The Miraculous Spiderman Series

Contrary to popular belief, Paris was not the bright, sunny, bustling tourist hub it was during the summer all year round. Adrien had met plenty of people over the years through the modelling business who had expressed their disbelief that Paris, like many places, was further reduced to a grey and dreary cityscape the closer it got to winter. Yet Chat Noir in his current state was testament to the fact that it was, indeed, plenty rainy in late autumn as he sat upon his usual rooftop, hair plastered to his head as he waited for someone who most likely wouldn’t be coming.

He’d texted Ladybug to ask her to meet him at their usual spot before he’d transformed, ensuring the phone Spiderman had gifted to him was not on his person, making it easy for him to grab it on his way out the window in case she texted. But with zero messages and a noticeable lack of Ladybugs in the immediate area, Adrien had to face two possibilities. One, Ladybug was busy with her real life or two, she was mad at him. Either way, Adrien didn’t blame her.

He checked his phone one last time, carefully drawing it out of the tiny pockets of his suit and squinting against the heavy rain to read the screen. It was all in vain, however, as it displayed only the time and a tiny ‘no previous messages’ when he swiped up, worried he might’ve missed something. In all honesty, he was surprised that the phone had yet to be waterlogged beyond repair. Even Adrien himself was feeling worn out as the droplets continued to pound down on his head. Stark tech was no joke.

Finally (finally) Adrien decided to head home. Shoving his slick phone back into his pocket with a display of sheer difficulty, he readied his baton and shot off into the wind; rain pelting his face as he blindly returned home, relying on sheer instinct to get him to his window. And he missed slightly, slamming into the glass panes as his reflection mocked him. Adrien looked a mess. A cold, wet, sorry mess.

A pair of wild green eyes with a surprisingly hard edge to them stared back at him. He’d never realized how…unthreatening his messy hair was until it was no longer fluffy, slicked back against his skull as water made its way down his jawline, dripping onto his chest. He didn’t have long to critique his appearance, though, as a strong gust of wind knocked him flat against the window and he had to devote his attention to hanging on, eventually managing to pull himself back into his room and detransform, shutting the pane firmly behind him.

The damage to his room had already been done. Leaving a window open during a rainstorm had a tendency to do that, so Adrien really shouldn’t have been surprised to see a large puddle forming on the floor, making a mental note to clean it up before Nathalie could see it and revoke his window-opening privileges.

Peter wasn’t where he’d left him, unsurprisingly, nor was he in his own room. Adrien had no idea where his housemate could’ve gone. Although now that he knew Peter and Spiderman were one and the same, the amount of things he actually knew about Peter had considerably lessened. What was a lie to keep his identity safe, and what was the truth? Adrien admittedly had no idea, so perhaps the red and blue sporting hero had braved the storm and headed out after all.

Just to be sure, Adrien wandered down to the kitchen, looking for any signs of Peter. None; but he hadn’t expected there to be. The one time Peter had used the kitchen, Adrien hadn’t even been conscious to witness it and after Nathalie’s attitude towards his previous endeavours, it seemed doubtful that Peter would’ve chosen today to get back on that cooking career.

He moseyed back on out, greeted by the sight of his father disappearing into his study without sparing Adrien so much as a glance. Needless to say, it was a beautiful day and everything was coming up Adrien.

Peter wanted to screech for so many reasons all at once. The first being the soft echo of ‘motherfucker!’ that he one hundred percent blamed his kwami for, the second being that this was clearly not just a fun little hidden basement, and the third being that the hundreds of white butterflies that surrounded him looked an awful lot like the purified akumas that were often released from Ladybug’s yoyo.

Except those akumas flew away, always off into the horizon, meaning these butterflies were a different side of the same coin. These butterflies were pure and untouched by dark magic. They were just waiting to be turned evil.

The room was dark and empty except for the softly glowing butterflies and a small table. A large window, covered by some sort of large, mechanical blind was the only other feature of the room. Peter’s internal scanners told him the window overlooked Paris, an odd thought due to the fact that he distinctly remembered the elevator going down. He made his way over to the table, every single instinct in his body telling him to run, but that small, tiny, logical part of his brain told him to stay. Actually, it was his frontal lobe, the largest part of his brain, but Peter ignored that fact for the sake of dramatics in his own internal narrative.

The table had a little box sitting on it, flat and unassuming, the same shadowy grey the rest of the room was swathed in from the lack of light. His computer easily looked past the box, scanning the object inside.

“It’s got the same energy signature as your average miraculous, only a fair bit weaker,” Peter whispered to Suluu. “Shaped like…a fan? A hand fan?”

He glanced in the direction he assumed his kwami would be, until she spoke on the other side of his head, forcing him to turn. “That’s the peacock miraculous. The only other one I’ve had contact with.”

“Contact with? What do you mean?”

“A miraculous can’t be destroyed, but it can be severely damaged. And my master at the time thought that the peacock miraculous was a challenge to them, as it was the only other miraculous they’d encountered. Since my magic cannot be unified with other kwamis as every other one can, my master decided to attempt to destroy the peacock, using my incineration power to not only kill the wielder of the miraculous, but also to break its magic object. Every time the user of the peacock miraculous puts it on, the magic is unfiltered, as it usually is by tying a kwami to a physical object, and it starts slowly killing them, until they fall into an unending sleep.”

“Gabriel wouldn’t be using this, would he?” Peter thumbed the box, considering, then decided not to open it. Magic was almost always more trouble than it’s worth.

A heartbeat, then the realization. “Mayura. Nathalie.”

“Yes,” Suluu hummed sadly. “She will die soon, if she dons it again. I can sense it on her, the foreboding of death.”

Peter made a face in the Spidey suit, glad she couldn’t see him. “You’re just a beacon of light in my life, Su, you know that?”

“You can’t sense it yet, but the more we’re together, the better you’ll get at it. There’s a reason phoenixes are a symbol of death. The threshold is a short one.”

“And what if I don’t want to sense death?” Peter challenged, walking back into the elevator. This time there were buttons, and he had no idea what to push. Was he down? Or up? Pressing down, he turned in a slow circle, waiting for Suluu to speak so he knew where to look.

