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The first clap of thunder pulled Marinette free of a dream involving dancing macarons and jostled her awake. The second shook the entire building.
Rubbing her eyes, Marinette turned on the lamp on her bedside table. “You awake?” she whispered to her partner.
The only response was a low moan; Kim had pulled the covers over his head.
Marinette burrowed in beside him, tucking the blankets down behind her so that the light from the lightning flashes wouldn’t get in. “Storms, huh?” she asked gently.
Another moan. “When I was a kid, a big branch came through our roof right above my bed during a storm like this.” Kim shivered. “It could have killed me if I wasn’t spending the night at my friend’s house.”
Marinette took a deep breath. Kim’s fear represented a minor childhood trauma, and that meant she needed to tread lightly. “Does it help to know we’re on the ground floor?” She threw an arm over Kim’s broad back and squeezed as much of him as she could reach.
“A little,” Kim whispered. He moaned again as a fresh flash of lightning illuminated their bedroom so brightly that they could see it through the blankets. “I know it’s silly.”
Marinette squeezed him again. “You’re scared, and that’s real. What do you usually do during storms?”
Kim shrugged. “Hide and wait it out, I guess.”
“That’s a start.” Marinette was already in plan-making mode, and plan-making Marinette was halfway to Ladybug. “What we really need is a distraction.”
Outside in the rain-drenched darkness, a dog began to howl. Marinette wriggled out from under the blankets, located her phone, and checked the weather forecast.
“It should be past us in an hour,” she reported.
“Good,” said Kim, breathing shallowly. “That’s good. Okay. An hour.”
“That’s right.” Marinette rubbed circles into his back. “Can you breathe with me, love? Nice and slow.”
Gradually, the ragged sound of Kim’s breaths evened out.
“Good,” said Marinette, thinking quickly. “What should we do this summer? My internship will be over and you’ll be out of school, so we’ll have time.”
Another earth-shaking clap of thunder made the bottle of anti-anxiety pills on Marinette’s nightstand rattle. The lamp went out.
Kim felt for Marinette’s hand, then gripped it like a shipwrecked man clinging to a floating piece of debris. “We should… uh…” He was shaking.
“What about a road trip?” Marinette suggested. She squeezed Kim’s hand.
“We don’t have a car.”
“We’ll rent one,” said Marinette blithely. “I’ll get a map and plan our route, and you’ll make sure we have enough snacks and a decent playlist. Those are critical for a good road trip. And we’ll take turns driving. What snacks would you pack?”
Kim, under the mound of blankets, considered this as outside rain dashed against the windows and trees bent nearly double. “Corn chips,” he said. “Stuff from your parents’ place, obviously, but we’d also want chips and licorice and maybe sandwich fixings if I had a little ice chest. And beer, for when we get where we’re going.”
Marinette was smiling. Kim already sounded more like himself. “Why licorice? We both hate it.”
Kim shrugged. “It’s easy to chew when you’re driving, and my mother always said it helped with carsickness.”
Marinette worked her hand free of Kim’s, kissed the part of the blanket pile that was directly above his head, and said, “How about a cup of tea? I bet we can rig up a blanket fort for you to drink it in.”
She heard a soft exhale from Kim. “Tea would be amazing, Marinette. You’re amazing.”
Marinette pressed another kiss into the blanket mound. “I know,” she said, and set off for the kitchen.
The storm was easy to watch through the kitchen windows. It seemed like the power was out for the entire block, but Marinette and Kim’s apartment had a gas stove. While she waited for the water to boil, Marinette looked outside.
Little eddies of garbage and dead leaves swirled in the gutter, and nothing alive, person or animal, could be seen. The wind made sounds that reminded one of an injured beast. The dreadful moan of the storm rattled Marinette to the bone. Standing alone in the kitchen, far from the comfort and safety of her bed, Kim’s fear seemed almost rational.
Tikki let out a low whistle. “Your street will be a mess after this passes,” she said.
Another flash of lightning lit up the kitchen. This time the thunder was a few moments behind.
“Soon,” said Marinette, tearing herself away from the window and pouring hot water over two teabags. They wouldn’t be the best cups of tea she’d ever made, but Marinette figured it was pretty good for someone working in near-complete darkness. Her phone said it was 4:57 a.m.
Back in the bedroom, Kim had done an admirable job of rigging up a blanket fort for someone unwilling to come out from under the blankets at any point in the process. Setting the two mugs of tea on the nightstand to steep, Marinette tied knots and pulled things taught until the storm would have had to come in and blow as hard as it could before the fort would fall down.
“It’s perfect,” said Kim, barely flinching at the next clap of thunder.
“I agree,” said Marinette, cuddling up to his side and kissing his temple. “You’re perfect, so the fort is perfect as long as you’re in it.”
Kim groaned. “Chat Noir’s rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe. But you know you love it.” Marinette kissed him again, lingering this time.
“I do.” Kim licked his lips. “You know what?”
Marinette yawned. With her head on his chest, she could feel Kim’s heartbeat. “What, love?”
She heard the grin in Kim’s voice. “We were just talking about road trip snacks, and it got me thinking. Isn’t there a package of chocolate cookies in the cupboard? They’re good with tea.”
Marinette couldn’t hold back a laugh. The storm was passing, and all was well. “I’ll check.”