255 Days Before You Said My Name

[mistkitt]

 Originally Posted: 10/19/16

MariChat Week 2 Day 3: Halloween. FEATURING: Lucky Us.

~*~

Chat Noir
Boo
Just now

Can someone tell me what the point of Halloween is? As if I don’t play enough dress up in my day to day life, now I’m stuck at a costume party.

No offense if you like it, though. It’s just not my thing.

~

Marinette yelped as a gauze-wrapped mummy bumped into her, almost causing her to drop her phone. She glared at them. “Excuse you,” she snapped, then hurried to catch up to Alya, who wore a witch’s hat and a warty nose that Marinette had customized just for her. The club’s Halloween party was in full swing, monsters and undead things of every sort dancing and drinking and flirting the night away. “How long do we have to be here again?”

Alya looped her arm through Marinette’s. “For as long as it takes you to go home with a handsome stranger.” She noticed her best friend’s sour expression and sighed. “Come on, you’ve been single for months. You can’t keep moping around in the bakery.”

“You’re right. I’ll mope around here instead,” Marinette said. But at least she wasn’t the only person having a bad time. She glanced at her phone again and considered telling Chat Noir she’d been forced to go to a costume party too. And dressed as a wraith, no less. Under her many layers of black she was starting to sweat through her clothes.

She collided with someone.

Both of them jerked backwards. “Sorry,” Marinette said, because she was the one at fault that time.

In front of her stood a tall, rogue-ish blonde in some kind of were-beast costume. Pointed black ears sat on top of his head, half his face had been expertly done in black monster makeup that made Marinette’s ball jointed doll face-ups look like crayon drawings, and rather than wear big furry gloves his hands had also been painted to look like real claws. He wore contacts with green sclera and slitted pupils, which would have been alarming anywhere outside of a costume party.

“No, I’m sorry. I was the one who ran into you,” he said.

Marinette held up a hand. She tried to; it was concealed by the long sleeves of her cloak. “Don’t worry about it. That’s a really great costume.“

The stranger’s smile revealed fake fangs. It was uncharacteristically adorable for someone so tall, dark, and handsome, and somewhat familiar, though Marinette couldn’t place it. “Thanks,” he said, “so is yours.”

Marinette excused herself and pushed her way to the crowd to Alya, who’d flagged down a bartender for drinks. “Where were you?” Alya asked.

“Oh, nowhere.”

Marinette hit reply on Chat Noir’s email. Cheer up, sourpuss. Maybe you’ll run into a cute girl.

His response came a few minutes later: Unless she’s wearing spots, I’m not interested.