Marinette is thrilled. She's spending her afternoon at the museum with Adrien, and even Manon's unexpectedly tagging along with them can't tarnish her happiness.
After all, what can go wrong for two seventeen-year-olds watching over a seven-year...
He gasped, staring at Marinette's mother with an incredulous gaze. "How did you know Mari and I had sorted out the getting dressed problem?"
Sabine smiled, turning her back on the young man to prepare another plate for her daughter. "I know my daughter, Adrien. She's a talented seamstress, and she's the most resourceful young lady I've ever seen."
"Mama, stop bothering Adrien," Marinette's voice came, somewhat muffled from in between her crossed arms on the counter. "And please stop talking like I'm not here. I'm sleeping, not dead."
Grumbling, Marinette shot her bad hand forward, her head dropping on the counter with a loud thud. Bites of her breakfast traveled steadily from her plate to what he assumed to be her mouth, veiled by a curtain of black hair. If a few spoonfuls missed their originally intended trajectory and hit her nose instead, he was none the wisest-that she'd know, at least.
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Adrien tore his gaze away from his friend and chuckled as he began to eat his own meal, "Is she always like this?"
"In the morning?" Sabine asked. "This is an easy morning per our standards. I usually have to wake her up once or twice after her alarm goes-"
"Still not dead!" Marinette protested, earning herself a hearty laugh from both her mother and Adrien. The remaining of the breakfast went into a comfortable chatter between the fully awake pair, while Marinette slowly roused to reach some semblance of awareness.
Once they were both sated and she was finally a fully functional human being again, they went back to her room to get ready for the day. The skills they had developed just the night before came in handy, both of them sliding into their newfound routine like a well-oiled machine as Adrien blindfolded himself in a heartbeat to let Marinette quickly slip into a sleeveless summer dress, before she returned the favor as he put on his jeans and a shirt she had previously altered for him to accommodate their predicament. He brushed her hair confidently, lending her a helpful hand to tie them into a simple bun, while she finished fastening the buttons on his sleeve that he couldn't reach.
They miraculously managed to escape unscathed from Tom and Sabine fussing over them as they left the bakery, and as they walked down the street hand in hand (Keep imagining this is Chat Noir, Marinette!) they chatted casually about everything that came to mind, from his fencing, her designing projects, his piano lessons to her earliest experiences in baking.
As Marinette was relating a particularly funny anecdote about how she had managed to make an entire flour bag explode on herself at the age of four, Adrien gently squeezed her fingers in his, a forlorn smile dancing on his lips.
"You and your parents seem to be pretty close," he said softly.
Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, and she mentally cursed herself. Why did she have to be so insensitive? "I'm sorry, Adrien, I shouldn't have said any-"
