She heard two stern knocks at the door. It felt like the start of some bad joke. She rehearsed her lines in her head, word for word. Afraid that with one slip up that she would have to tell Ankara and Juleka that Luka lost his life because of her. Because she couldn't make a sacrifice for him.

She touched the doorknob and quickly opened the door. "Welcome home…" she stared at the lanky man in the doorway. Flaxen hair, fedora, emerald eyes, black pinstripe suit, a devious grin. No doubt relishing in the outfit she donned.  

'It's him! This is all my fault! ALL MY FAULT! ALL MY FAULT! Calm yourself! Breath in. Breath out. Panicking is the fastest way to get Luka killed. Get it together Marinette!'

He took a step into the apartment as she struggled to relax herself. The sound of the door closing shocked her back to her senses.

"Welcome home honey!" She beamed as if a flip switched. She then walked behind him sliding her hands forward grabbing the large lapel pulling them towards her. "I hope work went well." She wanted to make sure not to graze his back with anything but her hands. But his frame was larger than she estimated and found her chest pressed into his back as she slid the jacket back.

"I barely took a step through the door and you're already putting your hands on me. Perhaps I misjudged you, Miss Mari." 

He was used to manhandling as his day job was one filled with women that couldn't keep his hands off of him. He detested those women as most expect to gain from him and if not they would cry wolf. They wanted to tarnish his reputation and benefit from his luxuries. He much preferred to take than to give.

She rolled her eyes, a light Mediterranean blue with specks of resentment. But, at what exactly; ChatNoir could only guess. Was it that fact that he was toying with her or was she upset about the harmlessly little nickname that he called her? Possibly both?

"What would you like to eat for dinner?" She asked as she carried his coat to the rack. ChatNoir's mind and eyes were otherwise occupied by Marinette's bareback and small yet refined rear. 

'Why is she not cold?' He asked as she was wearing nothing and he expected a myriad of goosebumps to decorate her snow-white skin. He even selfishly wished that she'd seek warmth within his company. "What is the thermostat set on?" 

"Umm…. seventy-two?"  Marinette replied. As she walked steadily into the kitchen. Preventing tripping by using the counter as a balancing beam as who knows what the monster would do if she ruined his fantasies.

She opened the fridge. Staring at the items. She had to concoct something for this psychopath. She couldn't risk frying anything, not when bare skin is attracted to grease like a mouse with cheese. She wanted something simple to make. She laid her eyes on salmon and she thought adding rice to it would be the easiest result. Forty minutes to cook, an hour at most.

'Cook him dinner. That's the last thing on the list and then Luka will be free.' She bent over fishing for the pan for the salmon in the bottom cabinet.

ChatNoir obtained a small glimpse of her thighs unobstructed by the apron but still could not see. Could not see the ravine he wished to ravish but it was too soon. "What is on the menu for tonight?" He wondered if dragging out the night was worth it since he had already had his eye on a feast that could alleviate his appetite. 

"Citrus roasted salmon and rice." 

He let out a soft chuckle. He found humor in the fact that she wanted to feed a man who called himself a black cat, a type of fish. He would not object to anything she chose as he had never had someone make him a meal just for him. She had no choice in the matter but it still meant a great deal to him.

Marinette held the pan in her hands, staring at him. His laugh was different from the one at La Coccinella. This one sounded genuine. "Do you not like salmon?" She asked as she was lost on why he would snicker.

"I assure you that I will eat anything you make wearing that."

Marnette reached the top half cabinet that was elected as a spice cabinet containing cilantro, red pepper flakes, an unhealthy amount of ramen flavor packets, large kosher salt cylinders, and black pepper to refill the shakers. Thyme and crushed fennel seeds are what she needed to make her meal.

The good thing about being roommates with a practicing Wiccan and inheriting the need for spices was that the spice cabinet was always stocked up. She paused as she reached the middle self as that is where the fennel seeds were shelved. She realized that she didn't have to add spices. She was ordered to make a meal. She didn't have to make a flavorful meal. But her inner chef could not allow that.

She dialed the oven to 218 degrees Celsius. Preheating as she unwrapped the salmon from the freezer paper. She had bought this salmon to make a celebration dinner for Juleka as she was a Pescatarian. She had just got promoted as a manager at Thou Art, a tattoo and piercing parlor. Marinette thought she would just have to buy another one at Bruel & Sons' Butchery. They had such a wonderful selection of meats. Deer, fish, cow, pig, goat, lamb, a large variety of poultry, and sometimes there were these odd treasures to try like crocodile or beaver. 

She placed a non-stick paper down on the pan as she disliked the aftermath of scraping fish scales. Then she washed her hands before handling the fillet. Placing the fillet in the middle of the pan. She washed her hands a second time but this time she started to hum a tune. Something to get her mind off him watching her every moment. Because if she didn't her mind would fixate on the question 'What will he do to him if I don't agree to play housewife?' 

