A/N: For my regular followers, I'm sure some of you have seen the fact my novel is still not available for Kindle. Let's just say they are clueless and are thinking I'm trying to rip-off my own hardback version. Now, as I'm trying to communicate that the novel I'm publishing and the novel that is already published are the exact same book, they aren't responding to me. No matter how frustrating, I am working on it. In the meantime, please stand-by.

Chat held an arm over his stomach. It was so subtle, no one was likely to notice. No one, except for Ladybug. "Chat?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

He forced a smile. "I'm fine, milady. What makes you think otherwise?"

She frowned. She never liked that smile. "Do you have a stomach ache or something?"

His smile looked far more like a cringe now. "Or something."

Lips pursed together, Ladybug debated if she should press the issue or not when a quiet rumble reached her ears. When she realized what it was, she was put at ease. "Hungry much, Kitty?"

His forced smile stretched wider. "Just a little."

Amused, she shook her head. "Didn't get enough dinner tonight?"

His chuckle sounded strained. It set Ladybug back on edge. "Something like that."

She raised a brow. "Chat?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you even eat dinner tonight?"

The way he drew out his answer worried her. "Not…really…"

Ladybug nodded, slow and unconvinced. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He rubbed his neck. "I…kinda didn't get dinner tonight."

Something about his words put a little red flag up in her mind. "You didn't get dinner? Like, you chose not to eat or you weren't allowed to eat."

At this point, he was as ridged as a bow string. "Well…I didn't really want to have dinner with my father. He's really mad at me. Mostly because he found out that my friend was sneaking me food I wasn't allowed to eat."

That whole explanation threw up about ten more red flags. "Like…what aren't you allowed to eat?"

He squirmed. "Anything outside my diet."

"Your diet?" It was an unconscious move to look her cat up and down. "You? A diet? Are you kidding me?"

"It's part of my life, bug," he dismissed, hoping that would stop her in her tracks.

It didn't. "Mind elaborating that for me? Why the skinniest guy I know is on a frigging diet."

"It's not like I want to be. I just don't have a choice."

"So you go hungry because you don't have a choice?"

"It's nothing new," he snapped back. It took him a full second to realize that that was the absolute wrong answer.

Ladybug bristled. "What do you mean 'it's nothing new'? Are you saying you go hungry often?"

He shrugged.

"Kitty." She rubbed her suddenly tired eyes.

"Don't worry about it, okay? I'm fine."

"No, you're not," she argued. "You're hungry. Often, apparently."

"I'm not dying so I'm fine. I'm not even all that hungry this time around."

"This time around?"

Chat once again cringed at his poor word choice.

"How often?"

He flinched at the bite in her words. "Huh?"

"How often are you hungry like this? Do you come to patrol hungry?"

Once again, he didn't answer. Instead, his gaze hit the roof as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Ladybug scoffed, now pacing the rooftop out of pure anger.

"Don't worry about it," he dismissed.

"You're telling me not to worry about my partner when he goes hungry all the time?" she shouted. She slapped her hands on her face and groaned into them. "Okay," she stated, staring him dead in the eye as a plan formed in her mind. "You are going to stay right here, and you are not going to move until I come back. Am I clear?"

Fearfully, he nodded. Satisfied, Ladybug zipped off into the night.

She landed on her balcony and immediately released her transformation.

"Marinette?" Tikki squeaked out.

But the little kwami was completely ignored by her chosen, who was marching very determinedly down the stairs to raid the kitchen for food.

"Marinette," Tikki called out again.

"Can you believe that, Tikki?" she snapped, shoving leftovers from dinner into a bag. "He's on a diet. Him! Mister-skin-and-bones on a diet. What kind of—"

"Marinette, simmer down."

She didn't stop her rampage, but she did hold her tongue. She continued piling food into a bag before she shoved in some utensils. Then she got the idea to raid the bakery for food, as well. By now, the bakery was closed, meaning all the food that didn't get sold that day was waiting to be picked up for donations. And what better donation than to feed the hero of Paris?

