response.

“Alright, superhero,” she said as her laugh died down. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Excitement fluttered in Chat’s chest, which he tried not to let show too much as he scooped her up and held his staff in front of them. He noticed her looking at the ground, and for a second thought she might’ve been nervous.

“Don’t worry about the heights,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

When she replied, he was surprised to hear her voice steady and certain. “I actually kind of like being up high,” she said. She wrapped an arm around his neck and readied herself, breathing in. “Plus, I know you’ve got me. Nothing to be afraid of.”

He felt her lean into him as she waited for the ground to disappear far below. Her hair was soft against his neck, and he got the sense it was a feeling he could get used to.

Shit , he thought with a dumb grin on his face. Maybe he could will the the sun to never come back up.

Finding reality again, he squared his shoulders. “Hold on tight."

She did. The staff hurtled them up into the sky, up above the city rooftops, up beside the moon and the stars, and they were gone.

Chapter Text

Paris was a sea of lights beneath the two, mirroring the sky they were close enough to touch above.

Chat balanced atop his staff with Marinette in his arms. As they’d shot upward, she’d dug her head into his shoulder. Now having come to a stop, he felt her slowly peek out. She took in a quick breath.

The moon above cast its light onto them and the vast surrounding clouds, painting them all into a field of silvery halos. Chilled wind found only high in the sky flew through their hair in gusts. From where they stood, the world below seemed distant and peaceful.

“Wow,” Marinette said softly, trailing off.

Chat watched her take in the sights as a large cloud passed inches above their heads. 

“Better view than the balcony?” he asked.

“Probably the best view,” she replied. “You can even see past Paris.”

Another wind rushed by them. She unwrapped an arm from his neck and tucked loose strands of her hair back into place, then pointed out into the city.

“See that park?” she asked. Chat followed her hand to a long stretch of green huddled between busy streets. He nodded.

“When I was a kid, I climbed to the top of a playground there,” she said. “It was probably way higher than I should have been. Everything else felt so far away from me, like if I jumped, it would be years before my feet hit the ground.” Marinette’s eyes drank in the cityscape and something shone behind them. “I forgot about that feeling until now.”

After she fell quiet, Chat’s gaze lingered on the park. He wanted to relate and share memories of climbing on playgrounds and swinging across monkey bars as a kid, but he couldn’t. So he told her the truth.

“I didn’t do much playing when I was younger,” he said. “There wasn’t any time for it, according to my fa—” He caught himself. “ —To my family. 

“But now I get to have that feeling of running without worry, of being so high that I feel untouchable. I get to make up for lost time.” He hesitated, then continued. “I’m glad I can make up some of it with you.”

As Marinette looked away from the city and up at him, he met her eyes.

“I’m glad too,” she said.

Before either could speak again, a sudden cooing noise came from behind them. Chat turned his head moments too late as a group of pigeons flew in their direction.

Shit , he thought.

The birds shot past, a few grazing Chat’s shoulders as they did. He cursed at them as his balance faltered. The staff began to shake beneath his feet. Had his arms been free, he would’ve been able to stick them out and regain his balance with ease. Instead the muscles in his legs and core strained. 

He couldn’t see Marinette’s face, too focused on trying to regain composure, but could only imagine the sudden fear she likely had. 

Determined not to let them fall, he forced himself to calm down and find the stability they needed. To his relief, the staff began to still and he at last regained his balance.

Silence fell onto them as they both held their breath, still tense. Chat realized how tight her arms had become around him. It felt nice.

 When it was clear they weren’t going to fall, Marinette laughed nervously. 

 “I think those pigeons are out to get you,” she said.

Chat Noir breathed a sigh of relief. As he did, he saw a handful of pigeon feathers laying on his shoulder. But it was too late.

He sneezed as his allergies kicked in. It was enough to send him reeling to the side, tossing off his balance. Gravity gave one last tug, and they were falling.

Chat’s reflexes sent one hand up into the air, which caught the top of his staff. He reached for Marinette, but not quickly enough. Her fingers grazed his before they slipped away.

