Archive of Our Own

As much as Miles loved visiting his friends in their home worlds, seeing them visit always felt so much more fun. He knew a part of this reason was some childish desire to be in charge. If they were in his universe, after all, then what he says goes, because he’s Spider-Man. That is, until Miles says something outrageously stupid, and he feels the need to beg the universe for someone to swoop in with a better plan.

And right now, Miles’ is definitely doing some begging as he gestures to Hobart Brown, the Anarchic Spider-Man, and accidentally introduces him to his parents as “My, uh, new boyfriend.”

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. So, let’s take it from the top.

Hobie had dropped by Miles dimension unannounced, something fairly standard for his visits. Normally, he only came by to see if Gwen was around or to see Aunt May, who was, in Hobie’s words, “a wild as fuck old crone.” But today, Hobie hadn’t come for any reason but to get out of his own world—wanted to clear his head, he said, get away from all the batshit fucks he had to deal with at home.

Miles doesn’t mind keeping him company. It’s always nice to have someone to swing with, but they start talking and one thing leads to another and hey, he didn’t know Hobie was homeless.

“I have a home,” Hobie insists. “I just don’t pay rent. I don’t need any blood-sucking bourgeoise landlords in my life.”

“So, you’re squatting?” Miles says. “I’m pretty sure—that’s—is that illegal?—it definitely still counts as homeless.”

Even through the mask, Miles can feel Hobie glaring at him.

“I mean, more power to you, dude,” Miles adds quickly. “I’m just—I’m just saying that like, it sounds pretty hardcore. I dunno if I could do something like that.”

“I am pretty bad-ass,” Hobie agrees.

“You probably don’t get a lotta home cooked meals living like that, though,” Miles says. “I dunno how long you wanna stay here, but I always eat with my folks on Fridays, and they’re not going to mind if—you know, if you wanna join in.”

“Just because I don’t pay rent doesn’t mean I’m rooting through trash for food,” Hobie says. “We’ve got a pretty sweet garden going on, dude.”

“I wasn’t trying to like, imply anything or whatever!” Miles replies hastily. “I just know my mom makes really good food. And just because you’ve got a cool garden doesn’t mean you can prepare the kind of chicken she’s gonna make.”

“I didn’t say I was saying no to free food,” Hobie tells him. “If you’re feeding me, I’m in.”

“Cool,” Miles says. He pulls out his phone to text his mom a heads up and forgets about it immediately as soon as he presses “send.”

Several hours later, Miles and Hobie stand in front of his house and Miles realizes they never came up with any sort of cover story.

“We going in?” Hobie asks.

“Yeah,” Miles says. “But maybe we should—aaand you’re already knocking on the door. Cool, okay. Hola Mami.”

“Mijo,” Rio Morales says, giving her son a hug as she opens the door. “And here’s your friend! ¿Quién es el?”

“This is, uh, Hobie,” Miles says. The only thing running through his head is that he can not mention they know each other because they’re both Spider-Man. “He’s uh…”

Don’t mention Spider-Man, don’t mention Spider-Man, don’t mention—

“—my new boyfriend!”

There’s an almost audible pause as Miles realizes this could be the worst lie he’s ever told. There’s about a hundred thoughts going through his head—most of them some variant of “I need to take an improve class”—when Hobie sticks his arm out and pulls Miles closer to him.

“Yep,” Hobie says, popping the “p.” “That’s me. The boyfriend.”

Miles wonders if the other boy can see the regret in his eyes. Because he can’t help but feel like this is intentional. If he judo-flipped Hobie now, he’s pretty sure no one would blame him. Well, Gwen wouldn’t.

“Well… come on in,” Rio says, making a much quicker recovery than Miles. “It’s nice to meet you, Hobie.”

“Same here, Ma’am,” Hobie tells her, walking inside without letting go of Miles. Miles had never heard Hobie call anyone Ma’am. Was this a fever dream? Did he hit his head?

Some important context to add to the bizarre dream Miles currently found himself in; Hobie was still wearing his jean jacket, the one with the spikes on the shoulders, and the spider sewn onto the back. That, plus his pierced ear, and the studded collar around his neck, is up there in on the top ten looks his dad never wants to see in Miles’ partner.

Hobie was definitely one of the worst spiders to bring home to his parents—especially his dad, who’s, you know, a cop. Even if he had changed his look, Miles is certain his folks would see the anarchism in him somehow.

“Jeff!” Rio calls. Miles’ dad looks up from setting the table. “Miles is home! And he brought his boyfriend.”

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious, man,” Hobie says, walking inside. Jefferson gives him a lot stare. It’s definitely supposed to be intimidating, but Hobie just stares back, eyes wide, until Jefferson has to blink, and he looks away.

“Yeah, help yourself,” Jefferson says. “So, uh, you go to Visions, too?”

“I don’t go to school,” Hobie replies casually. Miles jabs him in the side as they sit down.

“He’s homeschooled!” Miles explains. “So, you know, uh—he doesn’t actually have to go anywhere, he just—uh, yeah.”

“Then how did the two of you meet?” Rio asks as the two boys start loading up a plate.

“Hobie plays guitar,” Miles says. “I, uh, ended up hearing him play and he was like, really good, so I told him. And we just—we kinda just started hanging out after that.”

“I thought his tags were sick,” Hobie adds. He’s drumming on the table with his fingers and grinning. “Wanted to see if he’d let me stick something on my guitar.”

Miles knows this is like, a lie, but he’s kind of flattered that Hobie would say his art is good enough to get memorialized like that.

“Que lindo,” Rio chuckles.

“You know, I hear that people who play instruments tend to be pretty smart,” Jefferson says. “Do you get good grades, Hobie?”

“Oh, that’s just the classism,” Hobie scoffs. “Parents who can afford to buy their kids expensive shit always find a way to buy the grades, too. And guitars can get expensive as hell.”

Miles stares at him with wide eyes. He wishes he could somehow telepathically communicate to Hobie that he was the worst houseguest and needed to cut it out.

“I’d say my grades are alright,” Hobie adds, after a moment of thought.

“Well that’s good,” Jefferson deadpans. He raises his eyebrow at Miles, who looks down at the plate in front of him.

“What kind of music do you like to play, Hobie?” Rio asks.

“Punk!” Hobie grins. He taps his fork and knife together a couple times, like a drum solo.

“A lot of those songs have a very antiestablishment message,” Jefferson notes.

“Jeff,” Rio says.

“I’m just saying! Those songs have a—they have a very specific meaning, and it’s interesting that—”

“—Kids can have interests, Jeff, it doesn’t mean—”

“No, I know, I’m just—as a cop…”

“Just because you protect the system doesn’t mean it’s a good one,” Hobie says. He takes a long sip of his water.

“Hobie writes love songs, too,” Miles says, because if he has to feel miserable, he’s not going to do it alone. Hobie chokes on his water.

“That’s so sweet,” Rio says. She nudges her husband, who tepidly agrees. “You know, Hobie, it’s very been very nice getting to know you. I hope your parents don’t mind we’re keeping you so late.”

“Nah,” Hobie says, drumming his fingers on the table. He sounds sad. Or tired. Maybe both. “They know I can handle myself.”

