#goog guy gabe

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

The Collector 2

Summary: When Adrien and his cat leave for university, the Agreste mansion suddenly becomes a very empty and quiet place. What better way to bring back some joy and laughter than to take in a new cat? Or two? Or three? Five at most. But why stop at five when you have such a fine feline collection? Besides, Gabriel has never known when to stop, has he? 

Part 3 of the Felinotherapy Series. Also on AO3 / Fanfiction.net

(Part 1 - “New Kitty on the Block”) (Part 2 - “Felinotherapy”)

Happy Birthday, @goblin-alchemist​! I hope you like your Gabe gift, wink wink.

An enormous thank you goes to @sheeoni​ , for her invaluable beta-reading assistance!

>^.^<        >(^w^)<       =(^ ‘ x ‘ ^)=

It started innocently enough. Adrien graduated from lycée and left for Cambridge, taking Lady Noir with him. She was his cat, after all. Gabriel never would have thought that their absence would bring such silence and emptiness. The mansion was a huge house; one teenager and one cat couldn’t possibly have made such a difference. And yet, even with Emilie at his side again, Gabriel felt something was missing. Was he turning into an old softie after all these years? Nah, impossible. 

Still, even Nooroo’s mood seemed more wistful. Lady Noir was like a younger sister to him, and she certainly knew how to keep the violet sprite occupied. After Gabriel had dropped his second gig as a supervillain, both of them suddenly gained plenty of free time—more than they could fill with work. Seriously, had Gabriel known supervillainy was such a demanding job, he’d have been more reluctant to terrorize a city in search of magic jewels—which he had never gotten in the end, anyway. 

Although not obtaining their Miraculous had stung, Gabriel took solace in the fact that nobody had discovered he was Hawkmoth since he'd just stopped appearing. Despite akumas no longer being a threat to the city, Ladybug and Chat remained in the public eye, and had apparently become a couple. It didn't take long before their relationship caught the attention of the media, and in their eagerness to supply the public with breaking news, they'd prioritized the superhero couple over figuring out what had happened to the gaudy akumas and the apparent shortage of supervillains.

While Gabriel still had his fashion empire, his brand and his family, Nooroo did not have any job other than being a kwami. And maybe Gabriel should have let him slumber inside the Butterfly Miraculous, but the truth was he’d grown used to the magical company. The sight of Nooroo frolicking with Lady Noir had always warmed his heart; he liked having the sprite around. 

So in the end, it was that need to fill the gaping hole left by Lady Noir that brought it upon them. 

=(^ ‘ x ‘ ^)=

It was a chilly evening but Gabriel decided to take a stroll nevertheless. His steps took him to Champs Élysée. Just as he was walking by a dark alley, he heard a faint squeal. He stopped, intrigued. Nooroo popped his head out from Gabriel’s pocket and listened intently. 

Something mewled miserably behind the trash bins and cardboard boxes that occupied the narrow space. The containers shook and another desperate wail broke the silence. 

The sound was so doleful Gabriel’s heart clenched. His empathic powers weren’t even required for him to know the creature needed help. Yet the alley was dark, and he couldn’t find the source of the noise. 

‘Can you see anything, Nooroo?’ he asked his companion.

The kwami shook his head and, without further prompting, he flew to investigate the stash of boxes. He phased through the cardboard just as the first droplets of rain splashed on the pavement. Gabriel reached for his umbrella, but before he could open it, Nooroo called him. 

‘In here, Master!’ He hovered over one of the containers. ‘I need help, she’s trapped.’

She? 

Careful not to make a sound, Gabriel creeped closer and raised the box. Underneath he found the most pitiful cat he’d ever seen. It was a bit bigger than Lady Noir and more round in shape. Its fur was dull, dirty and wet. Gabriel could only guess the cat’s hide must have been silver once, as it looked a bit like a Russian Blue, but now it was a toneless grey. 

The cat looked tired and scared, but it didn’t flee at the sight of a huge man. Maybe it was already done with running, and was just seeking help?

‘We can’t leave her like this, Master,’ Nooroo turned to Gabriel with his big pleading eyes. 

‘Can you understand her?’

‘Not really, just her emotions,’ the kwami admitted. ‘She’s scared and exhausted.’

Gabriel could clearly see it for himself. He crouched and extended a hand. The cat sniffed it once, twice, then tilted her head to rub against his skin. 

Slowly Gabriel took off his jacket and placed it on the ground. ‘Can you tell her we can help her if she comes with us?’ he asked Nooroo. 

