“Hello, Paris! Alec Cataldi here at Le Grand Paris for the annual Agreste Foundation charity dinner. This has brought out the big guns as usual, but tonight there is a twist: a very special mystery celebrity chef. Rumor has it that Cheng Si-Fu is back in the kitchen preparing his award-winning Celestial Soup, but we’re unable to confirm that. I’ll be trying to get back in the kitchen all night to get you the details! In the meantime, here is Clara Nightingale coming down the red carpet…”

“Marinette, you are such a life-saver,” Alya said. “Mom usually has me help out in the kitchen for these, but the last one was so busy that I figured bringing you along wouldn’t hurt. Plus, working with friends makes work better, right? It’s a shame you couldn’t bring Adrien along… what did he have again?”

Marinette shook her head. “Alya, this whole event is for the Agreste Foundation. He’s probably here, out schmoozing celebrities or doing something that requires him to have a fake smile plastered on his face the entire evening. Besides, at least I have kitchen skills so I can be of some help… I’m still not sure Adrien’s done anything in a kitchen his entire life!” She leaned closer to her friend and lowered her voice. “But anyway… speaking of kitchen help, did your mom have the inside scoop on who the guest celebrity chef is?”

“Nope… girl, you have no idea how hard I tried to get it out of her, but she wasn’t budging. She did say it was someone who I would be interested in, which only limits it to about two hundred…”

Marinette smiled to herself. She had a very good idea how hard Alya tried to get information out of her mother, having been on the receiving end of Alya’s interrogations herself on more than one occasion. She listened to her friend list possibilities while reviewing the events of the past week to herself. The Agreste Foundation had reached out to Ladybug discreetly through Chloe Bourgeois -- and who would have thought discreet and Chloe would ever be mentioned in the same breath -- to see if she would be willing to be the celebrity chef. Ladybug had no desire to be in the spotlight. She was a normal girl -- nearing the end of high school, mind you -- with a normal, private, life. With Hawk Moth’s defeat and identity sharing between Ladybug and Chat, Marinette had finally locked Adrien down and was making up for a lot of lost time. Her boyfriend had enough high-profile engagements for the both of them, anyway.

“OK, everybody, gather ‘round!” Marlena Césaire called from the front of the kitchen. “First off, thank you all for your help prepping and getting things ready. Our volunteer helpers will be runners for the sous-chefs. Our celebrity guest will float from station to station, helping out here and there, but they are mostly here for show. And speaking of,” she checked her watch and frowned, “they should have been here by now.”

The back door to the kitchen burst open. “Hey! Sorry I’m late! I had something else to take care of first. I hope we can turn this half-baked idea into something well done.”

Marinette slapped her hand to her forehead and slowly dragged it down her face. Alya squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet...

...and Chat Noir stood by the door to the kitchen with a very large grin on his face.

“Chat Noir, we’ll be starting everyone off with soup as an appetizer,” Marlena said, leading the black-clad hero over to the soup station. “Why don’t you fill some of these bowls with soup and you can make your grand entrance into the dining room as our guest chef.”

Chat put a white chef’s coat on and settled a toque over his costume ears. “I soupçon* this will go pretty easy. After all, cats have excellent balance!” A sous-chef set a serving tray down next to the soup station and arranged five bowls on the tray. Chat stuck a ladle in the hot pot of soup, brought his nose to the simmering liquid, and took a hearty whiff. “What is this soup, again?” he asked.

“Bouillabaisse,” another sous-chef responded.

“Gesundheit!” Chat said, smiling ear to ear. He looked around the room, but the only reaction he saw was Marinette rubbing her face with both hands, the glimpse of a barely-restrained smile peeking out from the side of her mouth.

“Um, Mr. Noir, the soup!” Marlena ran forward and grabbed the ladle from Chat’s hand. In his enthusiasm to see if anyone had gotten his joke, he had tilted the pot of soup, causing it to begin to spill all over the station and the floor.

“Oh, sorry!” Chat jumped, bumping the tray with the bowls on it. The cook in charge of the soup station grabbed and steadied the tray, the clinking of the bowls barely masking the obscenities she was muttering under her breath.

“It’s OK… Alya, can you grab a mop bucket and swab this up real quick, please? Bernice, fill the soup bowls and hand the tray to our guest,” Marlena snapped. She was in full chef-in-the-middle-of-dinner-service mode, barking orders to resolve any perceived bottleneck.

Chat picked up the full tray and carefully made his way to the kitchen door, led by one of the waitstaff. Marinette heard the door open, followed by gasps and a loud round of applause. Alya returned from mopping the floor, and Marinette grumbled, “I hope he isn’t like this all evening.”

“Girl, what’s the big deal? It’s Chat Noir. It’s probably his first time in a kitchen. He’ll get the hang of it. Besides, my mom’s a pro. I’m sure she’s seen worse! Anyway, how bad can it get? Worse than the one time he visited your bakery and accidentally knocked over a display of croissants?”

Marinette sighed and looked at her best friend. “I hope you didn’t just curse us by asking that. Because with him, the answer is ‘very’.”

When Chat returned from visiting all the tables and greeting the diners, Marinette cornered him. “Listen, you, we are here for charity, so please try to not mess anything else up!”

“Hey, Bug,” Chat grinned. “It’s not my fault you agreed to help Alya before we were asked to come do this.” He put his hand on his chest. “I’m the best we’ve got right now!” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll make it up to you after we get out of here. Promise.” He blew a kiss at her.

