Work Text:
Marinette noticed them in Adrien’s grocery crate as soon as he entered the front door: the most beautiful roses she’d ever seen.
Taking Emma’s hand, she gasped. He’d just come back from the store, picking up a prescription for her anti-anxiety meds and the week’s groceries... and he’d bought her flowers.
“They had a summer sale on,” Adrien explained as Marinette clipped the bouquet. The summer heat would make the flowers wilt if she didn’t get them into water right away, so she couldn’t help put the groceries away. “Six euros for a dozen roses.”
Get you a man who will buy you a dozen roses on a whim, Emma, Marinette thought. She kissed his cheek as he passed by her at the sink. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”
As Adrien started unloading paper grocery bags, their three-year-old, Emma, bounced into the kitchen. “What did you get for me, Daddy?”
He turned to her with a smile. “Nail polish! It was on the list.”
“Paint mine!” Emma tugged on Adrien’s jeans. “Paint mine, paint mine, paint mine!”
Marinette placed the roses in the vase full of water. “Is that how you ask to get your nails painted, Emma?”
Emma sulked. “Please can you paint my nails?”
“Okay, okay.” Adrien held up his hands. “Just let me put the groceries away.”
Emma sat--patiently for a three-year-old, Marinette thought--at the table while the two adults opened and shut cabinets and the fridge, stocking the larder. Adrien fished the two bottles of nail polish he’d bought out of the bags and brought them over to her.
“You bought pink nail polish and blue.” Emma pointed at the blue one. “Who’s the blue for?”
Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s for you or for Momma.”
“It’s for her.” Marinette placed her hands on the back of Emma’s chair and beamed. “And me.”
Emma gasped. “It’s for me?”
“It’s for you.” Adrien nodded, uncapping the pink. “And for Momma.”
Emma spread her fingers out on the table. “And for you?”
“I…” Adrien hesitated, and Marinette grinned. “I guess it’s for me.”
Adrien was meticulous in everything he did, and painting Emma’s nails was no exception. She stayed remarkably still as he brushed on the acetone-smelling chemicals.
Marinette leaned on Emma’s chair and smiled. Get you a man who will paint your daughter’s nails.
“My turn!” Emma pinched her fingers around the air, clearly intending for Adrien to hand her the brush. “My turn!”
“Paint mine first,” Marinette said, sitting in the chair next to Emma.
Emma let loose a whine. “I want to paint Daddy, too.”
“Okay, Emma.” Adrien sighed and retrieved a paper towel. “You can paint one hand, and then I have to go to the warehouse club.”
Emma seized upon Adrien’s hand, smearing pink nail polish all over his fingernails. Get you a man who will let his three-year-old daughter paint his nails.
“She’s actually doing a good job,” Marinette pointed out, to which Adrien grunted. “I don’t think we have nail polish remover in the house.”
Adrien blew on his nails. “I don’t think I can wait for this to dry. I really need to get to the store before my game with Nino tonight.”
Emma’s eyes were as wide as teacup saucers. “It’s pretty.”
“Go ahead, Adrien.” Marinette waved a hand. “I’ll take care of her.”
"You can paint my other hand when I get home," Adrien said. "Okay, Emma?"
Emma giggled. "Okay!"
After Adrien left, Emma painted Marinette’s nails next--one hand pink and the other blue. Marinette winced at the slimy feeling of the polish. She normally bit her nails to nubbins, so she didn’t know how long the color would last.
Emma set the brush down on the table, and Marinette wiped the polish on the wood up with the paper towel before it dried. Emma grinned up at her mother. “Let’s go to the park!”
Marinette nodded, blowing on her nails. “It’s hot today, so we can only be out for a little while, okay, Emma?”
The park was a mile walk away, and Emma had only just started being able to walk the entire way there. Marinette usually had to carry her daughter back and was not looking forward to the inevitable whining to be picked up on the way home.
Before they left, Emma took a few moments to secure her helmet to her head and play with her three-wheeled scooter. “Can I take the scooter to the park, Mommy?”
“No, baby,” Marinette told her. “If you take the scooter, I can’t carry you on the way home.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Emma finished playing with the scooter, riding it down the street, and Marinette carried it back to the family’s garage. “Let’s go to the park now!” Emma cried, and ran off, Marinette trailing behind her.