There was no time to think. Chat pulled with all his strength and veered the staff towards her. The bottom caught against something on the balcony far below, sending the top end forward. Using himself to weigh it down, he hung from the end of the staff until it bent like a cane to Marinette. 

He reached out his hand as the wind whipped against his face. Marinette reached back as she continued to plummet.

With the ground growing closer by the second, Chat loosened his grip on the staff, trying to grab onto her. He threw his hand forward.

Their fingers brushed against each other, not able to catch hold. He started to hear the cars below. They were running out of time.

Desperate, Chat undid the belt at his waist and flung one end towards her. The wind shot it backward, but it was just enough to cover the distance between their hands.

Marinette gripped the belt and in an instant he pulled her to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist as the staff arced down toward a building. His feet hit the rooftop in a hard landing. The staff quickly shrunk in his hand while he held Marinette in the other. He kneeled, laying her down against his leg.

“Are you okay?” he asked frantically.

Her eyes were wide and her breathing quick. She nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she said like she was also telling it to herself. 

After checking her just to be sure, Chat let out a heavy sigh and melted onto the floor next to her. He rested a hand on his chest, which rose and fell rapidly as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Marinette shook her head. “Don’t be.” She gulped in some air. “But those pigeons will be the next time I see them.”

Chat, after thanking the universe that they were alright, let out a laugh of disbelief and covered his eyes with the back of his hand. She looked at him with a grin, though still a bit rattled.

“Thanks for catching me,” she said.

As his lungs began to relax, he took his hand off his face and watched the sky above them. “Letting you fall was never an option.”

With that, they turned their gazes to the stars and finished cramming oxygen into their throats, choosing not to speak. As Chat looked up, the twinkling lights seemed to laugh as they looked back at him, sitting so effortlessly in the free sky while they’d fallen to Earth. 

That’s okay, he thought, feeling the warmth of Marinette beside him. I’ve got my own sky down here.

Minutes passed by until his mind finally set on something it should have long ago. Keeping his gaze fixed above, he spoke words only she and the rooftops could hear.

“I know this is horrible timing after that,” he said, his throat tight as he forced out his voice, “but I need to say this now before I can’t anymore."

He could feel Marinette's gaze land on him and swallowed hard, hoping his nerves didn't show too much. He took a deep breath, then continued.

"There’s never a time in my life when I’m happier or more myself than when I’m here, and it's thanks to you," he said. "You know how to bring someone out of their shell. When I’m wearing the mask I finally feel like me, but with you, it's different. You inspire me to more than just myself. To be better. And I've realized that part of it's because I want to be better for you.”

He couldn’t believe he was saying this. He’d nearly gotten them killed over pigeons and now he was going on about who knows what. Maybe his allergies had clogged his mind.

“I completely get it if you’re not interested, but—”

“Chat.”

Marinette’s voice cut off his rambling thoughts.

He turned to her and saw she was looking back, unsmiling.

Red flushed in his face. “Sorry, was that too much?” he quickly asked.

The girl beside him, all midnight hair and wide eyes, shook her head. But her eyebrows drawn tightly together left him unconvinced. 

She stared at him for what felt like a small eternity instead of answering. Before he could ask again, Marinette opened her mouth and stunned him with her words.

“I want to kiss you,” she blurted out.

Chat’s eyes went wide. The world stopped moving and melted away into unimportance, because how could anything be more important than what she just said?

Reeling back from his shock, he managed to gather his voice. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Are you?” she replied. 

Of course he was. Everything about her made him more sure of everything else; of himself, of goodness, of the hope that things would be alright in the end. He barely felt it when his head nodded yes.

In one moment he was staring deeply into her eyes, and in the next her lips rushed to his and he felt lightning. It shot through his body, shocking every vein, pumping thrill into his throat, bouncing around inside his heart until he thought his ribs would break. He drank it in. It tasted honest and real.

Her palm was cold from the night air as she cupped his face, and he leaned into it. Her hair felt soft in his hand. Chat realized he’d had no idea what sweetness was until then, and he greeted it with open arms. They kissed and every piece fell into place. 