The sprite pursed his lips. Then he flew to the jacket and plopped himself in the center waving invitingly at the cat. Hesitantly the animal followed and settled next to the kwami.

‘I’m going to take you somewhere safe and dry,’ Gabriel promised softly. ‘We’ll take care of you.’ 

Gingerly he wrapped the jacket around the cat and Nooroo. Pressing the bundle to his chest he walked back to the mansion as fast as he dared. 

When they returned home, Emilie gasped at the cat’s state; she barked a few orders to the staff. Soon, a bath and fresh towels were ready, followed by a nourishing meal and a comfortable basket where the now fluffy and content cat finally found some rest. 

Chomp Élysée—what Gabriel had decided to name her despite Emilie’s complaints—turned out to be a grateful companion. She wasn’t as lively as Lady Noir, preferring to nap in sunbeams instead of chasing Nooroo over in Gabriel’s study. She purred up a storm when petted, but she always hid her tummy and chomped on anyone who dared to try and stroke the area. She also ate twice the amount Lady Noir would typically consume, which was reflected in her round shape.

‘You need to restrict her diet, dear, or soon she won’t be walking but rolling,’ Emilie would chide Gabriel, but every time Chomp Élysée came demanding food, he simply could not refuse her; the cat’s distressed look in the alley was still too fresh in his memory. 

Maybe he was going soft after all? But Chomp’s happy purr and easy company finally brought back some of the lost joy from his and Nooroo’s life.

>^.^<

They say the more you do something, the easier it becomes. It turns out this same principle works for cats very well. Gabriel had never been more reluctant than when he’d decided to allow Lady Noir into his home. It had taken a lot of time for her to weasel her way into his heart and heal his soul. Taking Chomp Élysée in was a bit simpler precisely because of the Lady Noir experience. Moreover, Emilie didn’t object to the mansion’s newest dweller, and even helped take care of the cat. 

So it really wasn’t such a big surprise when a few weeks later, Gabriel arrived home with not just one but two scrawny striped cats. Emilie didn’t say a word, yet her look was more guarded this time. However, an unexpected ally—Chomp Élysée—left his wife no choice but to accept the newest additions to their flock. The grey cat inspected the pets, gracing each with a friendly lick over their pink noses. She took them straight to her bowl. She held Gabriel’s eye as she allowed the hungry kitties to devour every bit of food in there, including two helpings. Then she nudged them in the direction of her basket and curled with them as the proudest mother hen. It was a miracle in itself that three cats could even fit in there.

Thus it was settled that the Agreste family had just gained two new members: Pusskin and Shakespurr. The cat corner in Gabriel’s study expanded to accommodate two more pets, their beds and a cat tree. Unlike Chomp Élysée, the new cats knew how to have fun. Suddenly Nooroo had his nubs full with keeping an eye on the feline writers. 

That was also the last time Emilie allowed for punny names, which was a shame because Gabriel had enough for a herd. Purrudence, Tabbytha, Margaret Scratcher, just to name a few for the ladies, or Fuzzinator, Catapult and Miraclaws for the boys. Such a waste. Even Clawsby was out of the question. 

>(^w^)<

Someone would say that three cats were a crowd (that someone being Emilie), so the circumstances of the next arrival were a bit unclear. One day a golden maine coon—Croissant, by Emilie’s insistence—just showed up at the mansion’s door. He regarded the Agrestes with his astute green eyes and took over as if the house had been always his. Gabriel supposed Emilie allowed this because the maine coon was basically a feline version of Adrien—from the slender posture to the fine blond fur, from the poised manner to the unnerving green gaze, there was something in Croissant that made it impossible not to fall under his charm. 

Of course, the fact that Croissant curbed Pusskin and Shakespurr’s temper helped a lot. Croissant hadn’t done anything in particular, yet he became the ultimate leader of the feline family. It took one growl from him and the mischievous kitties toned down their shenanigans in an instant. 

And since Croissant was definitely Emilie’s cat, she couldn’t really object when he brought Macaroon home. She was without a shadow of a doubt his partner and shared his intelligent gaze. Her eyes were deep blue. She must have been of Birman breed—not the kind usually associated with strays. Emilie and Gabriel went through no small amount of trouble to find out if anyone was looking for a lost maine coon or a birman cat, as they didn’t want to be accused of stealing other people’s pets. However, in the end it seemed both Croissant and Macaroon had no previous homes or owners. 