On the way to the park, they came upon a neighbor having a yard sale. There were mostly books and games available. “Hey!” he called, standing up from his deck chair. “Would you like a game?”
Emma shrieked and bounced in place. “Yes!”
Marinette bit her lip. “I didn’t bring any cash, Pierre, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Pierre shrugged. “I was never going to sell all these anyway.” He plucked up a card game with Dr. Seuss’ Lorax on the cover of the small box. “Ever read this, Emma?”
Emma squinted at the box. “No. But I seed the movie.”
Marinette winced. She knew Emma watched too much TV; she only hoped Pierre didn’t catch on.
Pierre just smiled. “What happens in the movie, Emma?”
Emma made grabby hands for the game. “He leaved town to find a real tree.”
“He left town to find a real tree?” Pierre handed Marinette the game. “That doesn’t sound like the Lorax I know from the book, but if you say so.”
Marinette gently grasped Emma’s shoulder and turned her towards Pierre. “He gave you a game. Say thank you, Emma.”
Emma took one look at Pierre and blew a raspberry before running off. Marinette’s cheeks exploded with heat as she started chasing Emma. Marinette called over her shoulder, “Sorry, Pierre!”
Pierre waved a hand. “No worries. She’s three, I get it.”
Grateful for understanding neighbors, Marinette darted after Emma as she ran up the sidewalk’s hill. Catching the girl by the hand, Marinette forcibly slowed their steps. “Calm down, Emma.”
“No!” Emma shrieked, pulling away. She ran for a few steps more, and then calmed down. “I’m tired, Mama. Carry me.”
Marinette sighed. She took Emma’s hand again. “No, baby. We’re almost at the park. You can walk the rest of the way, right?”
Emma huffed, but she did, in fact, trudge the rest of the way. When they arrived at the park, there were a couple of dogs in the grassy portion, which was bordered by a paved track in a circle. Marinette made a mental note to keep Emma away from the dogs.
Emma made a beeline towards the playground equipment. She slid down the slide several times, had Marinette push her on the swings, and climbed the rock wall while Marinette hovered behind her. As Emma rocked on the rocking frog, Marinette played on design apps on her phone and sweltered in the heat.
Emma dismounted the frog and bounced up to her mother. “Here, take my helmet. My head is hot.”
Marinette unclasped the helmet from Emma’s head and looped the straps around Marinette’s wrist. I’m now carrying the helmet, the Lorax game, and my phone. And I’ll have to carry Emma home, soon, too. Ugh.
Marinette knelt in front of her daughter. “Are you done with the park, Emma?”
Emma shook her head. “Let’s play hide and seek!”
“Hide and go seek?”
“No! Hide and seek!”
Marinette nodded, wiping sweat off her brow. “Okay, Emma. We can play hide and seek. Do you want me to count?”
Emma took off running towards the trees on the other side of the grassy portion of the park. “Yes!”
Marinette loudly counted to twenty, adding details to a sketch of a frock coat while she pursued Emma. “Ready or not, here I come!” Marinette peered around the tree Emma chose to hide behind. “There you are!”
Emma scowled at her. “How did you know I was here?”
Marinette blinked. “I saw you.”
“Uh, no,” Emma said, and Marientte’s first thought was, Don’t tell me what I did or didn’t see, kid. “You heared me laughing. I laughed a little.”
Marinette put her phone away, “covered” her eyes with a hand, and counted to twenty again, keeping one eye on Emma as she bolted to another tree. “Ready or not--”
“I’m not ready!”
Marinette sputtered. “Do you want me to count to twenty again?”
Emma waved her arms behind the tree. “Yes!”
“One, two, three…” Marinette counted again, covering her eyes. “Nineteen, twenty. Are you ready?”
“Yes!”
Marinette peered behind trees, specifically avoiding the tree Emma stood behind. “Is she behind this tree? Noooo…”
Emma giggled, so Marinette continued. “Is she behind this tree? Nooo…”
When Marinette finally rounded the tree Emma was behind, the girl was frowning. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Emma glanced down at her feet, tears in her eyes. “I haved an accident.”
