#whydocowsfall

« I’m sorry but you’re just wrong. »

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, huffing as she pushed herself deeper into the mountain of pillows and stuffed animals on her bed. Any further and she was at risk of disappearing completely, swallowed entirely by the heap of fluff. Chat Noir was lying on his stomach across the other end of the bed, which had become his designated spot at some point during one of his regular nightly visits. Except on this particular night, happy purrs and scratches behind the ears had been ditched in favor of a twitching tails and dissatisfied scowls.

The opened box on the bed between them held a large assortment of freshly baked pastries that Marinette had brought up into her room to serve as late-night snacks for Chat Noir and herself, but instead had turned into a heated argument.

The beginning of the night had started off nicely, with Marinette waiting by her trapdoor for a certain feline hero to show up, just as he did every night. Idle chatter and cuddles had been in order, and although Chat had been denied a greeting kiss, he knew he only had himself to blame for showing up with a horrible pun, and it wasn’t anything he hadn’t planned on making up for later that night. Everything had been peaceful as usual, but things had quickly gone to hell when Chat Noir had spoken the only words that could send his girlfriend on the warpath;

« How can you honestly think that éclairs are the best pastries? » She spat. « They taste so bland! Were you born without taste buds? »

« What else were you going to suggest? » Chat asked back, gesturing widely to the array of pastries in front of them. « It’s either that or macarons! »

« Are you kidding me? » The brunette gasped at the offense. « Macarons are the most overrated pastries of all! What’s next? Are you going to tell me that Paris-Brest’s are better than flan patissier? »

« They are! » The boy defended. « They’re sweeter! »

« Sweeter does not mean better! »

« How can you not agree with that? »

« Um, excuse me? Are you a baker’s daughter? » Marinette’s eyes shot daggers at Chat Noir. « I didn’t think so! So there you go: You wouldn’t know good pastries if they hit you in the face, and the best pastry is the mille-feuilles, end of discussion! »

« Fine. » Chat Noir conceded half-heatedly. « You might have a point. »

He glared down at the single slice of mille-feuilles in the box, the grand winner of their pastry feud. It did look a little more appetizing than the rest, and he knew the Dupain-Cheng’s especially tasted heavenly. But before he could reach out for the cake, Marinette snatched it from the box, and immediately took a large bite of the pastry.

« Hey! » Chat protested, « No fair, let me get some of that as well! »

« Never. » Marinette glared, speaking with her mouth still half full. « You’re a traitor and a man of little faith, you don’t deserve this creamy goodness! » And with that she took the last bite.

Chat Noir huffed, watching the brunette chew smugly on the cake, visibly proud of having won their ridiculous argument. She was so focused on taunting the black cat she hadn’t even noticed the chunk of cream stuck to the corner of her lips. Chat Noir eyed it deviously, knowing that with it came his revenge.

Crawling over to the other side of the bed, Chat quickly leaned into Marinette’s space, taking the girl by surprise, and using that to his advantage as he dipped down and licked the leftover pastry from the corner of her lips. He heard the brunette gasp, eyes wide as she stared at him in shock. Making a point to lick his own lips and give a small moan of appreciation, Chat leaned in again to whisper into Marinette’s ear;

« It seems we were both mistaken, Princess. » He hummed. « I think you’re the sweetest dessert of all. »

When he finally showed mercy and took a step back, Marinette’s face was heavily flushed, her mouth gaping open and close like a fish as she tried to articulate a coherent thought. Chat Noir chuckled, visibly gloating from seeing the girl so flustered.