Miles’ parents exchange a look.

“That’s kinda a weird way to talk about dinner, man,” Miles says.

“They don’t know what you’re feeding me,” Hobie tells him, as ominously as possible. Miles snorts.

“You think—you think we’re going to poison you? In our own home? With your very own f—the home of your boyfriend?”

“Gotta stay vigilante,” Hobie tells him, straight-faced. Miles laughs.

“Vigilance?” Miles challenges. “Is that what you call scarfing down my mom’s cooking?”

“Don’t worry, man,” Hobie says with a smirk. “I can’t die.”

Rio laughs at that. Jefferson still looks like he’s trying to figure Hobie out, but seeing his wife smile is enough to make him relax.

“Can I show Hobie my room?” Miles asks. “I wanna show him some of my old sketches.”

“Of course, mijo,” Rio says and Jefferson tells him, “Leave the door open.”

Miles rolls his eyes and grabs Hobie’s hand as they run up the stairs. As soon as they get to Miles’ room, he frowns, runs back downstairs, and puts both of their plates in the sink. He smiles at his parents before running back up.

“You’re such a fucking good kid,” Hobie teases.

“Uh, it’s called basic respect for the people cooking my meals?” Miles replies. “So do you—do you actually wanna see my art, cuz we can talk about, like, spider stuff or something too.”

“Yeah man,” Hobie says. “You got a sketchbook?”

Miles rustles around his room, trying to pick the perfect sketchbook. He wanted Hobie’s first real impression of his art to be a good one.

“So,” Hobie says. “Boyfriend.”

Miles stops searching to hide his face as he lets out a groan.

“You couldn’t just say we met on the train?” Hobie asks. “Couldn’t say you joined a club? That I’m fucking teaching you guitar?”

“Okay, so like, all of those are some pretty good ideas, but I’ve got a good reason—shut up, I’ve got—there’s a reason why I didn’t say any of that,” Miles says. “I didn’t think of that. So there.”

“You didn’t, huh,” Hobie laughs. Miles hands him a sketchbook. “But now you’ve got to live a lie. We’re going to have to practice holding hands. Looking soulfully into each other’s eyes so your dear old dad doesn’t get suspicious.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’ve got to make you a mixtape.”

“A mixtape? Dude how old are you?”

“We’re the same age! I’m just clearly the only one of us who knows what romance is.”

“Sure,” Miles says. “You’re my fake boyfriend, so I guess I’ll let you win this round. Because I fake love you, or whatever.”

“You better,” Hobie says, opening up the sketchbook. He gives an appreciative nod. “You’ve got a lot of good shit in here.”

“Thanks,” Miles says. “And—thanks for, you know, not saying anything. I didn’t warn you or anything, but you just rolled with it. You probably didn’t want my parents to think we were dating.”

“Why not?” Hobie asks. “You’re a catch.”

Miles responds with a nervous laugh.

“Well, you have to say that,” he jokes. “You’re my fake boyfriend.”

“If I’m your boyfriend,” Hobie tells him. “It means I have to mean it.”

“You’re so cheesy,” Miles says. He can feel his face heating up. “But does that—I mean, are you gonna keep coming over? Cause it’s probably going to look a little weird if my new boyfriend drops off the face of the earth, you know.”

“Does that mean you do want to practice holding hands?”

“I’m just saying! We need like. A plan.”

“A plan,” Hobie repeats.

“Yeah!” Miles says. “Like. My parents are gonna wanna hear about you, you know? And I can’t really tell them that you’re ‘fighting the power’ in different dimension.”

“Do you have to tell them anything?” Hobie asks. “Why do they care?”

“Do you ever talk to your parents?” Miles replies. He immediately regrets it. Spider-Men don’t really have a lot of luck in the family department, he’s noticed.

“I try not to.”

“Okay, well that’s---I mean, uh, sorry. But my parents aren’t like that! If I’m dating someone, they’re gonna want to hear me talk about them. And they’re going to wanna, you know, make sure I’m happy stuff. If all I say is, ‘Oh yeah, Hobie’s good,’ they’re gonna think I’m lying. And they’re probably not going to think that, that I’m not telling them anything because we’re doing something super illegal.”

Miles doesn’t say that the last time he had a crush, he talked about it so much that he practically ended every sentence with her name. Miles couldn’t casually talk about a relationship. There was no way his parents would believe it.

“You don’t have to keep pretending to be my boyfriend,” Miles says. “But either I like, tell them tonight that I lied because we made a bet or something because we’re dumb teenagers, or we go the extra mile and fill up my phone with selfies of us hanging out together.”

“You don’t…,” Hobie begins. “You know what? Why not. Let’s go on a fucking fake date. Woo me with whatever your capitalist hellhole of a world has to offer.”

“That’s the spirit!” Miles grins.

“Hey, can I keep this?” Hobie asks. He’s still looking through Miles’ sketchbook. When Miles gives him the okay, he very carefully creases the page and tears it out.

“Nice,” Hobie says. He smiles at Miles. It’s the most genuine Miles has ever seen him. He’s not smirking. It’s not really a grin, either. He just looks glad to be there, in the room with Miles. He looks happy.

Huh.

“I think you’re going to get caught in a convoluted web of lies and it’s going to end badly,” Ganke says.

“Thanks,” Miles says.

“You’re kind of a disaster, dude,” Fabio agrees.

“I said thanks.”

“So do you like him?” Ganke asks.

“I don’t wanna date someone from another dimension,” Miles says. It was kind of the main reason he never asked out Gwen. The two of them had seen some alternate adult versions of themselves who had gotten married and moved dimensions, but Miles couldn’t imagine ever doing that. How could his other self just leave everything? His parents? His home? His friends? Miles couldn’t even deal with changing school, much less universes.

“But do you like him?” Ganke asks. Miles groans.

“He likes him,” Fabio confirms.

“You’re my roommates,” Miles says. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Yeah, dude, normally,” Ganke says. “But right now, ‘your side’ is kind of the side of a giant idiot.”

Hobie comes back to Miles’ dimension a couple days later, so Miles takes him to an art show. Fabio had suggested Miles take him to a museum, but Miles had said that Hobie would probably spend the entire time badmouthing famous painters, so he had tried to find something a little less established.

Anyways, the art show was like, a community thing. Local painters, musicians and any other artist could show off some off their stuff, sponsored by—actually, Miles didn’t know who it was sponsored by, just that they had advertised it at his school. And it had seemed like a nice way to pass the time. It was a nice atmosphere, too. They played different local music over the speakers, interrupting every so often to give a shout out to the musicians and how to support them.

Ganke and Fabio had come too, but not with Miles and Hobie. Miles knew they were trying to get a glimpse at the other boy and wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Hobie’s just a guy.

“You know what I realized?” Miles says suddenly. “I don’t know anything about your world.”

“Because you don’t want to.”

“I do!” Miles insists. “All I know is that Gwen’s like, some wild rock legend and that you’re in a band. So that’s two facts about Gwen.”

“Gwen doesn’t have a spider army,” Hobie says.

“A spider army?”

