Chapter 1: Making the Bed Together
“Chaton, I can’t make the bed if you’re in it.” Marinette said, a hand on her hip as she glowered down at her partner. The sunlight streaming in through the window behind her cast a long shadow on the bed they shared together.
“Just… just five more minutes, Princess…” Adrien groaned, rolling over and wrapping the covers around him in a blanket burrito. “Then I’ll be up…”
Marinette sighed, letting out a tiny giggle underneath his breath. She hated to have to get her boyfriend up - it was a Saturday, they had nowhere to be, and he was so cute when he was sleepy. His blond locks were messed up in a way that reminded her just a little of his alter ego, and the sleepy smile on his face made her consider getting back into bed with him, even if for just a little bit.
But she couldn’t. It was ten in the morning, and, thanks to a poorly-timed phone call from her mother, she’d been up for four hours already. On the plus side, she had a box of fresh pastries on the kitchen counter, and she’d made some headway on the sack of romance novels Rose had left outside their door the other day.
On the other hand, she had to deal with a sleepy kitty who refused to get out of bed. Years of early mornings thanks to his strict daily regimen had finally taken their toll on him, and now he took every chance to sleep in that he could. (They still weren’t many, mind you, given that he was student teaching this semester and would be up before her on most days simply out of obligation even if he wasn’t.)
She didn’t want to take this from Adrien, but kwamis be damned, she was having a productive day and wasn’t about to let him ruin it with his feline behavior.
Marinette knelt down on the edge of the bed, and shook Adrien’s shoulder gently, trying to get him to stir. Failing that, she took the pillow from her side of the bed, and, with all her strength, whacked him with it, right in the small of his back.
That got Adrien’s attention. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms out overhead as he turned to look over at Marinette. Upon seeing the pillow in her hands, the sleepy smile on his lips began to give way to a smirk. “If-” he began, interrupted by a yawn, “If you wanted to have a pillow fight, my lady, you should’ve just told me.”
Merde. That was not what she had in mind at all. Before she could protest, Adrien had pounced on the nearest pillow - his - and was holding it in both hands, ready to strike. He swung, hitting her square in the face.
Marinette furrowed her brow, narrowing her eyes at him. He wiggled his eyebrows in respsonse, that cocky Chat smirk on his face growing even larger. Making the bed could wait. It was on.
She picked up her fluffy weapon and returned the blow. No way was she going to let him win, not in a million years. Before Adrien could strike again, she rolled back off the mattress and onto the carpeted floor, pushing herself up to her feet and sprinting halfway across the bedroom.
“Ow…” Adrien said, rubbing a red spot on his cheek where she had hit him. “You hit hard, bugaboo.”
“Aww…” Marinette teased, perching herself on top of the stool at their vanity. “My poor kitty can dish it out, but he can’t take it. What a shame.”
“I never-” Adrien started, his grin only growing wider. The blond shook his head, crawling backwards on the bed in preparation for exactly what Marinette hoped he might do. In an instant, he sprang forward and launched himself into the air toward his partner, the pillow held in front of him to cushion his landing even if it didn’t hit its intended target.
In response, Marinette ducked out of the way, launching into a series of one-armed handsprings across the bedroom that would make any gymnast envious. Adrien followed her, and she gave him a smirk before dashing down the hallway, her pillow held to her chest.
“Catch me if you can, kitty!” she called, looking back over her shoulder and winking at him. It was a challenge, and one he was sure to accept if she knew him - and she did know him, better than the back of her own hand sometimes.
“You are quite the catch, buginette!” came the response from behind her, only a few seconds later. She hung a right into their living room, carefully dodging the toys that were still strewn about the floor from Manon’s visit the night before.
She had almost made it through all of them when she felt something underneath her foot that definitely wasn’t the carpet, and began to tip forward as a result. As she felt the all-too-familiar sensation of her balance beginning to leave her, she braced herself for impact, holding her pillow out in front of her.
Much to her surprise, though, she never quite reached the ground, instead being suspended in mid-air, only centimeters away from being face-to-face with the Chat Noir doll that had caused her downfall.
She felt the familiar grasp of arms around her waist, and turned to see her Adrien lying on the floor next to her, having trapped her in his protective embrace.
He chuckled, placing a kiss to the side of her jaw. “See? Told you I’d catch you, beautiful.”
Marinette sighed, wriggling in his arms until they looking right into each other’s eyes, the pillows lodged underneath her and between their chests. “So you did,” she said, snaking her arm around his neck and ruffling his hair. “Now that you’re up, though… how about we go make the bed together?”
Adrien smiled, touching his forehead to hers. “Sounds delightful, my lady. And then how about I cook you lunch?”
“By cook, you mean ‘make sandwiches,’ right?” Marinette asked, giggling beneath her breath. “Because I’ve seen you cook, and I’m not sure I’d ever want to eat what you made.”
“Well… I was going to make paninis, but..” he began, only for Marinette to silence him with a peck to the lips.
“As long as you don’t burn the apartment down,” she whispered back, staring into his eyes. “I’m all for it.”
Back in the bedroom, in a bed made from an empty cat food can and some scraps of fabric, a tiny black kwami slept soundly, half-tucked under the covers while his counterpart looked on.
“Come on, Plagg,” Tikki said, tapping her toe against the air. “I can’t make the bed if you’re in it.”
