Pairing: marichat-centric
Synopsis: You think you’d remember snogging your partner senseless after successfully fighting off an Akuma.
Marinette doesn’t.
(The aftermath of Oblivio basically. But there’s a little, additional twist.)
Chapter: 1
Words:
3.234
Warnings: ///
*
***
*
Contrary to popular belief, Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not make a habit out of forgetting major events that carried a considerable impact on her life and would probably cause every single aspect of her daily routine to turn-about in something that resembled a car-crash later. But here she was, blinking awake and immediately racking her brain on just what it was that she couldn’t remember, although there definitely were more pressing matters at hand. Such as the question where she was right now. And why she didn’t know how she got here. Or how she was not bothered by her lack of knowledge concerning her current location in the slightest, despite this situation being less than ideal for a young superhero of her caliber.
It’s not like she wasn’t used to this uncomfortably displaced feeling either. Marinette had great difficulty to recall chemical formulas during tests and could never figure out just how much baking soda she was supposed to add without a recipe to guide her along, but she’d never forgotten something that made her mind launch itself into such a crazed frenzy in an attempt to remember it. The black haired girl was trying her best to conjure up an image, a sound, or even a scent related to the most recent happenings. But her mind came up with one blank canvas after another, having wiped half a day from her short term memory without meeting any form of resistance.
It could’ve been such a great day, too. Field-trips were usually fun, and she might’ve even gotten to spend some quality time with Adrien if that stupid, lilac monstrosity of an Akuma hadn’t decided that it needed to go and get its fragile feelings trampled on, for some equal parts unjustified and downright ridiculous reason. She would never be able to understand just how on earth people willingly assimilated themselves under the control of Hawkmoth after one (1) little thing went wrong in their lives. There were days when even Marinette herself felt pretty close to wanting to wreck Paris, but that urge hadn’t ever been strong enough to - “Oh my god the Akuma.”
As soon as those words had left her lips in a silent gasp, Marinette tensed and straightened her posture abruptly, seconds from calling out to Tikki and transforming, startling the person that stood beside her before she even noticed his close proximity. When she finally caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, she shrieked, scrambling back from the dark-clad superhero as if he was Hawkmoth himself. That’s how they both remained for a moment. Him slightly taken aback and her ready to launch herself at her perpetrator using only her nails and teeth. Then she realized who he was and that she was clearly overreacting, lowering her arms while intending to blame her little freak-out on the shock she had suffered from his unannounced appearance. Nobody would respond calmly to someone that just materialized out of thin air, so her raising both fists to punch him in the face was an entirely warranted (although mostly instinctual) reaction, right?
She couldn’t force out a complete sentence in her bafflement. There was a shorter alternative though.
“Chat Noir?!”
His name was burning on the tip of her tongue, nibbling away at memories hidden beneath the part of her recollection that she couldn’t reach.
Why did she sound so breathless and utterly embarrassed if she was merely surprised of his presence?
Marinette couldn’t answer that question. She stumbled away farther in her bewilderment and lost her footing, arms flailing around to grab onto something, anything she could reach. She couldn’t. But she instantly knew she was not going to hit the ground. Because Chat was standing right next to her, already moving around fast enough to blur in her focused line of sight. His cat-like reflexes enabled the blonde to catch Marinette before she managed to knock herself out by gracefully kissing the rooftop goodnight headfirst. Her useless reflexes, however, barely accomplished to make her go from pale white to beet red without any apparent reason, as she was peeking up to him in her stupor and saw the way his mouth curled around its ubiquitous smile from a closer perspective. She felt his muscles tense to support her weight and involuntarily shivered after a warm exhale hit her neck, almost cuddling into this unexpected embrace despite herself.
“Good morning, princess,” he mused cheerfully, perfectly smug and clearly enjoying himself, “May I ask whether you’re done falling for me? Or shall I carry you for the time being?”
She wanted to hit him. Oh, how much she wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face. Instead, Marinette groaned and forced him to let go by locking her forearms against his chest and pushing him away, shrugging off her sudden blush and his arms with newfound rationality. The young male backed off quickly, raising his hands in a gesture depicting surrender while bestowing her with an amused snort. He jumped an additional few steps back and bowed towards the younger girl in a mocking but kind greeting, hair falling over his eyes in a likable disarray. That’s why she didn’t have a hard time reminding herself that she was comfortable around this goof most of the time, not skittish. He had immediately let go of her as soon as she showed any sign of discomfort, like the gentlecat he was every once in a while. And the only one who could reduce her to a flushing mess in seconds was Adrian Agreste. She wasn’t going to let her alley cat change that circumstance no matter how hard it tried to be charming…
Marinette was still vowing to get her hormones back in line when she noticed how intently the other superhero was watching her - with a mixture of curiosity and confusion - and finally understood that she was not wearing any spandex right now, thus acting very out of character for anyone who knew her. She immediately rested one hand on her hip and flicked the wrist of the other in a weird gesticulation that only barely resembled a wave, pushing her bag along with the movement and probably disturbing Tikki in the process.
“Oh, hi Chat. I didn’t even see you there. How are you doing today?”