“You better,” she grinned, before booping his nose.

“There you are, Marinette,” Marlena said, swooping in. “Can you and Chat Noir come help with plating the main dishes, please?”

“Yes, chef!” Chat called, following Mrs. Césaire to the plating area. He shot Marinette a glance over his shoulder and blew a raspberry, earning himself another shake of the head from his girlfriend.

At the plating area, an array of warm plates were set out, each with a grilled steak, homemade garlic-and-parsley mashed potatoes, and some roasted asparagus.

“Mmm… this looks delicious. I’d steak one of my nine lives on this tasting absolutely fantastic.” He looked around again to see if anyone would react. He shrugged and turned back to Marlena.

“Anyway… take this Hollandaise sauce and put a small ladle-full over the asparagus. Be very careful this time, OK?” She indicated the bowl and small ladle, and wrung her hands as Chat began to spoon the yellow emulsion over the vegetable.

Alya took the opportunity to sidle up to the busy superhero and ask, “So, Chat Noir, it looks like you’re getting a little close with Miss Marinette over here… I’ll have you know she’s spoken for! In fact, her boyfriend is probably out there schmoozing people right now! And besides,” she narrowed her eyes, “what would Ladybug have to say about that?” Alya smirked.

“Now, now, you’re tempting fate interrupting greatness here,” Chat chided her. He replaced the ladle in the bowl of Hollandaise and folded his arms across his chest. “How could anybody resist being friends with Marinette? She’s pretty magical, don’t you agree?” Behind him, Marinette slipped on a puddle of nothing and went careening underneath a prep table.

“Whoa… easy there, little lady!” Chat offered his hand, which Marinette begrudgingly took. He helped her to her feet and began dusting her off, only stopping when she gave him a Look.

“Later,” she hissed.

In an exaggerated show of surrender, Chat held his hands up and backed away, bumping a full plate off of the table and onto the floor, where it shattered, sending food and ceramic shards everywhere.

“Um… three-second rule? Anyone?” Chat said sheepishly.

Alya looked over Chat’s shoulder and was glad that, for once, she wasn’t the target of her mother’s death-glare. “I’ll get the mop,” she volunteered, and hustled away to the sink.

Chat finished his duties of the evening in relative quiet, having been banished from the kitchen in favor of making a quick speech thanking the guests for coming.

“He won’t do any more damage out there,” Marlena muttered. “Now, when he’s done, get him in here scrubbing dishes.” The sous-chef she addressed quailed as Marlena’s voice raised. “I don’t care if he’s the celebrity chef or guest or whatever you want to call him -- he’s been a walking disaster and he’s going to get treated just like any of the other walking disasters I’ve turned into passable kitchen help! Just look at Sam over there -- she could barely remember to shut off the water to the soup pots when she started, and now she’s almost ready to run a kitchen of her own!” Chat walked into the kitchen and started scanning the room. “You know what -- nevermind, I’ll tell him myself!” Marlena stalked over to Chat Noir. “You looking for something to do? Dishwasher is right over there.” She jabbed her thumb toward the corner of the room.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can help with? Dessert? You don’t have too much on your plate, do you?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Dishes. Now. And if you break or spill anything else, I’ll have your hide!” Marlena said, eye twitching.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chat said, slumping. His costume tail dragged on the ground as he trudged away to the corner where Marinette and Alya were filling a sink with hot, soapy water. The girls were chattering away over something, but Chat couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. He frowned and put a stack of dishes into the sink, then began slowly scrubbing one before dunking it into another sink full of hot water. As he reached in the sink to get another dish to scrub, inspiration struck and he took a double-handful of bubbles, slicking his hair until a large mohawk stood up. With superhuman speed, he grabbed two more handfuls and gave Alya some bubble earmuffs. Before Alya could react, Chat had grabbed another handful and turned his attention to Marinette, who received a full-on soap bubble face mask.

“You little…” Alya fumed, grabbing the hose attached to the sink and spraying Chat.

“Hey! Ow! Stop!” Chat yelled, taking an armful of bubbles and throwing them at Alya.

Marinette, caught in the crossfire, was becoming a soapy, drenched mess. “STOP IT!” she roared, shocking her boyfriend and best friend into stillness. “You know what? I have HAD. IT. I came here to do something nice, as a favor for a couple of friends, and here I am having to fix everything again!” She planted her hands on her hips and looked from Chat to Alya, tapping her foot.

“Sorry, Mari,” Alya said, blushing.

“...Well?” Marinette demanded of Chat.

“Um… Cataclysm?” Chat offered. He picked up a spoon, disintegrating it.

Marinette rolled her eyes and stomped out the back door. Seconds later, a swarm of magical ladybugs flew through the kitchen, restoring the spoon and cleaning up the sloppy mess that Alya and Chat had made with their water fight. Marinette, now dry, stomped in the back door, poked her finger in Chat’s chest, and said “This isn’t over. It’s a shame the dishes didn’t get cleaned up with everything else, huh?” She took off her apron, tossed it on the floor, and left the kitchen, grabbing a cookie from a dessert tray on her way out.

“What was that all about?” Alya demanded.

Chat simply shrugged his shoulders and started scrubbing dishes. “C’mon. I’ll wash, you dry.”

* soupçon: (v.) suspect. Pronounced roughly like “soup’s on”