ChatNoir enjoyed watching Marinette in her element. He smirked as she began to hum a classic. 'Sinatra. A woman with taste.' He wondered If this was the closest he would ever get to having marital bliss. A feeling built on betrayal and threats. 

His eyes momentarily locked with hers as she grabbed two lemons and two clementines from the countertop. Lemons in one hand and clementines in the other. Her small hands being able to juggle circular fruits was a talent that he was very glad she had. He reached out his hand only to instantly retreat it. He wanted to kiss those lips, to touch the body that taunted him so. But he did not want her to run, not when she was building a false sense of security. 

ChatNoir sang as he could not pass up the opportunity to flaunt his voice."Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore. You are all I long for. All I worship and adore." 

As a child, he had tried to use his talent to communicate with animals in the park. Most child vocalists lose their talents but puberty only improved his voice as he went from a soprano to an alto. A talent that his mother insisted he harness but his father preferred him to pursue an interest that was not dependent on his youth. A hypocritical statement as his current career was fully dependent on his youth. 

"It's impolite not to finish the verse." He added as she only hummed the next part as she prepared the rice. Washing and draining until the water ran clear.

She halted debating whether to give the man what he strived for. "...In other words, please be true…..In other words, …..I love you." She sang softly. 

Her voice was soft, delicate, and sweet. Exactly what he imagined the protagonist of Gaston Leroux's legendary novel to sound like. A voice of an Angel. This comparison would make him the monster that lurked in the shadows. One of disfigurement but, the only thing twisted was his heart. 

"You have a beautiful voice, little lark." 

"I inherited it from my mother." She added thinking that if she humanized herself, he wouldn't harm her or Luka. "Both my parents sang when they baked. I don't mean to brag but they ran the best bakery in Paris."

 She placed a lid onto the rice and turned to her capture and attempted to get on his good side as she waited for the little white cat timer to ring. "And you're not too bad of a singer yourself, Monsieur Noir."

He stared at her long legs as she leaned her back onto the counter. She was trying to release some of her weight off her feet. She would rather lean on the counter than sit next to a masked madman. 

"Compliments are key to favors, ma chérie."

"What type of favors?" She asked, thinking that maybe this was the plan of action to pursue.

"Depends on what kind of wine you have in your possession."

"Cheap wine." She replied as Juleka and her chipped in and bought wine here and there. A wine that a man of ChatNoir's status would turn his nose up at.

"Do you have whiskey or bourbon?" 

"I think so.." She leaned forward to search underneath the island as that's where Luka stored his liquor that the Red Dragon girls would buy him as a thank you.

ChatNoir stretched his neck, wanting an unobstructed view of Marinette. Her head was hidden momentarily before holding up a half-empty bottle of Kentucky bourbon. It was the one that Marinette liked as the others were too strong or needed to be mixed with soda. 

"Dinner and a drink, this date is going better than I expected." 

"You could have asked me out like a normal person but no-" She said, pouring him a nice glass of bourbon. Marinette stopped herself before she unleashed her frustrations.

"Although I would have loved to see you in a cocktail dress, I much prefer you in this. The public isn't a fan of public nudity." He sighed before he said a comment that caused Marinette to knock over the bottle. "However, it was hard to decide if I wanted you to be handcuffed. But handcuffs are quite intimate. Don't you think so?" 

She scrambled to clean up her mess as he sipped calmly on his drink. "Ass…." She mumbled under her breath. As he was equally at fault for this spill as Marinette was.

"Are you forgetting our deal?"

"Dinner... This is all because I agreed to DINNER?" 

"I understand your distress but a deal is a deal, Miss Mari. And only fools break arrangements with me."  

"I didn't break any arrangements dumbass because we didn't fucking make any! So, I don't know why the hell you would abduct Luka. Unless you're a fucking psychopath!" 

ChatNoir found her outburst quite cute. Reminding him of how she had grabbed him by the collar when he insulted her height. "Pardon me for thinking for myself but I did not think you would play house with me willingly."

A game he had disdain for as a child. Now as an adult he quite liked to play house especially now that he had Marinette as his playmate. Her dark hair clipped haphazardly, her eyes shooting dangers, the way she bit the inside of her cheek. He valued the short time in which she had her hands on him and wondered how far she would go to insure Luka Couffaine's safety.

"So, this is just what? Roleplay?" 

"So, what if it is?" He felt a cat rub against his legs. Finding it cute that he had a soft spot for felines but he lacked the knowledge that that cat was not here's.

"If you want a wife, I'm sure there's some hooker or something you can hire to play the part."

"Don't ruin the fun before it starts."

"Fun? Do you call this fun?! This isn't okay! I am a human being, so is Luka. You just admitted that I wouldn't be doing this if you weren't holding him ransom."

"Shall I consider this our first fight as a married couple?" He asked as she was trying to appeal to emotions that he buried long ago. She wasn't the first and would probably not be the last to try to change him. Women tried so hard yet failed to realize that he enjoyed being the embodiment of chaos.

RING! RING! RING! ChatNoir was saved by the little timer. Signaling that an awkward dinner was about to commence.