#masilvi

"I'm not as free when I'm my other self." He spoke softly, and everything about him seemed hunched up and sad, like he was trying to curl in on himself.

"I'm surprised you'd want my help."  She sometimes felt inadequate and underprepared for life on her own. "You've seen I can be a bit of a disaster." Their friendship, sparked the night of the Glaciator akuma, had grown strong over the years.

He beamed at her, radiating joy better than anyone she knew, including Adrien. It was seriously unfair. "Oh Marinette," he said, leaning toward her. "You're amazing. You know how to do so many useful things. You've shared food you've made, and I can't even boil water.  I've visited you on laundry day, and I'm terrified I'm going to destroy all my clothes. You're so level-headed; I'm sure you can figure out anything you don't already know. I got overwhelmed by the differing opinions on how to clean the bathroom when I Googled it."

"You poor kitten," she said, careful not to tease too hard. "Of course I'll help. But we may have to call in the big guns if things are beyond me. Okay?"

"Big guns?" he asked, green eyes wide.

"Maman and Papa," she explained.

"Deal."

⁂

The smell of scorched flour filled the kitchen, and Marinette turned from the refrigerator to see Chat hastily yanking a pot off the stove, scowling as he dumped in some water and slammed the lid over the top. He was quieter than normal, and that was usually a bad sign. He braced both hands on the counter near the window and hung his head.

"Chat, are you okay?" It had been his fourth attempt at making a roux, and while he'd gotten farther along, the end result was consistent with his other tries.

"I'm never going to get this," he said softly, as if that would hide the despair. "What am I thinking? I'm never going to survive on my own. I'll have to crawl back to my father a failure."

"Roux is hardly a required staple." She wished she'd picked a different recipe for today.  He'd done well learning to read recipes and measure ingredients. His knife skills were impressive. He still had a lot of techniques to learn, and his self-esteem was terrifyingly awful.

"Name one decent cook who can't make roux," he suggested bitterly.

"Maman can't make roux to save her life," Marinette pointed out.

He looked over his shoulder at her, surprised.

Marinette shrugged. "Papa or I make it if she needs it. It's okay."

He looked out the window, then pushed himself away from the counter. "I'm… not used to being so bad at things, and… I'm usually better... faster at picking up new things."

"You've done very well," she insisted. 

His cheeks went pink and he looked adorably pleased, but sadness lingered in his eyes.

She held out her arms and approached slowly, though she'd never known him to decline affection. He helped close the distance, and was swiftly snuggled against her, his face nestled into her loose shoulder length hair. "You're doing amazingly well. I'm so proud of you." She felt his breath catch, and it hurt that such simple words, things he should hear regularly, had such an impact on him.

⁂

"All right," Chat said, slipping a piece of paper onto Marinette's desk. "Here's my grocery list for the week."

"You're getting good at this," she said, looking it over. He'd jotted down three recipes he would theoretically make for dinner with leftovers for lunches and other nights.  Camembert was right at the very top of the list, as always. "I'm getting you cheese as a housewarming gift."

He snickered. "My uh… miraculous would appreciate that."

She loved hearing him laugh. She'd realized Chat Noir wasn't happy nearly often enough, at least not in his regular life. She pushed her chair back and gestured for him to take over the computer. "Let's see how you do with your shopping."

He navigated to the bookmarks they'd been using for these exercises. He started with the meat department of the grocery store, carefully looking at various cuts of meat and the prices before making his decisions. 

"Why is this one so much less expensive?" he asked, pointing.

"Higher ratio of gristle and cartilage," Marinette answered, giggling at the face he made.  She would have liked to physically take him shopping so he could get a better understanding of the characteristics and qualities of meat and produce, things that were hard to get from pictures. "Not a fan of extra chewy or crunchy bits in your meat?"

He shook his head.

"That's okay. Maman likes tendon, and I do not." She made a face.

"You're cute when you do that," he said, reaching out to lightly boop her nose.  

"Am not."

"Honestly, you're always cute, whether you're making faces or not." He grinned, and turned back to the computer. He added his decisions to the list, with quantity and cost.  Before too long, he hopped to his feet. "Whoop!" He handed her the list and danced over to her chaise. "I'm within budget.  I win."

She checked his work, joy bubbling up in her chest at his success. "You do win," she agreed.

"It's getting easier, like you said it would."

She joined him on the chaise giddy and warm, something he seemed to trigger in her a lot these days. "We all need to learn this somewhere, and I'm glad you picked me to help."

"So am I. He patted his lap.

Arching an eyebrow, she asked, "You want me to sit on your lap, you naughty cat?"

He nearly fell off the chaise in surprise. "Nooooo. I want to play with your hair." He gave a little shrug. "It was relaxing last time."

"Yeah," she agreed.  "It was."  She rested her head on his thigh, sighing happily at the touch of his fingers.

⁂

"Oh wow," Marinette said, looking at the photos accompanying the apartment listing. "It's gorgeous. But it's definitely on the upper end of your budget."

Chat nodded. "I think it's what people expect for my first apartment." His arm had slipped around her when she sat beside him, and his fingertips tightened now in an obvious tell. He didn't want the beautiful flat.

"It doesn't matter what others expect, Chat." She gave him a little side hug. "It's your apartment. What do you want?"

He tapped open one of the other tabs, his smile wistful. "I like this one a lot."

It was much smaller with fewer embellishments, but looked nice. "What do you like about it?" 

"I think it would be cozy, which is something I don't have… where I live now." He scrolled through the pictures. "No balcony. But the large window off the bedroom faces the back alley.  It'll be perfect for slipping in and out as Chat Noir." He opened a tab to a Google Map of Paris and pointed to one of the pins. "Neighborhood is decent, neither snob city nor thug paradise."

She giggled. "You should go see it. Oh!" She slipped out of his hold to fetch a small notebook from the other side of the room. "Papa got this for you." When she sat back down, she wrapped his arm back around her. 

He hummed happily and pressed his face into her hair, bumping his nose against the closer of the twin buns she wore.

She set the notebook on the desk so she could properly hug him. "You're getting distracted," she told his chest.

A laugh mixed with a purr rumbled out of him. "You're not exactly discouraging that." He kissed her forehead and opened the notebook to the first page, finding a list of questions followed by a list of warning signs.

"It's to help you get the information you really need, since none of us can come with you." She'd learned a lot when her papa was working on it.

"Most of my friends are moving away for uni," he said softly. "If I make my place safe for you to visit, would you come?"