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Mr. & Mrs. Agreste

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Marinette took out her small gun from her thigh holster, holding it out with one hand as she shot around the corner blindly to where she knew Adrien was hiding. She could hear retaliating gunshots being sent her way, and she prayed that the dining room wall separating them held for a little while longer.

Upon hearing the click of her gun signifying that the case was empty, Marinette cursed and withdrew her arm. She hastily re-holstered the now useless gun, crouching down and pressing herself up against the wall. She had no other weapons on her person, having used them all in the past few minutes in trying to kill her husband, so she needed to restock. 

It was then that she heard Adrien stop shooting as well, a ringing silence falling over the darkened house, a stark contrast to the madhouse it had been. 

Marinette peaked through a small hole in the wall that was made earlier from a stronger weapon than the ones they had at the moment, searching for any sign of her husband. She found none.

“Still alive, kitty?” she called out to the silent house, her heart beating erratically in her throat. Normally she was calm and collected during these kinds of fights, having been in them many times before. But now was different, and it shouldn’t be. It was just another job, that’s all. Nothing less, nothing more. 

Marinette heard him grunt, then heard the sound of his gun clattering to the floor. 

She waited for a few moments, but no other movement came from his direction. 

I can’t be that lucky, Marinette thought to herself. She slowly rose to her feet, careful not to step on the tiny pieces of broken dishes that shattered across the floor with her bare soles, all the while listening for any sort of movement from her husband. 

Marinette assessed the situation. Her stash with more bullets and weapons was on the other side of the room hidden behind one of the paintings, and because the dining table table had been pushed against the opposite wall, the only way to get there was to pass across the entryway that led to the foyer, where Adrien had been shooting from. 

There was very probable that he was faking being injured, instead opting to wait her out so he had a clear shot.

Or he could have run out of bullets like she had, but unlike her he had more on him and was reloading his gun at that very moment. 

But there was also the probability that he really was neutralized, and she needed to go check his body to know for sure.

No matter what the situation, she needed more firepower. There were many different paths this operation could take, and many ways that it could go sideways. She needed to be prepared. 

Marinette took a breath, then sprinted across the room, shards of broken glass digging into her feet and gunshots ringing behind her. She hurriedly pressed her thumb to the scanner to the side of the painting’s frame, putting in the code when prompted, then grabbed the proper case of bullets for her small gun.

“Your aim’s as bad as your cooking sweetheart,” Marinette called out while she reloaded her gun, “and that’s saying something!”

“I’ve never cooked a day in my life,” she heard him growl, more gunshots ringing through the air between them. “Someone else did it, I took the credit. All a part of the image, my lady.”

Marinette grabbed the other, bigger gun from her safe and turned around just in time for Adrien to jump around the corner, firing with deadly aim at his chest while stepping away from his shots. She cursed herself for being so careless - they were both wearing bullet-proof vests, of course her bullets didn’t kill him. 

He backed away, moving to the other side of the table then pushing it toward her to pin her against the wall, but she jumped at the last second and ran across the table, ducking past the chandelier and tackling Adrien to the ground as he was running in the other direction. He landed on his stomach, the air rushing out of his lungs in a whoosh, arm reaching out toward his gun that spun away from him across the floor. 

Marinette stood up, stance strong, barrel aimed at her husband’s forehead. 

“Any last words?” she asked, not bothering to blow the strand of dark hair out of her eyes.

“The new curtains are hideous,” he said, kicking his feet up and knocking the gun out of her hands, causing it to fly across the room.

Marinette reeled back slightly, foot bracing against the ground from behind to steady her, her hand rising to block Adrien’s punch. She raised her leg to kick him backwards into a wall, the glass in the picture frame behind him cracking.

She rushed him, but he immediately threw out an arm to knock her to the side and into the wall as well. Marinette winced at the grip his strong hands had around her throat, mustering up the energy to lift her leg to connect with his groin.

Adrien moaned, his grip loosening as he bent over. Marinette hit his hands away and pushed on his chest, knocking him to the ground. Adrien, however, still had enough energy left to push her to the side as well. 

Marinette rolled, landing in a crouch. She grabbed her gun that had fallen out of her hands, standing up to point it at her husband, and was greeted by the barrel of his own gun not far from her face. 

They were both breathing heavily, glaring at each other over their weapons while their fingers hovered over the triggers. 

Marinette readjusted her grip, knuckles white from gripping the gun so tightly. She had to see this mission through, no matter what. It didn’t matter that this was her husband, who she had spent the past 7 years with, 5 of which they were married. It didn’t matter that she thought that she loved him. That was over now. Everything was over.

“What are you waiting for?” she ground out through her teeth, voice low with rage. “Do it!”

Adrien didn’t say anything, seemingly frozen still. The only movement was from his gun as it wavered slightly.

“Well?” she demanded into the tense silence, wanting, needing to fill it with something before her heart told her to forget it, to abandon the mission. That was not an option. 

Then why was this so hard, dammit!

Marinette watched as Adrien lowered his gun as if in slow motion, the sound of metal hitting the hardwood floor echoing throughout the room.

“I can’t,” was the only thing he said.

Marinette felt a single tear fall from her eye, mixing with the leftover blood from the large gash on her forehead as the water rolled down her cheek, her gun shaking slightly. “What are you doing? Pick it up, you coward!”

Adrien took a step toward her, palms facing forward, expression pleading.

“PICK IT UP!” she screamed, her voice cracking. She told herself it was from the sheer volume of her statement. Nothing else. 

“If you’re gonna kill me, kill me,” he said, his forehead pressing against the barrel. “Just know that I love you, no matter what.”

That had to be the worst possible thing he could’ve said in that moment. Marinette’s hands shook, her vision blurred by more tears as she ground her teeth together. 

How could he do this to her? Their agencies are rivals, they pitted them against each other just because they were married. Because they supposedly knew everything about each other. 

Because they loved each other. Supposedly.

That was the heart of it, right? They were a liability to each other, to the agency. It would be disastrous if too much information was shared between them. They had to be eliminated.

And while she understood this, Marinette also looked at her husbands face, blood dried around the recent cut on his cheek she had made by pushing him into a glass cabinet, eyes wide with fear but also understanding. She knew in her heart that he wouldn’t hold it against her if she pulled the trigger. Looking into those eyes, she knew that he understood her. That he loved her more that anything. That he knew what kind of choice she was about to make. 

Because he was just like her. An agent. An assassin. A killer.

Marinette took a deep breath, her hand steadying. She never thought that she would be able to find someone with her job being what it was, so it had been a miracle when they had found each other in Colombia. An act of fate that they loved each other, but it was their own choice altogether when they decided to get married.

Looking into his eyes, Marinette knew that this was the same man she had met 7 years ago. The same man she married. The same man she loved. She knew in her heart that she still loved him, and she always will, no matter what. But now that everything was out in the open, it made everything better.

After all, who was better suited for a killer than another killer?

The gun fell from her fingers, feet pushing against the ground before the weapon had even touched the wood, leaping toward him until their lips connected with such passion that she could hardly stand it. 

Adrien wrapped his arms around her waist, hoister her up and pushing her against the wall, her ankles locking together behind him. She bit his lip, hard, causing him to moan and press against her with a strength she had never experienced from him before. 

They would deal with the fallout of their decision later. Right now she was going to have sex with her husband, and it was going to be miraculous.