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Marinette left her bath warm and sleepy, softened by sweet-smelling bath soak and a well-needed break.
The only reason she got up was because she wanted her husband to hold her awhile. Maybe it was greedy to want that, too — Adrien was the one who drew her bath, undressed her lovingly, and insisted it was his turn to look after Emma for the evening — but no matter how much she loved sweet-smelling bath soaks, a good evening could only be better if she finished it lying with him.
She peered into the bedroom. All the lights were off, and there was no Emma wearing her favourite Ladybug onesie tucked into their king-sized bed.
Strange.
Tightening the sash around her dressing gown, she padded barefoot down the stairs.
She stuck her head into the kitchen, and found it in the same state as the bedroom — lights off, no Emma, no Adrien.
If Adrien wasn’t putting Emma to bed, nor feeding her dinner, then…?
She crossed the corridor next, and tried the living room door handle, and found it already ajar. Quietly, in case they had dozed off on the couch again, Marinette pushed it open until the gap was big enough to look through.
They were on the couch, but the back of Adrien’s head was upright, Emma leaning against his shoulder and looking at something in front of them.
“This was the first time I wore one of Maman's designs on the runway,” he said. Emma watched silently. “This feather wasn’t real. I'm allergic.”
He imitated a sneeze. Emma giggled.
One glance at the gap in the bookshelf across the room was enough for her to know he was showing Emma their photo album.
Again.
She leaned her wet hair against the doorframe, gazing at them. It was beyond her why she didn't just check the living room first — since Emma was born their photo album was in Adrien's lap more than it ever was on the shelf. Whenever he had the chance he would sit with her, perusing every single page as if it were the first time he saw it, explaining every photograph with so much detail Marinette wondered just how far back his memory went.
"Oh, you're too young to see that," Adrien said with a chuckle. "Alright, just a peek. This was the first time I kissed Maman."
Marinette smiled. She knew the picture — not their first kiss as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but their first kiss as Adrien and Marinette. Alya had taken it when they all went out to the cinema, and hid behind the popcorn machine so they thought she'd left them alone.
A page was turned, and she could hear the grin in his voice. "This is from— ah, you fell asleep." He shifted Emma in his arms, and, with one hand, closed the photo album. Adrien kissed her — most likely her downy head (he always liked burying his face there) — and hummed to himself. "Sleep well, sweetie. I love you."
The door creaked. Marinette gave him a sheepish tilt of the head when he turned around.
"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop on your bonding."
"Why didn't you join us?" he asked, gathering Emma's favourite blanket from where it dangled out of her fist, and stood up. "We were about to get to the pictures of my wax statue."
Marinette groaned.
He laughed. With Emma dozed off against his collarbone, Adrien put the album back on the shelf, then came towards her. "How was your bath?"
"Mm." She leaned up to kiss him. "Fantastic."
"Feeling relaxed?"
She nodded.
"Good." Adrien kissed her nose, then looked back down at Emma. "Let's go put her to bed."