She slipped downstairs, her parents thankfully oblivious to her. She was able to grab a handful of cookies and one loaf of unsold bread before she slipped back upstairs. After shoving it all into a big bag, she hurried off to get back to her cat.

When she returned, Chat Noir was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the roof, patiently waiting. She dropped the bag beside him. "Eat."

He looked at her quizzically before looking in the bag. His eyes lit up as he pulled out plastic containers, holding them carefully as he turned his gaze up to her. "You brought me food?"

There was something about the longing in his voice that made her heart ache. "Of course I brought you food," she stressed, almost offended he'd asked. "Do you think I would let you go hungry?"

"I'm used to it," he said, his voice soft as he hugged the food closer.

No matter his words, the way he hugged the food closer—protectively, almost—provided a strange sort of comfort that he wasn't starving himself on purpose. With a sigh, she collapsed cross-legged beside him. "The food isn't hot," she said, the angry tone now replaced with a concerned one, "but it's still good. Eat."

He didn't argue as he opened some container filled with pasta. The way his eyes lit up at the sight strained Ladybug's heart. He was about to dig in with his hands when she mentioned, "there is a fork in there for you."

Tearing through the bag, he pulled out the fork, stabbing it into the pasta and eating a mouthful of it. His eyes shut in happiness as an uncontrollable smile took place on his lips. All the while, Ladybug just shook her head while he continued to devour the whole container in a couple minutes.

She tried not to focus on the fact that it was twice the portion she had eaten at dinner.

He hummed in delight as she replaced the lid. "That was incredible. I rarely get pasta."

Ladybug frowned again. "Rarely?"

He nodded. "Carbs are usually minimal in my diet."

Something in her snapped. "If I hear one more word about this diet of yours, I'm going to scream."

He looked up from the bag he was searching through before he pulled out the whole loaf of bread, eyeing it questioningly.

"That is for you to take home," she said. "If you come to patrol hungry again, then I'm going to have a conniption."

He looked at the loaf, his ears sagging. "Where did you even get this?"

"My house," she dismissed. "That was leftovers from dinner."

"A whole loaf of bread?" he questioned, skeptical.

"You need it. I'm not the one on a stupid diet."

He looked guilty. "Bug, I appreciate you feeding me and all, but—"

"I don't want any buts or excuses," she growled. "Take it."

He didn't argue as he put it back in the bag. "I can pay you for it."

"Don't bother. Just take it. I don't want you showing up for patrols hungry ever again. Okay?"

His smile was warm and genuine, her favorite of Chat Noir's smiles. "Thank you, milady."

She smiled back. "You're welcome, kitty."

Their next patrol, Chat showed up with a little spring in his step. "That bread was delicious," he commented. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said before she realized what he said. "Wait, was? You mean you ate the whole thing already?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

"I gave it to you two days ago."

"And…I…may have not rationed it as well as I should have and ate little bits of it all day long."

Ladybug's confused expression grew. "You ate that entire loaf of bread in two days?"

He forced a smile, but it looked a bit more like a grimace. "Yeah."

She sighed. "Is that because of your diet?"

Sheepishly, he nodded.

Ladybug's irritation level doubled. "Can't you go get food to hide in your room or something? Why are you even on a diet?"

"Because…" he began, searching for how to answer that question, "my father is a really rich man who likes putting on a perfect image and one of those things that has to be perfect is me."

"So you're on a diet to keep thin and 'perfect'," she finished, using air quotes around that word.

"Basically."

"But how does he not notice how thin you are?"

Sadness took over his features. "He doesn't really notice me. Sure, our chef has made me a bit more food ever since I became Chat Noir, but for the most part, no one notices or really cares if I go hungry."

"Kitty," Ladybug whined.

"It's okay, Ladybug. I'm used to it."

I'm used to it. That was his excuse last time, too. And she was quickly beginning to loathe that phrase. "I don't like it, though."

He just shrugged.

"And you can't get food elsewhere?"

"I mean, not really? I'm kept really busy, so I can't get food out at restaurants, and I've…never set foot inside a grocery store. Plus, there's the fact I'm watched most of the time, so I can't exactly go even if I wanted to."