“Yeah man! We fought the fucking president together,” Hobie tells him with a grin. “Fucking Osborn brought a shit ton of V.E.N.O.M cops to our protest, but pigs like them can’t stand up against the power of music.”

“Wow.”

“Organic mesh like is easy to wreck if you know how high to turn up the sound,” Hobie chuckles. “And it sure as hell makes it easier to smash their heads in—hey, don’t give me that look, it’s self-defense! If a fucker pulls a gun on me, I’ve got every right to brain them with my guitar.”

“That is how the law works,” Miles agrees. Somehow, he’s not surprised that Hobie felt he needed a break from his home universe. “So does like, everyone in your spider army have spider powers?”

“Nope,” Hobie says. “Just me. But we’ve also got Captain Anarchy, and he’s got his super insurgent serum. We used to hang out with a couple other powered kids, actually.”

“Really?” Miles says. “Like who?”

“M.C Strange,” Hobie replies. Miles bites the inside of his mouth, imagining the old white guy he met in Peter’s universe as a D.J. “And Robbie. The Hulk, I mean. But he quit. Even left his transformation tape with Cap so he couldn’t Hulk out. He’s got it back now, but that doesn’t change the fact he hates my guts.”

“Really? Why?”

“He says I’m too pushy,” Hobie tells him. His voice sounds awkward, like he’s trying to laugh it off but can’t quite get there. “Says I exploited him. Too busy trying to be a hero to remember that none of us were supposed to be the one in charge.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being pushy if you’re saving lives,” Miles says. “Maybe you just caught him on a bad day.”

“I mean, I did ask him to smash a guy for me, so like, I guess that’s pretty fair,” Hobie says. “But if I didn’t ask him, I’d be dead, or worse, so I guess it did work out pretty well.”

Miles is about to say something when he spots a keychain with the numbers “42” on it. The colors kind of remind him of his spidersuit, which reminds him that the spider that bit him had those numbers on it. It was his number in the school lottery that got him into Visions, too.

“You gonna buy that?” Hobie asks.

“Yeah,” Miles says. “I don’t know, it just speaks to me. You find anything cool?”

“No,” Hobie says. “I’m good.”

They end up eating lunch with Fabio and Ganke. Even if his roommates are being like, super annoying about Hobie, Miles had already promised he’d let them meet at least one person from a different universe, and they were already in the area. He couldn’t let his roommates miss out on something so cool, after all.

Of course, Miles isn’t sure if cool is the word for Hobie. Not after seeing him break out into a rant about the food industry after seeing an “organic bakery.”

“Look at me, Miles,” Hobie says. “Organic certification is bullshit. It’s just another way capitalism tries to suck the money out of its people.”

“Uh huh,” Miles says.

“Do you know what you gotta do to get labelled as organic?” Hobie asks him. “It’s nothing. All you gotta do is stop using certain types of pesticides and fertilizer. As long as you don’t add in your chemicals, the USDA doesn’t give a shit! Who cares if you flew in your nitrate fertilizer from Chile? You harvested it organically, so that shit must be good for the soil.”

“I’m guessing it isn’t,” Ganke says.

“It sure as hell ain’t!” Hobie agrees. “And sure isn’t what organic farming is supposed to be. Where’s the composting, Miles? The crop rotation? Are you on your phone?”

“We live in different universes, man,” Miles reminds him. He is indeed on his phone. “I bet you’re right for your Earth, but I wanna fact check you for mine too.”

Miles stops scrolling through his phone and frowns.

“Farming in America is a nightmare,” Miles informs his friends.

“Duh,” Ganke says. “We’re all eating chemicals all the time. We’re eating burgers right now. That’s bond to have some shit in it.”

“Most meat is cleaned with ammonia,” Hobie says. Ganke stares at his burger, distressed. Fabio takes it from his hand and takes a bite.

“It’s fine,” Fabio says. “Tastes like ketchup.”

“Maybe your special mutant stomach can take it,” Ganke says. “But I’m a delicate human flower.”

“Mutant?” Hobie says.

“I used to be an X-Man,” Fabio says. “Do you have anything like that in your universe? You know, people born with powers?”

“We’ve got the U-Foes,” Hobie says. Ganke immediately starts laughing. “Fought off those bastards at the Hellfire Club once.”

“There’s a Hellfire Club in this universe, too,” Fabio tells him, pointedly ignoring Ganke. “They’re kind of assholes.”

“You said it,” Hobie agrees. The two of them clink their sodas together. Apparently, this is all it takes to be Hobie’s friend.

“How do you get your web fluid?” Ganke asks. “Cause I’ve been making Miles’, so I just wanna know if you have some tips.”

“I mean, I can look at the formula?” Hobie says. “But May’s got it pretty locked down. And it’s not a really easy thing to mess with, you know?”

“Did you make your own web fluid?” Miles asks. “I guess that explains why it looks a little different than mine.”

“It wasn’t that hard to make,” Hobie shrugs. “There’s a bunch of free science channels on the RadioNet. I just took a bunch of notes.”

“So, if I want to mess with Miles’ web fluid, I should listen to a bunch of chemistry podcasts,” Ganke muses. “Good to know.”

“You know what?” Miles says. “I’m just realizing I should have introduced you to my parents as a science nerd with a weird fashion taste instead of like, the punkest teenager in New York.”

“At least now you know their opinion of him can only improve,” Fabio says helpfully.

“Not if I can help it,” Hobie tells him in a voice so serious Miles can’t help but laugh.

“So pretending to date me to get free food is fine, but being nice to my parents is just going to far, huh?” Miles snorts.

“I’m allergic to being nice to cops,” Hobie tells him. “Your mom seems pretty cool though.”

“Miles’ dad is pretty cool though!” Ganke says.

“I don’t really care,” Hobie says. He steals a handful of Miles’ fries.

“I bought you a whole meal,” Miles says, offended.

When Hobie walks Miles and his roommates to the train, he stops and gives Miles a kiss on the cheek before saying goodbye.

“For uh, since we’re, you know, dating,” Hobie says. “Bye.”

With that, he darts out of the station, leaving before he could see the flustered look on Miles’ face.

The next day, Miles sees Hobie hanging out at a lunch table with Miles’ roommates and Lana Baumgartner, a girl who could shoot energy blasts from her hands. Because of course Hobie couldn’t attract the attention of one of the many normal, powerless kids at school. And of course Ganke had invited Hobie to their school after seeing the kiss. He didn’t need his roommate to try and set him up with his fake boyfriend. They could just be people, you know? Two bros hanging out, sometimes kissing, and… yeah, Miles super wasn’t surprised Hobie had found his way to Visions.

“Miles!” Lana says. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, uh, I guess it just kind of happened?” Miles says. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“That’s okay,” Lana says, but she sounds a little hurt. Oh, wait. Didn’t Lana have a crush on him? But this was good, probably, because Fabio had a crush on Lana, and now that she “knew” Miles was taken, she could get over him and Fabio won’t hate him. Or, Fabio still hates him because he broke Lana’s heart, and Fabio will get so distraught over it he’ll leave school for like, a week.

Ugh. High school.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lana,” Hobie says. “Always cool to meet a girl who knows how to blow shit up.”

