Anna stopped in her tracks as she entered Felix's office, frozen with fright.

"Oh, good morning," the young detective murmured.

Putting a hand to her heart, the older woman sighed in relief. "I thought you had been akumatized," she confessed. "You look like a zombie; what happened?"

Felix knew she was right. He had looked in the mirror that morning and seemed to have aged ten years: his eyes were deeply shadowed and puffy; his face an unhealthy shade of gray.

"That idiotic glowworm," he explained incoherently.

Anna quirked an eyebrow at him. "Is that a new narcotic codename? I wouldn't do that if you want to keep your job."

"No! Ugh. My brother. It's just... well, there's a lot going on I guess."

Indeed, as if one sleepless night of coffee and video games hadn't been enough, this last night had Felix up until dawn, nursing Adrien's self-inflicted fever. This time, he hadn't been able to call Brigitte for help; a box of abandoned kittens had been found out in the rain, and she was at the clinic around the clock, caring for them. Really, if Adrien hadn't kept Felix up last night, Brigitte's texts certainly would have:

Guess what!

We have kittens.

I mean, "we" as in here at the clinic. Not you and me.

That would be biologically impossible, lol.

Anyways, someone found this poor litter of kittens in the rain.

Couldn't find their mom.

So now I'm their mom!

And then, several minutes later, as if she had been wondering whether to tell Felix or not—a rare occurrence; Brigitte had no filter:

I named one of them Adrien.

Felix had decided to keep the kittens secret from his brother. If the boy took one look at them, Felix knew, they'd be bringing at least one of them home. And that was an absolute no—Plagg and Adrien were enough of a handful as it was.

Another thing had happened last night: Adrien had confessed to knowing Ladybug's identity. Felix had nodded, already having expected that to be the case.

"It's that Marinette girl, isn't it?" he had asked.

His brother's face had gotten redder, if that was even possible. "The magic makes it impossible to figure out, but I guess my sense of smell trumps that," he had explained.

Felix had lowered his eyebrows in dismay. "You... sniffed her?"

Adrien had shrugged drowsily. "Yeah."

Oh dear. This was all Felix's fault. If only he had been there for Adrien during those crucial years, he could have taught him about normal, socially-acceptable behavior. Sure, Felix didn't know much in the way of how to behave around women, but at least he could have told Adrien what not to do. Sniffing was definitely one of those things.

Not bothering to hide his eye-roll, Felix had decided to divert the topic. "So... she doesn't know who you are?" he had asked, remembering what Adrien had told him before.

Adrien had frowned. "That's the way she wants it."

"Odd girl," Felix had commented. He still was in awe at how she managed to be two completely different people in and out of the suit.

"Isn't she?" Adrien had replied, but his tone had been swoony and love-stricken. "She's brave, and kind, and did I tell you she's a geeeenius designer? Her parents are great, too."

"You like her," Felix had guessed. It wasn't rocket science, after all.

Adrien had shaken his head. "I love her."

Felix should have known his brother was a hopeless romantic. "And how does she feel?" he had asked, taking the rag from the boy's forehead to refresh the cool water.

Adrien had sighed. "She, um. See, she doesn't take me seriously when I'm Chat; but when I'm Adrien, she's always so uncomfortable. I don't know what she thinks of me."

Seeing that the boy's brow furrowed and his sweating quickened, Felix had wondered if this subject was worsening the fever. "I don't think she would have called you a two-timer if she didn't take you seriously as Chat," he had assured Adrien.

"Oh, right." That had seemed to calm him down, at least a little bit. In fact, he had gazed at Felix with a long, drowsy stare, blinking slowly every few seconds. The blinks had grown slower and slower, until finally he had drifted off to sleep.

Felix had continued to nurse him until his fever finally went down. All the while, Felix didn't let Adrien hear the end of how stupid he was to go out in the rain yesterday; how he should have said something if his wounds were infected; how Felix was going to be up all night for the second time in a row.

To every complaint, the younger Agreste had simply smiled and said: "Love you too."

Now, Felix was just holding out for lunch, at which time he planned to crash in the break room.

Anna took everything in stride and presented Felix with their new case. It was nothing too challenging, and he found himself going through the motions, trudging through the day until sundown, when he finally boarded the bus home.

Adrien's here at the clinic.

Felix stared down at the text from Brigitte, sent just about an hour ago. That was good, he thought. This way, Felix could head back home on his own, and he could have some alone time to get some rest.

And then, with a jolt, he remembered the kittens. The equation ran through his head, and he didn't have to be a genius to know what it added up to: Adrien, Brigitte, and orphaned kittens equaled impending disaster. It was the worst possible combination imaginable. No matter how he mapped it out, all roads led to Adrien bringing a kitten home—or two, or five. Brigitte would allow it, and Felix's input would be moot.

He got off the bus and ran to the clinic, exhaustion tossed to the wind with a kind of manic fear. As he ran, he sent Brigitte a text:

DO NOT.

A second later, she replied:

Do not what? ;;;^._.^;;;

His thumbs scrambled across the screen. DO NOT GIVE KITTEN.