Oh, no. Tucking the Lorax game under her arm, Marinette checked Emma’s pants. They were wet. “That’s okay, baby, I’m not mad at you. Sometimes accidents happen.”
Thankfully, Emma was wearing a dress, so Marinette was able to take off her pants and wet underwear. Kicking herself for not bringing the twenty-pound diaper bag--which held two changes of clothes and baby wipes--on the park trip, Marinette held the pee-soaked clothes and wondered what to do with them. “Time to go, Emma.”
“But I was going to have fun!”
“You’re not wearing underwear, lovely.” Marinette took Emma’s hand and started gently dragging her away from the park. “We need to go home so we can clean you up.”
“Nooo!” Emma cried, digging her heels in. “I don’t want to leave!”
“Emma,” Marinette said more patiently than she expected herself to be, “you’re covered in pee. Don’t you want to be clean?”
Emma heaved a sigh that was huge for such a little girl, sounding more like a moody teenager. “I guess.”
Carrying the pee-soaked pants, the Lorax game, and the helmet, Marinette started walking towards home, double-checking behind her to make sure Emma followed. She did, but at a leisurely pace that drove Marinette bonkers.
After several minutes of Emma stopping to look at dandelions, butterflies, and interesting rocks before continuing along the paved path, Marinette counseled patience for herself. I have to remember that I’m on toddler time.
“Mommy.” Emma stared at her hands. “Is my nail polish going to melt in the heat?”
“No, baby.” Marinette frowned as she approached a bench, just knowing Emma would want to take a break. “Nail polish doesn’t melt unless it’s really, really hot.”
“I need some water.” Emma plodded along. “I am thirsty. I really am thirsty.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have any water.”
“Waaah,” Emma fake cried.
As Marinette expected, Emma demanded that they sit on the bench, which Marinette was indignant about because the day was hot and she wanted to get home as soon as possible. Sweat poured in rivulets down Marinette’s back and gathered in her armpits. Ugh.
With her mother’s reluctant permission, the girl plopped down and sagged in the seat, as tired as if they’d been walking for miles. A woman in a tracksuit passed by, to whom Emma waved. “Hi, hi, hi!”
“Why, hello!” the woman said, taking out her earbuds. “Isn’t the park pretty?”
Oh, yeah, so pretty, Marinette deadpanned in her head. The woman looked freshly-showered, a state that Marinette envied.
“Sure is!” Emma said, and despite her bitterness, Marinette smiled at her daughter’s cheerful interactions with the stranger.
“Well, have a good time!” The woman put her earbuds in and started power-walking away.
Emma dawdled on the bench, and Marinette went back to sketching her frock coat. The coat was for a client with very specific tastes, and Marinette knew she wouldn’t have time to work on it this next week, so she needed it done today.
Finally, Emma stood, and Marinette followed. A squirrel ran across the path, and Emma chased it. “I want to pet you, squirrel!”
“Emma, no!” Marinette tried to catch her, but Marinette’s hands were full with the pants, helmet, phone, and game. Marinette put her phone away and grabbed her daughter. “Squirrels have germs.”
Emma shook her off. “I already have germs inside me.”
Luckily, the squirrel raced away. Marinette didn’t think Emma would actually catch the animal, but she didn’t want to encourage the girl to chase the poor thing.
Emma continued walking, and Marinette followed. Soon, they approached a full trash can on the side of the path that led to a different neighborhood than their own. Emma reached out for the can, causing Marinette to yell, “Don’t touch the trash!”
Emma huffed, folding her tiny arms. “I was just going to put something inside it.”
“What?”
“A rock.”
Emma wasn’t holding a rock. In fact, there were no rocks around at all. Marinette nudged her past the trash can and towards the path home.
“Let’s go this way, Mama!” Emma darted towards the other path. “Is this a shortcut? Is the other one a thing to get lost forever?”
Marinette bit her lip. She didn’t want to get lost going on an unfamiliar route. “Can we go the way we always go, Emma?”
“No!”
Score one for adventurous spirits.
Marinette followed Emma down the path, but soon got lost in sketching the coat. Before she knew it, Marinette was walking into the street, and Emma trailed behind her. “Emma, don’t walk into the road.”