“At least pretend to have a secret identity,” Miles groans. “You can’t just tell everybody who you are.”

“When I transferred here, literally the first thing I said was that I used to be on the X-Men,” Fabio reminds him.

“I’m legally not allowed to use my powers until I’m eighteen,” Lana adds. “So like, I’d say my identity is already pretty public. Because I got arrested.”

“Hobie already told Lana he has augmented senses, too,” Fabio says.

“Really?” Miles says. “A girl you just met?”

“Yeah,” Hobie says. “Because she’s not a cop.”

Miles considers the weight of this statement. Obviously, vigilantism is illegal or whatever, but if Hobie, in his home universe of Earth 138, is only fighting cops and crooked politicians, than isn’t he just… a masked protestor?

“Everything you tell me about yourself is a punch to the gut,” Miles tells him.

“Love you too, babe!” Hobie replies cheerfully.

“So, how long have you been going out?” Lana asks. “Also, Miles, how do you keep finding like, every superpowered teen in the city?”

“We’ve been dating for like… a week and a half,” Miles says. “I guess I was sort of… drawn to him or something? Like, I knew we were going to get along.”

That was one way of describing spider-sense, anyways.

“Guess we were thinking the same thing,” Hobie says. “When I saw you, all I could think about was how you looked like the coolest guy in the world and that I needed to find a way to start a conversation with you, like, yesterday.”

“Was that what that was about?” Miles asks. “Really? Because I thought you were just glaring at me.”

“I don’t make a great first impression,” Hobie admits. “But you still talked to me anyways.”

“Yeah,” Miles says. “I liked your vest.”

“And I liked your spraypaint,” Hobie says with a smile. Miles smiles back.

“You guys are too cute,” Lana tells them.

“Damn right we are,” Hobie grins.

“When’d you get here, anyways?” Miles asks. “And also like, how? Pretty sure the school’s not supposed to let just anyone walk in.”

“Ganke used your, uh, phone,” Hobie says, shooting Miles a look at his wrist, where his goober usually is. “Said he was gonna sneak me in and surprise you.”

“And didn’t have anything else planned?”

“I told you man, I don’t go to school,” Hobie reminds him. “Where else am I gonna be? Plus, I kind of expected you to check your phone.”

“I thought Ganke would tell me if I had any new messages,” Miles admits. This is true for both his actual phone, and the communication feature on the goober Miguel had given him.

“This is my fate,” Ganke sighs. “Spider-Man secretary.”

Fabio pats him on the back. Hobie gives Miles an amused look.

“I thought you said something about secret identities?” Hobie says.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I introduced myself by saying, ‘Hey, look at me! I’m Spider-Man,”’ Miles protests. “Lana doesn’t even know you, but she still told you about her Bombshell days.”

“Maybe I just trust your taste in men,” Lana says.

“You just wanted to sound cool in front of Miles’ boyfriend,” Ganke tells her. Lana gives a helpless shrug.

“Don’t worry,” Hobie reassures her. “You sound very cool.”

“I think a hall monitor’s coming,” Miles notes. Hobie shoots up out of his seat.

“Shit,” he says. “Guess I better go.”

Hobie brushes his hand against Miles, unsure how to say goodbye. After a moment, he gives the other boy a fist bump and runs off with a, “I’ll see you after school!”

“No running in the halls!” a teacher calls after him.

After school, Hobie and Lana decide Miles needs a crash course in punk rock.

“Look at your boyfriend, Miles,” Lana says, completely serious. “You can’t hang out with a guy like that if all you listen to is Post Malone. I won’t let you.”

“Uh,” Miles says, because the only thing he has to say for himself is “Malone isn’t bad,” and even he knows that’s not true.

“Miles,” Hobie says.

“Okay, okay,” Miles says and lets the two of them lead him to Lana’s room. “I’m pretty sure guys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dorms.”

“You could always jump out a window if you hear someone coming,” Lana says cheerfully. As soon as they’re in her room, Lana takes out her laptop out and shows them her music library. Hobie quickly wanders off to look at her posters as Lana starts talking about the different kinds of punk.

“Technically,” Lana says. “Punk is dead. Not because no one’s writing it anymore, but because the times changed. You’re never going to really get the same kind of atmosphere, because you’re writing from a different place. Political climates changed, and we can’t distribute music like we used to unless we go back in time. So that’s why, a lot of people call the newer stuff ‘post-punk.’”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Miles tells her. He doesn’t want to sit on her bed, because then it’d just be him and her sitting on her bed and that somehow feels weirdly personal. “Hey, uh, Hobie. Do you listen to the new stuff, or are you just a punk only kind of guy?”

“Post-punk’s after my time,” Hobie tells him. Even though he’s serious, Lana snickers like it’s a joke. Miles thinks about Hobie’s offer to make a mixtape.

So, his boyfriend lives in the past. Cool. Honestly, he probably should have expected it.

“I guess that means I’ve got to educate both of you,” Lana says. “I can’t let a cool guy like Hobie get away with not knowing the coolest songs.”

“Yeah,” Hobie agrees, hopping down beside her. “I mean, look at me.”

Lana laughs at that and turns on a song. Hobie pulls Miles down and onto the bed with them and wraps him in his arms. Miles wiggles, but doesn’t try to break free. Hobie’s arms are genuinely pretty comfortable.

“It sounds like angry screaming,” Miles tells them. Lana shakes her head. Hobie pats her on the shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Hobie says. “At least he’s still got his looks.”

“It’s because his dad is a cop,” Lana says.

“That doesn’t explain anything,” Miles protest.

“Sorry, babe,” Hobie says. “I know I’m supposed to side with you because I love you, but she has a point.”

“Not even love can protect you from the truth,” Lana tells Miles. She puts on another song. “You’ve heard of this one, right Hobie?”

“Ace of Spades!” Hobie says, bobbing his head to the rhythm. “Hell yeah!”

“This is kind of depressing,” Miles tells them.

“Sorry, Miles, we can’t hear you over how awesome this song is,” Lana says. She and Hobie bob their heads together a couple of times before they start belting the song out together. “But that’s the way I like it baby, I don’t want to live forever!”

Miles smiles at them as they continue to sing. He feels—not jealous, why would he be jealous of something like this? But he’s left out. It occurs to him, now, that Hobie might not make the trip to Miles’ world just for him. Lana’s not the only friend of Miles Hobie likes. Maybe one day, Hobie’ll come to Earth 1610 just to see them, not Miles.

“Read ‘em and weep, the dead man’s hand again!” Hobie shouts. He turns to look at Miles and cuts himself off. Maybe Miles had been making a weird face? He didn’t feel like he was making a weird face. Still, whatever Hobie sees makes him give Miles a kiss, so he’s not really complaining.

“You don’t get it because you haven’t lived it,” Hobie tells him. “But you don’t really have to get it as long as you make cover art for my albums.”

 “I will!” Miles tells him. “Definitely!”

“He’s still going to love you even if you have bad taste in music,” Lana tells him. “But he’s right. Maybe we should watch a documentary? Everything seems cooler once you’ve watched a documentary on it.”

“So this is how you got into Visions,” Miles says. Lana hits him with a pillow.