“Like many things in your life, Peter, I think you’ll find you don’t have a choice of the matter.” Suluu’s voice was difficult to place, and Peter had the sneaking suspicion she was flying around his head just to confuse him. “And this is definitely not the study.”

“How many underground lairs does this man have?” Peter stepped out of the elevator, rolling his eyes. This one was familiar, at least part of it. The bridge that stretched onwards, the other side only a speck in the distance; this was the setting of the illusion Peter had been pulled into when the Papillon had tried to akumatize him. There was no doubt about it now.

Gabriel Agreste was the Papillon.

But Peter didn’t understand why. Sure, he hated good old Gabe for his treatment of Adrien, but never did he think the man would stoop to acts of domestic terrorism against two teenagers (three, counting himself) with magic jewellery. And as he walked further down the bridge, filling in the details the illusion had not, he was starting to understand.

Because at the end of the bridge stood a clear coffin, the inhabitant captured in a moment in time, her hands folded over her midsection, eyes shut, hair perfectly curled.

“Dead?” Peter whispered to Suluu.

“Not yet, but close. Closer than Nathalie,” Suluu said softly in return. Peter could see her reflection on the glass now, slightly distorted but fiery as ever. The sight was a slight comfort.

“Karen, what kind of coffin am I looking at?” Peter asked. He hadn’t yet considered who the casket’s occupant was. He couldn’t. Better to just gather the facts first, before he let emotions get involved.

“Suspended life tank,” Karen supplied, “similar to the one used to sustain the Winter Soldier, this tank keeps its occupants in a state of eternal sleep, in the hopes that when they’re reopened, the technology will be available to heal them from whatever illnesses plague them. However, they are not meant to be keeping someone for this long. There’s no saying that by opening this tank, its current occupant would be able to be saved. Her internal systems are almost entirely shut down due to their lack of energy. Without an intervention, I’d say this patient has about six months left to suspend before they’re lost forever.” Her even tone faded out, leaving Peter to stare down at the woman.

“Who is she?” Suluu asked, although Peter suspected she already knew the answer.

“Adrien’s mother.” Peter felt a tear slip down the inside of his mask. Here she was, not dead yet, not disappeared, but frozen in time, within a dreamless sleep. Gabriel Agreste had let Adrien believe his mother had vanished, most likely dead, when she’d been here all this time.

That’s why he wants the miraculous, Peter realized. To bring her back to life.

“The bastard,” Peter said aloud, his voice cracking slightly as he ran a hand down the side of his mask. “This isn’t right. None of it is. The fact that she’s right here, the way he treats his son, everything he’s done, my role in all of this, can’t you see! It isn’t right! It wasn’t supposed to be Gabriel Agreste, it wasn’t supposed to be Émilie Agreste, it wasn’t supposed to be Adrien, it wasn’t supposed to be me!”

Listen to logic before you listen to emotion, his brain nagged, but Peter shoved the thought aside. To hell with logic. Peter knew how Adrien must’ve felt when he lost his mother, he was familiar with the emptiness that came with losing a family member. And after all that grief, here she was, fast asleep and none the wiser to the way life had deteriorated without her.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Suluu said.

“The Papillon was supposed to be some bad guy I fight, one I have a minimal personal connection to, one I can easily forgive and do the right thing for. But now that I know who the Papillon is, why he is the Papillon, and what he wants to do with the miraculous, I can’t do it. I can’t do this to Adrien, but I’m not going to be able to keep this from him for long.”

“Peter, you have to. You can’t tell Adrien.” Suluu’s voice took on a hard edge. “You know this. You have to get out of here and go to Master Fu.”

“And what’s he going to do? I have people who could help Adrien’s mom. Mr. Stark could heal her.”

‘There’s some things you just can’t fix, Peter.”

“Or the healing tears! I could heal her!”

“You and I both know that wouldn’t work. And you know why.”

Peter was about to say that no, no he didn’t, when he realized that for once, he knew what the tiny little god was talking about. As soon as Peter opened that tank, the inhabitant would die. And Peter could use his healing tears, but she would want to pass on. The threshold is a short one.

“I just want to help, I wish there was some way to magically fix this,” he was saying without having made the conscious decision to speak. “I know what it’s like to lose my parents. And if I knew there was a chance I could bring them back… I don’t want Adrien to think I didn’t try. I want to make this better for him.”

“I know you do. But Adrien’s healed once. He’ll heal again. Mr. Agreste wants to bring her back so he can create a family that lives forever, but what he doesn’t realize is that he’s already caused irreparable harm to the family he has left. To escape death is not a gift, but a curse given to those unable to let go, to those unable to look beyond everything the fog that love blinds you with, those unable to see that the value of humanity lies within its mortality. Don’t let the same fog blind you. You’re stronger than this.”

“Here I’d thought you lived all those years and didn’t learn a single thing,” Peter managed a shaky laugh, nodding his head along with Suluu’s wisdom. Somehow she knew just what he needed to hear, somehow she’d made it clear to him that this was not his fault, and whatever he did now was his choice. And the right choice was to go to Master Fu, to do all he could. Adrien would understand that there was no way he could’ve helped. Adrien would understand that the right thing was to go speak with the Guardian.

But before he could, he heard a distant sound, a sound his expert senses immediately labelled as someone entering the study. The elevator shot upwards, disappearing back up into the ceiling of the long hall.

“This is why I told you to keep a lookout!” Peter hissed, now certain that they were under the house.

“Really? And what would I have done if M. Agreste just marched his way into the study?”

“Phased down here and told me about it?”

“Then we’d be in precisely the same spot we are now.”

“Shut up.” Peter grumbled, quickly swinging off the bridge, shrouding himself in the shadows the tall walls cast. Suluu was never more annoying than when she was right. He was absolutely certain he was hidden by the time the elevator came back down, this time containing Gabriel Agreste himself.

He was dressed in his usual attire, no sign of his miraculous or alter ego, a fact of which Peter was grateful. The Papillon was not who he wanted to talk to right now. Gabriel Agreste was.

“Émilie,” Gabriel sunk to his knees by the casket, face clouded with something that looked suspiciously like emotion. Or at least, Peter would’ve believed it could be emotion on anyone else’s face. The expression looked foreign on the man’s usually stoic and frigid features.

