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“Are you sure you want to go?” Marinette asked, her brows furrowed. “It’s late and you know the kids will be up very early tomorrow morning,” she reminded her husband as she followed him to the balcony door.
Adrien — currently transformed into Chat Noir — sighed but reached for the handle on the door. “Not really,” he admitted. “I’d much rather stay with you and cuddle until they realise it’s Christmas Day.”
Despite the situation, a smile spread on Marinette’s lips; Christmas with their kids had yet to get boring for them. “Then stay. I’m sure the police can handle a small robbery on their own.”
They probably could, but she also knew that Chat’s cataclysm would come in handy given that the robbers were hiding in a vault with their hostages. Not a pretty situation, especially since everyone just wanted to go home and prepare for the festivities that came with the next morning.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Adrien replied, leaning over to place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Don’t wait up for me.”
With that he opened the door, letting in the icy breeze. He was already perched on the railing of their balcony when Marinette stopped him.
“Do you mind going by the office on your way back?” she asked. “This way you can stay in bed with me a little longer tomorrow.”
A smirk on his lips, Chat gave her a short two-finger salute. “It will be my pleasure, ma Lady,” he quipped before he was off into the night.
Marinette wrapped her robe around her to ward off the chill as her eyes followed her husband vaulting over the dark rooftops, her hand moving to rest on her protruding belly without her paying it any mind.
She knew he would be careful and safe; he had so much to come back home to and he would never risk losing that.
Still , she thought with a sigh as she returned inside, not able to see him any longer in the darkness, I prefer being there to have his back .
Gnawing on her lower lip she settled on the couch best as she could — getting up at seven and a half months pregnant would be much more difficult anyway — with a police scanner next to her to listen to the events unfolding.
Adrien didn’t like that she had that thing and used it to listen in when he went out to fight crime on his own. Especially now that she was pregnant again and should avoid anything that might stress or upset her.
But it gave her comfort and kept her from waddling up and down the hallways of their house, frantic with worry until he was back safe in her arms. So, like the good husband he was, he accepted it and even turned it on when he left in the middle of the night without waking her.
Which he rarely did. Just right now without her being able to move freely and nearly keeling over from exhaustion all the time, he preferred to let her sleep.
Lying on the couch, Marinette closed her eyes, listening as the events unfolded. She heard Adrien’s voice, planning with the hostage negotiator and the GIGN leader how to best move forward.
They weren’t trained for any of this, but his tone was sure and steady and the answers he received were respectful and filled to the brim with camaraderie.
It relieved her anxiety a great deal and while she listened to them, her eyes fluttered close and she fell asleep.
The clicking of a lock followed by a cold breeze woke her up, causing her body to become alert and ready to fight.
Well, at least as much as she could fight in her current state.
With some shuffling and moaning, she tried to sit up so she could go to the balcony — realising that it must be her husband returning home — when a familiar gloved hand wrapped around hers.
“You’re home, minou,” she said with a relieved sigh, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
Adrien dropped something at his side and she cast it a quick glaze to see it was the bag of presents they had hidden at the office so Emma and Hugo wouldn’t find it. Marinette held him at arm’s length, checking him over for injuries, relieved when she couldn’t spot any.
He was home and he was safe.
Fighting back tears — stupid pregnancy hormones — she threw herself into his arms with a small sob.
His arms wrapped around her, securing her against his warm chest. “Of course I am, ma lady,” he said and she could hear the soft smile in his tone. “I’ll always come home to you.”
Her face hidden in his suit, she nodded. “I know. But I’m still scared sometimes. I wish I could have gone with you.”
Marinette felt his arms tighten around her. “You need to stay here. You have a much more important job than to catch bad guys,” Adrien replied with a hum, a hand wandering to caress the side of her belly. “It’s on you to make sure our little kitten is safe and well in there.”
Their kitten , the thought alone made her smile. She loved it when he called the kids their kittens.
Overwhelmed by her feelings, she pulled back enough so she could wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss.
Adrien immediately leaned down — standing upright he towered over her and right now, standing on the tips of her toes was out of the question — his fingers digging into her sides. He pulled her as close as possible, teeth scraping along her bottom lip, his tongue snaking out to smooth over the small pain.
She was just about to withdraw and tell him they should go back to bed so they might get in an hour or two of sleep before the kids would be up when they were interrupted.
“Maman?” a small voice asked behind them and Marinette hurried to loosen the tight grip she had on Adrien. “Why are you kissing Santa?”
Marinette and her husband jumped — or in her case stumbled — apart, sheepishly looking at the three-year-old in front of them.
It was Marinette who caught herself first. “What are you doing up, baby?” she asked in hushed tones and hurried over to her son. “It’s only,” she glimpsed at the clock on the wall, “five in the morning.”
Wow, Adrien had been out all night.
Hugo shrugged. “I woke up and then I remembered you said we could open presents today.”
Marinette nodded. “I did say that,” she agreed. “But don’t you want to go back to bed?”
He furiously shook his head. “No!” he yelled, making his parents flinch. “I want to see what Santa brought me!”
With that, he pointed towards Adrien, who was still transformed and had tried to poorly hide the bag of presents behind the couch.
“Er,” he struggled to form an answer. “I’m not Santa, per se ,” he said, catching an annoyed look from his wife. “I’m Chat Noir?”
Hugo nodded as if this made perfect sense. “Can I have my presents now?” he asked, adding a short “please” with a sideways glance to his mother.
Marinette sighed, exchanging looks with her husband. She highly doubted Hugo would go back to bed with the prospect of presents being in the house.
Which, of course, meant neither would they.
Adrien nodded and with a small smile, she turned to look at their son. “Alright, baby,” she said. “Why don’t you get your sister and I’ll wake your dad? Then we can have breakfast and unpack your presents.”
Excitement shone in Hugo’s green eyes as he nodded. He spun around, running towards the living room door before he stopped. “Will Santa still be here when I come back?” he asked with a small frown.
Marinette gestured for Adrien to answer.
“No-no,” her husband stuttered. “I still have some other presents to deliver. So many kids in Paris and- oof.”
The breath was knocked from him when Hugo crashed into his legs, his tiny arms wrapping around them in a tight hug. Adrien’s face softened immediately as he leaned down to return the embrace.
“Thank you, Monseigneur Chat Noir Santa,” Hugo told him seriously. “But please don’t kiss maman again. I’m sure papa wouldn’t like that.”
With that he was off, leaving his parents standing speechless in the living room. They heard him knock on his sister's door, their shock wearing off as they erupted into a fit of giggles.
Marinette was nearly toppling over in laughter, but a pair of strong arms held her steady.
“Don’t you go and kiss me, Mr Chat Noir Santa,” she teased, flicking his bell. “According to my son, my husband wouldn’t like that.”
Adrien grinned and muttered the phrase that would release his transformation, leaving him in sweatpants and an ugly Christmas sweater. Back to being his civilian self, he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss.
“But Santa likes kissing Hugo’s maman,” he replied with an exaggerated pout.
Marinette giggled. “We should probably tell him the truth,” she commented.
Her husband shrugged, leaning in for another kiss. “We’ve still got some time,” he argued. “Until then, we’ll just have to make sure it’s papa kissing maman and not a dashing superhero.”
She lifted her head, leaning into his warm embrace. “You know what? I’m okay with that.”