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Okay, so - Peter isn't the sharpest crayon in the box. Yeah, he has a degree in chemical engineering, but that's book-smart. Peter's good at book-smart. Peter is less good at... people-smart. Or, according to MJ, common sense, which is just - rude, MJ, jeez, because seriously, he's not that bad. He's oblivious sometimes, sure, and his self-preservation instincts function less than optimally, but he's not lacking in common sense. He's just bad at... people-ing.
So, yeah. People are confusing. Talking to people is hard. He'll admit it: he's really, really bad at socializing. There's a reason he only talks to a few people without the mask.
He's going to blame his usual denseness about people in general for not realizing that he didn't leave the whole inter-dimensional adventure behind him - or, rather, that not everything is different from dimension to dimension. Just like every universe has a Spider-Ma-... uh, Spider-Person, every universe has a Miles Morales.
He maybe should have expected this - but in his defense, there was no real reason to assume he'd ever run into his universe's version of the kid. They both live in New York, but so do thousands of other people. The odds of this even happening are tiny.
...Aaaaand he's been standing here in silence for like. Five minutes. The kid's starting to look really antsy.
"Umm... Spider-Man? You okay?"
"I'm - fine, kid, I'm... just dandy." He has never said the word dandy in his life, what the hell? He really is panicking for words like dandy to be coming out of his mouth. "I'm peachy, even." Better, barely.
"Oooookay," the kid says. He's wearing a pink backpack and a school uniform. What even is happening. "...Are you sure?"
Distantly, Peter realizes that the weird wheezing noise is coming from him. Okay, so he might be having an actual breakdown. Good to know.
The voice in the back of his head (which sounds suspiciously like Aunt May) says Pull yourself together, Peter, you're scaring the boy!
With what is a frankly embarrassing amount of effort, Peter gets his breathing under control and finally meets the kid's eyes. And immediately looks down, not that the kid can tell. "Yeah, kid. Sorry, I - ...you just reminded me of someone."
"Oh," the kid says. His face falls. "I'm - I'm sorry."
"No! No, it's - he was... I liked him. I miss him. That's all."
He does. It's so stupid. He knew the kid for two, maybe three days. He doesn't know the kid's favorite color, or his favorite song, or even how Miles got his powers. (There's always a bigger story than I was bitten by a radioactive spider.) The kid's not even dead or anything, just in another dimension.
But Peter misses him anyway.
"I'm... sorry for your loss," the kid says. His fingers tighten around the strap of his bag. Unwillingly, Peter remembers - "My uncle, he tried to kill me -" a boy and a body on a rooftop - sobs echoing in an alleyway -
"Thanks," Peter says, at an absolute loss for anything else. "I... thanks."
He has actually, seriously, never in his life been so grateful for the mask. MJ always teases that he wears his emotions on his sleeve; the mask keeps Peter away from Spider-Man, keeps the over-emotional wreck separate from the snarky hero.
"I'll... see you around," Peter says, because he's an idiot who doesn't know how to people. He's turning away, prepping the web shooters, when the kid says -
"Really?"
And Peter, because he does not have an ounce of common sense, says: "Sure. If you want."
And then he swings away, before he can make any other stupid promises.
Later, MJ laughs at him quietly. "Finally admitted it to yourself, huh?"
"You were right, you're always right," Peter huffs, giving in. "I have no common sense and no people skills. There, you happy?"
He knows, as soon as he says it, it's the wrong thing to say. Her smile wobbles on her lips. Her arms go up around herself and she turns slightly away from him, lip between her teeth.
This, at least, he knows how to fix.
He gets up, puts his arms around her, tucks his face into her neck, starts to sway both of them. "I was wrong on something else, too," he confesses quietly into her hair. "I was scared, I was so scared, but that's - that's no excuse, not really. I'm so sorry, MJ, I'm sorry that I'm such an idiot." I ruined the best thing in my life because I was scared. I'm Spider-Man, I'm scared every damn day, and yet - when it mattered most, I let my fear get the best of me, and I lost everything else.
"Peter?"
He closes his eyes. "I messed up, MJ, I messed up bad, but... if you're still willing to put up with me for the rest of our lives... I'm willing to put a couple spider-lings out into the world."
He feels her breath catch in her chest. He loosens his arms and raises his head so she can turn around to look at him, peer into his face and see for herself if he's serious.
(He is.)
"Peter," she says again, and then she's kissing him.
One kid, one that's not even his in any sense of the word, gave him back everything good in his life. What kind of miracles could one or two more - these his and MJ's - what might they do?