“Now’s your chance!” Suluu hissed. “Get to the elevator and out of here!”

“Not yet,” Peter whispered back, voice dropping several octaves to avoid being overheard. “To understand one’s opponent is crucial to beating them.”

“Every day without you,” Gabriel was continuing to grieve down on the grassy patch in front of the tank, hands clasped as if in prayer to a god whose name he’d never learned. “Every day without you is like a lifetime devoid of light. But the end is within sight. The phoenix boy, Helios, has made a grave error.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, intrigued to hear how he might’ve messed up. As far as he was aware, his time as Helios was rather air-tight, with his outings few and far between. There wasn’t much room for error. Which is why he wanted to know what Gabe had picked up on that he hadn’t.

“He’s showed his cards. The boy cares greatly for Ladybug and Chat Noir, as does the Spiderman. However, I assume they could both be swayed if I made some threats on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives. Helios is far more powerful than he knows, and to have him on my team would be a guaranteed victory.”

Hmmm, I highly doubt that, Peter mused, carefully lowering himself towards the bridge. So far the Papillon had been incorrect about every assumption he’d made about Peter, and given that Helios was Peter and he had far more experience dealing with himself, Peter figured he knew the full extent of everything he could do. And threats against Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives would be meaningless, as Peter could protect them in every form of his being.

“So we meet again, Mr. Papillon.” Peter dropped onto the bridge, a few metres away from where M. Agreste had been plotting four teenagers’ collective demise. Or three teenagers, considering that two of them were the same person. “I couldn’t help but overhear your master plan and, not to be ‘that guy’, I can think of a few things wrong with it.”

Adrien’s dad wheeled around, completely surprised before his expression hardened into something determined and dangerous, like he was a lion who’d been waiting at the watering hole and Peter was a nice juicy buffalo that had just arrived. His next words curled off his tongue, lingering in the moist air of the underground cavern.

“Is that so?”

Welp, Peter had chosen his hill to die on. So he folded his arms across his chest, fixing M. Agreste with an intimidating stare of his own. “Yeah, given that I’ve spoken to Helios and he thinks you suck and I’m currently of the same opinion.”

“Opinions can be swayed,” he challenged. “Are you saying that if Ladybug and Chat Noir were in danger, you two wouldn’t do everything in your power to save them?”

“They’d never be in danger because I already do everything in my power to protect them.”

“And yet…you’re here. Why?”

“Cuz I don’t like you, and I knew you were hiding something. A super rich dude whose wife disappeared under mysterious circumstances who treats his son like a prisoner out on parole and never leaves the house? Sounds kind of sketch, Gabriel.”

“So you broke into my house sneak around?”

“And if I did? It’s not like you can call the cops or anything. I’d love to see you try and explain why you have your half-dead wife in a suspension tank.”

He’d struck a nerve, Peter could tell. And before he could backtrack, his enemy transformed before him, going from a snobby fashion designer to a supervillain in a matter of seconds, popping the cap on his staff.

An all-too familiar black butterfly floated towards Peter.

But as always, he was ready for it. He closed his eyes and pictured Adrien, Marinette, Alya, Nino, and all the good times they’d had together. Hell, he even pictured Felix and Chloé. Adrien’s expression when he’d realized Peter had sabotaged his heist trophy rose to the focus point of his mind’s eye, causing Peter to laugh.

Peter had always been gutsy, but laughing in the face of evil was a new one. The butterfly floated in front of him, uncertain of what to do now that Peter wasn’t afraid. Wasn’t bothered at all, actually.

“How?” The Papillon’s expression at the new realization that yet another person couldn’t be akumatized was hilarious. Peter wished he had a camera. Then he remembered that he did. Oh boy, he was definitely going to be reviewing this footage later.

“The story of Spiderman has been riddled with tragedy, but I’m determined to make this ending a happily ever after. And a happily ever after doesn’t involve fighting my best friends, thank you very much.”

Out of options, the Papillon ran at him, but Peter blocked the strike of his staff with ease, leaping over his head and landing next to the casket while his opponent seethed.

“Get away from her!” The purple clad supervillain shouted, but Peter paid no mind to his agitated state.

“How could you do this to Adrien?” He said, calmly as ever, a finger ghosting the contours of Émilie’s face above the glass.

“To Adrien? I do this for Adrien!”

“Even if you were to bring her back, who’s to say he’ll forgive you?”

“He will. He’ll be on my side, he’ll see it was the only way to bring her back, to give us a happy family once more.”

Peter turned his gaze away from the glass, his expression filled with a pity the Papillon couldn’t see. “You know he could never be a part of that, not after everything you’ve done to him.”

“But he’ll see it was all for the best, you foolish child,” M. Agreste spat. “What could possibly be more important to him than having his family back together again?”

“You’re not the only family he has anymore.” Peter shook his head. “When our real family abandons us, we have a way of forming our own. And Adrien’s moved on. It’s about time you did too.”

“How can you possibly know him? You think you know him better than me?”

“I think everyone does. You’ve been so intent on bringing her back that you’ve failed to see that by doing so, you’re destroying the little family you have left. Adrien deserves to have people who care for him.”

The Papillon struck again, but Peter, once again, dodged him with ease, refusing to be riled by his enemy’s words.

“He deserves to have his mother back, and this is the only way!”

“There’s always another way.” Peter grabbed his staff as Gabriel took another swing at him, easily yanking it away and twirling it out of reach of the stumbling man, thrown off balance. “As for deserve, that’s one thing about life, isn’t it? No one ever gets what they deserve. Those who have faced sorrow deserve nothing but light, but that’s not what you’re giving Adrien. By shutting him out, by doing all this, you’re just leaving him in the dark.” He broke the staff over his knee and it shattered like glass, exploding in front of him and sending purple shards flying. He didn’t know if it would automatically reappear the next time M. Agreste transformed, and he didn’t quite care. It was a victory for now, a strong action to accompany the weight of his words.

