A/N: Important Notice: For a while, I've been battling some serious health issues, and it has just hit a low point, lowest been in years. That being said, it's really hard to write right now. Until my health improves, updates (particularly for Ten Years' Time that takes a lot of effort and mind power that I really don't have.) will probably be A) sporadic and B)random. Basically, if I have the energy/ability to write something, I'll write whatever I have the energy for, whether that be a one-shot or a chapter. Thank you for understanding. :)

She always rushed to the balcony the moment she heard the tap. His tap. One he made up to signal that he was there. Not that he needed one specifically for him; he was the only person who would come in via the balcony.

"Kitty!" she cried, tossing the door open and throwing her arms around him.

He let out a soft "oof" of surprise, but he caught her and held her close, giggling softly. "Well, hello to you, too, princess."

"I haven't seen you all week."

He chuckled. "All week, huh?" he teased, even though the way he clung to her proved his words meant nothing. "Poor Princess. I can't imagine what a torture that would be."

"It was," she whined, smirk creeping across her lips.

"I was busy."

"Too busy for me?" she pouted playfully, propping her chin up on his chest.

She regretted her words immediately. "I was out of the country, princess," he whispered. "I couldn't come even if I wanted to. And I wanted to."

She smiled. "Well, you're here now," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "That's all that matters."

His smile made her heart race.

Slowly, his hands came up to cup her cheeks, and she felt them immediately warm. Slowly, he leaned down to press a sweet, lingering kiss to her cheek.

It was perfectly chaste that held a world of meanings and made her body go haywire. How this had all started, she didn't know, nor could she pinpoint just when she had fallen for Chat Noir. It wasn't like she'd ever had to explain to anyone—well, besides her parents, but that was another story—that she somehow ended up dating the superhero of Paris. And he never told anyone about his secret girlfriend he kept "safely tucked away in her tower."

His words, not hers.

"Come in," she invited, her voice strangely weak. "Maman and Papa made cookies for you."

Chat's face lit up, as always when talking about food.

"They missed you, by the way."

"Well, I missed them, too."

"And you can tell them that," Marinette said, walking over to the desk where she'd placed a plate of cookies and a present. "After we're done visiting."

Chat swaggered up to her. "Oh, so this is just a visit." He shot her a wicked smile. "A drop-by and say hi sort of thing? I'm insulted. I thought I was more than that."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she teased, sweet smile on her face as she tilted her head in an attempt to look innocent.

His smile widened. "I don't know. Maybe it was your kisses."

"I am a princess," she said, tilting her chin up. "'Tis a customary greeting."

His eyes glinted dangerously. "So my princess greets every one with a French kiss?" He tsked, shaking his head. "This will not do."

She giggled despite the fact her cheeks were surely as red as Tikki and her stomach held more butterflies than Hawkmoth owned.

With a teasing grin quirking his lips, he snatched a cookie from the plate and took a bite of it. "What's that behind your back, princess?"

She grinned. "A little something that's only given to good and well-behaved kitties."

"I'm plenty well-behaved."

"Oh really?" she said. "The yarn incident?"

"My claws got tangled."

"The flour incident?"

"Again, claws."

"My shirt."

And Chat turned beet red.

Marinette snorted. The comics had it all wrong: superheroes in black leather were the direct opposite thing from entitled, lust-driven cads. Chat may play it up, but in the end, he was genuinely respectful of her.

Even if there was an incident with him tearing the fabric of a shirt he offered to help her make.

She took his red cheeks in his hands, knowing that once he was flustered, he didn't recover quickly. It was an odd sort of quirk of his that she found endearing. "And that's how I knew right then that you're my good kitty."

His smile was bashful. "I try."

"You do," she said, leaning forward so their noses were pressing together. "Which is why I love you and think you're the best superhero in the entirety of Paris."

"Princess," he whined.

"And so chivalrous." She kissed his cheek. "And brave." She kissed his other cheek. "And handsome." She rubbed the tips of their noses together. "Such a handsome kitty."

His cheeks were brilliantly red, and his smile was almost shy. "Well," he said, struggling to get a word out. "I think compared to this one woman I know, I fall pretty short."

"Well, we all know Ladybug is pretty incredible but—"

The way his hands grabbed her hips, tugging her in close made her stop short. "Not Ladybug," he said, his voice low and genuine and dangerous. "I'm talking about another stunningly beautiful, sweethearted, brave, creative girl in pigtails."

"Yeah?" she said, her heart racing and causing her voice to be breathy.

He nodded. "I have a magic gem to help me achieve such greatness. So does Ladybug. This other girl… she doesn't, which makes her pretty spectacular."

