Black Cat, Young Girl

Chapter Six: Worth

Throughout the week, the pair shifted into a comfortable schedule.

While Marinette was at school, Chat would pick up among the house and set up the bakery, preparing it for the nights shifts. When Marinette came back home, she first worked on her homework and then opened the bakery for a couple of hours.

When she was done, she would go back up to the apartment and hang out with Chat. They would talk, play video games, eat, watch TV, tell each other stories.

It was a peaceful routine.

However, Marinette often found herself scolding her own thoughts.

But why?

Well, perhaps it was the blush that warmed her cheeks when Chat proceeded to call her sweet pet names, or perhaps it was the quickening of her heartbeat when he smiled at her, pearly white teeth reflecting the sunlight. Perhaps it was even because of her breath stopping momentarily when he leaned in close, or perhaps it was her skin, flaming at the slightest touch of his.

The aspiring designer knew these symptoms were identical to those of a certain phenomenon, but no.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not allow herself to become infatuated with her cat. She would positively never fall in love with him. Anyone who said otherwise was a fool, an idiot, a knucklehead, and maybe just a little bit right.

C'mon, he was charming. And handsome enough. He could be really sweet and thoughtful too, and he was a such shameless flirt, but although it was cheesy, it was adorable too.

But his puns.

Oh God, his puns.

They were the absolute worst. Although they were never vulgar, they were exceedingly stupid and sometimes very strange. Yet the worst part about it was that a cat pun was the punchline.

"How are you feline, Princess?"

"Wow, that joke was hiss-terical!"

"I'd do anything fur you, Princess."

"You have cat be kitten me."

Marinette knew he was trying his best to make her smile, and she really did appreciate the gesture, but...

All the puns made her want to slam her head on the table.

Multiple times.

Really, really hard.

Nevertheless, she felt inclined to groan and maybe offer a small smile in response to the puns. Alright, that was a lie; she usually just groaned.

But she would smile for the rest of her life if it meant he was smiling too.

But she didn't have to force any smiles. Chat drew them out of her, naturally, like coaxing the sap out of a tree. It was a slow and gradual process.

And all the time spent doing so was completely worth it.