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Miles skipped down the sidewalk, trying his best to loosen his muscles in the process. Lately, when Miles visited Peter B. he’d been badgered by the older man about stretching. He was such a mother hen. Miles would properly stretch if had the time, honest, but right now he was late for his training. He turned a couple street corners before finding himself on one that wasn’t as populated. With a practiced ease, Miles slipped into one of the alleyways and turned invisible, just for good measure.
He crouched aside a trash can that was stuffed to the brim with pizza boxes from the place next door. Miles rifled through his bag and pulled out his suit along with Peni’s inter-dimensional travel… thingy. She had a better name for it, but it wasn’t one that Miles could remember.
After swapping his roomy hoodie and sweatpants for the spandex of his Spider-Man suit, Miles re-shouldered his bag and leaned over Peni’s device. Peni was really looking out for everyone, making the interface as simple as possible. Miles just keyed in Peter’s universes code (Earth-TRN701) and the bright blue button on the bottom right of the console began to flash. Miles jammed the button, clutched the device and squeezed his eyes shut in awful anticipation of what was to come.
There was no doubt that Peni could work wonders when it came to ease of access, but ease of travel, well that was an entirely different story. The portal silently opened up in the space behind Miles and then he was falling, falling, falling. As he tumbled through black matter and bright space, his cells split apart, then rearranged and reassembled themselves. Miles became a blur, a comet, a connection between his world and Peter’s. Then just as easily as the portal had snatched him up, it spat him back out. Miles fell into empty air, but this time he was determined not to land on his face.
As Miles flew past skyscrapers, he twisted his body until it was angled towards the roof of a squat set of two-story apartments. Miles hit the ground running and somehow managed not to misstep. He sprinted the length of the building until he ran out of momentum and was able to come to a stop.
“Whoo,” Miles exhaled, as he lifted his suit over his mouth.
He let his hands rest on his knees and bent over the length of his body.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
Miles took some time to recover and then he was diving off the building’s edge. He let his body curve in the wind and as he did so Miles couldn’t help but release a whoop. Months after becoming Spider-Man, he still found himself exhilarated at the mere idea of falling free and untethered to the Earth.
Miles thwiped his way through Peter’s city. Of all the ‘verses he’d been to, Peter’s was the most familiar. In the night neon blues and greens dominated, but during the daytime, everything took on a softer more faded tone: warm peaches, muted pinks, and steady browns, that all blurred past Miles as he wove through the buildings of Earth TRN701’s New York City.
At first, he and Peter had tried to keep Miles’s presence as Spider-Man low-key, but all it took was one or two instances of being spotted, for Miles’ Spider-Man to be common knowledge among New Yorkers. They were living in the digital age after all.
Miles angled his body around one more skyscraper before spotting a familiar figure perched atop a building.
Peter Parker sat on the roof of his apartment, his legs dangling over the edge, and his head resting in his palms. However, as he spotted Miles, Peter jumped to his feet, somehow managing to keep his balance on the roof’s edge.
Miles was just about to call out a greeting when Peter spread his arms wide and fell forward, right over the side of the building. Miles completed his swing and landed atop where Peter had just perched. He peered over the building’s edge and watched as Peter twisted and waved up at Miles.
“Seriously, man!” Miles shouted.
Seconds from the ground, Peter stretched out an arm, released a web, and swung back into the sky. He arched until he was level with Miles and then made a gesture as if to say come on.
Miles groaned, jogged in place for a couple of seconds and then sprinted over the side of the building. And so the chase began. Peter weaved between buildings and swung over the streets with a smoothness that Miles had yet to attain. Instead, of trying to keep pace with Peter, Miles did his best to watch the hands as he’d been told and keep an eye on which way Peter’s wrists twisted as he released his webs.
The chase went along like that for about five minutes, before Miles began to get frustrated. If he was going to have a chance, he was going to have to do it like him. Miles stopped relying on his webs so much, instead, he began leaping off gargoyles for leverage and using lampposts to fling himself forward. He kept low to the ground, finding opportunity in every mailbox, in every awning, in every moving vehicle. And it worked. Miles kept up his tactics until he was moving right below Peter.
Snickering to himself, Miles released a web that found purchase in a building just ahead of his mentor. He tucked in his legs so he would swing faster. The timing was perfect. Miles shot up until he was right beside Peter.
The eyes of Peter’s mask stretched in surprise.
“Well would you look at that,” Miles shouted over the wind, “it looks as if I’ve caught up to you.”
“Impossible,” Peter said and he released his web which resulted in a shift in his direction from forward to a sharp plummet.
Miles craned his neck to follow Peter’s freefall. He had just caught up to his mentor and he was not losing his lead now. However, he was so preoccupied with watching Peter that he wasn’t watching for what was ahead of him.
Miles slammed, full force, into a building’s front. He had a few precious seconds when he stuck its glass windows. Miles was able to catch the eyes of a woman, in her cubicle, who had startled out of her seat. Then he was peeling off of the building like some kind of Looney Toons character (or even Ham in some cases) and falling back to the ground.
