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When he felt her stir in his arms, Adrien held her in place.
"Sssh." He stroked her back. "It's Sunday."
Marinette didn't relax right away, and he wondered if she'd break out of his arms and start getting ready regardless.
But then she yawned, stretched out her legs, wrapped her arms tighter around him, and rested her head back on his collarbone.
He smiled, placing his cheek against her hair.
Adrien ran his hand down the back of her rumpled camisole, before reaching the warm strip of her lower back. Marinette snuggled closer. This was supposed to be a sleep-in, a morning to recompense for all the half-hearted kisses before rushing to work, and the empty beds woken up to when one of them had an earlier start than the other. For once their day-off aligned, and while Marinette seemed to be taking full advantage (perhaps too sleepy to do much else) Adrien couldn't bring himself to fall back asleep.
In his arms, she mumbled something incoherent. As she stirred once again, he soothed her, this time running his hand along the inside of her camisole and stroking her shoulder blades.
She wiggled her arm out from underneath him and placed her hand by his clavicle. Her wedding ring was so warm from their body heat he barely felt it on his skin.
Adrien tried to remember the last time they spent a morning like this, and couldn't. A few weeks ago? Perhaps even months ago? They had both been awake that morning — first her, then him. She had rested her chilly hand against his stomach, and he had woken up. He had turned, then, and they had talked quietly, stroking each other's hair until the sun rose higher.
Gently, he scratched her back. "I love you."
"I love you, too, but let me sleep," she said huskily.
Adrien laughed. He fixed the duvet around her, shifted her higher up on his body, and kissed her cheek. From this new angle, he could see Marinette, her eyes closed, smile.
He remembered a cold morning at the bus stop last week, coffee-less and Marinette-less and thus in a particularly sour mood, dreaming of a day off where he could sleep long into the afternoon with his wife in his arms.
But now, with Marinette's loose hair pressed to his face and the morning outside sunny and sweet, he was more awake than ever.
He took his hand out of Marinette's camisole to intertwine their fingers.
Adrien didn't mind one bit.