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Not a Morning Cat

Chapter Text

“Wake up, kid. Rise and shine.” Plagg cheered, holding a book over the blond’s head. “If you don’t, the Dickens will be beat outta ya. Get it? Since I’m holding one of your Charles Dickens books?”

All he got out of Felix was an agitated groan, him pulling the covers over his head and rolling over onto his stomach. The bad luck spirit sighed, tossing the book on the floor and grabbing some of his hair, and yanking upward. Hard.

Felix’s hands flew around Plagg into a choke hold, a glare strong enough to scare away death burning a hole into his forehead. “How many times must I tell you, do not pull my hair.”

“You’ve got enough, kid. And it smells amazing. But if you let me go, I’ll let you nap for four hours today without a single disturbance from me.” Plagg squeaked, and his bearer released him, sitting up and yawning. “Kid, go eat something for breakfast. When did you last eat?”

“I remember eating on… Thursday…?”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Neither is staying up extensive periods of time without any rest and constantly fighting rogue akumas, but thank god I don’t do that- oh wait.”

Regardless, Felix trudged into the kitchen and began brewing the coffee, slumping on the counter to try and get a little more sleep in, before Plagg almost shattered a plate on the counter.

Once the coffee was finished and poured into a mug (his favorite, if he dared say so. Beige with “coffee, books, rain” in black), he heaved a sigh, leaning against the counter. As much as he hated being awake in general, he’d admit there was something oddly peaceful about coffee in the morning.

That is, until knocking rapped on the door.



Bridgette expected many things.

The daydreamer expected a smiling Felix opening the door.

The neurotic reality side of her expected Hell on Earth.

The truth of it all, when Felix opened the door wearing a glare that read “if you come anywhere near me, you’re losing a limb,” in his undergarments and a coffee mug in his hand, she took three steps back immediately. What took her by surprise the most though, was his hair. She’d never seen it so wild and careless, like he rolled out of bed within the two minutes she’d been standing at his front door (even stranger, it was almost noon and he wasn’t even dressed. She supposed even someone like him has lazy days). He almost looked like…

“Chat?” she whispered, and visibly, Felix’s grip on his mug tightened momentarily. “What?” He asked, more as a demand than a question. “Can I help you?”

Shake it off, Bridgette! “I-I-I er, about the u-u-umbrella y-you lent me,” she stammered, trying to shake off the feeling, but even Tikki, who was hiding in her earrings, radiated momentarily, as if she wanted to run to something. “I came t-to return it.”

Felix hummed in response, extending one hand out. “Yes, give it to me.”

She quickly handed him the umbrella, placing her hands behind her back afterwards. “Are you okay? You look terrible.”

“Don’t patronize me.” He deadpanned, closing the door. “Good day.”

She was walking down the steps, and turned back to see if he at least watched her go, but instead, she could’ve sworn she saw a little floating cat.

Chapter Text

All day, Felix felt absolutely miserable.

He was more lethargic than usual, with a pounding headache that made everything gain the intensity of the sun to the point that if he closed his eyes, he got a small bit of Heaven from the relief, he was freakishly cold (it’s the middle of summer in France; he felt like a lunatic for shivering), and every joint hurt. Even that Cheng girl, who looked over her shoulder at him periodically to try and flirt, she looked up more than usually with a look of worry across her face.

When night fell and it was time for Chat Noir to rendezvous with Ladybug, he practically tumbled from the rooftops and fell face first into the tiles, not even bothering to attempt to get back up.

“Oh my god,” Ladybug called, racing over and pushing him up by the shoulder to rest against the wall. “Chat, you look horrible.”

“I’m fine,” he slurred, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

She placed a hand to his forehead, then both to his cheeks, and shook her head furiously. “You are most certainly not okay; you’re burning up and in a cold sweat.”

“It’s summer.” He protested.

“Yeah, and you’ve come down with the flu. Go home, Chat.”

“But, my Lady-”

“I can take care of myself for tonight. Go home, and don’t come back until you’re back up to full health.”


“I knew it. I knew you were sick.” Plagg hissed when the transformation broke, and Felix practically collapsed on the spot. Without Plagg being an extra tie for strength, his body was probably trying to recompensate for lost energy while fighting a virus. “Kid, why didn’t you listen to me and just stay home?”

“Because I’m not sick.” Felix snapped, voice muffled by the carpet.

“I know sickness when I see it.” the Kwami huffed. “Go put on something cooler; I’m surprised you didn’t burst into flames from wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer.”

“Don’t criticize the way I prefer to dress.” he snapped from the closet, before crossing the room, falling on the bed, and instantly nestled himself in the covers.

“No,” Plagg protested, pulling the duvet away as the boy lazily tried to grab for it. “You need to maintain a comfortable temperature. No heavy covers; it’s too much heat.”

“I’m freezing, Plagg.” he whined.

“Yeah, and you have a fever and need to cool down. Go to bed, stupid.”


“Rise and shine, kid.” Plagg chimed, yanking the sheets down and away from Felix’s head. He was still unbearably hot to the touch but still shivered, and his face was flushed pink, sweat beading on his forehead. “Breakfast. Eat. Now.”

“What, did you bring me a dead mouse?” Felix rolled his eyes.

“No,” the Kwami stuck his tongue out. “Not this time, at least. Just look.”

Turning his head to the right, Felix noted a plate of eggs, with toast and bananas along with a glass of water resting on his bedside table.

“How- will I die if I eat those?”

“Do you not trust me? Kid, after all we’ve been through.”


“How are you feeling?” Plagg asked, watching the boy scarf down his breakfast (he told him he should eat more, but nooooo. Don’t listen to the bad luck spirit). “And slow down, or you’ll choke.”

“I feel like I’m repeatedly being hit with an airbag.” Felix replied between bites. “And if I choke, better than being stuck here, cursed with bad luck to the point nobody can get somewhat close to me.” His hand fumbled around on the table, before actually having to check if his mug was there. “Where- what did you do with my coffee?”

“I didn’t make it; coffee is dehydrating.” Plagg answered.

“I need that to actually wake up.”

“You’re not doing anything you don’t have to do. Take this time to rest and catch up on sleep.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Felix set the plate back on the table, before closing his eyes and falling backwards, out like a light as soon as he hit the pillow.

“Rest up, kid.” Plagg said quietly to himself, looking out the window to the skyline of Paris. “’Cause only Fu knows what type of hellish storm is brewing this time.”