They had a lot to talk about. And over the following few days of Marinette's hospital stay, that was exactly what they did. Talk.
They discussed where she would be staying after she was discharged. She insisted she'd stay with him in his, sorry, their apartment. After all, she was his wife. Even though she couldn't remember it, she had made choice to marry him. And at the very least, he wasn't a stranger: he was one of her closest friends and her partner. She trusted him. However, she was relieved when he had suggested she stay in the other bedroom until she was more comfortable. He hastily added that they wouldn't even think about discussing intimacy until after the baby was born. She breathed a sigh of relief at that.
The harder conversations were about their miraculouses, le Papillon and La Farfella. Adrien managed to dodge talking about it by claiming that he'd prefer somewhere more private to discuss those sensitive topics, so they would wait until they were home. Marinette conceded, but the determined glint in her eye made Adrien know that she would definitely not let it drop. He gulped at that. However, he had managed to point out that the dynamic with la Farfella was different. She didn't waste time with the almost daily akumas like le Papillon did. Her attacks were more spaced out, but more complicated, often involving several non-akuma elements in the mix. Since the last akuma was a few days before the accident, there was unlikely to be another one before she left the hospital.
They also talked about their careers. Marinette was a little surprised to find out that he had become a physics professor, but when Adrien told her the story of how he had fallen in love with teaching while being a university TA, she could see that he had no regrets about his life choice. She loved the way he talked about his classroom experience – and his favourite part was the one on one time he spent with struggling students helping them understand difficult concepts.
For her, apparently, she did become a designer, owning her own little boutique, with two full-time employees working with her. However, she'd fretted over how the amnesia would affect this. Even though she had a great deal of previous knowledge from before when the memory loss started, she felt like all the things she gained via experience and from university (unsurprisingly she had studied fashion design and business management) was lost. In the end, they (mostly Marinette) worked out that she could use her sick leave and then maternity leave to study her previous course notes and diaries to bring her up to speed as much as possible. Adrien preferred she rest, but she was stubborn.
"Diaries! That's it, Adrien!" she exclaimed. He looked at her in confusion before catching on. "I used to keep a diary when I was younger and when—," she understandably hesitated before dropping her voice, "when Master Fu transferred the guardianship to me, I became obsessed with keeping a meticulous record of everything that was happening in my life."
"Yeah," Adrien replied quietly with a slight strain in his voice, "I know."
Marinette coloured, wondering if she had hit a sore spot in their relationship.
"Are you hoping that reading them will jog your memory?" he asked. Marinette shook her head then shrugged.
"I don't know, maybe? That was never the point of them. I just hoped that I could relearn as much as I could from reading them, ya know?" He nodded in understanding.
"You know you can always ask me anything," he said before immediately wishing that he hadn't. This was basically an open invitation to ask about his father, and he really didn't want to talk about that.
"I know, chaton," she smiled at him. He tentatively reached for her hand, still unsure about how much physical contact she would be comfortable with, and gave her a small smile. She returned his smile and placed her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. This was okay. They were going to be okay. Somehow.
Even during her, thankfully, short stay at the hospital, she had learned a bit from just by talking to Adrien. She found out that she had lost about 10 years of memories due to the accident. (Adrien's face darkened and muttered more unsavoury words about the reckless driver whenever the accident was brought up.) She also discovered that she was 27 and that they had been married for almost four years. To her surprise they had eloped first, then held a formal ceremony a little while after. Adrien showed her the wedding photos on his phone as a ruse to avoid explaining why they had eloped in the first place. He had, however, hinted that it fell under the "sensitive topics" that they would deal with when they were at home. She nodded and started to gush over the photos.
"Oohhh, is that my dress?" she hijacked his phone to zoom into the pale-pink gown. "It's so pretty," she cooed.
"I thought so too." He responded dreamily reminiscing on the day, "You looked absolutely stunning in it. Nino had to support me at the alter because my knees were giving out." A light blush spread across her cheeks which made him want to fluster her more. "It was an original design, made by one of the most beautiful, talented designers in Paris. Heck, in the whole world."
Her blush deepened and she giggled as she continued to scan through the photos. He leaned against the metal sides of her hospital bed with his chin in his hands to look at the photos with her. She paused when she reached the end of the wedding pictures and he gave her a brief nod to continue looking through the other photos. He had nothing to hide and he enjoyed this personal time with her.
The rest of the pictures were (unsurprisingly) of them together – relaxing in the park, on dates with each other or at one of the many tourist spots in Paris. She noted that he was wearing glasses in some of them. She saw a couple of candid (read embarrassing) shots of her, either engrossed in a sewing project, stuffing her face with food or sleeping with her mouth open. Okay, maybe he did have something to hide.
"Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly at one particular shot. She was sleeping on what she assumed was their couch with the television on in the background. Adrien was sitting next to her posed as if he were going to throw popcorn in her open mouth. The laughter bubbled out of him naturally.
"Tikki took that shot," Marinette pouted and glared at her traitorous kwami who had retreated to Adrien's shoulder giggling. "It was Plagg's idea though."
The dual combo of her 'pout 'n glare' was directed to the black kwami reposing on her stomach. He had lazily opened one eye at the mention of his name, but hastily shut it as he saw Marinette's face.
"I'm sleeping," he mumbled. Marinette resisted the urge to swat him off her stomach and continued looking at the pictures.
There was a couple of them at the beach and a few of them at a fancy dinner event.
"How come there's just us in these photos," she asked.
"Because this is my 'Just us' folder," he replied simply. "I doubt you would be interested in pics of my physics problems that I have to solve, or the selfies Plagg takes with his cheese, even though he doesn't show up in any of them," he rolled his eyes.
"They're works of art," a mumble came from on top of Marinette stomach, at which the others laughed.
Marinette continued swiping before coming across a more intimate photo of the two of them. It was another sneak photo of her sleeping with her mouth open but it was obvious that they were in bed together. She was tangled up unceremoniously in the sheets with her hair in a messy halo around her head and was wearing an unrecognised Chat Noir-themed pyjama set – a black tank top with a giant green paw print in the middle and neon green shorts with tiny black pawprints all over them. Adrien was lying next to her, shirtless. He was holding the phone out with one arm and the other was tucked under his head in an exaggerated sexy-model pose, which he managed to pull off pretty well despite his messy bed hair and his ridiculous duck lips.
Marinette could feel her face flush as bright red as the ladybug-themed boxers he was wearing in the photo. She snuck a quick glance over at him. He was still leaning on the metal edge of her bed as was looking at the picture with The Soft LookTM.
"Do you always take picture of me sleeping?" she tried to use her Ladybug voice, but he snorted.
"Only when you look adorable like that, Bugaboo. Which is all the time." She scowled at him, remembering that he was also her mischievous partner. "I'm sure when you go through your phone, you'll find embarrassing shots of me too." (Much later on she would find a folder entitled "Adrien Blackmail" on her phone). For the time being she continued browsing through the album.
"Oh," she said softly when she came across the next set of photos and videos. She was in a ladybug-theme underwear set (seriously, what was with the themed clothing!) and was standing next to a bulletin board near a kitchen area with a big white paper tacked to it. The paper said "5 weeks" in a fancy calligraphy font. In the video, she was posing from the front and sides before she did a little jig around herself, with her arms around her stomach.
In the next couple of videos, she was in the same position but the number of weeks kept changing on the board while her growing stomach become more visible. In one of the videos there was a second paper marked "end of first trimester" and Adrien had joined her in doing the jig, before it ended with him leaning down to kiss her.
After going through that particular round of photos Adrien was worried that she was made uncomfortable by the whole thing.
"Ma lady? Are you okay?" Marinette took some time before she responded.
"That was -," she still was processing things, "that was really cute."
"Yeah," he chuckled. His arm went to rub that infernal spot on his neck. "It was Alya's idea."
"Not surprising," she murmured rolling her eyes, "I think I'd like to continue that," she said quietly while Adrien gave her The Soft LookTM. "But maybe with more clothes on," she quickly added.
"What, it's not like I haven't seen everything already," Adrien shot off dryly. Too late he'd realised what he said and clapped his hand over his mouth. He could basically hear the steam coming out of Marinette's ears and didn't need to turn around to look at her to know that her face was beet red.
Before he could sputter out an apology for making her feel weird, a cackle came from on top her stomach.
"You two really are meant for each other. Both hot messes," Plagg wheezed between laughs. The other joined in his laughter which served to ease the awkwardness a bit.
When everyone had settled down, Marinette swiped back at the photo of them in bed together.
"Are we happy, chaton?" she asked softly, her eyes never leaving the phone screen. "Are we happy together, as a married couple?"
"Yes," he said after a while, "I'd like to think so. Sure, we hit rough patches and difficulties here and there like regular couples. And, because we're us," the implication of what he really meant was not lost on her, "we deal with stuff that regular couples don't have to. But we always get through it in the end. So, I'd say that we're pretty happy." She smiled at this. "After all, it's you and me against the world."
"As always."