mistkitt: (Default)
 Originally Posted: 07/27/16
I have a prompt for you, inspired a joke told by Stephen Colbert. Three year olds are hard to negotiate with, for not getting that toy and refusing to be appeased, kid screams "YOU'RE NOT MY DAD" loudly in the store. It doesn't help to run out of that store with the kid in your arms still screaming that.

Been holding onto this one for a couple weeks. I KNOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY BUT IT TURNED INTO ANGST I’m sorry.

~*~

Tantrums were Adrien’s least favorite part of the day.

With the loss of his wife still so recent, he didn’t know how he was supposed to manage his own grief, let alone his three year old daughter’s. Emma had gone through a period of sullenness as the ache of loss spread through her tiny body. But she was a spirited child. Sullenness didn’t suit her.

Screaming bloody murder in the grocery store did.

“I want it!” she sobbed, pointing one stubby finger at a candy display.

Adrien squinted at her through tired eyes. “Emma, we have enough candy at home. Can you wait until we get home?”

“No!” She stamped her foot. Tears rolled down her red face.

“You won’t get any candy at all if you keep acting like this,” he said.

No,” Emma shrieked again, balling her hands into fists. “You’re not my daddy! You’re not!”

Adrien’s face darkened. Ignoring the stares of onlookers—some discreet, some blatant—he picked Emma up and carried her out of the store. “You’re not my daddy!” she screamed all the way to the car. He buckled her into her seat and went around to the driver’s side. 

Emma sobbed herself hoarse on the road to Gabriel Agreste’s mansion. Adrien called ahead to let Nathalie know he was headed over. When he reached the house, the garage door was open. Gabriel himself stood beside the family’s private car, Nathalie waiting behind him. As soon as Adrien cut off the engine Nathalie came forward and extracted the exhausted Emma from her car seat. 

Adrien sat perfectly still as Nathalie carried his daughter away, whispering soothing words to her.

Father and son remained alone in the garage. 

Gabriel knocked gently on the car window. Adrien rolled it down. Neither of them spoke. Then Adrien lowered his head to the steering wheel and broke down crying.

mistkitt: (Default)
Originally Posted: 06/30/16

A Single Dadrien drabble because it’s 1AM and I’ve lost control of my life. Will be queued for the morning.

~*~

Everything had been ready. Sandwiches cut, wrapped, stowed. Drinks in temperature appropriate containers. Marinette’s pastries nestled in the center of the basket. An excess of napkins on standby. Picnic blanket folded. Sunscreen smeared all over Emma’s nose and arms. 

Then a crack of thunder rattled the glasses in the kitchen cabinets.

Adrien, Marinette, and Emma stood at the living room window, watching the rain fall in torrents. It splattered against the glass almost hatefully. Emma lowered her head and stuck out her bottom lip. “But what about our picnic?” she mumbled.

Adrien looked at Marinette. Marinette looked at him. Her mouth pulled up into a huge smile. “I know what we can do,” she cried. She turned away from the dismal weather, marched over to the dining table, picked up a chair, and carried it into the living room. “Adrien, Emma, would you be so kind as to bring me as many blankets as possible?”

Adrien did as he was told. He went to the linen closet and pulled out all their extra sheets, handing a small stack to Emma, which she promptly ran into the living room with. Marinette was still strategically placing chairs. “We need Christmas lights,” she informed him. “And flashlights, in case the power goes out.”

Adrien nearly collided with Emma on his way back with the Christmas lights; she carried an armful of pillows so large they blocked her view. He put his hand on her head and steered her safely back to Marinette, who by then had assembled a large blanket tent that took up half the living room. She lined the bottom of it with comforters and pillows, then strung up the Christmas lights in a zigzagging pattern and plugged them in. The blanket fort came to life. “Voila!” she said.

Adrien laughed out loud. “What did you do, study babysitting in college?”

“I didn’t, but I could absolutely come up with a theoretical degree plan.” Marinette ushered them towards the fort. “Come on in. Our picnic awaits.”

Thankfully the power did not go out. The trio ate their sandwiches and pastries under a canopy of twinkling lights, laughing over the sound of the rain. Marinette had incorporated the television into the fort—she really did think of everything—so they were able to have a mini movie marathon. And since Marinette hadn’t brought an umbrella and Adrien refused to let her go out in a downpour, she ended up staying through dinner as well.

By the time the rain let up, it was past nine o’clock. Emma lay curled up asleep in her father’s lap. “I should put her to bed,” Adrien said.

“Oh, then I’ll clean up this mess.” Marinette gestured around them.

“No, leave the fort. I kind of feel like sleeping under it myself.” He picked Emma up and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

As Adrien guided his groggy daughter through her bedtime routine, his nerves began to fail. He tucked Emma in and walked to the door with the agonizing knowledge that Marinette was in his living room, and there would be no Emma to act as a buffer between them. He’d have to make proper adult conversation with the beautiful woman who’d stolen his heart. 

He closed Emma’s bedroom door behind him before he could find an excuse to lock himself inside.

Marinette sat in the blanket fort, eyes on her cell phone screen. “According to my weather app, Paris is all rained out for the night.” She smiled at him. “Looks like I can finally get out of your hair.”

Adrien froze. “Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re not—in my hair. I mean, it’s no trouble, you being here. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Marinette’s smile widened. “You’re so good and patient with Emma, and finding a babysitter she actually likes has been a trial.” He shook his head. “Not that you’re just a babysitter! You’re more than that. You’re practically family. So don’t feel hurried on my account.”

