Chapter Text
When it came to needing inspiration, Marinette had just the place. When she wanted to escape from reality for a little bit, or needed a boost of creativity, she would take her drawing pens and sketchbook and venture out into the meadow behind her house. Just near the edge of the forest was what she liked to call her secret garden of inspiration. She was convinced that it was magic - at least in the sense that she did her best creative thinking when she was there. It was a warm patch of grass, just sunny enough, with a spectacular view of the Parisian city skyline in the distance. She could sit there for hours, drawing in her sketchbook and imagining her future, daydreaming about the day when she moved away from her small hometown to Paris. Oftentimes she would forget how long she’d been out in her spot, and usually her mother had to call her inside as the sun was setting.
Marinette sat in her secret garden today, brows furrowed and tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration as she sketched a new design. She was so focused on her task that she didn’t notice that she was muttering her ideas to herself. She didn’t notice when a black cat crept out of the forest, stalking towards her. She only noticed when the cat spoke.
“Why feathers?”
Marinette yelped, nearly jumping out of her skin. Her pens and papers scattered. Frazzled, she looked to where the voice came from. A black cat sat watching her, only a few feet away. Big green eyes gleamed at her curiously, its tail slowly swaying back and forth in front of its paws.
“Pardon?” she asked somewhat breathlessly as she scrambled to gather her utensils.
The cat grinned, flashing its sharp white teeth at her. Marinette had never seen a cat so expressive before. “Why are you using feathers for your hat?” it asked with a distinctly male voice.
Marinette’s eyes widened. Not only was this a talking cat, it had heard her mumblings about the bowler hat she was designing. She flushed, a little embarrassed.
“Uh...the design is based off pigeons….or at least the feathers of a pigeon...so I want to incorporate actual feathers with the design…” Marinette felt somewhat foolish, explaining herself to a cat.
And yet it didn’t seem like the strangest thing that could happen. Marinette believed in magic, after all. She knew all sorts of fairy tales. A talking cat - perhaps an enchanted one? - seemed to fit right in. She liked to humor herself by thinking she had a magical touch with animals. Or, at the very least, with ladybugs. Sometimes they would flutter around her in groups or land delicately on the tip of her pencil as she drew. And she was in her secret garden. If it really was magical, of course a talking cat would be drawn in.
Said cat narrowed its eyes and curled its mouth in disgust. Marinette chuckled. The expression was so human-like that it didn’t seem suited at all on the face of a cat.
“What?” she asked through her laughter. “You don’t like pigeons?”
“No,” the cat replied, the same expression on its face. “I’m allergic to feathers.”
“Looks like I won’t be designing any hats for kitty then,” she remarked, slowly opening her sketchbook up and turning to a blank page. He was a handsome cat, she thought as she lightly traced the shape of his head onto her paper. His features were striking - it wasn’t every day she saw eyes so electric green or black fur as shiny as his.
As she filled in the facial features, she felt soft fur brush the skin of her wrist and looked down to see the cat peering at her sketchbook, intrigued. She smiled and opened the book wider for him to watch as she fully drew his face, including the whiskers and dark, oblong pupils.
The cat cocked its head to one side as Marinette wrote Chat Noir in swirly cursive letters above the drawing. She wondered briefly if this cat even knew what he actually looked like. After all, it wasn’t like cats had access to mirrors. And yet she couldn’t help but wonder if he had always been a cat. Based on the talking and the expressions, he very well might be a human under the fur.
“Purrty drawing,” said the cat, an actual purr rolling off his tongue.
Marinette couldn’t help the blush rising in her cheeks. A compliment was a compliment, even coming from a feline. “Thanks,” she replied. Feeling braver, she skimmed through the pages of her sketchbook. “I do a lot of drawing in my free time,” she explained.
The cat placed a paw on one of the pages that flew by under her fingers. She paused and let him look at the illustration. A girl with bluish black hair and sky-blue eyes with a soft, neutral expression gazed at them.
“It’s a self-portrait,” she explained. “I did it a few weeks ago. Thought I could use a challenge.”
The cat’s tail swished back and forth, his eyes darting between the drawing of Marinette’s face and her actual face. “It’s almost as lovely as the lady herself,” he drawled, his mouth spreading into a Cheshire Cat grin. He looked back down at the page and pawed at the signature scribbled in one corner. “That’s your name?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Marinette.”
“Marinette,” he echoed.
“What’s your name?” she asked curiously.
The cat sat back on the grass, a little smirk on his face. “You can call me Chat Noir,” he said.
She imagined that an enchanted cat would have a much more interesting name than that. Assuming he was enchanted. Maybe this kitty was just a human who had somehow got mixed up in a spell. Maybe he did have a human name, and just couldn’t remember it.