After some time, they pulled apart. Their foreheads leaned against each other, so close he could feel her breath. Chat smiled a dumb smile, and Marinette did the same. She was the first to speak.

“I might be able to forgive those pigeons now,” she said.

They laughed softly. The next few hours flew by as they held each other under the stars.

… 

Morning was nearly there when Chat reluctantly said he had to leave.

“I wish I could stay,” he said.

Marinette smiled sadly. “I know. Me too.”

He carried her over to the rooftop balcony. The timer on the string lanterns had turned off, the sun only a few minutes from breaking over the horizon.

Before he could say goodbye, she held up a finger to stop him.

“I’ve got something to give you,” she said. He could tell by her face that his confusion was easily read. “Just wait here.”

She disappeared under the trap door, leaving Chat staring at it and wanting nothing more than to follow her down and never have to leave.

It only took a few minutes for it to reopen. Marinette carried something small in her hand as she stepped out.

“I was planning on giving it to you earlier, I just never found the courage to,” she said. She held out her empty hand in front of him expectantly. Slightly confused but mostly curious, Chat put his hand in hers. Marinette placed a box in his gloved palm.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You’ll have to find that out yourself. Don’t open it here, though.” She folded his fingers over the top. “You might want to wait for dawn, by the way.”

He went to ask her why, but she raised herself onto the tips of her toes and kissed his forehead. Not for the first time that night, his cheeks felt warm.

She rested her feet back on the floor. “You better head out,” she said. Frowning, he pulled out his staff and checked the time. It was half past five.

With a sigh, he nodded.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, and kissed her forehead.

Like all the other nights, they hugged tightly before he left. He had to remind himself of the consequences he could face if he didn’t return home in order to let go.

Chat slipped the small box into his pocket and hopped onto the balcony railing. He looked back one last time and winked at Marinette before falling forward. Just as he was about to hit the brick, he launched out the staff, lifting him above the city. He landed and rolled onto the roofs before breaking into a sprint. 

The fading night watched the figure in black far below as he ran, his heart full and beating and more alive than it ever had been.

…

There was still some time before Nathalie and his father would check on him, so Chat decided to spend the final moments of the night in the city.

He found a comfortable enough roof to rest on and sat down with less grace than he would’ve liked. Each blink he took was longer than the last, demanding more and more effort to reopen his eyes during the tail end of the night. He leaned his back against the roof’s chimney and brought up one knee to set his arm on.

Everything about him felt quiet in his exhaustion. Even Paris had stilled, with its windows all turned dark and its streets occupied only by stray leaves.

Home wouldn’t wait for him forever, he knew. His lungs were too tired to sigh their frustration on that inevitable fact. Soon the lights in the city windows would be flicked on and the people would wake up, including Adrien Agreste.

But not Chat Noir.

Pushing down a feeling of tightness in his chest, he reached a hand into his suit’s pocket and pulled out the small box tucked away inside. He held it in front of him as orange light began to peek over the horizon.

The box was no bigger than a large pack of gum and was wrapped in pink paper dotted with white spots. A twine string ran over the sides, meeting as a neat bow on the top. He felt a smile tug at the edges of his lips. 

With a single clawed finger slipped under the string, he plucked and sliced off the thread. The wrapping paper ripped just as easily as he tore it open.

At first, it seemed to be a plain white box. But as he turned it over his eyes sparkled at the sight of art he instantly recognized as Marinette’s. 

A couple sitting was drawn in marker on the front. It was a boy and a girl, each leaning into the other. They wore clothes Chat had never seen before in her sketches. 

The girl had on a black gown with beautiful ink strokes shaping its tulle skirt, which billowed outward like a dark waterfall. The boy’s clothes were equally dark in color. He wore a leather jacket that had a single golden button at the base of his neck, and a long belt trailed down his leg as it held up a pair of straight black pants.

What he couldn’t tear his eyes away from, though, were their faces.

