"Let me see what we can do here" Adrien murmured while opening the van's hood, only to be greeted by a very hot smoke.
Plagg was unfortunate though - he was hiding inside his charger's collar so he inhaled most of it. Gagging, he poked his charger's flesh with his sharp nail out of spite.
The blond yelped in then hissed as he rubbed the painful spot and at the same time, squished the vengeful kwami.
Sean immediately rushed to his side "Are you alright?"
"Ye-yeah," Adrien answered. He tightened a white cloth on his head like a bandana, rolled his dark shirt's sleeves then began to work.
Marinette was inside the van, unable to remove her gaze from the side mirror which showed her the reflection of a certain hot specimen, with bulging biceps as he held a spanner. The sweat that was trickling on his brows, the scorching heat that contacted his tanned skin, and the steady eyes that were looking for answers was quite a delicious sight.
"You're salivating," the older woman said in a hushed voice which jolted the designer.
"Wa - I'm so -"
"It's alright. Can't blame you." the woman chuckled. "When I was young, I also drooled on guys like him. And that's how I met my Donald."
"Really?" the teenager's face lit up.
"Yeah. He's also a damn cute blond with a sculpted face and body like a god." the woman reminisced. "Too bad he died in his thirties."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
She laughed. "Oh, don't be sorry for him! He's not a keeper actually, and our marriage was one of my biggest regrets. That dope was a womanizer and a beater. I'm happy he conked before he entered the hospital."
"Oh." was the teenager's reply.
"But your man is more like my Bobby." the woman sighed.
"Your second husband?"
"Who's the second husband?"
The girl paled upon realizing her mistake. "I - I'm so so-sorry. I assumed he's..."
"He's my third husband." the woman stated, which made the girl cough.
Marinette didn't want to know Sean's father anymore and felt ridiculous to let the topic continue.
She began pulling out the tulle from the big box, revealing a cream-colored wedding gown. She noted the tattered eye-button stitches near the bodice and the pinned folds above the torso, probably an adjustment fit for the bearer.
"I didn't get to wear this because of my fractious youth, but I wish my daughter will be able to." the mother gave her a wistful smile. "Call me a superstitious lady, but all I want is nothing but her happiness."
"Oh."
The designer warmed upon hearing her words.
She trailed the gown's hemlines like a precious gem. Her hand stopped when she felt an embroidered signature, and when she flipped it over by her hand, her heart followed.
"Madame." she gulped audibly. "This gown came from Maison Perri's House?"
The woman peered at the embroidery. "I believe so. This dress has been passed down for centuries beginning from my maternal great-grandmother, so probably yes. I've heard it was made by a famous couturier in Normandy."
"John Palou!" the teenager gushed. "I'm holding one of John Palou's first works!"
"A big-shot?"
"Not just a big-shot. He's an all-time famous designer, not only in France but also around the world!"
"Hmm. No wonder Madame Evlyn was very possessive on this." the woman hummed matter-of-factly. "So, does that mean you can't mend it?"
Bluebell eyes bore her a stoic look. "Of course. It's my pleasure to fix this legendary dress."
"You bet you can?"
"I bet she can." a voice interjected.
Marinette squeaked when Adrien slipped into the driver's seat. He was eyeing them from the rear mirror with a smug. On his left cheek was a smudge of grease, something that the designer couldn't help but adore.
His movement was so silent like a cat that nobody noticed his presence until he announced it.
"Oh really?" the elder woman crossed her arms. "How about you? Do you think you can fix this van?"
"What's the catch?" the female teenager challenged.
"Sean will drop you two off to Evreux." the woman declared. "While I will handle your lunch."
"There goes my motivation."
"Consider your bet to be done, Madame." the blond smirked then turned the ignition on as the engine roared to life. "Because we just earned our ride."
.
.
.
.
Just like the derby hat Marinette won when she was thirteen, altering a vintage gown was a piece of cake.