“Well, Chat Noir,” Marinette said, flipping to a clean page and idly sketching the Paris skyline for the umpteenth time. “How come I’ve never seen you around here before? I think I would remember meeting a talking cat in my secret garden of inspiration.”
The expression on Chat Noir’s face was flirty, and somehow entirely suited for a cat. “Usually when I drop by a lady’s ‘secret garden of inspiration’ she’s not so keen on talking to me. If I had known that I would meet you, I certainly would have come here much sooner.” His tail brushed her wrist playfully.
Yep, Marinette thought. Definitely a human at one point.
“They probably don’t want to talk to you because you sneak up on them,” she pointed out.
“I can’t help it that I’m just so smooth I hardly make a sound,” Chat replied, strolling in front of where she sat and bending down into a stretch. “Besides,” he rolled onto his back and looked up at her, “it’s kind of fun to make people jump.”
“So that’s how you get your kicks, then?” Marinette asked with a laugh.
Chat Noir’s eyes gleamed. She had to admit he looked pretty cute, lying there belly-up. She was tempted to pet him, but wondered if that would be crossing a line. They had just met, after all.
“How else is a cat supposed to entertain himself?” he said. “Today was pawsitively boring until I snuck up on you.”
Marinette rolled her eyes. “On second thought, the reason no one is keen on talking to you is probably because of your catastrophic puns.”
Chat giggled. It was surprisingly very endearing to hear a cat giggle. It made her want to pet him more.
“There’s more in store for you, my lady,” he promised, swishing his tail happily. Marinette was about to retort when his ears quirked and his eyes snapped towards her house in the distance. She heard it not long after he did - the sound of her mother’s voice calling for her.
With a gasp Marinette scrambled to her feet, snatching up her sketchbook and pens. Chat Noir watched, bemused, as she fumbled around.
“I have to go,” she panted. “I forgot all about going into town today, and now I’ll definitely be late.” She gasped again and looked around frantically. “And I forgot all about the feathers for my hat!”
“I can help with that,” Chat Noir said, but Marinette hardly heard him. She was halfway across the meadow before she turned around and shouted goodbye to him. He watched her go, his tail swishing behind him, and then he sauntered back into the forest.
~
Marinette was up bright and early the next morning, rushing to finish her chores so that she could do more sketching in the meadow. She wondered if Chat Noir would be there again.
Sure enough, there was a black cat waiting for her in the exact spot she sat yesterday. In his mouth was a clump of gray feathers.
When she sat down beside him, he dropped them into her lap and then sneezed. Marinette couldn’t help but giggle. Cat sneezes were very cute.
“Are these pigeon feathers?” she asked in amazement, smoothing out each one with her fingers.
Chat Noir rubbed his nose with a paw. “Pigeon feathers for the lady with the pigeon hat,” he said.
“But aren’t you allergic to feathers?”
If cats could shrug, she was certain Chat Noir did. He sat on his hind feet and lifted his front paws in the air, raising his shoulders slightly. She laughed at how odd it looked for a cat to perform such a human gesture.
“It’s not so bad,” he said with a sly grin. “The sneezing is a small price to pay for the fun I had.”
“I feel sorry for the poor pigeons you harassed these from,” she said, quirking a brow at him.
He waved a paw at her. “Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything mean. Just roughed them up a bit. All in good fun.” He sneezed again.
She laughed. “Thank you, Chat Noir.” Somewhat hesitantly, she reached out to stroke the top of his head. His fur was pleasantly soft and sleek. She watched his eyes widen comically in surprise and then slide closed, his lips spreading in a small smile. Encouraged, Marinette scratched one of his ears. She laughed with delight as he purred softly. “Silly kitty.”
He snapped out of it when he sneezed again.
Marinette tucked the feathers safely into the pockets of her dress. Placing her sketchbook on her lap, she opened to a fresh page. “I’ll be sure to show you the hat when it’s complete,” she promised. She began sketching a dress design that had been stuck in her head for several hours now. Chat Noir placed himself right beside her, watching intently.
When she was mostly satisfied with the basic sketch, she began to jot down little notes, muttering to herself as she did. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she forgot Chat was there, and only remembered when he meowed loudly.
“What is it?” she asked in surprise.
He smirked. “Must be a good design,” he remarked, rubbing his cheek against her arm. Marinette was flattered by his affection. “I just wanted to ask you a question,” Chat said.
“Okay, what is it?”
“What else do you like to do? Besides drawing.”
“Oh.” Marinette tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well my parents own a bakery. So I’ve picked up a few things about baking from them. I love to make cookies. Chocolate chip is my favorite.”