Chapter 2: Tying his tie
“You’re on in fifteen minutes, Monsieur Agreste.”
Adrien set the comb down on the dressing room table, turning to look at the petite brunette who was standing in the doorway, her hair tied back in a neat bun. “Ah, thank you, Mademoiselle…”
“Sophie,” the young woman - no older than twenty, Adrien figured - replied, her hands folded together in front of her and a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. “ Je m’appelle Sophie.”
“Right.” Adrien nodded his head. “Sophie.”
He turned on his heel to face the mirror once again, running a hand through the mop of golden hair on his head. It took way more product than he’d like to admit to get it to stay in a presentable state, so usually he was content to let it go off in whatever directions it pleased.
That wouldn’t do for tonight, however, so he reached for the comb once again, only to find it missing from the table. Where’d it go? Surely Plagg wouldn’t have taken it, it wasn’t cheese.
“Looking for something?” Sophie asked, now standing a few meters closer to Adrien. She was quick on her feet, it seemed, a desirable trait in an assistant for certain. And between the thumb and index finger of her right hand dangled the comb.
“In fact, I-” Adrien began, only to get cut off by the girl.
“Here, let me fix those gorgeous locks up for you,” she said in barely more than a whisper, letting out a low rumble that sounded decidedly like a purr - Adrien would know.
She took a slow step closer, just enough to be inside of his personal space, and reached toward the top of his head with the comb. As she pressed her chest to his upper arm, standing up on her tiptoes to run the comb through his hair, Adrien realized exactly what was going on.
He looked down at his right hand, and the Miraculous on his ring finger, and then at the matching silver band on his left hand, a reminder of his most prized possession. Staring at himself and Sophie in the mirror, he swallowed hard.
“Excuse me, Sophie, but-” he began, only to be silenced again.
“Okay,” Sophie said, maneuvering around Adrien to face him. She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his upper arms, feeling every sinew and scar through the fabric of his dress shirt and jacket.
Adrien tried again. “Sophie, I’m-”
“What’s the matter?” she asked, cocking her head to the side, her body pulled flush against his. “Can’t take the attention, Monsieur Model? C’mon, let’s get your tie done so you can look sexy out on-”
That was it. Adrien wasn’t a stranger to this kind of behavior from members of the fairer sex (or both sexes, for that matter), but that didn’t make it any more acceptable. He’d had enough.
He began to take a step back, only to find himself caught in Sophie’s grasp. She’d grabbed one of his hands in hers, and was holding the end of his tie, looped around his neck, in the other. He was trapped, like a defenseless little kitten who was stuck in a tree.
He stared straight forward at her, his brow furrowing as his piercing green eyes stared straight into her brown ones. “Sophie....” he sighed.
Unfortunately, Sophie only took the eye contact as a sign to come closer, and stood on her tiptoes, leaning toward his cheek with her lips puckered and her eyes closed. Didn’t she know when to stop?
Adrien braced himself for the worst, when suddenly- “Ahem.”
Standing behind him, wearing a fabulous red dress with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, was Marinette. His wife, his lady, the person he would give up all his nine lives for. Holy cats, was he glad to see her.
“Mademoiselle Blanchard,” she said, her eyes trained on Sophie. “What do you think you’re doing with my husband?”
A smile came over Adrien’s lips as Sophie slowly released her grip on him, the color draining from her cheeks.
“Madame Agreste, I can explain-” she started, wringing her hands together in front of her chest.
“No explanation is necessary.” Marinette replied, taking a step forward to stand in between Adrien and Sophie. She jabbed a finger toward the exit, her gaze never once moving. “You’re fired.”
Mortified, the brunette pleaded, her mouth hanging open. “But-”
“No buts. Go before I call security and have them escort you out.”
“Y-yes, Madame Agreste…” Sophie nodded, hanging her head as she exited the dressing room, back into the hallway.
Adrien let out a sigh of relief, his smile growing larger as Marinette turned to face him.
“You okay, chaton?” she asked, running her hand up the back of his neck and through his hair, undoing the work that Sophie had done in an instant. From the corner of his eye, Adrien could see in the mirror that it was about as messy as the product in it would allow - just how Marinette liked it.
“Yeah,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a hug. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, my lady. You’re scary when you’re mad.”
Marinette pulled back, her hands resting comfortably upon her husband’s shoulders. “Silly kitty,” she said. “I was only protecting what I love. You’d do the same.”
“That and more,” he said, nodding his head. He felt a sharp jerk around his neck, and looked down to see Marinette holding the end of his tie in her hand. With the ease of someone who’d been working with textiles for years, she looped it around itself, pulling it into a knot that Adrien couldn’t name if he tried.
He leaned down to meet Marinette’s eye level, puckering his lips as he drew closer to catch his wife in a tender peck on the lips.
“Not now, kitty,” Marinette said. Adrien frowned, stopping in his tracks, his eyes wide as he waited for the inevitable explanation.
“You need to get on stage,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I’m pretty sure red lipstick doesn’t go well with that suit you’re wearing.”
Adrien stood back up straight, nodding his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, of course,” he said. “Maybe after?”
“Definitely after,” Marinette replied. “You’re mine, and you look very kissable right now, and I’m not going to let anyone take you from me.”
Adrien’s smile only grew at that. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”