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I can’t see.
Those were the words she wanted to say, but bit back just as quickly. As if swallowing them before they could escape would undo the fact that she had thought them in the first place.
“Go on,” he laughed. “Say it.”
She paused for a moment, pursing her lips in a way she knew he could not discern for himself. She did not want to let him win, but nor was she going to say nothing. That, after all, would let him win as well. Eventually, she decided to go with “It’s dark.”
That earned her another chuckle.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that, princess,” he stated. Marinette wanted to seek his hands out with her own, to tether herself to something she knew, but the lack of a sense she was so accustomed to sent her into a small bout of floundering. His hands seemed to easily find hers amidst the inky blackness.
Her mouth twitched into a smirk neither of them could appreciate. “Showoff.”
“A knight is always ready to help his princess,” he returned. The cheek this boy had—! “Tell me what you can hear.”
The request blindsided her—no pun intended at all!—and it took her a moment to focus in on it. What could she hear?
She could hear Chat standing right before her, the rustle of his costume and the soft breaths he took.
She could hear her own steady breathing and slightly less steady heartbeat.
She could hear the air as it whispered through the iron rail around her balcony.
She could hear the rustling of leaves that her plants gave off.
She could hear a car on the street below.
She could hear the hum of electricity from the nearby lights.
Everything was so raw. So fresh. So new. A thousand little sounds from her balcony, sounds she heard every day, but never one chose to take note of. Until now.
“I can hear a lot more than usual right now. To think that I come to the balcony for peace and quiet,” she joked softly. She added the low rumble of her partner’s chest to things she could hear. And things she would love to hear again.
“Can you smell anything?” he asked, pressing this little experiment forward. Marinette took a breath of air.
Sea salt.
Vanilla.
Chocolate.
Floral.
Brisk night air.
Cheese.
“Cheese?” she inquired. Everything else could be explained. Chat always smelled like the ocean to her for some reason. Vanilla and chocolate were commonplace in the bakery. The flowers she had planted would obviously give off a floral scent. It was night, so the crisp scent made sense. And there were several little scents that she knew existed around the two now, but she could not name them presently. But cheese?
“A story for another time, princess,” Chat said, dodging the question. Marinette knew he was, but she decided to let it slide. They were out here for a mission, after all. “When you breathe, what do you taste?”
“Taste?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be just like smelling?”
“Try it and find out,” he encouraged. He must have been able to tell she was frowning, because he quickly gave her fingers a light squeeze, urging her to give it a try. She did.
She opened her mouth so as to breathe in the night air. The crispness that she had smelled rolled across her tongue instantly, bringing with it the vanilla, chocolate, and floral scents she had smelled earlier. But along with sea salt, something new danced across her buds. She chased the taste with her mind, but could not find an adequate word to label it. Mint? Pine? She could not find a word that was at once potent and subtle enough to describe it. Warm? Content? These words were better.
“There’s something I didn’t smell earlier, but I can’t figure out what it is,” she confided, trying to find the source. She would have probably never noticed it if not for her current self-inflicted predicament. Her confusion earned a chuckle from Chat.
“Okay, Princess, don’t work yourself too hard,” he laughed. Marinette pouted.
“At least I’m trying.”
“Yes, you are.” The girl could feel her face flush even darker at the sound of his voice. It sounded warm, happy, content. She hoped that the fact she was doing this was at least part of that. If nothing else, it would serve as a good memory between friends later.
Friends…
“Princess, almost done,” he said, snapping her attention back. One of his digits ran smoothly over her knuckles, reminding her of their entwined hands.
How had she forgotten in the first place?
“Tell me what you feel. What you can touch, what it feels like,” he requested. Marinette frowned in concentration, but made no move to explore the rest of her balcony.
She was interested in exploring Chat Noir’s hands.
The ones which were no longer gloved.
How? When? Why?
“C-Chat?” she asked, almost ashamed of how her voice seemed to crack. “Y-your hands…”
“It’s fine. You can’t see, remember?” he reminded her. “Only feel.”