Chat Noir’s eyes lit up. “I think I remember what those taste like,” he said. “Sweet….I used to steal them from the kitchen…” he trailed off, his voice very quiet.
Marinette was intrigued. She wanted to know more, wanted to hear the rest of what Chat Noir meant to say. She thought he might have meant from his life as a human, which she was incredibly curious about. But she didn’t want to pry. And by the look of Chat’s wistful eyes and droopy ears, Marinette decided to move on.
“I also love designing clothes,” she added. “That’s why I sketch so much. I even made this dress.” She pinched the light pink fabric of the dress she wore between her fingers.
“Really?” Chat Noir asked, amazed.
She nodded. “I want to be a fashion designer, and have my own fashion line and a boutique in Paris,” she said eagerly.
“Have you ever been to Paris?”
“No,” Marinette said with a sigh, resting her chin in her hand and gazing at the skyline. “But someday I will.”
“You’d love it,” Chat Noir insisted.
She perked up. “You’ve been there?”
He bobbed his chin up and down in a nod.
“What’s it like?”
“The cat’s meow,” he said with a wink. “You’ll fit right in.”
“I bet Paris is a lot more fun than this boring little meadow,” Marinette remarked.
“I disagree,” Chat Noir replied. “This meadow has something that Paris does not.” He paused and tilted his head at her, clearly waiting for her to ask what that might be. She quirked a brow. “A purrty lady named Marinette,” he said, eyes gleaming at his pun. She groaned, yet couldn’t help but smile.
“You probably say that to every girl you meet,” she teased.
“I don’t,” Chat insisted. “In fact, you’re the only human I’ve really talked to.”
Marinette blinked. “Really?”
He nodded. “No one’s been as nice as you,” he admitted. “I’ve tried to talk to humans before, but they always brushed me off or freaked out.” Emerald eyes gazed shyly at her. “But you listen. It’s been awhile since I’ve met someone who listens. And...I-I really like talking to you, Marinette.” He lowered his eyes bashfully, his tail curling by his paws.
Marinette’s heart fluttered. She’d always thought he was cute - he was a cat, after all - but now he had reached unfair levels of cuteness. How could she not snatch him up and hug him after saying something like that, and looking the way he did?
Chat meowed in surprise as she hugged him tight and nuzzled her cheek against his furry face. For a second, Marinette wondered if she had crossed a line, but the question vanished when she felt his content purrs against her skin. “I really like talking to you, too, Chat,” she agreed.
His whiskers tickled her lips. “Glad to hear it, puuurrrincess,” he said through his purrs. “And no cracks about my puns,” he added hastily. “You already said you like talking to me, no taking it back.”
Marinette giggled. “I won’t take it back, Chat,” she promised.
~
After staying up into the late hours of the night to put the finishing touches on her pigeon hat, Marinette tossed and turned in bed for a few hours before rising at the crack of dawn to complete her chores. As soon as she had finished the last one, she made a mad dash for her room, grabbed the hat, and ran all the way to the meadow. She was pleased to see Chat Noir waiting for her there already.
“It’s finished!” she exclaimed, tumbling down to the ground beside him and making him jump.
Her excitement was infectious. Chat Noir placed his front paws on her legs, peeking at the item in her hands. “What’s finished?” he asked eagerly.
She proudly presented the bowler hat by placing it on her head and pretending to model it. “It took me eight hours,” she said breathlessly. “But I did it!”
Chat smiled, flashing his little fanged teeth. “It looks amazing,” he said. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Sell it.”
“Really?”
Marinette nodded. “If I make a product I’m particularly proud of, I take it to town with me and sell it in the market.” She removed the hat to show him the inside. He peered at the gold stitching that spelled out Marinette’s name. “I sign them, too. So hopefully people will start to recognize my designs.”
“Impressive,” Chat Noir remarked with a wink. Marinette felt her cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m saving up for Paris.”
“Someone will definitely buy your hat,” he said, settling into her lap. “You can make even stupid pigeons look cool.”
Marinette rolled her eyes and groaned, stroking his tail affectionately. “You need to work on those puns, minou.”
Chat closed his eyes and purred as she scratched him under the chin. “Why? Think toucan do better?”
She teased him by placing the bowler hat over his head, giggling when he started to sneeze.
~
It became part of Marinette’s routine to spend as much time in the meadow as possible, because that meant she could spend time with Chat Noir. He waited for her in the same spot every day. Sometimes she would bring new pieces she had designed to show him. Sometimes he brought her little “gifts” (as he called them), although Marinette didn’t really intend on keeping the mouse tail he gave her. Most days she doodled in her sketchbook and Chat watched her draw, and they would talk. He mostly asked her questions - what her favorite foods were, what her parents were like, what she was like growing up. She answered every question he asked, but she wished that she could get to know him that way too. She wanted to know about his past. But she would never pry, because whenever his past did come up (accidentally) it clearly made Chat Noir sad. She never wanted to see him sad - not when she could see him as the silly and sweet cat he was.