Five cats became the point where Emilie drew the line. True, their house was big, and with Adrien abroad they had a substantial supply of space, time and love to share, but enough was enough. 

‘We don’t want them to take over, do we, dear?’ she jested observing the cat colony in Adrien’s room, that had been redecorated to suit the feline needs. 

Confident that the cat limit was firmly established, Emilie left for England to check on their son and to spend some time with her sister. 

Gabriel decided not to tell her that barely three days after her departure he’d agreed to foster Athos, Portos and Aramis (at least he’d kept his promise with their names). It really wasn’t like he’d had any choice in the matter: Gorilla found the first one wandering around the patio, Nathalie then located a box with the second one next to the dumpster. The third decided to sleep under the limousine’s hood and it was a miracle he was discovered before he was grilled on the engine. 

The three musketeers were black with white collars and paws. They might have been brothers with their identically fluffy tails and impressive whiskers. They preferred Gorilla’s company, yet since his wife was allergic to cats, Gabriel graciously decided to let his bodyguard keep them in the mansion. There wasn’t much difference between five and eight cats,  after all. 

=(^ ‘ x ‘ ^)=

What was a lonely ex-villain supposed to do in an empty house? Spoil his cats of course! If it wasn’t for Nooroo and Croissant’s joined efforts, the pets would have walked all over him—especially Pusskin and Shakespurr. But somehow, the cats could always pick up on Gabriel’s mood and knew not to push him beyond his limits. 

Besides, whenever he felt wistful or sad, at least two felines accompanied him. Emilie had been gone for about a week when he let Chomp Élysée into his bed and the other cats followed. He loved how soothing a cat’s purr was. Chomp would settle at the foot of the bed, while Croissant and Macaroon took over Emilie’s side. Pusskin and Shakespurr each secured Gabriel’s legs, while Athos, Portos and Aramis usually fought for a place on any of the pillows. And once Gabriel sank his nose into the soft black fur of a musketeer, there was no way he could throw the cats out of his bedroom. Goodbye, headaches— welcome, good night’s sleep. 

Gabriel’s only complaint was that Chomp would wake him up at dawn with a bite on his big toe, demanding that he feed her, while rousing the rest of the feline family in the process. Gabriel would then descend the stairs to the kitchen, knee deep in cats, who rubbed at his shins affectionately—not so subtly urging him to move faster. 

One day though, Chomp Élysée didn’t wake him. Gabriel blinked the sleep away from his eyes, gently lifted a sleepy Portos from his chest, and looked around. No sign of Chomp in the bed. Gabriel appreciated routine greatly, so immediately he started to worry. He went to the kitchen, the rest of the cats at his heels. He picked Chomp’s favorite food and banged her bowl loudly and repeatedly, but she didn’t come. He left the other cats wolfing down their breakfast and set to look for his first cat.

When he finally found her, in her basket, under his desk, the mystery of Chomp Élysée’s recent appetite and shape was revealed. Gabriel was now the proud owner of twelve cats. 

>^.^<  >^.^<  >^.^<  >^.^<

The kittens were the cutest thing Gabriel had ever seen, baby Adrien excluded. Chanel, Dior, Givenchy and Ricci—absolutely punless nods to his favorite designers—were four little balls of grey fluff. They had him wrapped around their tiny claws in a blink. 

Having them around was so much fun. He could watch them play for hours, with their wee fluffy tails and clumsy movements, sweet mewls and an appetite for life rivalling their mother’s drive for food. Gabriel began to reminisce on how he used to watch little Adrien the same way. He briefly wondered when his son and Marinette would produce a grandchild for him—not that he’d ask, mind you. They were still so young, barely starting their adult life. Besides, he had sworn he’d never be one of those parents, but still it would be delightful to hear baby steps and giggles echoing in the mansion’s cavernous hall. For now Gabriel settled for miniature paws and excited squeals of the four most adorable designer kittens ever.

Yet good things rarely last long. Just as Chanel and her siblings got bold enough to start exploring the mansion, with their mother’s tender supervision, Emilie announced her return. Not only that, she bore auspicious news of Adrien and Marinette’s engagement (yay! one step closer to that grandchild). The happy husband-and-wife-to-be were returning for their break at the same time as her, and Emilie already decreed a dinner with the Dupain-Chengs should be held at the mansion upon their arrival. 

