If you asked Adrien, he would say marriage was basically a high-maintenance friendship with benefits. You had the tax kind, the physical kind, but then you had the kind that provided a soft place to land when a day got the better of you or a pillar of support when facing a hardship. His wife was the person he knew he could turn to whenever he needed help, whenever he was tired or hurting, for whatever reason. She was there. And he loved her for it. She was his best friend, one he happily entered into a union with and was worth every last hardship and trial and fight.
She was, for example, the kind of girl he could text during his lunch break complaining about the day, then send a similar texts throughout the day, and get a supportive response of "I'm sorry" "hang in there" "I have surprise for you at home".
So when he arrived home and could barely stand even though he was leaning against the door, he pulled strength from the hug his wonderful wife engulfed him in. "I'm sorry your day was so hard."
"Wouldn't have been as bad had my dad not been breathing down my neck."
She took his jaw in her hands and rubbed little circles with her thumbs on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, minou."
He let himself soak up her affections, lapped it up like a parched man finding water.
"I have a surprise for you."
He opened his eyes to half-mast, not realizing that he had closed them. "What sort of surprise?"
"A relaxing one," she said, reaching for his tie to remove it.
His grin got a little wider. "I'm listening."
Slowly, sensually, she slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and down his arms, removing his outer jacket.
He already liked this surprise.
"Upstairs," she whispered while unbuttoning his shirt. "There's a hot bath with Epsom salt for you to relax in, a glass of wine your name on it, and your favorite dinner that will be finished by the time you're done."
Adrien's grin widened as she undid the last button on his shirt. "That sounds miraculous."
She grinned at their little joke. "Go on. I'll bring up your wine shortly."
That sounded even better. "Okay."
"Okay." Just like she did with his jacket, she ran her hands up his entire torso to remove his shirt, but this time, she used his shoulders as a support to lean up and grant him a kiss.
"I think I'd also like a handful of those tonight," he whispered, her face still very close as she ran her hands down his arms, removing his shirt in the process.
"I think I can manage that," she said, pulling herself away with his shirt in hand.
Slowly, he found his way into the bathroom, where he could still see little tendrils of steam float off the water's surface. He smiled as he dipped a hand into the hot water, thinking it was just what he needed to the end of this terrible day. He kicked off his shoes, then shucked his pants before lowering himself into the hot water. He used a towel as a make-shift pillow, then let his eyes close as he let the heat take out a day's worth of tension.
He didn't know how long it was before Marinette patted into the room. He cracked an eye open
Only to spy her wearing his shirt.
Her hair was out of its ties, allowing her raven locks to pour over her shoulders and create a stark contrast to his white shirt. She didn't have a smidge of make-up on, but her lips looked plenty red and inviting as is, especially with that smile.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you, handsome," she said, holding the glass of wine out for him to take while bending over to press a kiss to his lips.
He loved this woman.
She then sat down at the edge of the tub, causing the shirt to hitch higher on her legs. He relished the sight—this woman was his wife after all—but his eyes drifted closed when she started running her hands through his hair.
With a moan, he leaned into her touch.
"You're my good kitty," she purred on a whisper.
The heat penetrated deep in his belly. "You spoil me, bug."
"You deserve it."
"I love you."
She paused in her ministrations, but then he felt her lips press against his, lingering long and tasting wine sweet. "I love you, too."
Adrien's face split into a grin. Yes, marriage was work. But she was his best friend, and with benefits like these, he would count the work worth it.
To Marinette, marriage was a partnership. It was like being Ladybug and Chat Noir all the time, having to navigate so many new situations like they navigate plans to catch an akuma. And sometimes those plans go south and they're left screaming at each other. But no matter what, there wasn't anyone else she could save the city with, so they'd have to lay down whatever petty grudge they held and make things work until they were actually able to come together and give a genuine apology.
Marriage was like that. Except apologies usually took place in the bedroom instead of on a rooftop. And involved a lot less clothing.
Marriages also involved a lot less physical pain. Even with a magic suit, there were few things that compared to having your rear-end handed to you on a silver platter by some manically smiling akuma.
She groaned.
Her wonderful superhero of a husband had left to grab something to help with her stiffness. She felt eighty years old at twenty-three and practically needed a walker to make it to the kitchen for some tea after the task of getting out of bed this morning.
Sleep didn't remedy her soreness this time around.
The door opened to reveal her husband walking in with a bag of things, likely from Master Fu. His remedies usually worked wonders.
"Okay," Adrien said, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Got a couple tea remedies and some oil that will help with the soreness."
"Perfect."
"I'll massage it into you."
Marinette looked up at her husband, whose smile was growing wider by the moment. But not a smug one, just a loving 'I got you' grin. One that always made her heart beat faster and tinted her cheeks pink even though in the past four years they've been married, they've done a whole lot more than just smile at each other. But then she realized, "It's not because you feel guilty, right?"
His lips tugged downward just a moment. "A bit," he admitted, knowing there was no use in lying to her. "But it's also because I love spoiling my precious wife."
She sighed, staring at him with a frown. They'd had this conversation so often that it was just easier to let disapproving looks fly between the two of them. But she just didn't have the energy to even to that today. "Fine. Thank you."
"Thank you for relenting," he said. "Bedroom."
She didn't need to be told twice. After slowly forcing herself up out of the chair, Adrien helped her make it to the bedroom, where she immediately collapsed face first onto the bed.
With a chuckle he sat down on the edge. He tugged at the hem of her pajama tank top, and Marinette let him remove it. She settled onto the bed with a smile by the time Adrien began rubbing the oil across her shoulders.
His strong hands eased the oil into her skin and slowly eased the tightness in her muscles. He worked his hands over her body with the knowledge of a masseuse, pushing along the curves and lines of her muscles in firm and steady motions. He then worked down her bicep before capturing that hand and leaning over to press a kiss to her knuckles.
Both times, she managed to boop his nose before he could pull away. It earned her a kiss to her temple each time.
"I love you."
"I love you, too.
He worked down her back again, slowly working his way to her hips and rubbing a little underneath the hem of her pajama shorts. Then her legs. She couldn't hold back the moan when he massaged her quads, his hands careful yet firm as he tried to ease the tension from her muscles.
Marinette didn't know how long it had taken him; he'd certainly taken his time, though. When he finished, he rinsed the oil off his hands and then laid down beside her on the bed.
Immediately, she slid on top of him, propping her chin on his chest as she smiled down at him. "Thank you."
He placed his hands on her hips. "You're welcome, princess."
Yes, marriage was a partnership. A give and take, push and pull, with ups and downs. But they had each other's back, in the good and the bad, and that's what made it worth it.