“You deserve nothing,” Peter continued, walking around a thoroughly dumb-struck supervillain. “And yet, if you were to change your ways, I’d be obligated to forgive you. But I’m not the one you’ve harmed, so it’s not my place to say. Cling to whatever belief you’d like, but if you try to hurt my friends, I’ll be there to block every blow.” He raised his voice as he walked further away, headed back to the elevator. “Just know that you’ll never get their miraculous, and even if you did, it would never be enough. Even with the small amount of power that you have, you abuse it, use it to make others hurt. And you enjoy it. This isn’t about your wife. Maybe it never was. Strength is not a measure of power, but of the content of one’s character.” Peter stepped into the elevator, turning to face the Papillon one last time.

“Why don’t you just fight me here, then? If you’re so confident, end the war right now.”

“This isn’t a war. And even if it was, it wouldn’t be mine to fight. Not alone, anyways. Maybe this is my last attempt to reach you before you’re too far gone, to see if you’re someone worth saving in the end.”

“That’s not up to you to decide.” The Papillon was striding forwards, determination written all over his features. Peter, however, had had enough.

“You’re right. It’s up to you.” And with that, Peter shot out a web, closing the elevator doors and causing it to shoot up back towards the house, leaving the Papillon clinging to the shredded fragments of his beliefs. Maybe he’d managed to get through to him, maybe not, but the important thing was that Peter had tried. And he knew in his heart he was right.

He knew he was right about the Papillon and right about Adrien as he swung out of the house, headed towards Master Fu’s as fast as his webs would carry him. Adrien had Ladybug, Adrien had Spiderman, Adrien had Peter.

Adrien didn’t need his father’s manipulation anymore, and never would again. And if Adrien and Peter ever grew apart, their memories of the times they’d shared together faded, he hoped that at least Adrien would remember what it was like to be loved by someone who never wanted anything in return.

Peter had said Adrien had a new family now, and he meant it.

Before he could even fully process what had gone down between him and the Papillon, Peter was knocking on Master Fu’s door, shuffling from side to side. Suluu was being uncharacteristically quiet, having hidden herself somewhere around Peter’s belt. The Spidey suit didn’t offer many spots for hiding kwamis, but she’d managed nonetheless.

Master Fu opened the door, muttering something about being closed for the day when he froze, hand on the doorframe, taking in Spiderman’s appearance. Shards of the Papillon’s staff were still clinging to him, along with sticky residue of some of his webs, all thoroughly drenched from the torrential downpour he’d had to endure on his way over.

“I know.” Peter said by means of greeting. “I found him.”

The Guardian’s eyes looked like they were about to burst out of his head. “Say no more.” He opened the door all the way, allowing Peter to slip inside. Master Fu hadn’t been alone. Marinette was sitting in the middle of the room, her kwami floating beside her.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, standing up quickly.

“I could say the same for you. And without Chat Noir?”

“Chat Noir doesn’t know where the Guardian lives.” So clearly neither of them were planning on accounting for their presences.

“Clearly.” Peter furrowed his brow. Why were they intentionally keeping Adrien in the dark? Something in his gut was stirring, a nasty feeling that Peter hated. Anger was an ugly colour on him, but nonetheless he could feel it bubbling up inside. Why was everyone so intent on shutting Adrien out?

“Marinette,” Master Fu shut the door, joining them in the main room. “We’ll have to cut this meeting short. Spiderman has come to me with some crucial information we must discuss at once.”

“But shouldn’t I be here for that?” Marinette looked between the two of them with pleading eyes. “You’ve never kept things from me, Master.”

“Another time, Ladybug.” Master Fu smiled at her good-naturedly, drawing an arm back towards the door, inviting her to leave.

“If this is something important, I don’t think I should be sidelined!”

“Really now.” Peter tilted his head. “Sort of like what you’re apparently doing to Chat Noir?” Something about them excluding Adrien didn’t sit right with him. Sure, Chat Noir was reckless sometimes, but above all he was a good person, capable of keeping his own secrets. It was unfair for Master Fu to establish a relationship with Ladybug and now Spiderman without ever consulting Chat.

“Spidey, that’s…,” Marinette seemed to be unsure of how to continue the sentence. Instead, she just shrugged lamely and accepted the umbrella her mentor handed her.

The door had barely closed behind her before Peter rounded on Master Fu. “You can’t do this to Adrien! He deserves to know everything you’re telling her and me!”

“You said you learned the identity of the Papillon. So you must understand why Adrien must not know where the miraculous are kept.”

“Bullshit!” Peter knew there was probably some rule about not swearing to the Guardian of the Miraculous or some equally pretentious etiquette about respecting his elders, but at this point he simply didn’t care. “Let’s look at it from Adrien’s perspective, shall we?”

He was dripping water all over the building’s clean, hardwood floors, but Peter began to pace in front of Master Fu. The old man simply gave a wave, allowing him to continue.

“His mom disappears, his dad refuses to tell him anything. Ever since then, his life deteriorates further, essentially loses the only family he has left, becomes a commodity, a prisoner to a life he never wanted. Then, then you offer him a ticket to freedom. You make him Chat Noir. As Chat Noir, he meets Ladybug, and he finally realizes what it means to trust someone with his whole being, to have someone who trusts him in return. And they’ve always been the perfect partnership, always in sync and together and always trusting. You must realize that their relationship is built on trust. And then you go and prioritize Ladybug and her training above him, keeping him separate, in the dark. Can you imagine how he’ll feel when he finds out?”

Master Fu opened his mouth, as if to speak, but Peter cut him off again.

“And I know exactly what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that you can’t tell him anything because his dad is the Papillon and Adrien is a weak link in your whole plan. To that, my good sir, I say that’s fucking stupid. If you even bothered to get to know Adrien as anything further than a surface level acquaintanceship, you’d realize he’s the furthest thing from his father a person could be. You’ve made the mistake of thinking he’d choose his father above Ladybug, above protecting everything you’ve spent your life building. Everyone thinks they know him in his entirety, but you don’t. Not you, not the Papillon, hell, not even me! You can’t judge a person for actions they haven’t yet committed.”

“You speak with certainty,” Master Fu said, his eyes glittering as they settled on Peter. “Yet you just said that no one can truly know what Adrien will choose in the end.”