Under normal circumstances Gabriel would be overjoyed to finally get his human family back. There was just one teeny tiny problem—he was eight cats over the limit his wife had set. He was almost sure he could persuade her to keep what he started to think of as probably the biggest cat herd in Paris, but the dinner party was something of an obstacle. Not the best way to introduce new and unauthorized members of their household. He needed a cunning plan.

That’s when Nooroo stepped in with his brilliant idea: Gabriel just had to transfer the surplus cats to the only place in the building no one would visit—his former lair. Before Hawkmoth had risen to power it had been a neglected sunroom, forever waiting on renovation, but now it would do nicely as the cats’ den with a special nursery section for his little treasures. 

Nathalie and Gorilla turned out to be very helpful in furnishing the ex-lair. With some broom work and a fresh coat of paint what was once an akuma hatchery became a feline paradise. Cat trees, scratching posts, tunnels, shelves, beds, baskets, fountains, toys—only the best for Gabriel’s kitties. The team effort allowed the cats to be moved a few days before Emilie’s arrival, giving their pets the necessary time to adjust to a new place. 

The plan worked like a charm. The cats were happy to explore their new playroom and they didn’t even feel inclined to leave the lair. They had everything they needed there. Gabriel had his favorite armchair installed in the sunroom as well, so that he could spend some time watching the cats, and maybe even take a comfortable nap during his lunch breaks.

>^.^<

The celebratory dinner was in full swing and Gabriel was nailing it. He had finally found a worthy match for his pun game in Tom Dupain. The resulting pun-off was definitely the highlight of the evening. The ladies were chuckling, the youngsters were groaning. The only present felines included Lady Noir, who meticulously inspected every corner of the dining room, and Croissant with Macaroon. The two cats decided to act as the guard of honor for Emilie, flanking her chair and chirping happily at their favorite human’s return. The looks on Marinette and Adrien’s faces were priceless.

Everything went smoothly until Lady Noir’s tail turned into bottle brush. Croissant and Macaroon exchanged worried looks. Then all three cats bolted for the door and disappeared. Gabriel seemed to be the only one to notice. He surely was the only one to understand where they’d gone. He excused himself from the company in order to check on the situation in the secret room.

He found all thirteen cats in the lair, all right. Thirteen tails bristled and lashed behind them. In front of them, on the window frame was a pigeon. And not even Mr. Pigeon, just one of those flying rats. It dawned on him that this was the reason for their odd behavior, and Gabriel snorted out a laugh at the ridiculous sight. Unfortunately, it startled the bird, and the stupid creature decided the safest plan of action would be to dive inside a cat lair.

Thirteen pairs of eyes followed the pigeon’s trail inside the dome; thirteen throats uttered a growl. Within seconds, the cats sprang into action, and all hell broke loose! The pigeon, sensing eminent danger, did the only sensible thing it could—it decided to hide in a nest. Only it wasn’t a nest, but the neatly trimmed hair of one Gabriel Agreste. The man yelped, the cats attacked. 

Gabriel went down under the onslaught, losing balance thanks to a vicious kitten which attacked his shoelace (as if it had anything to do with the pigeon taking refuge on his head). The bird apparently had enough brains to know when it was outnumbered, and finally flew outside, leaving the man and his cats in a disoriented heap of limbs, tails and claws. 

And then someone cleared their throat. 

Gabriel raised his eyes to the door. Everyone was there—the Dupain-Chengs, Adrien, Marinette, and Emilie. Tom and Sabine wore matching grins, while the kids were rather horrified. 

Emilie smoothed her dress and raised a brow—it meant an inevitable private conversation would soon follow. For now, however, his wife slid back into the perfect hostess routine. Well, almost.

‘And this, Sabine, used to be our sunroom, where my husband now keeps his hoard of cats,’ she said without batting an eyelash.

‘Awwww,’ Sabine coed, as Gabriel started the process of untangling himself from the said hoard by removing Dior from his jacket’s pocket.

Tom released a mischievous chuckle and stroked his mustache. He looked Gabriel straight in the eye and said, ‘I believe, dear Emilie, the proper name is a meowntain.’

The designer bristled at that; he had just been humiliated in front of his guests! His secret was out, but he saw a chance to save his face. He couldn’t allow for anyone to defeat him on his own turf!

‘I’ll have you know,’ he drawled, pulling himself up to his full height and brushing cat hairs from his clothes, ‘this is not a meowntain.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

‘This-, ‘ he proudly opened his hands and gestured to the feline paradise and his collection of pets, ‘-is haute cature.’

 -(^The End^)-