I wrote most of this a few months back, but I thought I might finish it up and post it for funsies!
“There’s no shotgun on a sofa!”
As Marinette watched her two youngest children sprawl across the couch, Louis obnoxiously taking up as much room as possible and Bridgette primly seating herself atop his head, it was a real effort to keep from crying.
Maybe she was getting soft in her (not old, forty eight was still quite spry) age, but it was always times like these, when they all sat down as a family to talk, that made her remember the earlier days. The days where baby Bridgette was a permanent fixture to her hip and Louis was little more than a streak of blonde hair as he zoomed around the house. The years their house had been filled with not two children but four, each of them unique and talented and an absolutely perfect blend of her and Adrien.
(Don’t get her wrong, Marinette was proud that she’d raised Emma and Hugo to be such self-sufficient young adults, but damn if she didn’t still get a little misty eyed every time she passed their empty bedrooms.)
“Alright settle down,” Marinette began, swatting her son’s feet off the table with practiced ease, “Time for family meeting.”
She cleared her throat.
“Since you two are both teenagers now, your father and I thought it was time to discuss some things with you.”
Two mischievous smiles dropped, shattering on the floor.
“Oh god,” Bridgette breathed, eyes flooding with dread, “Please tell me you aren’t-“
“I got the banana!” Adrien announced as he exited the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. Louis and Bridgette let loose synchronized shrieks, then transitioned into wailing as Marinette produced a foil square from her pocket.
“Why do you have a condom?” Louis groaned, hands dragging down the sides of his tomato-tinted face. “You two haven’t done that since Bridgette was conceived.” His eyes widened in abject horror. “Right? Oh god please tell me you don’t still…”
He trailed off, silently begging his parents to confirm they were, in fact, on a 16 year chastity streak.
As Adrien plopped down unto the couch next to his wife, the expression he threw his son somehow managed to be both pitying and smug. “You really think we go to bed early every Sunday night because we’re tired?”
The teens let loose another synchronized retch, Bridgette slapping her hand over her ears and Louis spitting a string of curses vulgar enough to earn him a sharp look from sailor Marinette herself.
“Sex is normal and healthy,” she admonished, trying to keep her face passive despite the grin resting on the edge of her lips.
(She could still remember the mortification she’d felt the day her own parents had given her this talk, but found that being on the other end of things was downright funny.)
“Not at your age it isn’t,” Bridgette whined from behind her pillow.
“Yeah,” Louis agreed, “You’ll break a hip.”
“That’s kinnda the goal,” Marinette said beneath a cough, earning two more horrified “Maman!”’s and a fistbumps from her husband.
“That’s it!” Bridgette declared, pushing up from the couch, “I’m flying into the sun.”
Adrien hooked her by the waist, pulling her back down to her seat. “Not before you learn proper condom application you don’t.”
Drawing upon years of being the baby of the family, Bridgette stuck her bottom lip out in that trademark pout, hoping it’d been enough to crack her father’s notoriously weak resolve. “But it’s weeeeeird,” she whined, throwing in the boo-boo eyes for good measure. “Besides, I already know how-“
She shut her mouth so hard her fangs clicked.
Three other mouths hung open.
(Listen, it wasn’t her fault some of the vamp kids she’d met while visiting her grandpas had given her plasma-fruit flavored condoms! It wasn’t her fault Dom had agreed to be her Guinea pig, sweating bullets as she’d lowered her razor-sharp mouth around him! She was a curious girl, okay?! So sue her!)
“And just when did this happen?!” Louis exploded, taking on the role of protective father as Adrien sat dumbstruck across the living room. “Was it that Bourgeois bastard?”
“Don’t you dare talk about my Feli-bug like that!” Bridgette deflected, poking a sharp nail to the center of his chest.
“OOOOO I’m gunna bake Casper the frigid ghost a nice batch of garlic cookies and deliver them on a silver platter!”
“Louis shut up!”
“She… already knows?” Adrien murmured, staring vacantly at the rug. “How… w-why does she already know??”
“Siri?” Louis asked, hoisting his phone high enough to evade his vertically-challenged sister, “Where is the nearest place to get a wooden stake?”
“How old is she?” Adrien’s hands carded through his white-blonde (almost silver) hair. “How old am I???”
A pillow went sailing, followed shortly after by a streak of yellow and black. The banana was smashed on the floor. Alya wandered in from next door, only to walk right back out.
“Mom, control your idiot son!”
“Mom, control your slutty-“
‘She always did have my upper body strength,’ Marinette mused, idly stirring her tea as she watched her daughter bludgeon her son with a couch cushion.
Adrien- who at this point seemed to have moved past his mini-midlife crisis -sprung to his feet, confiscating both pillow and cell phone (“The nearest steakhouse is 3.4 miles away.”) as he hauled his hissing kittens apart.
“No hitting!” he admonished, plopping the world’s first bright red honeybee on one end of the couch. “And no calling your sister- or any Lady!- a slut,” he continued, sticking a rumpled butterfly on the other. “Now sit still and learn, unless you want any unplanned pregnancies in your future.”
“Pssh, yeah right,” Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slumped back into the cushion, “Like that’ll ever happen…”
Five years later, when he found himself sitting on that very same couch with a squirming toddler pinned to his hip, Louis made sure to take notes when his parents produced a second banana.