Unable to take it any longer, she wrapped her kitty in a hug. "I'm sorry, kitty. That's horrible."

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself for a moment before he finally returned her hug. "There's nothing you can do about it."

Except she realized there was. Suddenly determined, she pulled away from her partner and bounded away a couple steps. "That's not true," she said. "You do your half of patrol, I'll do mine, and I'll meet you at the Eiffel Tower, okay?" She didn't even wait for an answer as she bounded off.

And when she met up with him in the bars of the Eiffel Tower, she was carrying a bag of bread she stole from the leftover pile. Three loaves this time.

Chat's eyes widened. "Bugaboo, I appreciate it but—"

"No buts. No excuses." She shoved the bag at him. "Take it."

He eyed her hesitantly.

Her anger softened. "Please."

Relenting, Chat took the bag. "Thank you, bug. I'll pay you back for it."

"It's fine," she assured, though it didn't look like it assured Chat at all. "Trust me. It's fine. No problem. Don't worry about it."

He cringed but didn't fight her. "Thanks, Ladybug."

"Anything for you, Chat Noir."

This went on for three weeks. How Chat ate a loaf of bread in two to three days, Ladybug didn't know, but for heaven's sake, it worried her to pieces. Was he getting fed that little at home? He clearly came from a wealthy family, yet it was like he never had enough food given to him. It made Ladybug sick to even think about.

"Hey, bug?"

"Yeah?"

"Could…could you possibly, the next time you bring me bread, bring me butter, too? I'll reimburse you for it, don't worry. But…please?"

The way he asked—shyly with his ears drooping and his eyes wide with hope—made it impossible for her to say no. "Ok, kitty. I will."

He brightened at that. "Thank you so much. It was hard enough to sneak a toaster into my room, and even the camembert my kwami likes is pushing it. I have to order it and have it shipped."

Ladybug stared at him blankly. "You have to have camembert shipped to your house? You can't go to the grocery store?"

He shook his head. "No. Not allowed."

She blinked several times, completely unable to process that he wasn't allowed to go to the grocery store. Just what sort of hell did Chat Noir live in?

Ladybug stood there with a bag of bread and a heavier bag of goodies. She had gone to the store just to get butter, but then she got lost in the aisles, wondering if Chat liked jam and what kind and ended up with four different kinds of spreads, besides butter, in her basket.

"Hey, milady," he said as he landed beside her. "Is that all for me?"

She nodded, handing them over. "And there's butter in that bag, but there's also jam and jelly and since I didn't know what kind was your favorite, I just got several."

He froze mid-motion, his hands stretched out to take the bags but his wide eyes locked on hers. Slowly, his expression softened. "You got me jams?"

Ladybug's smile grew even though her heart was being put through the ringer at just how neglected her poor kitty was. It was slowly killing her. "I did, kitty. And if there is anything else you need or want, I'll get that for you, too."

Her alley cat looked like he could melt into a smiling pile of sunshine right there. Instead, he engulfed her in a very tight hug. "Thank you, Ladybug."

Slowly, she eased into his embrace. "You're welcome, Chat Noir."

When they separated, he happily took the bread and spreads before handing over a couple folded banknotes. "I promised to reimburse you for the butter," he said when she looked at it skeptically. "Please."

"All right." She took the banknotes, and Chat rushed off into the night.

It wasn't until she got home that she wanted to scream at him. Because nestled under the five-euro banknote were two hundred-euro banknotes.

She resisted the urge to scream his name only because she didn't want to disturb her parents.

Marinette blamed it on being totally distracted. Under her breath, she was cursing her cat's name because it was for him that she had snuck down to the bakery to grab left over bread for him.

Today, she had loaded up a bag with three loaves of bread. She closed the bag, only for the lights to fully turn on, leaving Marinette to face both her parents looking much like a deer in the headlights.

Thankfully, she realized that neither one looked mad, just curious. "Would you like to explain why you are taking the leftover bread?" her father asked.

"Um…long story?" she forced a brilliantly wide grin.

"Well, we have plenty of time," her mother said. "Considering you've been doing it for weeks now, we're curious."