Something to note about Peter’s universe: if something had the potential to be dramatic than it would be. If it was more dramatic for a punch to hold then it would or if it was more dramatic for a someone to pause in mid-air for a second longer than usual they would. Peter’s New York was as dramatic as it’s Spider-Man, which was saying something.
Miles was (thankfully) able to shoot out a web so that he was able to make his landing alongside a curb. Peter landed beside Miles just, as he was getting to his feet.
“Was that… really… necessary,” Miles huffed, trying to force air back into his lungs.
“Absolutely, 100%, without a doubt, as sure as the sun--”
“Okay, I get it,” Miles said, straightening, “you’re the mentor and you know best, you’re better than me.”
“Yes that’s all true,” Peter said, and after a pause he added, “and you’re the mentee, whose reflexes are getting better, and who actually managed to catch up to me, therefore proving that he’s improving.”
“What?” Miles asked looking up.
“I said, you need to work on your swings more, they’re all over the place,” Peter said, waving his arms around.
“Yeah, sure,” Miles said, finally regaining his breath.
Peter nodded and hummed affirmatively before beginning to stroll down the sidewalk. Miles jogged to catch up.
“Have you been powdering your suit?"
“Yes,” Miles lied.
Peter scoffed.
“If you won’t learn now, you’ll learn later." Then he leaned and lowered his voice to a whisper, “only difference is you’ll be doing it with a rash.”
“Ugh, Peter!”
“I’m just saying,” Peter said holding up his hands in a casual defense.
As the two Spider-Men walked, the people of New York reacted. Some hugged the wall as they approached, leaving plenty of room for the superheroes to pass, others nodded with hesitant smiles and even more hesitant waves, others still huddled closer to their friends and family, whispering and giggling as they went by.
Peter took it all in, effortlessly, returning gazes and acknowledging gestures when he felt like it and Miles, well Miles tried his best to make sure he didn’t trip over his shoelace. He’d already done that once in Peter’s universe and as multiple screenshots proved the Internet could be a cruel place.
Peter glanced to the right and most likely noticed Miles’ hunched shoulders and half-hearted gazes.
“Hey, you want to swing back to my place?” Peter asked. “All this attention is starting to inflate my ego and we both know that doesn't need to get any bigger.”
“Nope,” Miles said, hands tightening around the straps of his bag, “I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine, we were talking about me, remember? Jeez, maybe it’s your ego that we need to watch out for.”
Aloud, Miles snorted, but in his mind he considered Peter’s offer. Peter was trying his best to give him an easy out. Plus would it really be all that bad to take one more swing through the city?
“Nah Peter, you’ve got it all wrong. I’ve got a lot of things but an ego isn’t of ‘em. It’s alright though, even the best of us make mistakes.”
Before Peter had a chance to answer, Miles pressed a finger to his web shooter and took to the skies. He had a pretty good lead on Peter for the majority of the time, in fact, he was sure he would have beaten him if he hadn’t had to duck into an alley to change into his civilian clothes. It was one of Peter’s biggest rules, never leave or enter your home in your suit.
Miles wished training was over, the muscles in his lower calves were really starting to ache, but swinging only constituted for half the fun.
Next was hand to hand combat. Miles and Peter stopped at Peter’s apartment to grab some water (and for Peter to nibble on some crackers). Then the two climbed the blackened iron steps of the fire escape to reach the roof.
“Did you stretch?” Peter asked.
“Sorta,” Miles said with a shrug, letting his gaze fall to his shoes.
“What do you mean sorta?” Peter asked, his voice strained as he arched his back.
“I’m stretching right now,” Miles offered.
Miles latched his hands to each other and raised his arms above his head.
“In fact," Miles added, "I bet in an alternate universe, I’m the one reminding you to stretch.”
“Fat chance,” Peter grunted, as he struggled to touch his toes.
After an excessive amount of twisting and bending and huffs and puffs, Peter shook himself loose and raised his fists in front of his hunched body.
“Whenever you’re ready kid."
Miles supposed he should be grateful that he would be the one to initiate the fight, but really it just made him nervous. Peter had the uncanny talent of always knowing Miles’ next move.
Miles feinted left and surprisingly Peter followed. Excited for the opportunity Miles turned right then spun and snuck a hit to Peter’s side, but he only had a moment to celebrate before Peter was clutching Miles’ outstretched leg. Peter tugged Miles up and over his shoulder and Miles tumbled through the air to land in a heap at Peter’s feet.
“Offence and defense Miles, make it happen,” Peter said as Miles clambered back into his fighting stance.
Miles and Peter traded blows and danced dizzying circles around each other. Miles had a suspicion he’d been getting better, but being able to hold his own against Peter proved it. He was still getting his butt handed to him, but considerably less than last time.
After landing a couple of successive hints, Miles got a spurt of confidence (his dad will call it cocky) and focused enough for his energy to summon a venom strike.
The venom strikes were always odd, it was warm and coursed through his veins like lighting and when it spurted from his fingers it always tingled like little pinpricks.
Miles crouched to avoid one of Peter’s uppercuts and before his mentor could react, Miles held his hands to Peter’s ankles and let loose.
