Miraculous Raccoon [Completed]

Motivations

"Why are you wearing those hideous bracelets?" Monique asks as we all sit down at the dinner table.
"What was that?" Dad asks, taking his seat at the head of the table.
"Tris's bracelets," Monique explains, pointing in disgust. "They're supposed to be replicas of Mystique's miraculous, and they're such terrible quality. I don't know why she wants to be seen as someone who likes Mystique anyway. Ladybug is so much better," Monique says, flourishing her fork.
"Monique, that's not nice to say about someone who's trying to help Paris," mom says.
"Thank you mom," I say, trying not to show how much my chest has tightened at Monique's words. Really? My own sister looks down on what I do? I know she doesn't know it's me. But I doubt that she'd change her opinion if she did.
"This Mystique is who, exactly?" Dad asks.
"She's a new superhero, like Ladybug and Chat Noir," mom explains. "She does little things and doesn't stay to gain attention from the news like the other two, do."
"Ladybug and Chat Noir don't save Paris for the attention," I say.
"They don't turn down the attention, either," mom says. "They even went on television to do an interview."
"And Ladybug specifically said it was to reassure the people of Paris that they'll always be there for us," I respond.
"Tris, don't use that tone with your mother," dad speaks up. "I don't want you starting any arguments at the dinner table."
"Yes dad," I say, going back to eating my broccoli.
"I think any of these 'new' superheroes are just doing it for the attention," Dad says. "They've seen how popular Ladybug has gotten and they're trying to get in on the limelight. Even the people who are allegedly being akumatized are in on it. How many times has that Bourgeois girl been involved? It's just a way for her and her father to have more attention," dad complains. There's no point in trying to correct him. Arguments are the end result , which is really dad saying no one can have a different opinion than him, so I keep my mouth shut and eat, wishing there was a way I could change the topic without getting in trouble.
"That White Fox is a real superhero, though," Monique speaks up.
"The White what?" Dad asks. I'm surprised. That's the first time someone favors him.
"The White Fox," Monique repeats, getting a dreamy look on her face. "He's all clean and pure. Everything about him is perfect."
"And what in fact, does this White Fox accomplish?" Dad asks.
"Hmm?" Monique asks.
"What is his power? Ladybug has that silly lucky charm, Chat Noir can destroy something with a touch, what can this White Fox accomplish?"
"Oh, I don't know," Monique says, startled. "But I bet it's amazing! Something perfect like him."
I think back to when I've worked with White Fox. Was that energy transfer thing his power? My face flushes and I turn my attention back to my food, trying to distract myself from recalling his lips against mine.
Around two months ago, early in my transforming, I was still getting used to passing out after transforming back. I had mentioned the issue to White Fox, asking if he had problems when he went back to his civilian form with his energy levels. He had been confused, apparently his miraculous had a different balance of energy than mine, something I understand a little bit better now after listening in on Tikki's explanation. White Fox wondered if he used his power, an energy transference, on me if that would be better. I agreed to let him try and then he had been kissing me. I was so surprised I hadn't even moved. The kiss felt nice, for a moment, but I couldn't really focus much on that. White lights were flashing and white hot electricity bolted through me and then he had backed up, a hand over his mouth, and he had refused to look at me. My involvement in stopping that robbery too longer than it should have that day. But when I had transformed back, I had felt fine, not collapsing into my bed, so whatever he had done must have worked. White Fox hadn't offered to do it again, and I had been too nervous to ask.
"Who's turn is it to help your mother wash the dishes?" Dad's question breaks into my thoughts.
"I have homework," Monique says, standing up and heading to her room immediately.
"Looks like Tris will be your helper tonight," dad says to mom.
"She's always a good helper," mom agrees with a smile. I force an answering one on my face and go into the kitchen to wash them while mom dries, listening to a story about a woman who had somehow eaten seven plastic bags without noticing.