“That’s not what I said.” Peter’s voice had grown shakier than he would’ve liked, and a part of him wanted to change his suit’s audio input to hide it. But the bigger part of him, the one that refused to be ashamed of his emotions, won over. “I said we don’t know him inside and out, and that’s true. Because no one can ever know what a person’s thinking, how they feel, all the time. But I do know that Adrien will choose what’s right. He’d never let someone he loves get hurt. And with all that I know of him, I do know that he is stronger than you give him credit for. You’re a fool to underestimate Adrien Agreste.”

He tilted his chin up slightly, rolling his shoulders back as he regarded the tiny man before him. Peter knew that Master Fu had his faults, one of them being the confidence of his own judgement. And here stood Spiderman, threatening the stronghold of the Guardian’s own prejudices.

“Mr. Parker, you are definitely an enigma,” Master Fu finally replied. “You would weight the lives of everyone involved in this on your own opinion of who Adrien Agreste is?”

“Definitely. You’ve already done the same.” Peter refused to back down. If this were the hill he were to die on, so be it. Today was a day of taking a stand for him, and as emotionally draining it was on so little sleep, he soldiered on. “Because the most harm you’ll do by telling him is potentially having the Papillon know a few secrets, which is highly unlikely. Whereas if you don’t tell him, you could potentially create another supervillain, for who’s to say what he will be once you break his trust.”

“The strength of your loyalty does not go unnoticed, Peter.”

“I simply just don’t judge people based on who their parents are. That only continues the cycle.”

It was a stare down, both parties looking at each other, unwilling to back down from their opposing stances. Until-

“Very well.” Master Fu gave a deep nod, stepping backwards slightly. “I shall entertain the possibility of potentially being more open with Chat Noir. For now, I believe you have a discovery you came to share with me?”

Peter took a deep breath, coming back down from his state of passion. Defending Adrien seemed to be becoming a sort of pastime for him. But Master Fu had clearly understood the point of his lecture. Time to move on, to talk about things more detrimental than Adrien’s character.

“I came face to face with him again. I didn’t plan on it, but I found a secret entrance hidden in his study. There’s two hidden rooms. The first, filled with butterflies. The akumas? I guess, and the peacock miraculous.”

“Did you bring it?” Master Fu glanced down at Spiderman’s hands, as if Peter had been hanging onto it.

“No, because at that point I was intending on snooping around without leaving a trail. Then we went down further, and…he keeps his wife down there.”

“Émilie Agreste? Is she alive?” That, Master Fu had not known. Peter proceeded to show him the footage his suit had gathered, along with his and the Papillon’s exchange. Watching it a second time allowed Peter to really realize how totally fucked the entire situation was. His head was starting to swim. Poor poor poor Adrien.

When it was over, Master Fu only had one question for Peter, and somehow it was the one he couldn’t answer.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Peter sunk to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest. “I don’t know.” It was all he could say. “But for now, I’m just going to go for a walk in the rain. Just to try and get some of this off my mind. It’s been a long day.”

His feet had never been so heavy as he made his way back to the Agreste mansion, suit off, allowing himself to be drenched to the bone. Suluu flew along beside him, the light she emitted appearing streaky in the rain. Everything was catching up to him all at once. Adrien’s mother was alive. There was a chance (no matter how slim) that she could be saved, and Adrien could at least have one parent to stick around once this was all over. There were so many thoughts crowded in his head, all jostling for precedence, to the point where Peter could barely see above the sound of his own thoughts.

His trip was cut surprisingly short when he crossed a street, headed in what he hoped was the direction home, and all but smacked into an equally drenched body.

“Peter?”

“Alya?” He squinted through the droplets that dripped down his brow bone. “What are you doing out in this weather?”

“Headed to Mari’s. You want to come?”

Peter shook his head, an unexpected lump welling up in his throat and he sniffled, hard. He didn’t know why he was crying, but something about standing out in the rain, the weight of the world on his shoulders and any plan he’d had to defeat the Papillon crashing down around him was really doing a number on his emotions.

“Are you okay?” Alya peered at him, concerned.

“No,” Peter replied honestly. “I’m sorry, I’m making you late.”

“I’m not going.” Alya decided, throwing her arm across Peter’s shoulders and steering him away from the bakery, back in the direction of her house. “You’re coming home with me. My family is out of town with my mom for some cooking thing, and I’m not letting you go back to the ice palace like that.”

“I-ice palace?” Peter sniffed, looking at Alya with teary eyes.

“The Agreste manor is no place for you to be if you’re in an emotional state. You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m not going to make you stay there.” She opened the door to her apartment, letting Peter in, unconcerned about him dripping on the carpet. “I’m going to raid my sister Nora’s closet. Her clothes will probably be a bit baggy on you, but it’s better than nothing.”

Within a few minutes, Peter was mostly dried off, dressed in a massive sweater and baggy cargo pants and sitting wrapped up in a heated blanket on Alya’s sofa. Alya herself had also changed, and was now making two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Thank you.” Peter accepted a mug from her as she sat beside him, her eyes filled with worry.

“Do you want to talk about it, or be distracted from it?” Alya asked.

“Right now? Distracted, I think.” Peter stared at the marshmallows dissolving in the steaming liquid, idly wondering how it would feel to be a marshmallow himself. Marshmallows had no responsibility. They existed to die. What a thrill that must be.

“Wanna watch a movie, then?” Alya flicked through the various streaming services on her tv before settling on a movie Peter had seen a million times before. Ferris Bueller was a feel-good movie that never failed to make him smile, but Peter couldn’t help longing throughout the entire thing that he could be Ferris, so carefree and loose.

In fact, by the time the credits rolled, Peter felt more stressed out than ever. “I need to call Adrien.”

Alya glanced at him. Peter was sure he looked a mess; runny nose, red eyes, stringy hair, but his appearance was the furthest thing from his mind.

“Did you two fight or something?”

“No, not in the slightest. I didn’t even tell him I was going out, and he must be so worried.”

“Tell him you’re staying the night.”

“Alya…”

“You know what? Let me call him.”

Alya disappeared into another room with his phone but it did little to prevent Peter from listening in.

“Hey, Adrien? No, it’s Alya. Yeah, he’s here with me. Do you know why I found him sobbing in the rain, completely drenched to the bone and shivering? No? Well he’s staying the night. Yes. Yes. You’re welcome to come over too. I can’t promise a gourmet meal or anything I wasn’t really planning for company but…oh, you’re on your way? Okay, bye.”