“Hey!” Peter yelped dancing away from Miles’ grip.
He still had enough in him for one or two shocks, but Peter was too on guard now and there’s no way he’d even let Miles close.
Miles couldn’t help but snicker at his mentor who was blinking at Miles in betrayal while rubbing at his ankles.
“What,” Miles asked, “did you think this was amateur hour?”
Peter stilled and then his head cocked to the side in a way that caused Miles’ Spidey-Sense to flare in alarm.
“You know what Miles, you’re absolutely right, I have been going too easy on you.”
“Wait, what? That's not what I said, Peter."
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, you’ve really proved to me that you’re ready for the next level.”
“Peter, no’” Miles said backing up from Peter who was rapidly gaining ground.
“Peter, yes,” Peter sang.
What proceeded was an absolutely brutal beatdown of which Miles would be remembering for days to come, as if his aching muscles would let him forget it. When Peter finally called the training Miles all but crawled from the roof to Peter’s apartment. He made a beeline straight to Peter’s worn and yellowing couch, and collapsed into its cushions, tucking his head into the crook of his arm.
Peter was kind enough to chuck Miles an ice pack from the freezer, which he promptly placed on his upper thigh. Miles would need about a thousand ice packs to numb the annoyingly persistent ache that was currently permeating his body.
He let himself lay there trying to keep completely still, yet every breath still caused the fire in his rib cage to flare.
Miles felt a gentle nudge to his shoulder and his only response was a groan.
“C’mon kid, you’re gonna want to walk this off, trust me.
Miles released a high pitch whine, as childish as it was, in his weakened state it was the best argument he could muster.
Peter’s nudges didn’t relent and Miles realized that the sooner he did as Peter asked the sooner he could get back to laying completely still and basically trying to disassociate with his body.
Miles slung his legs over the side of the couch and gingerly stood to his feet. Peter patiently waited for Miles to coax his legs into supporting his weight. Still clutching his ice pack like a lifeline, Miles lead himself and Peter into the hallway.
Then began the grueling process of Miles dragging his body up and down the hallway, while he was still very much smarting from his and Peter’s session. The pair had just passed Peter’s door for the second time when Peter broke their silence.
“You know I’m really proud of you right, Miles?"
Miles hummed in affirmation, of course, he knew. Smackdown or no smackdown, anyone who hung around Miles and Peter for long enough would take note Peter’s excitement when Miles mastered a move, or how happy his mentor was to hear about his mentee's latest accomplishment, or how patient Peter was as he adjusted Miles’ stance for the thousandth time, or even just the way Peter looked at him sometimes.
“The stuff you’re doing, I could have never even dreamed of when I first became Spider-Man.”
“Well, I do have a pretty bangin’ mentor so that helps,” Miles said as they reached the end of the hall and turned for another lap.
“Really?” Peter asked, “Who is this guy, maybe he’d be able to help me out with some of my old guy Spider-Man stuff.”
“Quit playing,” Miles said raising a hand to wave Peter off. It sent spurts of pain down his arm, but it felt supremely necessary.
“You’re a janky old hobo Spider-Man of a mentor and I wouldn't want it any other way.
“But that’s beside the point, Miles. You really don’t get it— you are doing phenomenally! Sometimes, I’m so proud of you it keeps me up at night! When I see you flipping through the air all, thwip, thwip,” Peter made little Spider-Man hand gestures to illustrate, “I can’t help it. Like how could anyone not be proud of you?”
Peter shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo jacket.
Miles started to say that he was proud of Peter too and that Miles couldn’t have done half as well without him, but before he could Peter cut him off.
“Just give me a few more seconds, okay? I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this for a long time, but tonight’s the first night I-uh- what’s Gwen’s new song called again?”
“Face it Tiger,” Miles provided.
“Right, face the tiger.”
Peter took in a big breath and then a steady slew of words was pouring from his mouth.
“It’s just, I never really thought I was cut out for the whole mentor thing. I screwed a lot of stuff up in my universe and I didn’t want that for you. I thought I would screw you up too, but you’re doing great kid. You’re doing fantastic, superb, you get what I’m trying saying here—“ Peter paused for a giant inhale, “I'm just really, really, really proud of you is all.”
Miles had paused about halfway through Peter’s speech and he was still of standing there as if in a daze.
“Uh, Miles?” Peter asked.
Miles blinked, over and over as if trying to get his bearings.
“Look,” Peter said, scratching at the back of his neck,” I’m sorry if that was weird for you to hear, it was just something I wanted to say. If you want we can both just forget I said anything and—“
Peter’s next words were cut off by the sudden weight of one Miles Morales pressed against his chest.
Peter’s body tensed he remained completely still. Thinking he may have offended his mentor, Miles began to loosen his grip. It was then, that Peter snapped into action and he wrapped his arms around Miles, returning the embrace.
With Peter’s back stooped over and level to him, Miles hoped could make out the muffled words, muttered into his shirt front.
“Both of us deserve to be proud.”
Peter gave Miles’ shoulders a squeeze.
“Yeah kid, I guess we kind of do.”