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When Marinette woke up, the apartment was freezing. Adrien had stolen the blankets in the night, leaving her uncovered and shivering. Marinette kissed his sleeping forehead and hunted at the foot of the bed for her socks. Then, rubbing her eyes, she got up.
The floor was freezing. They were becoming thrift shop aficionados while the Agreste estate was tied up in the courts, and of course Marinette’s parents helped, but it wasn’t until this morning that Marinette realized rugs for the floor were essential for cold days.
Stumbling into the tiny living room, she opened the curtains a crack to let the blue of early dawn pour in. It had to be less than ten degrees out. Marinette found the thermostat and turned it up a little bit. Warmth puffed up satisfyingly from the vents, but it would take a while. She tugged on a jacket from the hook by the door.
When she woke up from dreams about the final battle, Marinette never managed to go back to sleep. Her heart was still racing. Part of her was still reliving the first sight of the glass coffin, of Adrien’s beautiful, preserved, dead mother.
Tea. Tea always helped. Marinette made two cups of jasmine tea, eating half of a stale croissant while she waited for it to steep. She ignored the pile of dishes in the sink. Soon they would have the energy for chores again.
Then she brought the steaming mugs back into the freezing bedroom, set them on the nightstand, and burrowed her way into Adrien’s nest.
“Good morning,” she said, kissing him behind the ear. “Good morning.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Good morning.” She kissed his forehead.
Adrien woke with a snort, grabbing her arm.
“Hey,” said Marinette. Her own lingering fear washed away as she focused on calming Adrien down. “Hey. It’s me. Look at me. We’re in our apartment. See? It’s over. He doesn’t even have the address.”
Adrien took a deep, shuddering breath. “I dreamed about my mother again.”
“Me too,” said Marinette. “And I made tea.”
This had become their ritual. Hot tea was grounding. Drinking it gave you time to look around and remember where you were.
Adrien took a long sip from his mug at once, even though the tea was definitely still too hot to drink by Marinette’s standards. She chose to accept this. If he was doing that , he might not feel the need to harm himself in other ways.
Once, it had been perfectly safe to throw themselves off buildings.
The sky, still pale blue, was lightening. Marinette opened the soft, brown bedroom curtains. The few pedestrians down in the street were carrying umbrellas to protect them from a chilly drizzle. She sat next to Adrien on the edge of the bed and put her head on his shoulder.
“It’s hard,” said Adrien in the voice of someone who was diligently attempting not to cry.
“Yes,” said Marinette. If only she could make things better for both of them just by loving him enough, by holding him tightly enough.
Neither of them said a word about talking to their worried, curious friends or Marinette’s worried, curious parents. Neither of them said a word about checking in on the progress of the court case. Neither of them said a word about everything they had lost.
Adrien held Marinette. He finished his tea. “Breakfast,” he said in an almost-normal voice. “Um. I don’t know how to cook eggs.”
“We’ll start with scrambled,” said Marinette, who was determined not to laugh at any of the things Adrien’s father had prevented him from learning. “I think there’s still bacon.”
“I can’t really—”
“I’ll show you how. I promise.” Marinette kissed the tip of Adrien’s nose and led him into the kitchen, into the sunlight of a new morning and a slow, bittersweet happily ever after.