Eating apple tarts is one of the must-to-do things a tourist should do in Normandy.
That's why Adrien helped himself for a second slice of the said caramelized pastry as he sat on the van's roof deck. A large picnic umbrella was unfolded there to shield himself from the unbearable heat but failed to filter the wind that wafted around his body.
Not that he was complaining; the warm scent of the northern countryside was quite refreshing.
And the reason why he was outside was due to the oozing richness of melted Camembert on his saucer plate - which was also one of the things Normandy was renowned for.
If not for the kind elderly Maman, the model would gag upon getting a slice of the said stinky cheese.
She told him that Camembert cheese complemented well with apples - and she was actually right, but he refused to admit it because it would be the same as embracing Plagg's religion. He decided to hand the entire plate to his kwami instead.
Hence why they were on top of a running van.
"Oh boy, admit it. Admit it." Plagg teased with a smudge of whiteness around his mouth, and that sight made him looked like a cat that lapped some milk. "You love Camembert."
"Our feelings aren't mutual." he snorted.
The small god rolled his eyes then licked the saucer. "You know, I can scratch you for rejecting my Princess."
"Now you're calling Camembert your Princess?!"
"Why not?" he shrugged. "You're not the only one who has a Princess that's simple, goody and packed with interesting flavors."
This time it was Adrien who rolled his eyes. "I might swat you for associating Marinette with cheese."
"I never said that your Princess is like a Camembert." his kwami sneered. "One that's with you almost every day. One that you always see, touch and smell - and I can attest that - almost every day. One that you know it's good but you're still an ass to say it's not. But then again, the Nile isn't just a river in Egypt."
His charger scowled and about to spat something out but the sudden opening of the vent window jolted the two.
Plagg immediately flew towards the blond's chest pocket before the pig-tailed girl popped her head out.
"Oh. You're here." Marinette beamed as she eyed the remaining rind on his saucer. "There's no need for you to get rid of the smell. It's not that stinky."
"It's not like that," he answered, trying to control himself not to swat his laughing kwami. "I'm here to enjoy the view."
"Seeing something good?"
Adrien turned and looked straight ahead, not only to hide his guilty red face but also to distract himself before he got enamored by her freckles. "Uhm. Yeah."
The cluttering noises made him looked back again, only to realize that Marinette was trying to climb up and join him. He had to extend his arms to pull her weight up, and since the area was small and the fact that the van was moving, she was cramped beside him. Both ended up shoulder-to-shoulder.
The teens were unsure if they were sweating because of the summer heat, or because of the closeness of their warm bodies.
"So." he coughed, breaking the reverie. "You're done with the gown?"
"Yes. All set." she stretched her arms, untying the muscle knots that constructed her back. "Not that complicated actually, and I'm proud that I was able to beautify one of Palou's legacy."
Adrien might be a fashion model and an heir of one of the houses that ruled the Haute Couture kingdom, his knowledge on the field was limited to understand some of Marinette's gushing.
"How's your wound?" he asked.
"Wound? Oh, you mean the finger I pricked? No, there's no cut whatsoever. See?"
She wiggled her fingers on his face, only to be grabbed gently by his hand.
"Oh. You got some callous."
"Blame needlework." she flustered when he ran his thumb over her fingertips until she felt some rough skin patches. "Hey, you got some callous too."
He let her trace her fingers to his. "Oh. Blame the heavy piano keys. And also my teacher's ruler whenever I hit off keys."
She gave him a beady glare on his pun. "And I guess your practice makes you perfect."
"I'm not perfect. I'm..."
He paused. The hitch on his voice followed by a deep sigh caught her attention.
"Adrien, are you alright?" she asked.
He simply shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just being ridiculous. Nothing to worry about."
"Try me."
The blond shook his head. How he wished Marinette didn't have that heedful radar or a mind-reading talent, but her presence was so comforting he liked it.
"This will be the last time we will get to enjoy our Lycée days," he confessed. "Afterwards, we'll be busy with exams again, university applications, career evaluations, and internships. I'm jealous."
"With what?"
"With who." he corrected her with a smile. "People like you. Like Nino. Like Alya. Friends that have goals they would like to reach. Something that I don't."
It was a common knowledge among friends how Adrien grew up under his father's control and how he lived his life with schedules created by others.
He might be a sheltered boy, but Marinette knew he has the capacity to control his own fate.
He was able to step out towards independence when Gabriel Agreste gave his permission to let him study in a public school. Another step was gaining freedom of choosing friends.
And if this melancholic golden boy was able to unclasp those heavy reins off by himself, then him deciding his own future career was not that far-fetched.
"Status aside, we're not multi-talented like you. You can play the piano. You fence. You speak Chinese, or probably other languages as well. You excel on numbers." she told him as she followed his gaze on the concrete road. "You have a broader scope and more options than us."
"Jack of all trades." he quoted her. "But a master of none."
Marinette shook her head. "I don't think they're all useless, Adrien. Those are your alternatives, an expansion of your life choices - something that Alya, Nino and I wished to have. We might have a dream, but we'll be a lost cause once we failed it. We have a passion, yes, but we didn't know if we'll succeed on it someday. We don't know anything outside of our area. Worse, we might end up with nobody."
He grimaced "That's so...morbid, coming from your mouth."
"I'm not sure about Alya and Nino - but in my case, I don't know if I will be a designer someday." the girl continued. "I don't even know if I will survive the hardships of becoming a designer. Or if I'll be able to live once I failed to become a designer. Because being a fashion designer is my only life choice."
