Papillon

Chat Noir Appreciation Day by Maybelle

"A cat in the night: a menace to evil, so be mindful: he'll slay you with puns, if you're not careful. He flirts with you, his Lady, the moment he catches a glimpse of the whites of your eyes, and you always know that his words are never lies. A black suit: cat ears. A concealing mask: green irises. A concealed identity with concealer. His real mask is Adrien, the sweet cinnamon roll you know all-too-well. It's not like you have pictures of him in your room or anything, Marinette," Alya said, purple-prose lacing her every dramatized word. She gestured to said pictures with the over-exaggerated hand of a telemarketer.

"Alya, why are you doing this?" Marinette complained.

"Ssshhhh! I'm not finished. Surely Ladybug of all people can be patient for like five minutes, right, Ladybug?" the ombré quipped. She breathed in poetry and released irritation. "I'm going to continue now, if you don't mind." Oh. Looks like the irritation didn't exactly disappear.

"You're never going to stop teasing me about this, are you?" Marinette sighed, burying her head further into the pillow. She hugged it for dear life, wishing it could save her from the torment.

"Nope." Alya twisted around in her spot on the floor booped her best friend on the nose. The chaise sunk inwards a smidgen as she nestled her back into the side of it once again, leaning her head on the edge of the mattress and staring up at the ceiling. She huffed and continued. "The real personality behind all of that model makeup—"

"He doesn't wear that much makeup," Marinette cut in. "He doesn't need to."

The ombré couldn't help but let a smile sneak onto her face. It was more like a smirk, though. "Like I said, the real personality you're facing when you struggle to stammer at Adrien is the flirty mcflirt side of Chat Noir. It's so cute that you call him that."

Marinette felt her face heat up and nearly suffocated herself with her pillow, she was so embarrassed. "Stahhhp," she said, her voice muffled.

"Oh? Is that your tomato voice I hear?" Alya tilted her head back and stared at her bestie upside down. "Indeed, it is! She's tomato-faced! Look at her, everyone!"

"Ugh, there's not even anyone else here."

"Adrien's here—"

"Where?!" Marinette shot up from lying on her stomach and was on her knees in a second, searching the room with frantic glances.

"—in the photographs around your room."

The bluenette glared at Alya.

"Okay, that's it." The ombré wheeled around and sat with her legs crossed, facing her fuming friend. "You know what?"

"What?" Marinette replied dryly. She deadpanned.

"Do you know... what today is gonna be?" Alya said, overstressing her words.

"No. What is it?"

"Today... is now... give me a drumroll, please!"

Marinette narrowed her eyes. A small smile peeked from a speck of amusement that fell unto her. It wasn't too long before she was beaming, and she began patting her knees like they were drums, leaning over slowly in an attempt to raise the tension, and Alya joined her.

Suddenly the ombré ceased and threw a finger in the air as if an idea bulb struck her arm, looking up at it like it was a trophy. As she brought it down in front of her, Marinette stopped her little drumroll as well, staring at her in wait. Alya was cross-eyed for a second as she eyed her finger, then stood up.

The bluenette furrowed her eyebrows as her friend proceeded to boop her on the nose. That was like the fifth time she did that that day. "What is it—boop your best-friend's nose day?"

Alya stared into her soul, completely serious. "No. Today, June 30th," she began, backing up, straightening her back and puffing out her chest with pride, "is Chat Noir Appreciation Day. This is so going on the Ladyblog..."

A/N: Happy Chat Noir Appreciation Day!