Marinette stood in the shower, reveling in the feeling of hot water washing over her aching body. The day had been hard enough without an akuma. If she had any more energy, she would be concocting curses against the man who dare send her an akuma as difficult as that one was.

She sighed, scrapping together all her energy to reach for her bodywash. But she just didn't want to move. Water rolled in rivulets through her hair, down her face, over her eyes as she stared at the bottle. One seemingly so far away on its little shower caddy rack.

Could she just fall asleep here, in the warmth of the shower? She felt like she could. The ache all over her entire body didn't want to go away, despite the hot water.

So lost in her thoughts, she barely heard the shower door open. Only once she watched a hand reach for the bodywash did she realize she wasn't alone.

"Are you doing okay?" her husband asked.

She leaned back against him, and his arms came around her waist. "Tired."

"I can tell," Adrien said, giving her a little squeeze. "You were staring at the bottle for a good while."

She hummed, reluctantly taking the bottle that he was pressing into her hand.

"Was the meeting hard?"

"Yeah," she said, finally opening the bottle and squeezing some out into her washcloth. "It was just… we agreed on one way to market this line, and we already had the entire plan set up and ready to go, and now, nothing is going to be ready on time, and some of the other designers want to come up with a new plan and—"

"Hey," Adrien said, spinning her around to meet his eyes. "It will be okay. It always is."

She hummed. "Yeah, but it's just hard."

"I know," he said, taking her cheeks in her hands. "And I'm sorry."

The temptation to shut her eyes and fall asleep right then and there was strong. But Adrien removed his hands before she had the opportunity. "Shower first," he quietly spoke, grabbing the soap-laden washcloth from her hand. "Then straight to bed."

"Okay."

She let him wash her while she was loading up a second washcloth for him. This routine of theirs was one that Marinette had once been so shy about early on in their marriage. It had only started because Adrien had gotten injured and needed help in the shower. Now, she rarely thought anything of it. They were married; showering together was no big deal. It had become the new normal, and in the chaotic world of fashion combined with the double life of a superheroine, normal was grounding. Especially when there were some days where the evening shower was the only time she actually got to talk with her husband.

As she ran the washcloth in her hands over her husband, she couldn't help but stare at the mottled black and blues and purples and sickly greens that covered his usually flawless skin. "Does it hurt?"

"I could be asking the same of you, princess," he said, tapping her shoulder. "You look about as bad as I do."

She glanced down at her shoulder, only to see her skin matching the colors seen on his. She hadn't even noticed. Soreness everywhere didn't necessarily mean there were bruises.

When she forced herself to meet his gaze again, she shrugged. "I just hurt."

He gave her a small smile. "I do, too. Bed is calling my name."

"Same," she moaned.

He chuckled.

"Was the rest of your day any better?"

"No. My meeting with my father went about as bad as your meeting did."

"Sorry."

"I've come to expect it."

"I'm sorry about that, too."

It took a while for them to finish, their movements sluggish. When they did finally turn off the water—Marinette immediately missed the warmth—Adrien grabbed her towel and bundled her up in it, rubbing her down as though she was a child.

Then he raised the towel to her head, fluffing her hair with it before letting her peek out from the towel.

She snorted a laugh. "You are such a dork."

His smile grew. "And there's my lady."

The idea was fleeting, and how she had the energy to accomplish it, she didn't know, but she took his towel and threw it over his head, ruffling his hair. When she flipped the towel down around his shoulders, she took in the sight of his madly tussled hair, tendrils going every which way. "There's my kitty," she whispered.

His grin widened, and warmth shot through her body. She loved that smile, the one that was slightly lopsided and caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle and made his green orbs appear to sparkle.

And she loved that she was the one to cause it.

From there, they continued their bedtime routine. Adrien pulled on some sleep pants, then slid his shirt over Marinette's head before she could grab her own pajamas.

She frowned in confusion.

"Oh," he teased, his smile purely Chat Noir, "so you suddenly don't like sleeping in my shirts."

She simply slid her arms through the sleeves. "No."

His grin only widened. He pulled her in, holding her close against his chest. She wrapped her arms lazily over his neck and rested in his embrace.

And by rested, she completely leaned all her bodyweight against him, forcing him to hold her up.

With a chuckle, he swept her up bridal style and carried her to bed. "Tired bug."

"Snuggle kitty."

He chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through his chest like a purr. Her smile widened.

He flicked the covers aside, then set her down on the mattress. She scooched over, allowing him to lay down beside her. They wasted no time in snuggling together, Adrien wrapping his arms around her waist while Marinette wrapped her hands behind his head. She pressed a long, lingering kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, kitty."

His hands disappeared from her waist, only so he could pull the covers up around them. "You're welcome, bug."