The other superhero did not bother to answer, and Marinette honestly couldn’t blame him for it. That had been embarrassing.
He cocked his head to the side nevertheless, remaining unmoving whilst observing her with something akin to mistrust, settling a suspicious gaze on her twitching features with utmost care. Marinette’s faked, pleasant smile was as unsteady as her knees, as she added an unsure “Th-thanks for… uh… catching me?” which only reinforced the semblance of her having something to hide with the way she stuttered it out.
Why did her voice have to break because of him right now? Were her brain cells legally obliged to commit Seppuku whenever a 5′11 inches blonde breathed in her general direction? Couldn’t her biggest problem be the unfinished essay which was due next week, please, and why was he even staring at her like that couldn’t he at least be cross-eyed it would make withstanding that amount of skepticism a lot easier? She discovered that one of Chat’s eyebrows seemed to might have maybe shot up at her evident breakdown, but she couldn’t be too sure because of that damned mask which was hiding his features from her prying stare.
Come on Marinette, don’t be the incarnation of a goddamn baguette viennoise for once in your life! Do something before he starts suspecting you again, you massive idiot!
“Where’s Ladybug?” she blurted, hoping to avert his attention from her rather unusual behavior. Marinette was getting more and more skilled at playing oblivious with each passing day, and she actually succeeded in making Chat look around in evident disorientation, obviously wondering how he’d gotten up here again in the first place, and where his partner had disappeared to so suddenly. After a short while that seemed to stretch into an eternity, he eventually shrugged. His tail was flicking from side to side slowly. Marinette did not intend to watch it’s languid movements as keenly as she did.
“I don’t know either. But Oblivio seems to be gone for good. May I inquire whether you were…?”, he trailed off almost carefully, taking a cautious step forward.
Marinette tried her best to bite back a hysterical fit of laughter at the absurdity of it all.
“Oh no. No, no. I was definitely not akumatized. I just got hit by whatever that thing was shooting around and… well, I don’t really remember anything that happened after that.”
She was telling the truth, in a way: Her last memory contained a hurriedly scribbled turtle shell on the wall of an elevator after all. But why did it sound so unconvincing? Her voice was still laced with nervousness and discomfort, although she must seem way too relaxed for a random civilian that had been caught up in an Akuma attack (normally a very traumatic experience), which was quite careless of her since Chat seemed to grow more suspicious with every single sound that left her throat. But she couldn’t bring herself to concentrate on him or the pretenses she usually made up on the spot to keep him off her case. Not when her entire thought process was orbiting around the task of reminding her of something important without telling her what it actually was. Although she tried to: She simply could not ignore the unrestrained screeching of her mind.
Open your eyes!
You can’t possibly be that dense!
It’s right in front of you, Marinette!
But not a single one of those panicked voices in her head told the black haired girl what exactly the object she so urgently needed was, or why exactly she was supposed to be looking for it in desperation. It was a very uncertain emotion, and she finally decided that she did not like it, choosing to disregard everything that alluded to it until she had time to deal with whatever was going with her mind.
The soft chime of his ring resounded around them, and both flinched at the familiar sound that somehow always achieved to interrupted crucial moments, leaving only 5 more minutes until the transformation wore off for good.
“What was that?”, Marinette asked, satisfied with how smoothly the not-really-but-almost lies were slipping off her tongue again.
“That,” he purred, “was my cue. I’m sorry to cut this delightful conversation short, but I have to take my leave now, princess.”
The young man (boy?) drew closer yet again and gently grabbed her wrist before she could even think of pulling it away, pressing a light kiss to Marinette’s knuckles one by one, keeping eye-contact during the entire time this took him. She silently applauded herself for not flushing in the slightest, while mirroring the stupid, shit-eating grin right back at his expectant face. Chat Noir chuckled. Marinette had almost been tempted to do so, too, if he hadn’t been shamelessly flirting with her only seconds prior. That troublemaker finally let go and saluted her as he sauntered off the edge of the roof in a self-assured manner, sending a wink her way while he fell off the building and plunged into the uncertainty that awaited him below. Marinette knew that he wasn’t nearly arrogant enough to pull a stunt that could possibly endanger his life, but she still had to check whether he was ok despite her conviction that he was going to be safe. And as expected: Spinning once, Chat Noir expanded his baton and launched himself onto the chimney of a nearby building elegantly, tail wagging slightly to keep his balance as he pounced along the rooftops of Paris in a devilishly fast-paced momentum. Marinette could have watched him sprint for the rest of her day, absent-mindedly cheering him on. There was always a familiar tug at something buried deep inside of her chest whenever she saw him like this.
Free.
She brushed it off as a fleeting reminder of her own time spent on surging through the skies and turned away from a sight that still made her heart swell after so much time.
*
When she resurfaced from her thoughts, a somewhat unexpected sound caught Marinette’s attention and made her perk up abruptly. She could already make out bits and pieces of the yelling-match before she had even rounded the opaque barrier surrounding the roof of Montparnasse tower like a sunscreen, scrunching her brows and pushing aside her predicament in favor of whatever was happening on the other side of that thin wall. Too exhausted to seriously concern herself with the worry that it could be caused by another Akuma or even Oblivio himself, Marinette didn’t even glimpse around the corner before marching towards the cause of those harsh noises, squaring her shoulders to get ready for the next curveball this day was going to aim at her.