A few minutes passed. Felix had almost reached the animal clinic. And then:

Don't worry, I was going to let you do the honors.

He's in love.

Accompanying that last text was a picture of Adrien, smiling from ear to ear, cupping a white ball of fur to his chest. Felix came to a stop, panting, and just looked at that photo for a moment. He hadn't seen Adrien smile like that in... well, it had been a while. The elder sibling allowed himself a smile of his own. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, and now there was no turning back.

He couldn't let Adrien go home without that kitten.

The sleep-deprived detective walked the rest of the way to his fiance's workplace, his brain sludging through a plan of action. First, he needed to register a pet with the apartment complex; then they would need food, a litter box, toys... Adrien could handle all of that; he earned enough money from his modeling job to afford it. But did he know how to care for a cat? How to train them, groom them, keep them from destroying everything? The Agreste boys had never had a pet growing up, but Felix had seen videos of the nefarious creatures. They were always up to no good: jumping in boxes, knocking things off of shelves, climbing curtains, being unreasonably afraid of cucumbers... Having a cat seemed, frankly... terrifying.

They'd figure it out, he reasoned, as soon as he saw the pair in person. All of the other kittens had found a home except this one: a tiny white Persian with a crooked tail and an even more crooked scowl. To Felix, the thing looked evil; to Adrien, she was the epitome of cuteness.

"She reminds me of you," Adrien said, showing her off. "Her expression, that is. Here, hold her."

Felix took the fluff-ball carefully under the arms, holding her up to his face. "It is kind of like looking in the mirror—minus the fur, and the tail, and the fact that I'm not a baby cat," he grumbled sarcastically. "What are you going to name her?"

Adrien thought for a minute. "I was going to call her Petite Macaron."

"Petite Macaron," Felix repeated. It was too long, and seemed incongruous to this angry-looking, snaggle-toothed little monster.

Petite Macaron must have heard his thoughts, because, without warning, she lashed out with all four limbs, wielding ridiculously sharp claws. She managed to rake them over every inch of Felix's face before he could react. He practically threw the growling abomination back at his brother and recoiled.

Instantly, upon returning to Adrien's grasp, Petite Macaron played innocent, purring and flicking her crooked tail in contentment.

"Aw, Felix, you were holding her wrong," Adrien admonished.

Felix could have sworn Petite Macaron shot him a smug grin at that. So, whenever Adrien wasn't looking, he gave the kitten a vengeful stink-eye in return.

Brigitte drove them home in her parents' car. She had prepared a make-shift litter box and a few cans of soft food, along with promises to help with Petite Macaron's care.

"Whose idea was that name?" Felix asked, watching the kitten in Adrien's lap with a suspicious gaze. Plagg was currently entertaining her, playing a game of hide-and-sneak.

"Well, Adrien came up with—what was it?" Brigitte began, catching his attention in the rear-view mirror.

"The A-claw-meow-nable Snowcat," the boy replied proudly.

"Yeah, that. But I told him it was too long. So then, Petite Clawssant was the next idea—that one was sort of okay."

"She does kind of look like a croissant," Adrien protested.

"It's a hideous name, Adrien," Brigitte shot back.

"It's a hideous cat," Felix agreed, under his breath.

Brigitte punched him.

Adrien stroked his kitten, and she rubbed up against him lovingly. "Brigitte told me to think of something I love that sounds cute, but—" he paused to sigh "—I couldn't name her Ladybug, so I figured macarons are the next best thing." His voice changed into baby talk as he addressed the kitten: "Isn't that right, my little meow-caron?"

Brigitte eyed Felix apologetically as he touched his shredded face in contempt. "She'll warm up to you," his fiance assured him. "You just have to show her that you're not as scary as you look."

As if on cue, Petite Macaron squirmed out of Adrien's arms and clawed her way to the front seat. Alighting on Felix's lap, she circled for a moment and then squatted. When he realized what was happening, it was already too late.

She pooped on his lap.

...She pooped...

On his lap.

With a contented sniff, the crooked kitten leapt back to her master and curled up to sleep.

Brigitte nearly drove onto the sidewalk, overcome by laughter. "She just used you as a litter box!" the girl wailed between cackles.

Adrien was trying his best to apologize, but he couldn't get a full sentence out through uncontrollable giggles.

"That's it. She hates me," Felix concluded, horrified at his predicament.

"No, no, she doesn't," Brigitte gasped, wiping away tears. "It actually means she feels secure around you, if she's willing to poop on you."

"That's... nice to know." It didn't change the fact that he had a stink-bomb sitting on his left leg. Youtube had not prepared him for this.

The angry waiter sat along the bank of the Seine, waiting for Hawkmoth. With Style Queen's help, he had cultivated his resentment and desire for revenge. Now, all he needed was one word from his wonderful butterfly leader, and that negative emotion would turn into power. He would show them that they had been wrong to fire him. He would show those disrespectful customers that no one should mess with him.

By the end of the night, all of Paris would fear his name.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

What punful name would you have given the kitten?