Miraculous Adventure - a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic

Chapter 8

"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?"