She snorted. "Flatterer," she whispered.

"With you?" he returned, the look in his eyes earnest. "Never."

She let herself get lost in that green-eyed gaze for a moment. "You're going to make my gift seem silly."

"It's from you," he quickly said. "Even if it's funny, it's never silly. And always means the world to me."

With a smile, she pulled the small gift out from behind her back. "Happy anniversary."

"We actually have one of those?" he teased.

She chuckled. They had to have, even though neither really knew when it was. They somehow went from the occasional visit to "wait, we're actually dating?" within the span of a year. Neither really knew how it happened, and neither really cared that they never had an official date. For Marinette, she just cared that she got to spend time with her kitty, and she knew that for Chat Noir, some days could go from bad to better with just a smile from her.

And they were comfortable with it just being like that.

He took the box carefully, then sat down on the chaise lounge. She took a seat beside him as he carefully undid the ribbon. He used his claws to cut the tape so he could unfold the paper.

"You know you could just rip the paper off," she said.

"What fun is that?"

She shook her head amusedly.

He removed the paper from the little box, then opened it.

Only to give her a quirked brow.

She smiled, pointing at the gift.

He picked the green cat collar out of the box, looking at the large, round tag. He held it carefully in order to read the engraving. "Chat Noir" the front said.

Marinette's smile widened.

Chat turned it over. "12 Rue Gotlib… Street…" and then he looked at her, his eyes shining with something.

It was clear he was trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle, so she wouldn't leave him wondering. "I just wanted to give you a little something," she said, sliding her hand into his, "to say that we—I love having you here. And I wanted to give you the closest thing to a real, safe home that I can, complete with food, bed, shelter, and people here who love you. You'll always be welcome here."

His eyes were growing watery, that much she could tell. She squeezed his hand.

Suddenly, he launched at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered.

Caringly, she wrapped her arms over his shoulders, letting her fingers tangled in his hair. "You're welcome, Chat Noir."

They stayed like that for a while, both relishing each other's comfort before Chat pulled himself away. He wrapped the collar around his wrist and tightened it to fit, admiring it the way a girl would admire a charm bracelet. "I love it."

"I'm glad."

He smiled back up at her. "I… I got you a little something, too," he said.

"You didn't have to."

"Stupidest line ever."

She grinned as she watched Chat pull a little box out of his pocket. "It's… not quite a collar," he said. "But it is a band."

And then he opened the little box to reveal one of the prettiest rings she'd ever seen in her life. "Chat!"

"Can I please have your left hand?"

She extended it automatically but quickly pulled back before Chat could grab her hand. "Chat, we're seventeen."

He grinned. Not his charming, rouge, signature Chat grin. It was his slightly lopsided, sweet, endearing grin that was a thousand percent genuine and the most attractive thing ever. "I know," he said. "Meaning that this is only a promise ring. A promise that I will be there, always. A promise that I love you, and that you're precious to me. A promise that one day, I'll show you who I am."

Her heart had stopped at his realization, and she thought it unlikely to start again. "I love you."

The words spilled out so quick, she didn't even realize she said them. But his look of mild surprise morphed back into that sweet grin she loved so much. "I love you, too, Marinette."

He could kill her by saying her name like that: loaded with love and meaning.

"May I have your hand?" he asked again.

She gave it without hesitation.

He took it, raising it up to his lips in order to leave a kiss lingering on her knuckles. From there, he took the ring from its box and slid the sapphire-laden, filigree-decorated band onto her ring finger.

It fit criminally well.

And he seemed to think it too. He sighed in relief. "I'm so glad I asked your mom for your ring size."

She blinked a couple times. "You… you…"

His eyes glowed with a warmth that she just wanted to get lost in. "Princess, no way would I just get you a ring and risk freaking out your parents. I respect them far too much. They trust me enough as is to let a guy in black leather come sneaking down into their daughter's room. I don't want to go testing that trust by putting a ring on your finger without telling them."

"They trust you plenty," she assured.

His gaze softened. "Which is why I asked in the first place," he insisted. "They deserve to be warned that I'm not proposing proposing. Yet, anyway," he added quietly. "Still, I was thankful they gave me their blessing."

Her heart felt like it could flutter away in an instant. "Thank you, Chat. It's beautiful."

He grinned and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you think so."

"Even if it wasn't," she said, taking his cheeks in her hands, "it's from you. And that's all that matters to me."

"As is anything you bestow upon me, Princess," he said, cradling her head in his hands.
"But you are the greatest gift I could have."

"Flatterer," she whispered, somehow finding her head getting closer to his.

He chuckled, and she could feel his breath on her lips. "With you," he reverently whispered. "Never."