An Expectant Whirlwind

A High Possibility

This is my first ever multi-chapter fic. I started writing it nearly two years ago, so the first few chapters aren't quite up to par with my current writing. That said, I truly believe every chapter is worth reading and has quality content.

I really hope you enjoy reading this. Don't hesitate to comment and tell me how I'm doing and what you think. I appreciate any and all constructive criticism.

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Burning clumps of charcoal stung Marinette's throat as she hunched over the toilet, emptying hers tomach. She heaved and tears ran down her cheeks as she clutched atthe seat. The short amount of time spent between jerking out of bed and throwing up was dizzying, and it didn't make the nausea any better.

"Marinette?" Tikki cautiously floated near to her, casting a concerned expression in her direction.

"I'm okay." Marinette's voice hitched back.

She was not okay.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

She wasn't sure.

Tikki wasn't convinced and Marinette knew it. Her words contradicted the uncertainty and fear they dripped with. She had been feeling bad for several weeks, but that was putting it lightly. She was exhausted from little and tired after the shortest of days. Nothing could quell how relentlessly ill she was.She wasn't just feeling like roadkill constantly, it hit her in waves when she least expected it. She could be getting out of bed just fine, walk downstairs with no problem, but the moment she made it to the kitchen where her mother was preparing breakfast, she was holding back the urge to retch her stomach out of her body.

Weeks. It had been happening for weeks. Tikki was persistent in trying to suggest a certain possibility, but she wouldn't take it. Marinette wouldn't believe the words her kwami was saying. She wouldn't even let her finish, because it wasn't true.It wasn't. She simply had a stomach virus, that's what it was.

She was sick and it had nothing to do with that careless, yet lovely night.

Marinette could place exactly how it happened. She was staying up late to sew, but she knew the real reason she hadn't gone back to sleep. It didn't take a lot of time to mend torn clothing, but she felt the need to move her hands slowly.The longer she was awake, the more likely Chat Noir was to show up.

He wouldn't knock on her skylight if he knew she was sleeping, so she kept the lights on and sat right in front of the window as she willed herself to focus on the piece of cloth in her hands rather than searching the dark sky.

More than ever, she hoped he would come. Where in the beginning she groaned at his arrival, she now looked forward to it. Now he wasn't just a stray cat showing up on her balcony. He wasn't just her silly partner. He wasn't just a boy hiding behind a mask and a coy smirk. He was more.

He was the knocking that resonated against her heart, the force that whipped her head from the fabric she was sewing. He was the cause of her eager hands as she opened the skylight, the smile that sent her stomach in a fluttering frenzy whenthey made eye contact. He was the silky lines that she rolled her eyes to, the glint in those cat-like slits that made her question her sanity.

And as she let him in, she was certain he would be her undoing.

She knew exactly how it happened, his hesitant hands reaching for her. She remembered exactly how it felt;their bodies pressed against one another, fumbling and awkward, but beautiful all the same. He was gentle and careful, almost afraid of touching her in the way her eyes begged him to. They were both inexperienced and unsure of what to do, but she held that night very dear to her heart.