"A choice with passion," he stated then rubbed her fingers again. "That's why your hands are calloused - an evidence of your hard work."
"How about yours? Do those mean nothing to you?"
Her question perked his brows. "I won't get them if those tasks were not shoved to me."
"So that means you're doing those out of obligation?"
"Initially. Probably yes." he considered with a wistful smile. "But that doesn't mean I hate doing it. I mean, I enjoyed playing the piano. Same with fencing. Same with modeling."
"But you don't like being reprimanded."
He nodded.
"You see..." she sighed, still focusing on the road. "Just because you don't have a choice means that you'll never love it in due time."
"Is that coming from a personal experience?"
She nodded.
Marinette couldn't tell him the story behind it, and the silence that hung between them had him understood that he shouldn't pry her more about it.
Being Ladybug was a secret, and the tales behind her struggles were something that could only be shared with her kwami and her diary.
Marinette didn't want to bear the Miraculous. She refused to accept it at first, and completely rejected it when she failed to eliminate Stoneheart. But when her best friend was in a grave danger, she immediately jumped into her spotted suit and declared her war against Hawkmoth.
If not due to the demands of the situation, she would never discover the joys of heroism and selflessness.
"I think..." the girl broke their solemn atmosphere. "Going with the flow doesn't sound so bad at all."
Adrien was starting to believe her.
Though he was pitched on a spot without any choices, Chat Noir was given a chance to reject his call. But he didn't. He immediately embraced the Miraculous without any doubts.
He got his freedom. Freedom to save the lives of many.
"I guess I'm overthinking about things." he bemused. "Graduation makes you queasy about the future."
"I still can't see myself five years from now." she chuckled.
"Likewise."
"Glad to know I'm not alone."
"Thanks, Marinette." he grinned as he looked at her relaxed expression. "How can I show you my gratitude for being my wonderful friend?"
"Why don't you play the piano for me?"
"Hmm. Not a bad bargain."
And the two sealed it with a fist bump.
.
.
.
.
They finally reached Evreux' borders.
"Thank you for sending us all the way here," Marinette said as she held a hand with Sean then moved towards his mother.
Adrien copied the same gesture, but with an earned pat from the driver.
"An additional hour won't hurt." Sean shrugged. "You fixing my sister's wedding gown saved us a trip, plus Adrien on our vehicle. We'll be able to reach Argentan before six."
"Why don't you two come with us instead? School trips are boring anyways." the elderly woman suggested.
"As much as we would like to," Adrien replied, eyeing his beaming companion. "But we can't afford a failing grade."
"Are you sure you two are not eloping?"
Her words gave the teenagers a tremendous blush.
"Erm -"
"Urk – "
"Maman!" the son scolded his snickering mother. "Don't corrupt the minds of these innocent children!"
"Hmph, those two are sickeningly sweet like a cinnamon roll. It won't take much time for that boy to pounce her like there's no tomorrow - and it'll be miraculous if they can move out for a day. Bet a hundred on that."
That didn't help Adrien and Marinette's already-awkward atmosphere to the point that they couldn't look at each other's flustered faces.
Sean pitied their dilemma. "Don't mind my mother's teasing. She's been like that since forever. Loves to egg people and hit a nerve."
"Uh, it's o - okay. It's not that I hate it - or hate it - or I don't want it. As if I like it. But I really have to - not that it's starting to get awkward. Gah!"
"...what Marinette means is." the blond interrupted her companion's incoherent babbles. "That we're thankful for your hospitality."
It was a random reply, but at least that shifted the topic into something else.
"Oh, well. I guess this is a goodbye." the man finally said. "From here you can wait for a transport going to Saint-Clair. It normally passes Pont Audemer, but if not you can just hire a cab once you reached the terminal. Or just call your hotel for instructions how to get there."
The two gave their saviors a hug for the last time then waved a hand once their campervan left.
.
.
.
.
Marinette immediately pulled her phone out to send a brief message to Alya. "I think it's safe to assume that we can reach our destination before the end of this day."
"Of course. We're at Normandy now." Adrien said as he read the bus schedules posted on the waiting shed. "And if luck's on our side, then we'll be getting our ride in less than an hour."
"I need to look out for any Agreste fans, so we can deck them out."
"Don't speak for the devil, or else he'll come."
It was a silent town, but not eerie enough to compare with those featured in horror films. No passersby, no fellow travelers - but understandable considering that they were on a service road under a blazing afternoon sun.
Behind them was an old pub with an 'open' signage.
Marinette noticed that her phone's battery was almost 10%, and even though it was enough to handle less than two calls, she wanted to kick an additional 10% for possible emergencies. After all the troubles that they've encountered, she was starting to expect the unexpected.
"Do you think they have a charger port there?" she asked as she jerked a thumb towards the pub.
"It won't hurt if we check inside. Or ask if they can spare us a charger," he replied with a thought. "I'm also down to 15%, and I'm in my Battery Saver mode."
"I'll go inside while you wait here."
"No, we'll go together."
Her brows rose up on his interjections.
"Marinette." he huffed. "That's a liquor house."
"But it's four in the afternoon." she reasoned out.
"Not an excuse for a drunkard."
She scowled at his words. "Fine! But don't blame me if we'll miss our ride again."
"Two great talkers will not travel far together," he answered with a smirk
Unbeknownst to them, three pairs of desirous eyes were looming towards the raven-haired girl, trailing her figure like dogs in a heat. The anticipation hit them like a truck as she pushed the door and entered inside.
Thankfully, she didn't miss their beat.
Especially when one of them gave a wolf's whistle.