Marinette struggled for a story. "Well," she said, though it sounded strained even to her ears. "I was out on my balcony one day when got to meet Ladybug. It was an accident. I slipped, and she came to help me up. So then we were just talking and she looked really irritated and mumbled something about how Chat Noir didn't get enough food so I came down here and gave her some bread to give to Chat Noir which is why I've been taking bread out of the donation box for the past several weeks." After she managed to shut her mouth from her rapid ramble, she stood there guiltily, waiting judgement by her parents.

But judgement never came. Instead, both her parents stood there, stunned. "Go on, then," her father eventually said. "If we can feed the superhero of Paris, then we have no problem with that. Not with all the good he's done."

"Well," Marinette said, unwilling to keep the money from her parents, "you see, I don't know the whole story, but Chat Noir can afford to buy the bread. Ladybug gave me a two hundred euros last time for all the bread."

Her mother blinked in surprise. "Yet he's not getting enough food?"

"I don't know the whole story and I didn't want to pry," she quickly said before slumping in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

Her father's expression softened as he put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Marinette. If Chat Noir needs the bread, then we have no problem with that. We just wanted to know what was going on."

Marinette smiled as she hugged her father. "Thank you, Papa."

It slowly became routine. Every week, Ladybug would bring him two to three loaves of bread, and she'd load him up on butter and jam once a month. How he was still keeping up this pace, she didn't know. But one thing was for sure: he was thickening out. Slightly. A tiny bit. Basically, his ribs weren't as noticeable.

At this point, she'd take what she could get.

He insisted he pay for his food, though. She kept a running tab on what he owed minus the mark-up (her parents insisted), and she had told him the price. But instead, he left her with a two-hundred-euro banknote instead of the one hundred he owed. And he looked rather smug about it.

Needless to say, she refused to let him pay her again until his tab was properly balanced. Much to his irritation.

But Ladybug didn't care. What she cared about was making sure that her kitty was getting enough food. One of these days, she should actually bring him real meals, but he seemed to be doing just fine as of now.

Adrien looked at the number on the scale, and he really couldn't believe what it read. He looked at himself in the mirror, circling and examining himself, trying to figure out just where those fifteen extra pounds were on his body. Maybe a bit around his torso; he couldn't see his ribs anymore. Maybe in his shoulders; they weren't as bony. Maybe his waist; his pants seemed a bit snugger than before.

Well, so far, he wasn't changing that much. Furthermore, he didn't feel as exhausted as he used to. He would keep up this pace a while longer before easing off it.

"New surprise," Ladybug said one day when she met him for patrol. "Wednesday, you now eat real food."

Chat Noir looked at her confused before eyeing the bag in her hands. "What?"

She grinned, nodding fiercely. "Yup! Today is left-over day at my house. And anything we don't eat gets tossed out. SO, guess what I salvaged before it hit the garbage can?"

It almost hurt how excited Chat Noir looked. "What?"

She pulled a container of a left-over chicken dish—maybe teriyaki?—to hand to Chat. "This was really good. For you."

Eagerly, he reached for it, only to pull back. "But, don't we have patrol?"

Ladybug shrugged. "It can wait until you've eaten."

Chat needed no further prompting. Happily, he took the container and plopped down on the roof. He nearly began digging into it with his fingers before Ladybug offered him a fork. He grinned sheepishly then ate with a gusto.

Taking a seat across form him, Ladybug could only marvel. It was like he never saw food in his life. It hurt her heart, but the consolation that she was able to ensure he was getting a good meal gave her a small measure of comfort.

Marinette couldn't stop from drooling. Alya had warned her about it, having to forcefully shut her friend's mouth several times that day. Why?

Adrien had taken off his white outer shirt.

He was still fully clothed, but his shirt was too tight. So Marinette got to ogle over the muscles of favorite model. And that boy had muscles.

Marinette sighed dreamily, causing Alya to warn her about drooling again.

"Dude!" Nino commented at lunch. Not even he had missed Adrien's ill-fitting clothes. "What do you do in your free time to get so ripped?"