Midnight bangs brushed over the girl’s blue eyes. The boy was strikingly blond in comparison, and to his surprise, wore a deep, black mask that covered half of his face. Chat’s mask.

He looked at the drawing awhile as the orange horizon rose further, pushing back the darkest stretches of the sky and brightening the rest to light pinks and purples.

Pictures of Marinette sitting at her desk with a marker in hand floated through his mind. He wondered when she had thought the drawing up, when she decided to put it to ink, and what about him could have been worth something so full of care.

His eyes became misty. She’d made it for Chat Noir. Not for the model or the rich boy, not for the act. For him.

Chat sniffed and ran a thumb against the box, skimming over a small flap that he hadn’t noticed before on the side. He pulled it, and it opened.

Folded neatly into a square within was a small piece of paper. Chat picked it up and unfurled it, but was surprised to see that it was entirely blank. He turned it over, finding the other side was just as plain as the front.

As he tried to figure out the paper’s mystery his eyes fell back to the box. There, he realized, five small words were written inside: 

“Put me in the sun.”

The buildings of Paris were glazed over with the yellow light of a new day in front of him. Not knowing what to expect, he laid the paper flat against his leg and let the waking sunlight fall onto it.

A single black dot formed in a corner of the page under the glow. Then more dots emerged until they became lines, and the lines became letters, and the letters strung together to form what Chat realized was a message. He lifted the paper and read its words.

Hi Chat, the sheet read in Marinette’s handwriting. I hope you like my trick with the ink.

A quick, light breath escaped through his nose, along with a smile. She never stopped surprising him.

I’ve been thinking about you for a while now. It started off small with one of your jokes or your smile popping into my head, but it’s gotten pretty regular. We both know how I am with words when I get nervous, so I thought I should write this down.

I won’t pretend I know your feelings. I’m honestly scared to find out, but I can at least tell you mine.

Everything feels easy with you. It’s effortless to laugh, to talk, and just to be when you’re around. That’s always been hard for me. My brain tries to plan and calculate until everything becomes a mission to overcome, but you make it something to enjoy.

I hate seeing you leave at the end of the night. It’s not that I need you to stay or anything, I know you have a life to get back to and I don’t mind at all. You just seem sad when you go, like where you’re heading is somewhere you wish you weren’t.

It kills me that I can’t be there to make things easier for you like you have for me. So, I made this. Wherever you are in the day, now you’ll have a piece of me with you. Just carry this box or hold this letter up to the sun, and I’ll be there.

It’s funny to think the you under the mask could be reading this right now. I wonder where you are and if I’m nearby. I wonder how you’re feeling — I hope you’re feeling good.

Anyway, since you’re reading this, enjoy the sun while it’s up. And don’t forget to visit when it goes down. Miss you, wherever you are. - Marinette.

Chat’s eyes lingered on the final lines. How long had she been planning to give this to him? His mind thought back to all the looks he’d given her while her gaze was somewhere else, and he wondered how many times she might’ve done the same. 

The sun reflected off the rooftop beneath him. He checked the time on his staff, which read 5:43. Not many minutes left before he had to be back. 

Chat folded the paper like it would crumble at the slightest touch. He placed it back in the box, giving the art on the cover one last longing look. I’ll be back soon , he promised himself and Marinette.

Paris began to wake up in front of him. Curtains were drawn to welcome in the young day. Keys were turned in cars, their engines humming to life. Chat smiled softly at the sight of it. He might have lived in the mansion, but these roofs and streets were his home.

With a final glance at the city, he pulled out his staff and extended it to his feet. There was no reason his last run of the night couldn’t be entertaining, at least. 

The image of Marinette taking in Paris from the clouds played in his mind. It was a comfort as he leapt off the side of the building and swung through the streets with his staff. He flew past open windows, waving to Parisians who looked back at him with surprise and wonder in their eyes. 

At night, he was Chat Noir. But then, he was always Chat Noir. Nothing and no one could take that from him.

As the sun rose, shining across his city, he breathed in the morning air. It filled his lungs and tasted cool on his lips. The world felt new when he let it out, and he couldn’t help but feel the same way.