“You can’t call your friend a nerd, you nerd,” Hobie says. They’re still sitting close enough together that Miles can feel the rumbling of his laughter.

“You can’t call me a nerd!” Miles protests. “You listen to people talk about science for fun! You know facts about chicken breeding!”

“I don’t think knowing we only eat one breed of chicken should be some weird trivia fact,” Hobie says. “It’s your food, man. You put it in your body.”

“Boys, boys,” Lana says. “We’re all nerds here. Now, let’s watch that documentary.”

The next time Miles sees someone from Earth 138, It’s not Hobie.

Her name is Mindy, and she’s wearing a bandana the color of Hobie’s mask and a shirt with his symbol messily drawn onto it.

“Listen,” Mindy says. “I don’t know what your game is, but we need our Spider-Man. You can’t keep him just because he’s going through some stuff.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Miles says. “Did you—is that Hobie’s goober? Does he know you have it?”

“We’re trying to abolish private property,” Mindy says, which is definitely a “no.” “Look. After fighting Kang, Hobie’s been different. And I don’t blame him, but he can’t just leave Cap to fight on his own. I’m not going to let him get his head stuck in the clouds thinking about another world.”

“He never told me he fought Kang,” Miles says.

“He didn’t really tell me either,” Mindy says. “But I’m his best friend. It’s my job to know when some bozo from the future makes my pal super depressed.”

“What happened?” Miles asks. Mindy considers this.

“You should ask him yourself,” she says, her voice softening. “I just wanted to give you a heads up that I took his Spider Watch. He’s not avoiding you on purpose, so don’t blame him for anything. But maybe both of you should stick to someone in your own world.”

“He’s going to find it, eventually.”

“I know,” Mindy says. “I can’t stop him from living how he wants to. But at least if he’s home, at least I know what kind of dumb shit he’s getting up to.”

Life feels quiet without Hobie. Miles keeps leaving his window open in the hopes he’ll see the other spider crawl through it, but he never does.

Obviously, he knows it’s not going to happen. For one think, all of the goobers are connected to a group chat, and Miles can see that Mindy’s still using Hobie’s account. She had recently threatened to reveal something embarrassing about him if he stayed out of his home world too long, like that he had braces, but Gwen quickly corrects her and says that only Hobie’s brother had braces, not him. Miles didn’t even know Hobie had a brother.

Miles doesn’t know a lot about Hobie, honestly.

“Are you actually studying?” Ganke asks, jolting Miles from his thoughts. “You don’t wanna go out patrolling with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not here,” Miles says. “And we’ve still got a chemistry test Friday.”

“You can call him, though, right?” Ganke says. “Because I feel like he hasn’t been around in forever.”

“Can’t,” Miles replies. “He lost his communicator. And now I really gotta study, man. Also? Not really my boyfriend.”

“Are you sure he knows that, though?”

“Yeah,” Miles frowns. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Ganke stares at him a moment before sighing and grabbing his laptop.

“You, Mr. Morales, are stupid about love,” he tells him. “You’re also stupid in love, but I know you’re going to say I’m wrong,”

“Because you are! Just because we hang out a lot doesn’t mean we’re in love.”

“Dude,” Ganke says. “He lives in a different world. But he just spent like, half the week with you. That’s gotta be way more serious than dating long distance. Like, dude didn’t hop on a plane for you. He crossed a galaxy.”

Across their dorm room, Fabio clutches his heart for dramatic affect. Yeah, Miles gets it. It’s very romantic.

“Maybe he just didn’t want to go home,” Miles says, thinking of his conversation with Mindy. He knows himself well enough to know that even if she hadn’t come, Miles probably wouldn’t go after Hobie. If Miles went to Earth 138, things would change. He’s not sure how, but him going to Hobie would be…

“Or maybe he just wanted to be with you,” Fabio says quietly.

It takes Hobie about a month to return to Miles’ dimension and when he does, he launches himself out of the skyline as Miles’ is swinging across New York. Miles lets out a yelp of surprise, but Hobie launches out a web line and the two go tumbling onto a rooftop.

“What was that?” Miles laughs. He’s giddy from the adrenaline, but he’s much more pumped to see his friend’s face. A face that was now very close to his own.

“Sorry. And sorry I haven’t been around in a while,” Hobie says, standing up. He holds out his hand for Miles to take. “Friend of mine fucking took my Spider Watch.”

“Mindy,” Miles says. “She came to see me.”

“Fucker,” Hobie says. He doesn’t sound surprised.

“She told me to ask about Kang.”

Hobie lets out a long sigh.

“I’m not as bummed out about it as she thinks I am. Well, not in the way she thinks I am,” Hobie says. “He just got me thinking about my legacy and shit. I just wanna make sure my world knows what I’m fighting for. I’m just trying to find out what that looks like, I guess.”

“She says you were acting weird.”

“Yeah, because I am weird.”

It’s not a full answer, but Miles drops it. He kind of has to, because Gwen drops in through a portal.

“Oh good,” she says. “You’re both here. Wanna come to my world for a team up?”

“Some asshole giving you trouble?” Hobie asks, already getting into a fighting stance.

“A villain duo,” Gwen explains. “I can handle one villain just fine, but when it’s two people who get stronger the closer they get together? Figured I’d ask for a helping hand.”

The villain is Lana. Or, no, it’s not Lana, because Lana is back in Earth 1610, probably hanging out with Fabio, but it’s definitely her counterpart. And, of course, her mom’s counterpart.

Bombshell and Bombshell. A mother and daughter fighting as one.

But if this Lana was anything like the one Miles knew, she wanted nothing to do with this. His Lana had only stolen because her mom had made her.

“Hey!” Miles says. “Spidey team huddle.”

Hobie and Gwen look at him, and then all three of them thwip to the nearest tall building.

“So, I actually know their counterparts on my earth,” Miles says. “And it looks like things here are mostly the same, so maybe it’s worth a shot to try and get the younger one on our side.”

“Just because she’s nice in your world doesn’t mean she’s nice in mine,” Gwen says. “Remember Murdock?”

“Of course I remember Murderdock,” Miles scoffs. “But Lana—I mean, Bombshell—is just a kid our age. Even if she’s different, she’s probably still doing this because her mom’s making her, and we can, I dunno, use that?”

“So if she’s good, we win her over,” Gwen muses. “But if she’s bad, we convince her she doesn’t need her mom?”

“Would you want to be a criminal with your mom?” Hobie asks. Gwen makes a face. “Yeah. Me either. Spider-Man’s got a point.”

“Thanks Spider-Man,” Miles says.

“A criminal’s probably not the best mom, anyways,” Gwen agrees hesitantly. “Okay. You two go after the teen Bombshell, and I’ll distract her mom. Go team, I guess.”

With that half-hearted cheer, the three spiders jump back into the fray.

“Hey Bombshell!” Miles shouts. “Too scared to fight without your mom?”

“Fuck you,” Lana snarls, running towards him with an outstretched fist. Hobie’s sticking on one of the nearby walls, and jumps down onto Lana’s back before she can hit Miles.

“Hey,” Hobie says. “Do you really want to do this? Be honest.”