She came back into the room, giving Peter a small smile. “He’s on his way. Before he gets here, do you wanna talk about anything?”

Somehow, Peter thought saying ‘Yeah, I’m Spiderman and Helios, Adrien is Chat Noir and Marinette is Ladybug and today I figured out that Adrien’s dad is the Papillon and needless to say I’m feeling a little stressed out right now.’ would not go over particularly well with Alya.  

“Do you ever feel like people put a lot of pressure and expectations on your shoulders that you could never possibly live up to? Like everyone’s got this picture of who you are in their head, and you just know that’s not who you can be?”

Alya nodded along, her hand lightly rubbing his back as Peter let it out, being as vague as possible while still voicing his woes.

“And somehow everyone’s got it through their heads that I’m someone to look up to, because I know a lot about some things and I try to keep a positive attitude, but no one really knows what goes on in my head. My life’s been about as hard as they come, so I come out here with a smile and an attitude to make others’ lives better, but at the end of the day, I can’t live up to the standard I set for myself. And I’m just so tired of everything.” He clasped his hands together in between his knees, drawing in a shaky breath. “And sometimes all I want to do is run from my problems, but I can’t do that when the people I love are at risk. But I think that by trying to help, I only stand to make things worse.”

“Peter, no one expects you to be perfect,” Alya said softly.

“That’s just the thing, Alya. They do.” Peter looked her dead in the eye. “Because when I mess up, people get hurt. I can’t afford to mess up, I’ve done it so many times already. And I’m scared if Adrien finds out about some of the things I know, he’ll….” He trailed off, tears tracing wet paths down his cheeks.

“No matter what it is you can’t tell him, he’ll never hate you,” Alya soothed. “You know that.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“If you live your life concerned about how every single thing you know could impact others, you’re not living at all. As long as your heart’s in the right place, that’s all Adrien cares about, I promise you.” Alya gave him a pat on the back as a knock at the door rang out through the apartment, causing Peter to flinch. He was thoroughly unprepared to face Adrien, but at the same time Adrien was the only person he wanted to see.

Adrien was at the door, holding a large garbage bag and hoping and praying that its contents weren’t soaked through.

“Hello?” Alya tilted her head, looking at his unusual choice of suitcase as she opened the door, dressed in her pyjamas.

“It was the first waterproof bag I could find,” Adrien said by means of explanation, stepping into the apartment. His eyes were instantly drawn to the sorry sight on Alya’s couch. Peter was swaddled in a blanket, showing every sign of having cried his eyes out over the past few hours. What had gone down between his cheerful post-reveal attitude and now, Adrien didn’t know, but right now Peter needed friends, not people who were going to pry.

It was most likely something going on in his Spidey life, or his life back home for all Adrien knew. Nonetheless his heart broke a tiny bit at the sight of his friend. He wished he could be there for Peter through all of it, but that was impossible. Adrien was only part of a small fraction of the whole that was Peter’s life and there was so much that he didn’t comprehend. That he couldn’t possibly fathom. Peter was strong because of all he’d been through, but Adrien knew if he lived through even half of the pain Peter had seen, he wouldn’t be nearly as whole as the boy who sat in front of him. And in that way, he could never understand. And maybe no one ever would be able to.

Like walking backwards while looking at Monet’s paintings, Adrien was finally starting to see what a lonely life Peter led, lonelier than most superheroes. At the end of Adrien’s day, he had Ladybug and he could always rely on her. But Peter? Spiderman? He was alone out there, doing his best to fill the massive shoes Iron Man handed him.

“Peter?” Adrien sat next to Peter on the couch, uncertain what to do. Everyone was always so guarded with their emotions around him, Adrien didn’t know what to do with such a blatant display.

“I’m just having a moment,” Peter’s voice was muffled from the section of blanket that was wrapped around his mouth. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Oh, for sure.” Peter drew the blanket away from his face, giving Adrien a small smile. “Sometimes I just need a drama queen moment. The semblance of composure is overrated.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Adrien had no idea what to do with his hands, settling them in his lap awkwardly. How on earth did Peter deal with being Adrien/Chat Noir’s personal therapist all the time? Peter always knew exactly what to say. If only Adrien were the same way.

“Sometimes there’s some things better left unsaid,” Peter said earnestly.

“I’m going to order sushi,” Alya interrupted, typing a few things into her phone. “What do you guys want?”

“Miso soup and California rolls,” Peter and Adrien said in unison.

“You two are weird.” Alya rolled her eyes, holding her phone up to her ear and wandering into the kitchen.

“Did you talk to Lady?” Peter asked as soon as Alya was out of earshot. Adrien shook his head, blond hair flying.

“She didn’t answer any of my messages. Maybe she’s mad at me, who knows. Either way, Alya called me and I came right over.”

“Thanks, Adrien. You really are the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“We’re not friends at this point,” Adrien said before he realized how that must sound. “I mean! We’re brothers. If that’s what you think too. I definitely feel like we’re closer than just friends, and I’ve never had a sibling but I think this is the closest it gets? If that’s a weird thing to say, just let me know.”

“It’s not weird at all.” Peter laughed. “If we’re brothers, though, you’ll have to endure Parker thanksgiving. Think of it as a worse version of blood brothers finger pricking. Trauma bonding, if you will.”

“What’s that?” Adrien tilted his head, racking through the section of his brain devoted to American customs. He couldn’t recall any mention of a thanksgiving. Nor did he really know what a ‘blood brother finger prick’ was, but given the context he could get the general gist.

“Thanksgiving? It’s this American thing, I guess, where we get together with family and…eat a turkey? Kind of like Christmas but not really.”

“When is this thanksgiving?”

“Fourth Thursday of November. I’ll get Mr. Stark to fly us back to New York, it can be a whole thing.” Peter grinned, looking thoroughly cheered up. “In fact, I’ll call him right…” His voice trailed off as he pulled out his already-vibrating phone. “Uhhh, one second.”

Adrien glanced at the screen. Someone named Happy?

