Chapter Text
Even my phone misses your call
The nightlife was not something Marinette felt too comfortable with.
The loud, pounding music. The concoction of foul smells by the corner of the club. The unwanted men offered her countless drinks. But in the sea of swaying bodies, she found some safe haven within her friends, who, as a group of young women, always had each other's back in situations like this.
So she danced, danced, danced.
“C’mon Marinette, spin!” Charlotte took her hand and spun her around, eliciting some giggling from her. The friend group kept dancing to their heart's content until their shoes were forgotten by their table and hair clips went flying across the room.
It had been a little more than a year since the ‘accident’. Since her parents found her in the back alley of the bakery, disoriented and scared. At the time, she didn’t know they were her parents, but she was so cold and hungry that the vaguely familiar kind faces allured her in. It had been a couple of hard months after that, relearning everything about herself. She was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, she was 22 years old, she was a fashion design college student. Her parents, Sabine and Tom Dupain-Cheng, owned a beloved local bakery for almost 30 years, in which she grew up. She lived with her parents, up in her loft attic. She went to Françoise Dupont in her formative years, she had no contact with her old classmates.
“Yo! Nettie, come take a shot.” Abigail dragged her to the bar, ordering up some shots and taking them back to the dance floor. She was not a big drinker, but tonight she promised herself to have fun.
The past year had been lonely, building her life back up around...her own life. She had sworn to herself to make the most of it, to make new friends, like Charlotte, Emma, Abigail and Rebecca. To find her old self. But it seems like a lot of pieces were missing. She sometimes has these dreams that she barely remembers after she wakes up, dreams that feel like memories.
And so, when the cold night breeze hits her face when she’s up on her balcony, and when she jumps from her bed straight to her floor. Or when she takes off her earrings after a long day hunched over her workbench, she swears, her body is screaming something her brain can’t catch.
“Everybody it is 12 am! Officially, merry christmas to all!” The DJ up on the stage, dressed as a pimped-out version of Santa, screamed in the mic, eliciting cheers from the crowd. She felt herself being pulled into a hug by her friends, jumping up and down.
“Merry Christmas bitches!” She didn’t know who said it, too focused in the DJ booth to care. Again, something felt familiar somehow…
When would she stop wondering?
---
“Jesus, Emma, I’m telling you. I was not going home with that guy.”
“All I’m saying is, he was very cute and kept buying you drinks.”
“He was also, like, 20 years older.”
“Okay, gross.”
“Ugh, my feet hurt! Whoever said heels were appropriate for the club needs jail time.”
“I don’t think that’s how the law works, Abigail.”
“Whatever, I’m too drunk to think about the law.”
“You know, if you actually-”
Marinette lost interest as they kept walking away from the club. It was around 3 in the morning when they decided they had enough. She had enough from the moment Mrs. Claus was making out with the Grinch in the middle of the dance floor, like 2 hours ago. But she didn’t want to ruin the fun for her friends.
The crisp winter air sobered her up quickly, she had already stopped drinking a while ago, and she was thankful for her decision as she watched her friends struggle to walk. She was thankful that she got close to them in the last couple of months. They had been a wonderful help in gaining back her confidence and figuring out some stuff about herself. But, she would not consider them her best friends. She couldn’t. She just knew that it wasn’t right, that they could never know her well enough because she didn’t know herself well enough. That someone, or some people, out there could be missing her, and she didn’t even know their names.
Before her thoughts became too depressing, something else caught her attention. A flicker of something up in one of the random rooftops. She wasn't sure what she saw as she scanned the sky for a hint. As far as she knew, Santa Claus was not real…right?
She had almost given up until she saw a blur jump from one rooftop to the other. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide open and ready to bolt if needed. She's heard some about the magic plaguing the city and the holders of the jewels that protect them from evil. However, her parents would usually brush off the topic whenever she asked or would conveniently stream their Bake Off specials when the heroes hit the news. Even when she looked online, she could only find vague pictures taken by reporters and summaries of the latest attack. It all sort of terrified her.
So, when she sees something jumping on the rooftops, of course, she panics.
"I heard that club98 has a New Year's Eve party with bottomless champagne, you guys wanna go-Marinette?” Rebecca had been the one to speak, noticing how Marinette stood a few paces behind. At her worried tone, the rest of the girls turned towards her. Marinette didn’t remove her sight from above her as she spoke.
“I think…I saw something?”
All four girls followed her gaze, locking it on a random rooftop.
“Oh my God, is it an akuma-”
“We should move-”
“I knew I should've not used stilettos-”
“What if it’s Chat Noir!”
That brought her attention back down to her friends; they were in some sort of fight or flight stance, but that last sentence piqued her curiosity like no other.
"Chat Noir?”
Somehow, she felt it before she heard it. Her breath hitched, and pulse quickened as foreshadowing, and that's when she heard the thump of the boots behind her.
“Chat Noir!” not even the squealing of her friends shook her out of her statue-like state. The moment she met those acid-green eyes, her whole body tingled. She shamelessly raked her eyes down his whole body-not in a creepy way- but trying to find…she didn't know what she was looking for.
“Bonne soirée, ladies.” he bowed to them with a dramatic flair, one hand on his chest and the other thrown backward. Quite pompous if you asked her, but she could hear her friends swoon.
She kept inspecting him, black from head to toe with the exception of a golden bell hanging from his neck. His hair matched the bell, golden unruly strands sticking out in all directions. She fought the urge to run her hands through it.