Marinette allowed herself a deep and shuddering breath. Chat Noir—who, at the moment, was not Chat Noir—allowed his thumbs to run over her knuckles, never straying from their small, self-enclosed path. Not until she began to move her hands.
She first turned them over, catching his thumbs into her palms before moving her fingers to find the edge of his palms. She could feel his skin, his bare hands, beneath her own and they felt long, firm, and strong. Yet he was so gentle with her. He stilled his actions to allow her time to explore his hands.
She knew they were hands that cared. Not a single callus was on his either palm or any finger. His hands were cool and gentle to the touch, yet still pulsing with her Chat’s energy and kindness.
“C…can I…” Marinette’s question hung in the air, but Chat/Not-Chat waited for her to continue. He, after all, was no mind reader and he would have no idea what she wanted to do next without her explicitly asking. “May I touch your face?”
The whisper was near-silent and she was afraid she would have to either ask again or take it back. Just as she was about to do the latter, he began to move her hand. She allowed herself to be led.
Has he always been that tall? Marinette wondered as her hand continued to go up past her face. It did not venture too far above her head before her knuckles met with a resistance as familiar as her own heartbeat. Which, as she would have no one know, was sent into a fluttering frenzy at the action.
“You may,” he murmured. “But be careful not to poke. That would paw-sitively hurt.”
“Silly kitty,” she admonished just as gently. “I promise I’ll be careful.”
She first allowed her fingers to stretch under his chin, allowing her to gain an idea of where exactly his face started so she could be as careful as possible. From there, she ran the backs of her fingers around to his jaw line. Had it always been this firm? She had never seen much of a change in her partner, but she could certainly feel it now.
She turned her hand around so the forefront of her fingers found the lower half of his face. She inched her way to the side until she hit a soft protrusion. Her heart nearly hammered into overdrive and she forced herself not to gasp as her fingers came to rest on Chat Noir’s mouth.
“That’s different,” she tried to say with confidence. Instead, she feared her words had come off as an airy sigh. “I mean, you’re not smiling. Well, you are, but it’s not the usual shit-eating grin you have on your face, so it’s different—hey, I’m not done!”
Chat loosed another chest rumbling chuckle as he removed his fingers from the back of Marinette’s hand. Deciding she had embarrassed herself far too much around his lips, she decided to move to another section of his face.
Her fingers slid over the slope of his face, easing their way up and back over the side as she found his nose. She lifted an index finger and lightly tapped the tip of said nose.
“Boop,” she whispered, chuckling as she felt him wiggle beneath her fingertips.
“How long have you been wanting to do that, princess?” he asked. Marinette pursed her lips as she decided to let her hand continue its little journey.
His cheekbones were higher on his face than she would have thought. Had she crossed into the area where his mask usually covered? She felt her breath hitch at the thought.
Oh.
Oh.
Now she was definitely over the part where his mask covered. She made sure her touch was feather light as she ghosted over his eyes. They were closed, his lids nothing more than loose and soft skin beneath her fingertips. His eyelashes were long and she could feel them tickle the middle of her digits. Another pass back and higher revealed his eyebrows to her. They were high on his face and well-shaped. They painted for her a picture of someone who was looking at her with a patient smile.
The same smile she had felt illustrated on his lips.
“What do you see, princess?” he asked gently.
Marinette smiled. This was the same question she had asked him earlier in the night. The one that had prompted this short notice searching session. The one that had led to the sounds of soft breathing and rustling fabric. To the smell of sea salt and cheese. To the taste of warmth and comfort. To the feel of a kind face.
“I see you,” she said simply. She moved her hand to the side of Chat’s face and brought her other up so she could gently lead him to her. When their foreheads touched—a contact she did not know how desperately she needed until just that point—she felt as though she could breathe easily once more. “And right now, I think that’s all I need.”
The answering purr she received told her everything she needed to know.