“What the fuck?” Lana says, trying to squirm out from underneath him. “Who the fuck do you think you are, a fucking therapist?”

“Listen,” Hobie says. “All we’re saying is, you’re a fucking minor. There’s only so much they can charge you with. But your mom, she’s robbed like, how many stores? And she made you do it too, which is like, child endangerment or whatever. If this goes bad for you, worst thing that happens is you finish high school in peace.”

“Even if I have powers?” Lana asks. She’s stopped moving.

“If you’re really worried, just fucking cry at the judge or whatever,” Hobie says. “They’ll feel so inspired that they’re giving some poor girl a second chance, they’ll forget to charge you with anything.”

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you this yet,” Hobie adds. “But whatever your mom’s like, that’s not your fault.”

Lana considers this for a moment. Then, she slumps onto the pavement, and closes her eyes.

“Smart move,” Hobie says. “Come on, let’s go see what Spider-Woman’s up to.”

Gwen had been expertly leading Lana’s mom away, and by the time Miles and Hobie had caught up, she was far enough away from her daughter that her powers had all but fizzled out, allowing the three spiders to web her up with ease.

“Whoo!” Gwen cheers. “Victory soda, anyone?”

“The soda in your world is so fucking sugary,” Hobie complains as they swing away.

“So,” Gwen says, waving around a corndog. The three had decided to go get snacks and eat them on top of a mostly abandoned building. If they had been in Miles’ world, the three would be able to eat at a burger place, but Gwen wasn’t even close to being as well liked as him. Yet another reason why his world was obviously cooler. He’d trade the love of New York over sugary soda any day. “You guys dating or no?”

Miles chokes on his soda.

“Guess you better tell her the story, boyfriend,” Hobie teases.

“Okay so,” Miles says. “I kind of introduced Hobie to my parents. And I may have like, panicked.”

“You panicked. Introducing a friend.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say he was like, from another dimension, and I couldn’t, you know, just lie and say he went to Visions, so I like—well, I did lie.”

“And you said he was your boyfriend.”

“We’re very different people, Gwen,” Miles says. He can feel himself pleading, but he wants her to understand that his decision was not completely motivated by impulse or a general lack of intelligence. “I can’t just meet a kid like Hobie. There’s got to be like, a story to it, you know. A reason that I have brought this absolute whirlwind of a person into their humble abode.”

“And that reason is, you’re stupid in love with him,” Gwen says.

“Yes! I mean, I’m not, but like, yeah.”

“There’s no need to be so shy,” Hobie says, pulling Miles close. “What’s the point of fake dating if you can’t even fake profess your undying love for me?”

Gwen eyes them as he says this. Miles is really starting to hate how everyone’s examining his relationship with Hobie. It’s not some kind of weird Freudian slip up or whatever. He’s not secretly in love with anyone, and even if he was, he’s got going to appreciate people pushing for whatever they thought was the right conclusion to the situation at hand. He doesn’t really think Gwen would do that, but he knows she could have taken the Bombshells out on her own. She just wanted an excuse to hang out and talk. Talk about Hobie.

“Well,” Gwen says eventually. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your date. Sorry, fake date.”

“That’s rude, but if that’s all you’re going to say to make fun of me, I’ll take it,” Miles says. He grabs Hobie’s hand. “We weren’t really doing anything before you showed up. Hobie just wanted me to know he had his goober back.”

A thought occurs to Miles. With Gwen here, Hobie’s bound to be more open.

“He was telling me about this villain he met,” Miles added. “Kang.”

“Kang the Conglomerator?” Gwen says as Hobie says, “I didn’t fucking say anything.”

“Conglomerator?” Miles says.

“Listen,” Hobie says, pulling himself away from Miles as he stands. Miles can see his hands trembling in anger. “I was. Fine. Mindy’s a fucking liar, and a shit for butting in—”

“—She’s your friend!”

“—She’s a fucking asshole and it’s not her business if some freak in a suit makes me a fucking cartoon character!” Hobie says. His voice had been slowly rising, until he finally screamed the end of his sentence. Realizing he wasn’t proving his point, Hobie continued quieter, with gritted teeth. “If anyone remembers me, I want it to be because I helped them. Not because I’m some fucking—a fucking lovable corporate figurehead selling action figures! If Kang wants to get his filthy paws on the rights to my life, fine. He can do his fucking best. He can look through hundreds of fucking broadcasts of all the shit I’ve done in my world for all I care. But at least… At least he won’t know about this.”

Miles can hear his voice crack.

“Whatever,” Hobie says. He dusts himself off and opens a portal. “This is so fucking stupid. I’m going home.”

“Hobie…,” Miles begins, but the portal’s already closed. Gwen finishes her corndog.

“You can go in after him, you know,” she tells him. Miles frowns.

“He probably just needs some time,” Miles says. “I’ll just… check in later.”

Hobie doesn’t come back.

He doesn’t respond to Miles’ message asking him if he’s okay, and he doesn’t come back to New York. Miles keeps leaving his window open until Ganke and Fabio both complain about the chill, but Hobie still doesn’t come. The only thing Miles hears from Hobie is after Miles messages that he told his parents Hobie was out of town because he was with his mom and Hobie replying, like three hours later, only to tell Miles that his mom’s an alcoholic.

Everything he learns about Hobie feels like a punch to the gut. Miles couldn’t help but wonder if this was his punishment for trying to talk about his feelings. Like, if he wanted to know about Hobie’s issues, he was going to have to go through them in numerical order or something. He can’t help but wonder if this is why he said what he did to Lana. It’s not really Miles’ business, honestly. He can’t even imagine what it’s like, going through life knowing your parents don’t have your back. He hopes he at least has that brother Gwen mentioned, but Spider-Men really don’t have that great luck with family.

He ends up talking to Jess about everything, partially because she definitely owed him for making him listen to her two hour EdTalk about whether or not she was in love with the Human Torch. They rarely talk through text, because the closest thing Jess had to a phone was her goober, and Miles couldn’t handle having a serious conversation with anyone who had set their name as “Jessica Drew, The Peter.” He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than “Jessica Drew, The Bitch”—Peter B’s Jess—or “Jesse Drew, The Bastard,” from Gwen’s world.

Still, Jess keeps telling him he can bother her about anything. Since she’s his clone, she has all of the memories of the Peter from their world. She remembered that he had wanted to help Miles out in any way he could, and wanted Miles to know she felt the same.

“I think you should talk to him,” Jess says as they swing across town. “Face to face.”

“Like you talk to Johnny Storm?” Miles shoots back.

He had been planning on checking in on Hobie again through text though. He had no excuse not to, until he opens up the group chat to see Inkblot—Miles’ name for the black and white Peter—admit to designing his outfit with the height of his coat, and not his actual height in mind and Miles is so blown away he can’t physically stop himself from trying to work out how tall he really is and then before he knows it, the day is gone and Miles has successfully avoided talking about his feelings. There are no immediate consequences to this, and Miles considers that a sign that he can keep doing nothing even though he knows he’s being completely stupid.

“I see Johnny all the time,” Jess says. “We live in the same city. If he has something he wants to say to my face, he can say it when I’m staring at him and gawking like an idiot.”