“What are you doing out this late and on Christmas?” Abigail questioned him, twirling one single curl between her fingers.
He was very polite, by what she saw—hands behind his back and a playful smirk that put her at ease.
“Patrolling, gotta make sure everyone is safe on Christmas. I assume you ladies are going home?”
Emma spoke quickly “Well, yes. But our feet are sooo sore and we're so tired. I can imagine it would be possible for you to take us home?” She let out what sounded like a schoolgirl giggle, the rest of the group following. Not Marinette, though. She did not like that at all.
“I think it would be best to get a taxi, hm?” she turned to her friends, who gave her annoyed stares as she ruined their plans to be carried bridal style by THE Chat Noir, or something.
“That is actually a great idea, let me do the honors.” with incredible speed, he pulled out something that looked like a stick with a screen, and requested a ride.
“There was only a 4 seater car available, so I'll guess I can escort one of you home.” he playfully raised one finger to make his offer clear, just one.
Again, more squealing and arguing to choose the lucky girl. She didn't understand the appeal, but she let them fight it out to look at him once more. He was tall, taller than she imagined, she probably fit right under his chin if she were to compare…not that she was comparing. His eyes stayed unwavering on the group of girls next to her, until his phone-thing lit up.
“Girls, girls, calm down. The driver will be here shortly.” he said as he glanced down at the screen. “I'll make this easy for you, where does everyone live?” This time, he looked back up at her, with a knowing smirk.
“Well,” started Rebecca “Me and Abigail are flatmates over a couple blocks from here.”
“I live by La Sorbonne” said Emma quietly, in hopes to get chosen.
“Me too.” Said Charlotte, rolling her eyes. She knew what was coming.
“Those are all pretty close by, we are in the Latin Quarter, after all.” He nodded once, until he locked eyes again with Marinette. “What about you?”
“I-uhm.” Why was she stuttering? Get it together! “20th arrondissement.” Groans from her friends echoed, it seems that she hasn’t caught up with Chat’s mind work. She heard him clap.
“Great, I’ll be taking you home.”
What? Excuse me?
“Lucky girl, Marinette.” Charlotte sent her a smile, even though her slight annoyance. None of them had a problem with her, not at all. They had just missed the opportunity to be paraded around in the most romantic city by the hottest man of the year, Chat Noir—whatever, big deal.
“Just in time for your ride! Hop on, girls.” He approached the car that had just parked next to them, opening the doors to help them in and taking a moment to give instructions to the driver.
“Byeeee Marinette, I want to hear everything tomorrow.” Rebecca, sweet as always, pulled her into a tight hug. One by one, and a lot of la bise later, they were all packed in the car, waving goodbye. Marinette’s heart filled with warmth at the sight. There was something so precious about a girl-friend group that is almost impossible to find in another setting. Still, she felt like this wasn't her first girlhood experience. She kept getting feelings of déjà vu whenever they were all together. Maybe that’s why she always tags along, hoping to unlock something that can tell her who she truly is.
“You have some nice friends. Usually, girls would rip each other's throats out for a picture with me.”
Marinette was startled, taking notice of the sudden proximity of the hero. He had been standing next to her, shoulders almost touching, watching the car drive off. The reality settled that she had to be taken home by him, by someone who seemed so unreachable for the past year. A complete mystery. A stranger.
She cleared her throat. “They are great, I’m still getting used to it.” Chat Noir gave her a questioning look, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.
“Getting used to what?”
Marinette sighed, she did not want to explain to yet another person why she couldn’t remember her past 21 years. She could not do another round of pitiful looks and careful comments. “The noise. The company. It’s a long story.”
“I have the time. 20th arrondissement, you said?” Chat stretched as he looked at her for confirmation. She hated how gentlemanly he was.
She crossed her arms, forcing herself to look away. “You don’t have to take me home. I can walk. I like to walk.” She knew she was stubborn; maybe it was a side effect of having your memory wiped off or she was always like that. The fact that she didn’t know made her stomach churn.
Chat just laughed. “And let an unprotected lady walk across Paris in the middle of the night, in high heels? That would make me a really bad hero.” He nodded at her shoes, which were in fact very high and uncomfortable for her to be walking on, and she was not about to be barefoot.
“Or a human who has Christmas day off, you should be home anyways.” Marinette scoffed, rubbing her arms to bring some warmth back to her body.
Chat took a step in her direction, his proximity already warming her up. He was like a walking heater. “Don’t get much to celebrate this year. It’s a long story.”
“I have the time.’’ It was Marinette’s time to raise her eyebrow. Two could play this game.
Chat let out a sarcastic laugh as he crossed his arms, looming over her. “Funny. Ready to go?” Marinette was reminded of her situation. She was about to get a ride back home, from Chat Noir, the sole hero of Paris. And she was supposed to not freak out.
“I’m guessing you don’t have a Cat Mobile or some freaky jet pack.” Chat laughed once again, he probably thought she was such a ditz. Oh God this is so embarrassing.
He approached her and turned around, crouching in front of her. “Sadly, no. I hope a piggy ride back is up to your standards, princess.”
Princess?
Marinette suddenly felt a sharp pain in her forehead, like her brain nerves were stretching, reaching out to grasp at…something. Her body shook, nerves sending electricity down her limbs. Flashes of lights and stars flickered behind her eyes as she stumbled forward into Chat’s back. Still out of it, she barely felt Chat’s hands reaching out behind him and securing her to his back, holding her by her thighs.
“Hold on tight, we’ll be there in a blink of an eye.”
And without a warning, they shot up through the sky.