“Heyyyyy Happy!” Peter answered the phone, gritting his teeth in an awkward smile. “Me? Fighting a gunman? Yeah, is there any point in trying to tell you that wasn’t me? No? Well then, I’ll simply tell you that the situation was appropriately handled. Mhmm…. Nope…. No. Yeah, you too. Give him my love- I know, I know you won’t.”

He hung up, rolling his eyes. “Happy was mad about this morning and apparently Mr. Stark is livid that the guy was sent here to kill me, so he went all the way to SHIELD headquarters to interrogate him himself.”

“Who is ‘Happy’?”

“Oh, Happy is Mr. Stark’s head of security. He oversees a lot of stuff, like me.”

Adrien blinked. “It’s so weird how you just like…know Tony Stark. Like you have his personal cellphone number and can call him at any moment.”

“You know Tony Stark’s personal cell number?” Alya had returned. Peter shifted awkwardly and Adrien could see the wheels in his head turning, deciding whether to lie or not.

“Yeah, he and I are pretty close. But I can’t get you an interview with him! I don’t want to abuse our connection.”

“That’s fair,” Alya mused. “I guess you already did get me that interview with Spiderman. It’s one of my most popular videos to date.”

“See! All is forgiven!” Peter spread his hands, as the doorbell rang. “And dinner is here!”

After the trio had dug into their delicious dinner (while Alya made fun of them for not going with more adventurous options) they set up for the night. Adrien had brought the Stark Industries sleeping bags and pyjamas for both him and Peter so they could set up camp on Alya’s couch. Alya herself saw them to bed before retiring to her bedroom, wishing them sweet dreams.

“Time to call Mr. Stark,” Peter said with a grin, sliding his phone out of his sleeping bag and dialling a number.

“Put him on speakerphone,” Adrien hissed. Peter obliged, letting the soft dial tone echo throughout the room.

“Just the man I wanted to talk to!” Iron Man’s familiar voice rang out, causing a shiver to go down Adrien’s spine. That was the Tony Stark at the other end of the line, and Peter was about to ask him to fly them out in one of his private planes. Adrien usually flew privately, but the concept of being in a plane that Iron Man had designed?! That was something entirely different altogether. “Excellent work with that shooter this morning, that was really some excellent fighting. I saw some of the security footage, and you really managed to kick his ass!”

“Thanks Mr. Stark, but I was actually-”

“Don’t even worry about the death threats. I’ve got it covered. That’s just a sign that you’re maturing into a real hero! I mean, can you even say you have enemies until someone’s got a personal vendetta against you? Good job, kid.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark, but I was actually calling to ask if we could use one of your jets sometime this month?”

“Any particular reason why?” Mr. Stark didn’t sound terribly opposed to the idea. That was a good sign.

“Well, I was wondering if I could fly two of my friends out to New York for thanksgiving?”

That made Adrien pause. Two? Who was the other person?

“They’ll both have to sign non-disclosure agreements pertaining to some of the… add-ons I’ve got in there, but sure. Am I invited to your thanksgiving dinner this year? I was waiting for an invite last year, but you never sent one.”

Peter practically choked over his next sentence. “Yeah, yeah, totally! You don’t need an invite at all! Ever! I’ll tell my aunt that you’ll be coming! Thanks a ton, Mr. Stark.”

“You are currently the only thing demanding my attention, so why not. Send over the details, and I’ll sign off on them.”

“Okay.” Peter was smiling so wide, it threatened to split his face open as he ended the call. Adrien raised an eyebrow, squirming in his sleeping bag to properly face Peter.

“Who’s the other person?”

“I said thanksgiving is about spending time with family, didn’t I?” Peter had a mischievous glint in his eye, prominent even in the dark of night. Not usually a good sign.

“What did you do, you gremlin?”

“I’m inviting Felix too!” Peter looked like Christmas had come early. “Because if we’re bros, then he’s my cousin too!”

“Great.” Adrien blinked. “That’s…really great, Peter. I can’t wait.”

Peter and Felix had met once and to Adrien at least it seemed a tad odd to invite him on a trip to a different country, but Peter apparently had zero qualms. And if the prospect of bringing Felix on their trip cheered him up, then who was Adrien to disagree.

“Hey Adrien?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being my friend.” Peter sounded so sincere, Adrien’s eyes pricked unexpectedly.

“Says the one who saves my ass every second day.”

“Your ass is the only thing you’ve got going for you, can’t let anything happen to it.” Peter’s complete deadpan was suddenly the funniest thing Adrien had ever heard, and he was silently cackling within seconds, a hand smacked over his mouth to avoid waking Alya. Peter watched him writhe for the next few minutes, attempting to catch his breath amongst a fit of giggles.

“You good now?” Peter braved once Adrien had calmed down slightly. Of course, that set Adrien off again.

“I’m going to be in so much trouble when I go back home tomorrow morning,” he laughed.

“Then don’t go back,” Peter said simply. That, at least, got Adrien to stop losing it.

“What?”

“We could buy a place somewhere. You wouldn’t have to go back home ever again.”

“Peter, that’s crazy. I can’t just leave.” Adrien shook his head, settling down in his sleeping bag and fixing his gaze against the far wall, his eyelids slowly beginning to droop.

“If you ever change your mind, just say the word,” Peter whispered, his voice like a blanket that settled over Adrien.

Adrien drifted off, only to wake up a few hours later, vaguely aware of a silhouette standing over him. He could’ve sworn it was Spiderman, with some sort of glowing light beside him and whispering an apology of sorts, but then he fell back asleep, his brain stringing the memory along with the rest of his dreams.

When he woke up in the morning, the window was open and Peter was gone.

Marinette woke up far earlier than she would’ve liked. The rain from the night before had turned into a light drizzle, covering Paris in a grey wash that seemed to suck any promise the morning might’ve held right out of her. And when she went downstairs, she found she had a visitor.

Her mother was still there, not tending to the bakery, which was strange for a weekend. Instead, she was tending to the boy who was currently sitting in Marinette’s usual spot at the kitchen table.

“Peter?” She blinked, as though she was simply imagining him.

“Hey, Marinette!” Peter grinned at her, giving her a big wave, despite the obvious bags under his eyes and his sickly pallor. “I’ve never listened to French radio, but your mom put it on for me! Isn’t this song pretty?”

