About Time

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IT WASN'T TOO long until Marinette ran into another issue; how to get Adrien upstairs without her parents noticing. Correction; how to get blondie to her own bedroom without her mother being appalled at a boy (of all people) spending the night, or her father performing a castration.

The two remained silent in her car. It was quickly becoming the norm. "What are you thinking?" Adrien asked, unconsciously rubbing his fingers against the tanned skin of his neck.

"Hey, don't be nervous," she said, swatting her hand at his anxious one, "We'll figure this out, okay?" The blonde nodded, slumping in his seat in relaxation. "I think I can trust you."

"What makes you think you might not be able to?" Marinette quizzed, curious for his answer. Despite knowing Adrien for the better part of one day, she wouldn't peg him for a thief, rugrat, or a dirty liar. All in all, the boy was sweet hearted, from what she could tell.

"My only hesitation is your uniform."

She sighed gently underneath her breath. "We've been over the fact that my uniform is allowed to be worn in this era because I'm a cheerleader," she sassed, flipping her hair for emphasis. She wasn't being callous or egotistical, meagerly sarcastic. He shook his head no.

"No, no. The color is fine, but it's more so that you are a cheerleader. Where I'm from, you'd be ripping my homework in half and stealing my lunch money. You should be making my life a living... place where S-Satan lives."

"...You mean hell?" she lifted an eyebrow.

"Precisely."

"You mean to tell me you're too pure to swear curses that aren't even real threats?" Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, finding more humor in the personal choice than disgust. He was just too untainted.

"Yeah. I'm not into swearing, even if they are considered one of the lighter ones. It's just a preference, so don't feel like you need to filter yourself around me, alright?"

He was being incredibly genuine, and it made her feel more warm than she ever had been before, and surprisingly not off put. "Thank you for not judging me. Except for that one time you judged me for being a cheerleader," she snarked marginally.

"Sure," Adrien smiled.

Thinking back to her big problem they were now facing, she took a mental invitatory of her parent's cars. Looking at the open carport, the inky haired girl noted that her mother's car was missing, leaving only her father's.

Interesting.

Her dad would be decently easy to distract, which would allow Adrien the chance to quietly slip upstairs, going completely unnoticed. The chair he was partial to luckily had his back to the front door. She was gifted the opportunity to manipulate the situation, solely on the location of Tom Dupain's favorite worn down recliner.

The father of one always claimed it molded to his body perfectly, sunken from perpetual years of use. In recent weeks, her mother usually said he appreciated the darn chair more than he did their marriage.

Collecting all the bravery she could muster, Marinette unlocked the car doors, making sure to grab her backpack. She had come home late tonight without so much as a text or call for a warning or heads up. Expecting to have a stern talking to with her dad, it was the perfect way to execute her plan.