“Oh, good, you’re self-aware,” Miles says.

“My point is,” Jess says. “You can’t do that. You can’t pretend you’re just casually in the area or whatever. And that’s scary. I get that. But that means every trip he took here was him going to a whole nother world, just for you. Maybe it’s time you showed him you’d do the same.”

“But,” Miles says. He’s not sure how to end his sentence. “He told me I wouldn’t like his dimension.”

“Maybe he told you that because he was worried it’d be true,” Jess says. They land on a rooftop. She sounds very wise. Miles doesn’t think someone who has as many identity crises as she does should be such a good mentor.

“But,” Miles says again.

“Kid,” Jess says. “You’re in love with him.”

“I’m not!” Miles protests. “I just think he’s cool. He’s got like, five different jackets and he’s customized them all. I mean, who has time for that? Especially as a guy who writes all his own songs. And for a Spider-Man! And he makes his own web fluid! I mean, I do too, sometimes, but he came up with his own formula. He’s cool.”

“And you’re totally in love with him,” Jess finishes. There’s no arguing with her. There’s no arguing with the truth.

“What if he doesn’t really like me?” Miles asks softly.

“Kid,” Jess tells him. She slings her arm over his shoulder and pats him affectionately. “I’ve learned many things in my years as a superhero. Namely, that no one ever agrees to fake date someone they don’t really like.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Even with that said, Miles hesitates.

“I don’t actually know a lot about him,” he says. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That’s why you start dating, duh,” Jess says. “To learn more about each other. And then you just gotta go from there.”

“You’re really good at dealing with anxiety,” Miles notes.

“I’m good at dealing with other people’s anxieties,” Jess corrects. She loosens her arm and gives him a little shove. “Now, go. Your boy’s been missing you, Morales.”

Every world has a different color pallet. Even when their universes have the same rainbow, the way it actually gets spread across is different.

There’s a lot of reds in Hobie’s world. It made the buildings look old, and it gives Miles a rising sense of paranoia that a fight is about to happen. It took him a couple minutes to realize it wasn’t just his spider-sense going off. It takes him another minute to realize he has literally no clue where he is.

Okay, that’s fine. The goober always portalled them near the Spider of the dimension they were in, so Hobie couldn’t be far. The only thing to do was pick a direction and hope for the best.

Miles walks.

It’s a little disorienting, wandering around in a new world. Sometimes, it makes Miles’ head hurt. It’s one of the many reasons why he prefers to stay in his own New York, but he’s got this far, so he’s not turning back now.

Then he hears a crash and Hobie’s swinging through the air, followed by a guy with black hair dressed like Captain America. Captain Anarchy, probably.

“Why the fuck are so many terrible people named Eric?” Hobie asks. “First it was Masters, now Cross wants to pull some shit?”

“He did a pretty good job copying your web fluid,” Captain Anarchy notes.

“We do not compliment the enemy,” Hobie hisses. Miles’ spider-sense goes off as Hobie turns toward him.

“Oh,” Hobie says. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Miles says weakly. “What’s up?”

“I gotta,” Hobie says, pointing in the direction he had come from. “I kinda uh, gotta take care of this guy.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“It’s—it won’t take long, he’s just, I mean.”

“Hobie,” Captain Anarchy says. Hobie shakes his head, flustered. Anarchy turns to Miles. “We have to beat up a Spider-Man impersonator. Sit tight.”

With that, he grabs Hobie by the back of his jacket and they run off. Hobie gives him a little wave before turning around and running back. Miles stares at them as they run and considers his options. Then he runs after them.

Hobie’s heart is racing just by seeing Miles again. He really hadn’t expected him to come, but he’s not about to get all weepy about it, especially around Karl, who’s a cool guy but would definitely bring it up later.

Anyways, long story short, Eric Cross is a fucking wimp who can’t handle the way Hobie does things, so obviously the best course of action is to dress up like him and start Spider-Manning how he thinks Hobie should Spider-Man. Sure, he’s not calling himself Spider-Man, but how’s Hobie supposed to take it any way but as a slap in the face? So, he goes to Eric. Tells him he doesn’t super appreciate how he’s doing things, but says if he changes his ways a bit, Hobie’d be happy to supply him with some spare web fluid.

And then one thing led to another and Hobie punched him in the face, and now Eric probably sort of wanted him dead?

“I know I’m not big on peace talks, but we don’t gotta do this, man,” Hobie says, dodging Eric’s fist. “If you weren’t being such a shit stain, you’d be pretty cool.”

Karl gives him a look of exasperation, then slams his shield against Eric’s head. Surprisingly, he doesn’t fall.

“That’s the difference between me and you,” Eric snarls. “You just punch, punch, punch. Me? I’ve got a plan.”

“So you packed a helmet, big whoop,” Hobie says, punching him again. He wishes he had a baseball bat. Life was so much easier when you could really whack your enemies. “Doesn’t mean you’re winning.”

“So this is the Spider-Man cosplayer?” Miles asks from behind them. Hobie whips his head around and only avoids getting hit because Karl tackles him out of the way. Captain Anarchy was a real pal.

“I’m a fake, but he’s fine?” Eric asks.

“He’s cooler than you,” Hobie says. He kicks Eric in the crock, and the dude goes down.

Yeah. Let’s see you plan your way out of that, asshole.

“So,” Miles says as the two of them web Eric up. “What are we going to do with this guy?”

Hobie looks at Karl, who shrugs.

“Shit,” Hobie says. “Shoulda took his web slingers. Now we gotta wait till his hands get free.”

Hobie kicks Eric in the face for good measure.

“You going to stop impersonating me, asshole?” he asks. “Cuz if all you wanna do is kill cops, I don’t care. But I’d like to think we’d both have a problem with me getting all the credit for your accomplishments.”

“Is that really all you care about?” Eric asks.

“Yeah?” Hobie replies. He looks at Karl again. “Do I look like the kind of person who gives a shit about what other people do?”

“You don’t,” Karl confirms. “Our problem is that we have people to look after. People that’ll get stuck as collateral if you keep ruining our good name.”

“If I cause shit, that’s fine,” Hobie says. “Because I know what I’m up against. But if you do something and some yahoo comes crashing into the Bowery commune, then I don’t even know why we’re fighting!”

“I didn’t think of that,” Eric says. “I just wanted to show you that your idea of justice was simple and flawed, but… it looks like you’re thinking more about it than I was.”

Hobie feels a little light headed. Did he just solve a problem by talking? Stuff like that never happened to him. Of course, the guys he fought generally weren’t the kind of people that sat down after a talking to. Eric wasn’t that guy. Mostly, he was just kind of a dumbass.

“Cool,” Hobie says. “Let’s go.”

“We’re just going to leave him here?” Miles asks.

“It’ll give him time to cool off,” Karl says. “Besides, no one’s coming by.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I’ll watch him,” Karl interrupts. He’s definitely pissed that Miles’ is cramping their style. “You go talk with your boyfriend.”

Hobie punches Karl in the shoulder and leads Miles away as Eric says something dumb about couples and coordinating outfits.

“So,” Hobie says. “You liking Earth 138 so far?”

“Of course I like it,” Miles tells him. “It’s got you.”