She might have confidence issues, but not even once she backed out if the situation demands it - to the point wherein no one could stop her.
Not even Adrien.
"Hey, Marinette?" he called her. "Food's here."
She hummed as a reply.
The campervan was spacious enough for four persons but the young girl settled herself in the back compartment. Though the road wasn't bumpy and Sean was driving at a normal speed, the blond couldn't help but be concerned that his classmate might stab herself with needles.
Adrien already cleaned himself and helped the hosts in their food preparation, but his companion was still glued at one spot.
He could've sworn their stomachs grumbled together, but she's didn't balk for a short break.
No wonder she was always late during class; because nothing exists once she entered the 'zone'.
Seeing her blue staid eyes as she stitched knots with precision was a fascinating sight, almost equal to those stolen glimpses he had made whenever she glazed on her sketchbook, with a tongue slicked out as she cut the thread after finishing the hem.
He shouldn't let himself be distracted.
"It's almost two," he called her again.
"I know." the designer answered without tearing her gaze off from the cloth.
Her attitude somewhat irked him.
He was aware of her time limit, and as a person who grew up with a schedule, he perfectly understands the dilemma - as well as a desire to rest.
The billowing aroma of Cassoulet from the table was not enough to bait her.
"A break won't hurt," he called her for the third time.
"You can eat first, Adrien. I'll follow later."
The elder woman saw the hesitation in his eyes. "Pause for a moment there, Missy. Don't let your food turns cold."
"I'm not hungry yet."
Yes, you are, Adrien wanted to say but didn't. At that point, he knew it would be difficult to bend a hard-headed princess.
Resorting to a new tactic, the blond began to fill his plate then walked towards her with a sigh.
"Marinette."
There was something on his tone that made the designer's head twitch. She faced him with a prepared complaint but didn't expect that her mouth would meet a spoonful of meat.
It must be her hunger's reflex, or his accurate shove when her mouth formed an 'O' that made her gobble it whole.
"Delicious?"
"..."
Adrien made sure that the food was not too hot for her, so why was it that her face became so red? Was the food spicy?
He pulled the spoon out from her mouth then used it to sample the food for himself. He frowned.
Definitely not spicy.
He scooped for another one, blew off the steam then offered it to her again but her mouth was still full.
"Try chewing it."
She complied.
"Then swallow it."
She gulped.
"Good girl." was his praise as he fed her again then scooped another spoonful for himself. "Want some another helping?"
And that was how he realized his mistake.
Adrien dropped the spoon.
"Oh. Oh. Oh my God! I - I'm sorry! I didn't mean to meddle in your affairs! I should've asked you first!" he stammered with a flushed face just enough to beat the blazing sun.
No wonder Ladybug scolded him about his lack of awareness towards personal space.
He got an indirect kiss with Marinette and he initiated it! And he did it twice!
Poor girl she couldn't raise her head to look at her frantic crush, so she focused on her sewing task instead with a beet-red face, only to stab her finger.
She squawked, and with an ounce of sanity left, she jerked her finger out from the dress just to avoid staining it with blood.
"Give me that plate, young man." the woman leered. "So you can treat your girlfriend's wound."
"I'm not his girlfriend!"
"She's not my girlfriend!"
Both teenagers answered in unison with matching red faces, though at least one of them felt a pang of disappointment.
"Uh-huh. Though I don't think her boyfriend would like the idea that some guy was holding her hand that way."
And that was how Marinette realized that Adrien was cradling her injured hand.
Both scrammed away.
"I..."
"Uh..."
The designer shoots up then awkwardly walked towards the lavatory.
"I don't have a boyfriend," she grumbled under her breath, unaware that the occupants heard her.
Sean patted Adrien's shoulder much to the blond's embarrassment, especially when he whispered: "You got a chance."
The model's burning face went twenty shades darker "I - I don't -"
"Yeah, yeah. And that was how I popped my Sean when I was eighteen."
"Maman." said son chided but with pure delight. "They're too good for this world. Too pure."