During the late days of spring and early days of fall, Chat Noir knew he could count on one thing during his days for solo patrol.

Like clockwork, Marinette Dupain-Cheng would be out on her balcony, sketching.

Without fail.

It was almost as if she knew his schedule. Almost.

But what had begun as a chance occurrence in his earliest days as a secret superhero, had forever altered his solo route for the better. He could look forward to see at least one friendly face, even on the lonelier days of his teenage years.

Chat Noir smiled as he raced the rooftops, drawn ever closer. He had been lucky enough to see these visits lasting year after year, through the days that he and his friends all graduated and headed to different Universities throughout Paris.

He'd taken to running past her house early on in his patrol. At times, when it was seasonable enough for her to sit outside without her heavy coat, she would water the plants. When it was chilly, she might be up with a mug of tea or hot cocoa.

And sometimes she'd even have a second mug at the ready, as if she were waiting up there, just for him.

It was a heady feeling. He was usually the one doing all the waiting.

It hadn't taken long for the habit of visiting Marinette to stick. Even if it was just a few minute chat, she was quick with the occasional quip and a smile that left him delighted.

He would spend the rest of each patrol marvelling at how his friend was so at ease with him as a superhero, while it had taken her a little while to warm up to him as a civilian.

On both sides of the mask, he was well aware of Marinette's career goals. She had been talented when she was young, and time had only sharpened her skills. She had a keen eye, and any number of clever tricks up her sleeves in terms of her designs.

As a model from a very young age, he had never paid the design portion much mind. He knew the feel of materials, but the shapes and the lines, the drape of the fabric had all been little more than obscure notions, until he heard Marinette joyously prattling on. Until he saw just how lively and animated Marinette grew in describing her designs.

Until she'd shown them to him, page after page, joy and pride clear in her eyes.

He couldn't exactly recall when he started to bring her new sketchbooks. But he noticed her drawings tended to get a bit smaller as she was just about to run out of space in her current one.

The expense was hardly worth the mention, and she had been so pleased with his gesture that first time he'd timidly handed it to her.

But the radiant smile lit up her entire face against the soft glow of the lanterns. That alone had him keeping up the act for the past five years at least.

Chat Noir landed on the balcony with a flip and a flourish, hoping to inspire at least a mildly amused eye roll.

To his surprise, she wasn't there waiting.

But her books were and her mug had been.

It had happened once or twice before, when she had been a little under the weather or when her parents needed an extra hand.

He stalked forward with a grin, sipping his cocoa from the second mug, the steam from the thermos slightly condensed on the sides.

Wherever she'd gone, she'd left her pile of sketchbooks out on her lounger.

To be honest, he was an extremely an curious cat.

Marinette had diligently shown him nearly every page, but there was one sketchbook -the one with a blue leather cover he had bought for her years ago - that she recently kept banded shut whenever he stopped in.

His eyes had followed her hands with interest and thinly veiled disappointment about missing out on the secrets contained inside, as she would tuck the sketchbook beneath the chair.

Out of sight, but never entirely out of mind.

Chat cocked his head, his ear seeking out any sign of sound from the room below.

Satisfied with the silence, he grinned, gloved finger pads carefully skimming along the cover. His claws oh-so-slowly slid the band free, opening up to the first page as his tail whipped in the air behind him.

On the very first page was a suit, double-breasted and slim fitting in multiple views. The sketch work was messy with notes on color possibilities and shape all along the side margins. But that made sense, much of her first few pages were drafts, with cleaned up works following once she'd firmed up her design decisions. A few pink Post-it notes were scattered throughout, with later design additions.

He could see her pick up better concepts for the lines she'd wanted to use over the next few pages.

It was only a few pages in when she'd added some color on top of the design itself.

She opted for black with green accents throughout, which suited his vanity - and his own looks.

Not that he had any idea what this secret project was truly for. Surely she had some sort of big collection to develop for class.

He blinked, carefully pulling back the next page.

A truly lovely dress, with a clear preference for a form-fitting mermaid shape that billowed out onto the ground.

It was a formal dress for sure. He knew women didn't tend to wear such long dresses casually. They were too bulky, too hard to maneuver in.

His eyes widened when he'd spotted - after a few blank pages - the veil.

The theme was becoming fairly clear.

His attention was rapt, never more curious to see what would come of the detailed work.

The margins were full of accessories, ribbons and silks. They sparked splashes of color the onto the page.

Engrossed with the increasing detail, he was surprised when he found his own face staring back up at him when he turned the page.

She had a magazine clipping from one of his more recent shoots, the thick photostock paper clipped onto place atop the page with notes in the margin on his eyes and complexion.

And a short list of the colors that would suit him the best.

Gaping, he blinked, dropping the sketchbook onto a messy pile onto her chair, jostled loose a few of the inserted notes pages in the process.

Panicked, Chat shook his head, stilling the mild tremble in his own hands. Quieting the heavy rush of blood that thudded so loudly it felt like a drumbeat to his super-powered ears.

Chat Noir hastily tucked everything back into place, tugging the band around the book and setting it carefully back where he had found it.

His eyes glancing back downstairs wildly.

Waiting, watching for his friend to appear.

Daring her to.

The blush burning like brand on his cheeks made the decision for him.

He had far, far too many more questions than answers.

But Marinette had always been far too observant. If she were to notice him so off balance, she would be asking him questions, instead of the other way around.

So he bounded off into the night, holding on to whatever composure he could grasp in his claws.

Unsure if sleep would come to him tonight.

But if it did, Chat knew what he would see in his dreams.