Miles seems to realize what he says, and scratches the back of his neck.

“I mean,” Miles says. “It’s. Well. I don’t know, dude, it just looks like New York. I expected more graffiti, honestly, but—it doesn’t look like a bad place to live.”

“It’s a capitalist hellspace,” Hobie says. “Things look nice because it means you can charge more.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Miles says. “That’s not really specific to your dimension. I mean, it’s probably worse here, but you know.”

“Yeah,” Hobie says. “So why’d you come?”

“I wanted to say sorry,” Miles says. “I shouldn’t of pushed about Kang. And I should have told you that much sooner.”

“I’m not super mad about that anymore,” Hobie admits. “I was just kind of pissed I said so much. You don’t need to hear about my shit. Then time goes by, and I just figured I waited too long, you know? You probably told everyone we broke up, so it’s not like you needed me coming around.”

“Well, I didn’t need it,” Miles says. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you.”

Hobie pauses for a moment as he considers how to answer. Of course he wants to hang out with Miles. He wants to see the way his face lights up when he sees something cool, wants to watch him as he hums along to terrible songs and draws the coolest fucking things Hobie’s ever seen. He wants Miles to finally admit that punk is actually pretty cool.

But Hobie doesn’t say any of this. Miles doesn’t want a boyfriend. And if he does, he doesn’t want one with an expiration date.

“I’ve been busy,” Hobie says. “Sorry.”

“I should have come sooner,” Miles says again.

“So why didn’t you?”

“I was—I’m not scared of this place, okay? But I thought maybe, I don’t know, it’s a bit personal,” Miles tells him. “Maybe it’s crossing a line for your fake boyfriend to be with your actual friends.”

“I met your friends,” Hobie reminds him. Miles mumbles something and looks at the ground. Hobie sighs.

“Kang told me I died young,” Hobie says suddenly. Miles looks up. “That’s why he came. So he could bring me to the future to be some kind of living statue. Because he made me popular. He made me a cartoon.”

“But he didn’t get you,” Miles says.

“And I’m still going to die,” Hobie says with a shrug. “I don’t really care about that. All it means to me is that I’ll be Spider-Man for the rest of my life. Sounds like a pretty good deal, honestly.”

“You don’t care about dying, but you’re mad about a cartoon?” Miles laughs. “You can get a lawyer, man. Find a way to make all rights to your identity stay with, I dunno, Mindy or something.”

“And that’s going to last all the way to the year 2099?” Hobie shoots back. “Listen, I’m only telling you because you came here. If you really want to be my friend, you deserve to know. One day I’m going to die, and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

The thought of dying honestly hadn’t bothered Hobie until he thought about his friends. What would they do without him? And what would Miles do, when Hobie was worlds away and couldn’t be saved?

The answer was nothing.

And Miles was really cool. He deserved better than that.

But all Miles does when Hobie says this is shake his head.

“I actually went to a future of mine recently,” Miles says. If Hobie could see his face, he’s sure it’d be in a grimace. “Since we’re, you know, on the topic. Me and Gwen were married.”

“Oh,” Hobie says. That shouldn’t’ve hurt as much as it did.

“I don’t want to marry Gwen.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I don’t really want to marry anyone right now,” Miles says. “I’m a teenager. But my point is, whatever Miles I saw, it’s not me. That Miles is a guy that decided to move to a dimensional Utopia instead of stay in his own New York. And I can’t do that. So it’s not me.”

“So you’re saying, the future isn’t set in stone or whatever,” Hobie says. “Okay. But I know Kang’s from my dimension. And I don’t plan on changing shit in my life just because I met him. So guess what I’m going to do? Die.”

“Maybe you will,” Miles agrees. “But maybe you won’t. Time travels messy, man. Things change all the time.”

It’s cute that he’s trying so hard to be positive, but Hobie’s pretty sure the only way things’ll change is if he gives up being Spider-Man, and that’s not even remotely on the table.

“Besides,” Miles adds, fidgeting with his mask. “If you’re not always going to be here, then that just means we gotta hang out while you still are.”

“Yeah?” Hobie says. “Was I really that great a fake boyfriend?”

He expects Miles to laugh it off, but instead Miles rips off his mask and says, “You’re the best fake boyfriend.”

“And maybe,” Miles adds, twisting his mask in his hands. “Maybe you could be like. A pretty great real boyfriend too?”

His eyes look so big. Jesus. All Hobie wants to do is kiss him right in his stupid Spider-Man face. So he does.

“Hell yeah I want to be your boyfriend!” Hobie says, pulling his mask off and grabbing Miles’ head. Miles’ eyes widen as they both lean into the kiss. Look at that! It’s like they’re already in sync.

“I don’t care what happens in the future,” Miles says. “All I know is that I really like you, and I want to keep doing stuff together.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Hobie admits. “That’s why I kept coming to your dimension in the first place. I always thought you were the coolest Spider-Man.”

“Dude,” Miles says. “You’re the coolest Spider-Man. You’re the one with the cool jacket. And your mask has spikes.”

“And you’re the one with a spray paint suit!” Hobie replies. “You’re the only one of us that truly rocks the spandex.”

Miles laughs at that.

“Well, thanks,” he says. “I try.”

“I’ve got the coolest boyfriend,” Hobie tells him. Then, because he really never expected to get this lucky, he says it again. “I’ve got the coolest boyfriend.”

He thinks he’s going to tell the whole world.

Time passes.

Miles has to admit that, maybe, his roommates might have been right about his crush and throws a pillow at Ganke when he tries to lord it over him. Fabio tells him he’s proud of Miles for working stuff out, and Miles feels all warm and fuzzy when he thanks his roommate because he has a boyfriend.

He goes to Earth 138 some more and sees Mindy again. She’s happy to see him.

She says she’s happy he makes Hobie happy. Miles knows she means it.

Everyone in Hobie’s spider army is happy to meet him, honestly. It’s weird, but at the same time, he gets it. None of them have a spider-sense, but they’re all united all the same. It’s cool. They’re cool. And when one of them talks, they all listen. If something needs to be done, it’s not just Spider-Man saving the day it’s all of them, planning a protest on the state of the world.

One day, Gwen comes over and Mindy dumps a bucket of red paint in her hair.

“Nice hair,” Miles says.

“I’m the immortal Gwen Stacy,” Gwen tells him. “The me on this Earth died a while ago. But now I’m back with a vengeance, and I still play a mean drum line.”

“No cop’s shooting her ass again!” Hobie says.

“No cop did shoot me,” Gwen says. “I jumped off a bridge. Right?”

“We’re just here to show the people that we’re here for good. Nothing can keep us down,” Mindy says. “Especially Toomes. Fuck that guy.”

“Fuck Toomes,” Hobie agrees, pressing a kiss up against Miles’ mask.

“Back from the dead to fight capitalism,” Miles says. “Cool.”

“We go out punching the bourgeoise,” Hobie says. “And then we raise ourselves from the dead and start punching some more.”

“No punching now,” Mindy tells him. “Now you’re getting your ass on stage.”

Gwen and Hobie both salute her as they go.

And when they finally start playing, it’s the most amazing sound Miles has ever heard.