“But you go-ed into the road and that’s why I followed.” Emma tugged on Marinette’s shirt, which stayed plastered to her back. “You’re supposed to be with me.”
Marinette maneuvered back to the sidewalk, taking Emma with her. As Marinette expected, they were in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Marinette looked up the pathway home on her phone’s GPS. Okay, it’s a mile and a half away. We can do this.
Then Emma lifted her arms. “Carry me.”
Marinette sighed, giving into the inevitable. She put away her phone and stuffed the game and the pee-soaked pants into the helmet. Then she placed Emma on her back.
Emma shook her head. “Not that way. The way that isn’t on your back.”
“That’s harder for Mommy.”
“So?”
Marinette couldn’t argue with that. She shifted Emma to her front and started walking. Marinette began panting immediately; the heat was unbearable, and carrying an extra forty pounds was just too much.
“Is this our car?” Emma asked, as they passed a grey, parked car. “It looks like our car.”
Sweat began to trickle into Marinette’s eyes. With her hands full, she couldn’t wipe it off. “It did look like our car.”
“Can we buy a truck that doesn’t cost-es any coins or money?”
Hair fell into Marinette’s mouth. She spat it out. “What would you buy from the truck?”
“Cards,” Emma said, her grip on Marinette’s neck tightening. “Ice cream cards. From the ice cream truck. For no money.”
Marinette put one foot in front of the other, doggedly walking on. “What do you need cards for?”
“So we can buy ice cream thingies and thingies from the ice cream truck.”
Marinette drew a breath through her nose as they passed into familiar territory. Now she wasn’t worried about being lost, but she still had a mile to go. “What kind of ice cream thingies?”
“The ice cream truck. The ice cream truck.” Emma pointed to another parked car. “Is this our car?”
The sun beat down on Marinette’s head. Her face felt sunburnt already, or at least flushed. “No, baby.”
As they passed a construction site, Emma pointed at the porta-potty. “That’s a stinky toilet! That’s a stinky toilet outside!”
A woman in a striped shirt walked on the opposite side of the road with her husband, chuckling. Emma pointed at the woman. “That’s a swimsuit! I want a swimsuit that is stripey.”
“Sorry,” Marinette said, her cheeks flaming from an inner heat rather than an outer one.
The woman laughed. “It’s okay.”
Marinette kept walking, one foot in front of the other. Emma started chattering again. “Can I live in the same house I’ve been living in when I’m growed up?”
“Maybe.” Marinette panted and shifted Emma’s weight. “Why don’t you live in your own house?”
“My own house?” Emma’s eyes widened. “That’s a great idea. I can buy a new house. Can we pick up houses?”
“No, houses can’t move.” Marinette figured she was down to about half a mile now. “They’re stuck in the ground.”
Emma frowned. “We’ve been in our old house for a long, long time and we need a new one. We need to switch our house to a house that’s pink and sparkly.” Emma paused for a moment, as if giving her words the proper gravitas. “I like sparkles and pink, so that’s why I said that.”
“Mmm.” Marinette hummed her agreement quietly, but didn’t say anything more. She allowed Emma to babble in her ear for the rest of the way home about pink, sparkly houses.
By the time Marinette entered the house, she was ready to die. Adrien met them at the door, blinking at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking Emma from her.
Marientte shook her head. “I walked for a mile and a half in the summer heat with a 40-pound dead weight in my arms.”
Adrien smiled. “Go get a drink, dear heart.”
Get you a man who will take your daughter from you when you’re ready to collapse.
“Sounds like a plan,” Marinette said, and crossed to the kitchen, where she filled a glass with tap water and drank deeply. Adrien followed, carrying Emma. “She needs new underwear.”
Emma giggled. “I peed my pants, Daddy.”
Adrien laughed. “Ah.”
As Marinette leaned on the counter, Adrien carried Emma upstairs to her bedroom. “Let’s clean you up, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy!” Emma answered.
Get you a man who will clean up his daughter.
By the time they’d returned, Marinette had drunk three glasses of water. Her belly sloshed as she turned. Emma was begging to paint Adrien’s nails, so he sat down at the table with her. Marinette crossed to the table with them and leaned on Emma’s chair.