Adrien shrugged. "You know, fencing, and I like to do some running as well."

Nino shook his head. "Bro, teach me your ways."

This elicited a snort from Adrien. "It's nothing special."

"Nino's got a point, though" Alya spoke up. "You've bulked out."

Adrien quirked a brow at this. "Yeah?" he asked, almost nervously.

"Adrien," she quickly assured. "You're still skinny as ever, but I think you hit a growth spurt or late puberty or something, because you've got some serious muscles there."

"It's really noticeable, huh?" he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "It…uh…might be because I've been sneaking some more food as of late."

"So you have gained some weight," Alya said, looking happy for her friend. Honestly, it made Marinette happy, too. He really was skinny and always looked at their food like a pitiful puppy. "How much?"

"Last time I checked, twenty-three pounds."

Three sets of jaws dropped.

"Dude!"

"No wonder your clothes aren't fitting right," Alya commented.

"I'm getting new clothes tomorrow," Adrien said. "Hopefully, they'll fit correctly."

"Even if they aren't, there isn't anything wrong with that," Alya teased. "There's nothing like tight clothes that will get girls drooling over you. I mean, even more than they are now."

Marinette nearly missed her hint, even though Alya's kick to her shin was far from subtle.

Adrien turned bright red as he grinned nervously. "You don't mean that."

"Oh, yeah, I do."

Marinette tried to compose herself. She wanted to add to the conversation, but she was afraid of what sort of unintelligible jumble would pour from her mouth.

"Yeah," Nino bitterly commented. "I'm hanging out with the model that just became better-looking. If I didn't have a girlfriend already, there'd be no hope for me."

Alya got a conspiratorial look on her face. "Well…I mean…Adrien is about as close to Mr. Right as you can get…"

"Hey!"

Ladybug didn't know what happened. It was like one day, her partner stood up beside her and he grew several inches. It was at that time she took a moment to really look at him, noticing how his leather suit stretched over his chest and how his arms had a new definition to them.

Chat noticed, and the wicked smirk that came across his lips proved he was not going to let it go. "Like what you see, bugaboo?" he turned and flexed, offering a full view of his back and all the muscles there, too.

Ladybug, admittedly, had to swallow because—and it killed her to admit it, even to herself—he'd never looked so good.

When she didn't answer right away, he grew worried. "Ladybug?" He turned to face her, stepping right in front of her.

And she noticed she had to look up at him. Like, more so than she had remembered. "You've grown," she observed.

"Um…yeah," he said. "Ever since you've been feeding me, I sprouted up nearly four inches."

"Four in…oh my word!"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Father wasn't too happy about having to replace my entire wardrobe when it suddenly wasn't fitting right. Everything got too small. And it's slowly getting too small again."

She could believe it. For months, he'd been keeping up this pace of two to three loaves in a week, likely slathered with butter and jam, as well as an extra meal on Wednesday. "You've bulked out a bit, too."

"Yeah," he said. "Thirty-six pounds."

"Thirty-six…" her voice died as she reexamined her partner. Slowly, the weight—no pun intended—of that information hit her. "You've been that malnourished?"

"Well, my nutritionist doesn't know I'm Chat Noir—"

"I don't care!" Ladybug snapped. "You were suffering and this 'nutritionist' that should have known you were burning calories like crazy was clueless and now you actually look like you're at a healthy weight. You're my age, right? So that means you're a growing boy who clearly needed more than what you were getting and what idiot was stunting your growth and—"

"Hey, hey," Chat said, taking her in his arms. "Calm down, Ladybug. Calm down."

She stubbornly refused, but she also refused to leave his arms, either. "But you weren't getting enough food. You were hurting because of it."

"Yeah, but you're taking care of me."

"That's the problem," she argued. "I shouldn't have to. Not in this way, anyway. This should be something your parents take care of. Something a nutritionist should have spotted. How did they miss that you needed more food? A lot more food?"

Chat's ears sunk, and his eyes hit the ground. "Look, I work in the family business. And in the family business, I have to be skinny."

"You still are skinny," Ladybug said. "But you grew and you're bulking out. You look like you haven't gained an ounce of fat."