He currently sat in her lap, Marinette stroking him fondly with one hand and doodling idly with the other. He dozed, his tail slowly swishing from side to side. They made a very content picture, even as gray storm clouds loomed in the distance and threatened to cut their afternoon short.
Every now and then Marinette glanced down at Chat for reference as she drew his sleeping form. Lately the pages of her sketchbook were full of black cats. If she wasn’t drawing him, she was thinking about him. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander to all the questions she had about him. How he came to be a black cat, who he was before his transformation, where he came from, how he found her meadow. Her obsession reminded her of a former crush she used to have on a certain model back when she was younger.
Flipping to a blank page, Marinette began to draw said model. Adrien Agreste had been missing for several months now, though no one knew why. While her crush on him now wasn’t quite as extreme as the one she’d harbored when she was fourteen, she couldn’t help but blush whenever she saw pictures or heard talk about him. He was a model, after all - incredibly handsome, and the son of her favorite fashion designer.
Chat Noir stirred in her lap, rolling over onto his back, belly-up. Marinette scratched his belly, which made him purr.
“Sleepy chaton,” she murmured fondly as his emerald eyes blinked open. “Done with your cat nap?”
He rubbed his furry face against her leg. “Not quite,” he mumbled, still partly asleep. Marinette turned her attention back to her drawing. Chat Noir, ever the curious cat, looked over too.
He stiffened in her lap. He sat up, spine ramrod straight, and stared at her illustration. Marinette was a little confused by his behavior. She had never seen him react in such a way before.
“Who’s that?” Chat Noir asked quietly, eyes glued to the paper.
“It’s Adrien Agreste,” Marinette explained. “He’s a model. Or, was a model, anyway. He’s been missing for a while.”
“What happened to him?”
“I’m not sure. No one knows.”
Chat Noir tore his gaze away from her sketch and climbed out of her lap. His mood had changed completely. She had never seen him so gloomy, had never seen his ears droop that way or his tail hang so low. It hurt her to see him like this, when usually he was the brightest part of her day.
“Oh, Chat,” she cooed, putting her sketch book aside. “What’s wrong?”
He looked at her with sad eyes. “Marinette, you must know….you must have guessed by now that I’m not truly a cat.”
Marinette’s eyes widened. To hear him actually say it made it stranger. “You were a human once,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.
He nodded solemnly and hung his head. “Not very long ago. I thought I had accepted my fate,” he said gravely, raising a paw to glare at his claws as he flexed them. “I thought that eventually I would just forget what it was like to be a human at all. But you…” He trailed off and blinked sad kitty eyes up at her. “Then I met you and you reminded me of all the reasons why I miss being a human.”
Marinette’s heart swelled with sympathy and longing. “Oh Chat, what happened to you? How can we fix it?” she asked, one hand resting over her heart, the other reaching for him. He bumped her palm with his nose, closing his eyes as her fingers caressed his head. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t press him. She would provide support for him, no matter what kind. If he wanted to just be pet for a moment, she certainly wouldn’t refuse.
Suddenly his ears quirked upward, listening. He opened his eyes. A rueful smile spread on his lips. “Your mother is looking for you,” he said. As soon as he did, Marinette heard her name called. She groaned in frustration. She had forgotten about the damn delivery. “You’re always late for things,” Chat said with a soft smile.
Marinette grabbed her sketchbook and her pens. “Don’t worry, Chat Noir,” she said fiercely. “I’ll help you. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.” She rose to her feet, about to turn away, then stopped and bent down once more to place a kiss on top of Chat Noir’s head. “Promise,” she said again. Then she whirled around and ran back to her house, leaving a stunned black cat watching her.
Unfortunately Marinette did not go back to the meadow that day. The storm clouds that had seemed so far away hours before were now looming overhead, dark and ominous. The wind picked up and rain poured down, sharp and aggressive. Thunder clapped and lightning lit up the French countryside. In her room, huddled under the blankets, Marinette ached for Chat Noir. She felt like crying at the thought of him caught up in this storm, all alone. She wished that he was there with her, so they could cuddle under the blankets and feel safe. It was just her luck that on the day he needed her most, they would be forced apart.
She hoped that sleep came quickly. The sooner sleep came, the sooner the storm ended, the sooner morning would come and she could be reunited with her Chat Noir.