A/N: I know it looks like I'm skipping days, but I'm also writing fills for my James Norrington/OC story, Catch the Wind, and posting those over on Tumblr (esta-elavaris) until my main fic of that pairing is done, after which I'll post them on here too! Anyway, this is just plotless fluff and I really enjoyed writing it!

Flufftober 2022 - Day 5 - "Oh no, you're a morning person!"

[Set sometime soon after the end of Little By Little - they're legally married, but not 'genuinely' emotionally married just yet.]

Marilyn never really considered herself a morning person, nor a night one. A lot of it just depended on what she'd done the previous night, and what she had to do that day. Sometimes she was more tired or less lively than at other times, but she didn't really have a lot of time for people who went around loudly proclaiming that they simply could not function without a vat of coffee each morning. Sure, it was preferable, and she liked the ritual, and some mornings she really simply could not be arsed (especially back in the cold days, on cold mornings that aggravated her bad knee), but she'd known too many people throughout her years of a dancing that would spend early morning rehearsals whining on and on about being night owls, and how this was the worst possible torture for them.

Few people really wanted to be up and stretching out their hamstrings at seven in the sodding morning, but the only thing more contagious than a good attitude was a bad one, and it was just…well, it was juvenile, wasn't it? But hey, maybe things like torture at the hands of blood purists and maniacal wizards bent on revenge just had a way of putting the small stuff into perspective.

When she had to get up, she did, and she was an adult about it. When she didn't have to get up, she did not…and she didn't have to be an adult about it. Except, that was, for when her "husband" felt the need to screw with those glorious mornings. Like when she gradually gained consciousness to find him kissing her into wakefulness. The first kiss she barely felt - in the dip between her shoulder and her neck. The next she groaned in response to, on the side of her throat, just a few inches below her ear. Next was her cheekbone, then back down to her jaw, his fingers threading with hers amongst the sheets.

"I swear to god, Draco, if you're waking me up for sex it better be the best sex of my life," she grumbled into the pillow.

Ordinarily she wouldn't be averse to such a thing. Well, not on the right day. But today was distinctly not the right day. Last night had been closing night for this season's ballet, meaning for a week or two she was now free to eat what she liked, sleep when she liked, and rise when she liked, before she had to even consider worrying about the next show. On mornings such as these, it was her tradition to sleep until as late as humanly possible. Then they'd either order in an obscene amount of takeaways, or go out to eat, depending on what their schedules looked like. When she cracked one eye open and found Draco's bedside lamp was on, and the room about them had barely begun to lighten from darkness into a dim, hazy grey, she groaned again.

Draco chuckled lowly, as though tempted to take her up on that challenge, before mumbling into her shoulder "I don't possess that much of a death wish."

"What is it, then?" She murmured.

She didn't smell smoke, so the house wasn't on fire, nor did she hear crazed would-be murderers hurling spells at the windows, so she was beginning to suspect it was nowhere near important enough to warrant consciousness.

"I was wondering - do you know of a way that light bulbs may work without being connected to the…what is it you call it? The main? The grid?"

"Draco," she groaned, petering off into a melodramatic whine.

She tried to roll onto her back, but her shoulder blades met his chest and he used it as an opportunity to wrap an arm around her like he wasn't being mankind's greatest menace. That was the lethal downside of his work - it could follow him anywhere. At any given time, he could spring into mad scientist mode, spring up and begin scrawling in the notebook he kept at his side of the bed. She couldn't even get her revenge - what options were there? To begin doing furious fouettés at his side of the bed? Maybe one day she'd reach that level of petty. For now she just wanted to sleep.

A want that would not be fulfilled any time soon, based on the kisses he resumed pressing to her shoulder.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are yet today?"

"I'd rather be ugly and asleep."

"Just help me with this and I'll leave you be," he mumbled into her hair.

"The more words I say, the more awake I'm going to become," she griped.

"Phrase your answer wisely, then," she could hear the smirk in his voice "Come on. Please. See? I'm asking nicely and everything. You know how stubborn I am. Best just to give in now."

Huffing, she tried to roll onto her back again and this time he let her, backing off while she slung her forearm across her eyes to try and block out the light.

"You have magic light whenever you need it from your wand."

"Yes, from our wands. But for a room to be lit unattended, candles are the go-to. If I can sell lights that aren't a fire hazard, but don't require a home to be all set up with Muggle electricity lines, it's worth adding to the brand, even just as a novelty. It'll sell well enough to pay for itself, especially for those in professions who need good lighting. Painters, and such."

"I have an idea."

"You do?"

"Yes. Phone up Penny Parkinson, or whatever her name was, on your shiny new phone and see if she's in the market for a husband who'll wake her up at all hours. Then you won't need to worry about any of this, and I can sleep."

Draco chuckled "Unfortunately, that's no longer an option."

"Oh?"

"I'm rather attached now."

"Flattery won't help."

"To the work," he clarified "You, I can take or leave."

The hand she sprawled out to bat at him thudded lightly, and uselessly, against his chest where he sat up in the bed. He caught it, and pressed it to his lips.

"And," he continued with a sigh "I'd need to take the new knee back in the fake-divorce to end our fake-marriage, I'm afraid. Un-heal it."

"Also known as injuring it, also known as domestic violence. No court would have you."

"My father would pay for some very good lawyers in his joy at hearing how I'd come to my senses."

"Ugh."

"Yes, so best just save all of that and help me with this, yes?"

"You're insufferable."

"You've known that for a while, darling, you can't treat it like new information now."

Marilyn huffed, and Draco continued.

"In fact, I think you're rather jealous. When you're annoying, you have to put effort into being so, whereas for me it just comes naturally."

"You did not wake me up to boast about how annoying you are."

"Effortlessly annoying."

"Oh my god, please stop being such a morning person. I rarely see this side of you, I don't enjoy it."

"For better or for worse," he said drily.

"Fake better or fake worse. This is very real."

Draco chuckled "Please help me with this. Then I'll go to that cafe round the corner and get you your favourite breakfast. The one you can't eat during performance months. Double portions, the works. You can lie right here and terrify me with your speed and ability to put it away."

"You'll just send one of the security to do it for you."

"The outcome is the same as far as you're concerned."

Marilyn sighed. She opened one eye, and when the light was no longer an affront to her retinas, she knew the battle was lost and she was well and truly awake.

"Look into camping lights," she said dully "Rechargeable. They do battery powered ones, or solar-powered rechargeable ones for folk who live off the grid or go out into the wilderness regularly."

When she peered up at Draco, he smirked down at her "Now, was that so difficult?"

True to her suspicions, he was sitting up with his notebook propped up by one thigh, scrawling away in it.

"I want my breakfast," she said.

"And it's still a no to the sex?" He teased.

"Ugh," she repeated.

He smirked, and then he snickered, and she resented the fact that she had to move her forearm down from her brow to cover her mouth instead, to hide the laugh that threatened to bubble up. Effortlessly insufferable indeed.