Chat shrugged.

"And you won't tell them?"

This was only met with a cringe.

"Why not?"

He didn't look her in the eye. "Because they'll get mad."

Ladybug leveled a look at him. "They'll get mad that you're eating food?"

"They'll get mad that I'm sneaking that much food, bread nonetheless, and didn't tell them. They might confiscate it."

She shook her head in complete and utter disbelief. "What are they trying to do? Starve you?" She then held up her hands in a 'don't answer that' motion. "Ugh. I'm so sorry I didn't notice."

He huffed. "Ladybug, you were the only one who did, even among my own friends." He then took her in his arms once again. "So thank you."

She sighed, leaning into his embrace. "You're welcome."

Adrien couldn't remember the last time his heart was beating this fast outside the Chat Noir suit. But it was sure pounding now as he stood before his father in his office.

"How did you find it?" Adrien asked, thinking he had kept it well hidden for the past several months.

"Nathalie has been finding crumbs in your room for a while now. She searched your room when you were out."

Adrien made a mental note of that.

"Mind explaining what this is?" his father demanded, motioning to the most recent supply of bread and fully restocked butter and jams lined up on his father's desk.

"I get hungry," Adrien said. "So my friend has been supplying me with food that I sneak in."

His father nodded. "Three loaves at a time?" he asked.

"Sometimes two. It only lasts about a week."

Adrien couldn't remember another time his father's eyes were so wide. He stared down at the bread with shock before staring back up at his son. "A week? This lasts you a week?"

Adrien nodded. "After breakfast, after school, and sometimes before bed."

His father then looked over him. "That certainly explains the sudden growth spurt. However, I'll admit my true surprise is how you've kept your figure."

Adrien shrugged, unsure of what else he could possibly say.

His father went silent, steepling his hands in front of him as his gaze flicked between his son and the stash of bread on his desk. He then reached over to his intercom. "Nathalie."

"Yes, Mr. Agreste?"

"Fire Adrien's nutritionist and find a new one. It's clear he has no clue how to plan meals for my son."

Adrien's eyes opened wide.

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"For now, that will be all."

His father eased off the intercom to stare back at his son. "I'll let you keep this food this week, but next week, you'll get real meals and I better not find any more of this starch hidden in your room. Am I clear?"

Relief flooded him. "Thank you, father."

Ladybug was thrilled when Chat reported he was getting a change in his diet: more food.

"And my father was really clear about not hiding any more bread in my room. So, for now, no more bread. I'll tell you how I do next week, okay?"

Ladybug couldn't help but engulf him in a hug. "I'm really glad, kitty. But I still have no problem with giving you any more food if you need it. I will not have you showing up hungry or getting malnourished again on my watch. You're no alley cat, so you won't eat like one. Got it?"

He grinned under her attention. "I'll keep that in mind, bug."

It had been a full year since Chat Noir had first told Ladybug of his eating habits. While she didn't need to bring meals anymore, she still snuck him bread that he carefully hid in his room, but that loaf now lasted him over a week instead of a couple days.

In the end, he'd leveled out at about five inches and forty-seven pounds. The worst part of that?

It was all muscle. No fat.

And Chat knew it.

Ladybug caught herself staring more often than not. Especially when Chat stretched and all those wonderful muscles were highlighted in moonlight. But the worst was when he rolled his shoulders, just like a cat ready to pounce. The way the muscles rippled across his back and shoulders caused Ladybug's face to heat.

And Chat always looked so darn smug about it.

"Enjoying the view, bugaboo?"

Irritated with his show, she took a breath and marched up to him. "If I say yes, will you knock it off?"

His grin was wild. "Yes."

"Promise?"

"Swear."

She hummed, her expression turning smug. "Then you're looking pretty darn good, hot stuff. You might just make me change my mind about my crush if you weren't so egotistic."

In that moment, she didn't realize what was more satisfying: the fact he had completely stopped trying to draw her attention to his body —and allowing her to actually focus on patrol because of it—or the fact he was bright red and speechless for the entirety of the night.