It was playing ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’, a song Marinette had heard a million times before, but all she could do was nod and shoot her mother a questioning look.

“Mama, can I speak to you upstairs for a moment?”

Her mother sighed when Marinette lead her to her bedroom, flopping down on her chaise. “I know what you’re going to say, Marinette, but Peter turned up this morning around three am. The kid looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I don’t know what’s going on at the Agreste house, but be was barely cohesive from exhaustion when he showed up here, saying he needed somewhere to sleep but couldn’t go home. He also kept saying ‘It’s Gabriel’ over and over again before he passed out on the couch.”

Marinette felt her mouth drop open. She’d assumed her parents had invited Peter over as a way of being more buddy-buddy with him, but obviously there was so much more to the story than that.

“I don’t want to overstep, but maybe you can check in with him?” Her mother gave Marinette a knowing look and she nodded.

“I’ll try asking him,” she agreed, heading back down to join her friend.

As soon as they were alone in the house, Marinette turned to him. “What is ‘it’s Gabriel’?”

Peter flinched, like he’d been shocked, glancing at her with wide eyes. “He’s Adrien’s father?”

“My mom says that’s what you were repeating when you showed up here.”

“Oh my god!” Peter dropped his fork. “I left Adrien at Alya’s!” He changed gears so fast Marinette’s train of thought completely derailed.

“Adrien? At Alya’s? Peter, calm down and tell me what you’re talking about.” Marinette gripped his arm.

“I’m a bit of an insomniac,” Peter admitted, “ and usually at night when I can’t sleep, I go for a little stroll. Only, last night, I was at Alya’s house with Adrien for some unrelated reasons, and I couldn’t sleep, so I left and I was thinking about some stuff, and I guess I started sleepwalking – well, not really sleepwalking, but I didn’t really make any sort of conscious decisions – and showed up here. I don’t know what I was on about. I mean, Gabriel sucks, so maybe my sleep-deprived mind just went crazy.”

Marinette, for some reason, didn’t find herself believing him. Something about him seemed off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. And by her quick mental calculations, Peter had gotten about seven hours of sleep in the past two days.

“Peter, go home and sleep.” She mustered an insisting tone.

“I can’t.” Peter shook his head, eyes widening slightly. “That’s twice in two days I’ve completely abandoned Adrien without telling him where I’m going. I’m being such a bad friend.” He buried his head in his hands. “He’s going to think it’s something he did, but I just don’t trust myself not to-”

Peter cut himself off with a harsh intake of breath, obviously before he could say something important.

“This is something to do with his dad, isn’t it.” Marinette watched as Peter did his best to avoid her gaze, even going so far as to side-eye her fridge.

“He’s not a good person,” Peter sighed, after a few moments internal battle. There was more to it, she knew, but this was a good start.

“I mean, I figured, but-”

“You don’t even know half of it, and I can’t tell you right now, but I want nothing more than to just take Adrien and run away back to New York so his father can’t hurt him anymore, but that’s not how it works. It’s not how it works and Adrien’s going to get hurt and I can’t stop it. I can only catalyze it. And that thought scares me, so I run away and distance myself, but he doesn’t need that. What he needs is for someone to be by his side.”

“Peter….” Marinette was at a loss for words. Her first instinct was to want to help Adrien, to do whatever was necessary to keep him away from harm, but she knew Peter was already doing that. And Peter could do a far better job than she currently could. The only thing she could fix right now was Peter’s presence and his obvious internalized guilt of the whole situation. She didn’t know what Gabriel Agreste was doing, but obviously Peter somehow thought it was partially his fault. And she couldn’t have that.

“Peter you need to go home. I don’t know what’s going on, but the best thing you can do for Adrien is be by his side. Pushing him away isn’t going to help the situation.”

“But what if I mess up again and run off again and…ugh!” Peter stood up. “I’m just going to stick to him like a leech. I can’t do anything wrong if I just don’t let him out of my sight. I just really wish this wasn’t another thing I am responsible for.”

“You need to sleep too,” Marinette pointed out. “You look like a wreck.”

“Sleep is for mere mortals,” Peter mumbled, mildly coherent as he headed towards the window, of all things.

“You’re a mortal too.” Even though most days you seem superhuman. A chill ran down her back as she thought of Helios and the way he commanded attention. The thought that the phoenix holder was the same boy as was currently in front of her was almost laughable, but then again, she’d seen Peter do plenty extraordinary things while in ordinary clothes.

“Yeah, but mortal was a word created to encompass all that you are. Your own in-consequentialism and deontology is imperative to your identity and sense of self belonging.”

Marinette felt like that was an insult, but she hadn’t quite understood it enough to formulate an opinion. How had this American boy learned more French than her in such little time? “Go home, Peter.”

“I’ll just go out through the fire escape.” Peter was now opening her window. Marinette frowned.

“What’s a fire escape?”

Before she got an answer, Peter had jumped out the window. Marinette yelled, running over, but by the time she poked her head out Peter had completely vanished, as if into thin air. Maybe he wasn’t a mortal after all. Plus, he’d openly admitted to scaling the outside of their school during the heist. Perhaps his grip strength really was all that, sleep deprived or not.

Either way, Marinette hoped he sorted things out with Adrien. The two boys were so close, she’d hate to see anything draw a wedge in between them, especially if said wedge was M. Agreste.

“Hey Tikki?” Marinette opened her purse, allowing her kwami to fly out. “What on earth does deontology mean?”

“Peter Parker has very colourful insults!” Tikki chirped, rather unhelpfully.

“Yeah, but what does that mean.”

“I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it.”

It took about ten minutes of Tikki explaining for Marinette to get even a gist of what Peter had been saying to her, and another ten for her to locate her barely-used dictionary.

“He’s not the only one who knows big words,” she huffed, dragging the massive book into her lap.

“That’s right!” Tikki agreed. “I once heard you use ‘anticonstitutionnellement’ in a sentence!”

“I’m pretty sure that sentence was me asking what it means.”

“Knowing that the word exists is the first step!”

Marinette let out a long sigh, spreading some jam on a piece of bread. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to know what Peter had found out that he was so desperate to keep from Adrien, but given how he’d reacted, she didn’t know if she would be able to handle it.

Maybe some truths were better left untold.