Marinette giggled and Adrien felt heat rise to his cheeks. “I appreciate the compliment,” she said, “but I really should get going. I promised my parents I’d help them in the bakery tomorrow. Five o’clock wake up call.”

“You just can’t help helping people, can you?”

“I was a superhero in my past life,” she said, then winked at him and sent his heart skittering.

He offered her his umbrella in case it decided to rain again on her way home. She took it gladly. Adrien walked her down the hall to the elevator and pressed the down button for her. He racked his brain for something to say. “Thank you for spending the day with us. It was a lot of fun.”

“You’re very welcome.” Marinette held his umbrella to her chest.

“Maybe next time we’ll make it outdoors before the weather forces us to rethink our plans.”

“Yeah,” she said, “next time.” The elevator doors slid open. She offered him her hand. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Adrien, too tongue-tied to manage anything else, shook it. “Monday,” he agreed. 

He stepped back as she got into the elevator. She waved at him. He waved back. The doors closed between them…

…and Adrien pushed the down button, forcing them open again. Marinette blinked in surprise as he stepped into the elevator with her. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just really need to get my shit together.” 

And with that he took her face in both his hands and kissed her. The elevator doors slid shut as she immediately moved closer to him, leaning his umbrella against the corner so she could lay her hands on his chest. He hadn’t kissed a woman in so many years that it was clumsy at first. But Marinette didn’t seem to mind. She returned his gentle kiss with an eagerness that made his stomach bottom out—or perhaps that was just the elevator, but he felt lightheaded nonetheless. Her lips were slick with gloss and fit against his perfectly. He could have kissed her all night had they not been in a public elevator, which reached the ground floor of the apartment building much sooner than he wanted. 

They broke away before the doors opened, Marinette fumbling for his umbrella and almost dropping it. He walked her out to the street, dazed and happy and uncertain and terrified all at once. The air was thick with the smell of rain.

Marinette looked up at him shyly, grappling with the smile that wanted to take over her face. Adrien kissed her again to reassure her she had every reason to smile. “Good night,” he said. He could have sworn there were stars in her eyes.

“Good night,” she whispered. 
mistkitt: (Default)
Originally Posted: 06/20/16

In fact, why not an entire Single Dadrien drabble?

~*~

Adrien Agreste’s day started at six in the morning. He woke up, showered, shaved, dressed, and walked down the hall to the only other bedroom in his small apartment. There, curled up with her favorite stuffed cat, slept his daughter Emma.

Emma, like most little girls her age, was having a princess phase. Her room had practically become a shrine to Disney’s Frozen (Adrien himself could sing “Let It Go” backwards and forwards). He stepped over various plastic princesses on his way to his daughter’s bedside, reminding himself to scold her for the mess later. At the moment he could only watch her sleep, struck by how much she resembled his late wife: dark hair, button nose, and when she was awake, her fiery temper. He shook his head. “Emma, come on. Time to get up.”

She whined and turned over with exaggerated movements, throwing the covers over her head. Adrien picked her up, blankets and all, and carried her to the bathroom. He sat her on the toilet lid. Pulled the Frozen shower curtain aside. Ran water until it was sufficiently warm. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Emma woke up immediately. “Coffee!”

“Try again.”

She stuck out her bottom lip. “Yogurt.”

Adrien scrubbed her head and took the blanket away from her. “Yogurt and toast coming right up.”

He took the blanket back to her bed and laid out one of the newest outfits his father had made Emma. Then Adrien brewed coffee for himself and prepared Emma’s school lunch while he waited for her to get dressed. No matter what, they always had breakfast together. It was tradition.

Emma, refreshed from her shower, became a chatterbox. She caught Adrien up on the plots of all her favorite cartoons on the way to school, then planted a kiss on his cheek before she ran off, lunchbox flailing at her side. He pretended not to notice the hungry stares of the kindergarten moms as he waited for Emma to go indoors. Before she did, she turned back and waved at him.

Ah, he was going to miss that when she hit her rebellious phase.

Next came work. Straight up fashion from eight to four. Business meetings, papers to be signed, phone calls to make, more coffee to drink. He was grateful for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who always seemed to know when his energy levels were depleted and brought him something from her parents’ bakery.

After work, Adrien put on an encore performance of his greatest role: Super Dad Who Never Gets Tired. He picked Emma up from her friend’s house and got to work on dinner as soon as they arrived home. Emma ran around his legs and told him all about school: a boy had lost his first tooth and now everyone wanted to lose their teeth, Chloe’s daughter brought an expensive charm bracelet for show and tell, the teacher taught them a new song. When dinner was ready they ate at their small round dining table.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Do you wanna get married?”

Adrien choked on his food and coughed violently. “What–? Where did that come from?”

“I heard two ladies saying how you should get married.” Emma paused, then gave him a serious look. “I told them they’re wrong.”

Adrien burst out laughing. He couldn’t help himself. There was no doubt in his mind that if he ever started dating again, Emma would run off all his potential mates. But rather than entertain the thought, he watched some television with his daughter until her eyelids got droopy, then he helped her change into her pajamas, brush her teeth, and climb into bed.

Later, as he stood at the sink silently scrubbing the dinner plates, he allowed himself to imagine how nice it would be to have someone to talk to. Someone to cuddle with on the sofa. Someone to sleep next to. But as appealing as single fathers were to single women, Adrien knew the truth: not many of them were truly willing to parent a child they hadn’t given birth to.

And Emma Agreste–his little princess, his entire world–deserved better than that.

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