He doesn’t have a lot of nail to paint, Marinette noticed, and as Emma began painting his nails, Adrien hissed.
“Ow!” Adrien’s hands trembled. “She got it in the place I just clipped.”
Marinette blinked. “Are you okay?”
“Aaaaah,” Adrien said.
Emma kissed the back of his hand. “Sorry, Daddy.”
Adrien shook his head, smiling. “It’s okay, sweetling.” Emma lifted the brush and started getting more paint. Adrien bit his lip. “In the bottle. On the top, not the side. No, don’t… Augh. Ay-ya.”
He wasn’t getting frustrated, Marinette noticed, but he was trying to control the process.
“In the bottle. No, in the bottle,” Adrien said, his hands hovering over Emma’s. “Don’t mash the brush. You have to be careful of the brush or otherwise it won’t work.”
Get you a man who will allow his three-year-old to paint his nails, Marinette thought again, smiling as she watched him gently coax Emma into doing so.
Emma globbed nail polish onto Adrien’s nails. “I want M&Ms. They’re yummy in my tummy and my butt, butt, butt! Do snacks go into my butt?”
“No.” Adrien shook his head. “Snacks go into your mouth, and then into your tummy. Your tummy takes all the good stuff out of them, and then the bad stuff comes out your butt.”
Emma scrunched up her nose. “But M&Ms don’t have bad things in them.”
Marinette chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Adrien’s lost look. “Every food has some things you can’t digest, lovely,” Adrien said, spreading his fingers for her. “You take good things out of food and get rid of the bad things. That’s what the process is called: digestion.”
Get you a man who will patiently explain basic science to a toddler.
“But I like M&Ms,” Emma whined. “Sometimes I eat them!”
Emma finished painting his nails pink, and Adrien looked them over. “Okay, well,” he said. “This is… a thing.”
Marinette cackled. “Not used to pink nails?”
Adrien grinned. “It’s not really my color.”
“My butt is hot,” Emma informed them.
Adrien shot her finger guns. “Talk about tooting your own horn.”
Marinette giggled. “Tooting? Really?”
Get you a man who will charm you with his puns.
Emma grabbed her dad’s face and stared at him seriously. “Ten little monkeys, jumping on the roof.”
Adrien chuckled, pausing for just a moment. “Ten little monkeys jumping on the roof? One fell off and chipped his tooth.” He paused a moment more. “Mama called the doctor and he said, ‘Forsooth! No more monkeys jumping on the roof.’”
Marinette stared at him. “Did you just make that up?”
Adrien nodded, and Marinette laughed. Emma laughed, too, though she seemed to be laughing just because Marinette was.
Get you a clever man.
Marinette mopped sweat off her brow. “Oh, right, Adrien, I wanted to ask you…”
Adrien blew on his nails. “Yes?”
“Would you mind fixing my air conditioning unit in my room?” Marinette drank her fourth glass of water. “It’s been wicked hot and my unit broke.”
Adrien stood and Emma clung to his legs. “Sure,” he said. “I can take a look at it.”
Adrien climbed the stairs with Emma on his foot, lifting her carefully, and crossed to Marinette’s room while she followed. He took one look at the unit, tinkered with the settings, and changed the filter. It started blowing cool air. Marinette stood in front of it gratefully, breathing in the air with a relieved sigh.
Get you a man who will fix your air conditioning.
“Did you want me to pick up dinner?” Adrien asked, kissing Marinette’s cheek. “You look tired.”
“Please,” Marinette said, ready to collapse in front of the air conditioner.
Emma bounced in place. “I want rice, Daddy!”
Get you a man who will pick up dinner--with painted nails, no less--after being out all day going to two stores.
“Rice, huh?” Adrien winked down at Emma before turning to Marinette. “How does Thai food sound?”
“Thai sounds great.”
Adrien left. As Marinette stood by the air conditioner, cooling the small of her back, she considered how hard he worked for his family. How much he considered her needs and took care of her and Emma. Marinette was, simply put, overwhelmed by love for her husband.
“Emma,” Marinette said, beaming. “Get you a man who loves you.”
Emma smiled up at her. “Okay, Mama.”