Home

Homes change, some sooner than others. Sometimes it takes a while to realize that it has.

The more Adrien left his house, the more he saw that it wasn't a home.

Oh, don't get him wrong, he did like the people in there. Nathalie could be cold and distant, but that was really only when she was working. Adrien didn't really know about her personal life, but the two were friendly acquaintances. He knew she had a few betta fish at her own home and that they were kept in separate rooms. He knew that her favorite color was purple, and that her favorite food was a breakfast pastry from the Dupain-Chengs bakery.

Adrien didn't know much about the Gorilla, other than that his real name was Louis and that he was protective of Adrien for more reasons other than it being his job. The two got along nicely.

The gardener at his house was, frankly, a bit of an oddball. He was an older man who talked to the plants like they talked back. Still, Adrien enjoyed speaking to him when he got the chance. There were some great stories the old man told, and it was worth the sweat and sore knees from working in the garden with him to get to hear the tales.

The cooks were harried, disgruntled people, but they still made time for Adrien whenever he wanted to try to learn to cook something. He improved vastly from their teachings – he was now able to make some pretty decent mac and cheese without burning the water. (The American chef his father had hired had stared at the pot in confusion, awe, and hilarity when Adrien did that for the first time. She had burst out laughing and offered to show him the ropes whenever their schedules allowed.) His favorite thing to make, however, was bread. Something about kneading the dough was just… soothing.

The maids were also kind to him – he tended to not leave much of a mess at all. Even when his cat tendencies kicked in (a result of the Miraculous he possessed), the maids were usually more amused than anything at his antics. They were a little difficult to talk to, on occasion – the mansion was huge, they were few, and only one of them spoke fluent French – but Adrien always made sure to thank them whenever he saw one.

Even still, he didn't count any of the staff as friends. They were acquaintances and were paid to run the various tasks in the mansion; dealing with the son of the owner was probably a given, though he did appreciate the kindness. But even then, the staff went home, back to families and fish and other things. The manor was quiet then. Too quiet.

Adrien could still remember when it wasn't ever too quiet, when heel clicks could be heard echoing around the house, when laughter wasn't as rare and warmth suffused most every room. It wasn't that long ago, but his memories are like water: the more he tries to hold on to them, the more they slip through his fingers. Photo albums help, but they can't replicate her laughter, the sound of her shoes or feet slapping against the floors or dirt outside.

The more the memories slip away, the less the manor feels like home. The less welcoming the place feels, the more he tries to find every reason to leave.

The reasons are small, at first. He wanted to hang with his friends at lunch, so he starts packing the meals in a bag the American chef had given him with a knowing look. He wanted to go for a walk (yes, the Gorilla could come with him). He wanted to watch the sunset; he'd be on the roof for a bit. He had a group project with Nino, Alya, and Marinette and the last one mentioned had to watch the bakery for a bit while her parents ran errands.

Nathalie reminded him of some events he had scheduled on the same day, but never denied him, simply saying what time the Gorilla would be by to pick him up. (That is, if he hadn't been late or missed anything. He figured his Lady's luck was helping him in some cases, as he usually managed to show up on time or, at the very least, only a few minutes late – nothing enough to warrant any concerns.)

Then the reasons became bigger. They got invested in the project and it's too late for him to walk home, don't waste the gas he'll just get up early tomorrow and walk when the sun's up (Nathalie's not pleased, but relents as Mr. Agreste is out of the country and only needs to know his son is safe). It's Nino's birthday and Adrien wants to celebrate with his friend now that he doesn't have to host. They're just going to play video games and maybe watch a movie (he just has to show up on time to the photo shoot the next day). An akuma attack happened and he couldn't leave and he wants to make sure Alya's okay since she always gets too close to the victims (an understanding tone as Nathalie tells him that he has fencing practice the next morning). Marinette's parents needed help in the bakery, and he had some knowledge of the practice and offered assistance; the Dupain-Chengs then insisted he stay for dinner and that it was too late for him to go home and they have a couch he could sleep on (this time, a hint of amusement was in Nathalie's voice).

And that was just as a civilian. Whenever those excuses couldn't – didn't – come up, Chat Noir could always, always use the excuse of needed to stretch my legs, my Lady, and figured that Paris could use a pair of eyes while I'm at it.

He'd gotten a little bit of a rep in doing so; he'd stop by hopeless places and try to give a little bit back. Children in hospitals delighted in a visit from Chat Noir, and he made sure to visit all those he could. He played with them and told them stories, whether they be ones his mother had told him or watered down versions of his and Ladybug's adventures or even him making things up as he went. He let them pet his hair, eliciting a playful but genuine purr, and ring his bell. He showed them his staff, if prompted, but never really used any of the features except maybe to take a few pictures with them. (He looked at them sometimes, usually while he was waiting for the official patrol time and for Ladybug to show up for it. They always made him grin.)

Small businesses came to appreciate Chat Noir as well. Crime had gone down since the appearance of the two heroes, but that didn't mean it didn't exist. Chat always sent a message to Ladybug before going against any robbers, just in case, but ordinary criminals had nothing on akuma victims. Chat could probably say he had favors from at least a quarter of the shops in Paris he could cash in on (not that he ever really planned to).

Chat sat on one of the beams of the Eiffel Tower, looking over part of the city. He felt a tinge of pride, knowing that he wasn't really useless. Sure, Ladybug did do a lot (if not all) of the work in defeating akumas, but there were some things Chat could claim he did on his own.

The more he thought about these, the more he realized that his house wasn't really a home to him anymore. He was a little sad – he had grown up in the manor, and some of his best memories were there – but he accepted it. It was coming, he had known, and so he dealt with it.

But when Ladybug strolled in and called him "alley cat" teasingly, he had to wonder if he really was a stray.

His answer came to him a lot sooner than he thought as he, Marinette, Alya, and Nino all ganged together to do a group project. They went to Marinette's home and worked in the small living space above the bakery, Nino making jokes as he ran across various things in their books and Alya retorting. Marinette laughed along and quipped sarcastically when the opportunity arose and groaned when Adrien chimed in with a pun.

He smiled as warmth suffused into him.

No strays here, he thought as Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng entered the room for a brief moment and teased the kids, resulting in three different protests and one large smile, at least, not anymore.