The first thing she registered was Alya, about a millisecond from launching herself at Nino with a snarl. Although that boyfriend of hers wouldn’t be tackled down easily, Marinette was well aware that the red-head was a force to be reckoned with and quite prone to fighting dirty, which is why the black-haired girl guessed that this battle would end with Alya’s victory. Both of them seemed unaware of their newfound company, though, and Marinette didn’t suppose that they’d heard her (by comparison way quieter) conversation with the alley cat if she hadn’t noticed them shouting from just a few meters away. She decided to step in and try to get them to calm down before it got to a point where they couldn’t forgive each other anymore.
That’s when the black haired girl realized that they weren’t actually arguing, but just both equally worked up about a picture on Ayla’s phone that she kept pointing to in unmistakable agitation. They were reassuring each other that no, they did not remember what happened, and no, they had no clue how the events of the past few hours could lead up to this, and yes, this was absolutely unbelievable and they had to grill Marinette about this ASAP.
Marinette, in the meantime, felt as if she was witnessing one of the complicated physics experiments that Ms. Mendeleiev liked digress about during her classes. Immovable object vs. unstoppable force was one of the more recent topics that she had brought up, and the young superhero was being reminded of it by how intently both of them were talking into their partner, able to understand the other without shutting up for even a split second.
“They’re kissing, Nino. KISSING. And I can’t even post this on the Ladyblog, this is completely nuts!” yelled her best friend, playfully swatting out at her boyfriend who had long since started giggling like a kindergartener. They were so affectionate that Marinette felt awful for mistaking this for an argument and intruding as soon as she stepped closer and cleared her throat, but it wasn’t like she could take any of it back at this point.
The black haired girl had never seen anyone - not even a speedster Akuma or Chat Noir himself - turn to her with that level of speed, and she dimly wondered whether either of them had risked a whiplash from carrying out that movement alone. A short while of stunned silence spread around them as all three students to assess what the other was thinking, unable to reveal what they wanted to get off their respective chests unpremeditatedly.
“Oh hi. What are you doing here?” asked Alya first, suddenly the perfect epitome of calmness, smiling at her friend with the patient expression worn by buddha-statues. And in this short moment, Marinette could relate to what Chat Noir must’ve gone through talking to her earlier perfectly.
That reporter was absolutely out of her mind.
“Who’s kissing whom?” the black haired girl asked, “And are you both ok?”
Her best friend did not answer, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. It wasn’t entirely obvious whether the red-head was trying to support her or keep her from running away, but Marinette realized that she wasn’t objecting to the touch either way. Alya had always been a pillar of strength, and the young superhero was incredibly thankful to have that wonderful creature on her side. Although she was still out of her mind, that statement still stood undisputed.
“Look, girl, I really don’t wanna trouble you, but do you remember anything concerning Oblivio? Anything at all?”
There was a tone in her voice that Marinette would’ve recognized from a thousand miles away, and she had never quite gotten accustomed to how concerned it sounded, how carefully it phrased things. Alya definitely bore bad news. And Marinette was left with no other option but to deny that she remembered anything, hoping that whatever she was going to be told right now didn’t include her lap-dancing on one of Adrian’s billboards while confessing her undying love for him.
Alyas hand curled around her shoulders a bit harder, ripping Marinette out of her ludicrous thoughts.
“Ok girl. You better try to chill. Nino, be a darling and step behind her to make sure she doesn’t faint,” ordered her best friend.
“I don’t frequently faint, Alya,” quipped Marinette, slightly exasperated.
Her best friend ignored her and took another deep breath, making sure that Marinette followed her lead. The reporter wouldn’t come out with it until she had made sure that the black haired girl’s pulse was on an all-time low. Then a display was turned into Marinette’s general direction, and she was finally enabled to see what all this fuss was about. Not that she really got it at first.
She saw a couple. They were immersed in a loving kiss, arms wrapped around one another and bodies pressed impossibly close. The girl had her hands buried in his hair, and the boy had pulled her up towards himself by her waist, both were grinning into the kiss like pre-schoolers and obviously head over heels in love, and they seemed to be incandescently happy. Just looking at this picture felt like intruding on them. But something was bothering Marinette. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it, although she soon had taken in every last detail of that snapshot. Something wasn’t right. There was a big mistake in this picture and Marinette was sure she was going to figure it out.
“Please don’t be upset,” whispered Alya.
Then it hit her.
Marinette ripped the phone out of her best friend’s hands and held the picture closer, not believing what she was seeing, practically pressing her nose flat against the screen. She rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes, but when she pulled it away, the picture hadn’t changed. It was still the same. How could it possibly be the same? How could it depict what it was right now?
Contrary to popular belief, Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not make a habit out of forgetting major events that carried a considerable impact on her life and would probably cause every single aspect of her daily routine to turn-about in something that resembled a car-crash later.
So why.
Why couldn’t she remember kissing Chat Noir?
101doa
