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“Mami, I really have to get a move on. I don’t wanna be late.”
“¡Un momento! ¿Dónde está mi cámara? I know I left it on the dresser!” There’s the loud noise of personal items being shoved haphazardly aside, and Miles sighs. He’s, like, two hundred percent certain his mom just broke something in her haste to find her camera. Then a small realization hits Miles; why is she even obsessing so bad over this camera when smartphones exist?
His dad, who has been lounging on the couch, reads Miles’ mind and answers, “Rio is just sentimental like that, you know how it is.”
Miles most definitely knows how it is. There’s a small bookshelf in the living room that is full of printed pictures, ranging from the beginning of his parents’ relationship, to the day he was born, and even his first day at Visions Academy. His mami likes to memorialize every moment she deems special. Miles gets it, he really does.
But he’s also in a rush and kinda wishes his mom can put aside her sentimental tendencies. Just this once.
“Dad,” Miles almost whines out of frustration and impatience. “Please tell Mami I really have to head out! I know she’ll listen if you tell her!”
That gets a hearty laugh out of his dad. “Miles, son. We both know that’s not true.” He melts further into the couch.
The worst part? His dad is right; the men of the household bow to Rio Morales. Her wrath is formidable. Miles suppresses the urge to suck his teeth, but he does roll his eyes, knowing that his dad won’t be able to see it. When it’s a day off from duties, the world knows not to expect anything of Jefferson Morales. He’s as lazy as they come. This means it’s up to Miles to get his mom to see reason and calm down.
He walks to his parents’ room, and lightly raps on the doorframe. “Mami,” Miles calls out. “Necesito ir ahora. He’s waiting for me.” Probably has been for the longest, Miles thinks ruefully. Even infinite patience has its limits.
His mom finally looks up from where she’s made a mess of the dresser she and his dad share. The good news, at least, is that she found the camera and some extra film. “Lo siento, cariño. I didn’t mean to hold you up so long.” She hands Miles the camera and film, and he carefully takes it from her. “It’s your first vacation since becoming a hero. I just want you to take as many photos as you can so we can see when you come home.”
Miles softens. It’s so hard to stay annoyed at his mom when all she does is radiate love and support. He gives her a side hug and a kiss on the cheek. “No te preocupes. It's only three days, and I’ll be back home soon.”
They walk back to the living room together. Miles’ mom gives him one last hug. “Have lots of fun, mí vida. We’ll see you soon.”
“Right.” Miles lugs his bags onto his shoulder. Tapping his multidimensional watch, a portal opens up behind him. “¡Hasta luego!” With that, he’s off.
Hobie smirks as he watches Miles step through the portal. He hops off the roof of his van and lands on his feet in front of the other. Hobie revels in the small jump of surprise Miles gives. He’s so reactive to anything anyone does, it’s equal parts adorable and funny.
“Right, well, what’s all this, then?” Hobie takes a bag from Miles to help him load it into the van. It’s heavier than expected, enough to throw Hobie off. “Miles, pet. We’ll only be gone for three days. The hell’s this so packed for?”
Miles frowns, petulant. “If I said ‘my mom,’ would that be enough for you to understand?”
“Mm,” Hobie hums with over exaggerated sympathy. Mrs. Morales is a fantastic bird, to be sure, but Hobie can’t imagine himself being hovered about in excessive amounts. It’d probably drive him nuts. But enough of that. “Right. Well, love. Hop in the van, ’s time to crack on with our holiday.”
He watches as Miles practically glows. Hobie really does have a cracking boyfriend. Oh, how he adores him so much.
The breeze in the countryside is so soothing. There’s no pollution from the bustle of the city, no loud noises from plastered people starting fights out of pubs cuz they had one too many pints. All that exists right now is Hobie, Miles and the serenity of quiet relaxation.
Miles had rolled down the window on the passenger side, and kicked his feet up on the dashboard. Hobie took a quick glance his way before training his eyes to the road ahead once more. “‘S wonderful, innit? Not having to worry about anythin’ o’ anyone else for a while, yeah?”
He hears the other take a deep inhale, than an even greater exhale. They sit in silence for a bit, the humming of the engine and soft crunching of the dirt road beneath tires filling in the gaps between words. Finally, Miles speaks. “It really is. I’m already enjoying it, and we haven’t even started yet.”
“Ah, that’s the kinda thing I like t’ hear.” Hobie tries to make it his goal to be a specific brand of freedom Miles cannot get elsewhere. He balks at the general thought of being someone’s role model, but being someone’s safety is not the same thing. Being someone’s — his friends, Miles — safety grants him a kind of rebellion that can’t be found from just being a lone wolf. Hobie has learned that being tethered to a person or two isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“So, why are we driving there when we could’ve… you know.” Miles makes the web shooting action with his hands. “Wouldn’t it have been faster? Or even just have me meet you at the destination as soon as I stepped out of the portal?”
Hobie lets out an amused snort. What a nerd. “No powers on the trip.” He’s establishing that rule on the pretense that he knows both he and Miles will end up breaking it. Hobie knows Miles knows that too, if the unimpressed look on his face is anything to go by. “Cheeky. Okay, for real; I just like drivin’. I don’t get to do it a lot, but it’s pretty great, you don’t think?”
Miles stretches as much as he can while being in a confined space. “I guess so. Won’t lie, it’s definitely better than taking the AMT. When did you learn how to drive, anyway?”
“Some years ago. ‘M family taught me how.”
“Oh, so you had time to do those kinds of things?” Miles falls silent, and Hobie and hear the wheels turning in his head. “When exactly did Old York start going to shit?”
Isn’t that the million pound question. “It was always pretty dodgy. People were always protesting against our parliament, y’know? Even in times of ‘peace,’ anythin’ can bring about anger and insurrection.” Hobie’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “‘S kinda like the BLM movement in your universe. It was a problem, for sure, then ya got the masses involved and forced everyone to pay attention.”
Miles is smart. “I get it now. Well,” he looks out the window. “It’s good to see that not everywhere went to hell in your universe.”
Hobie more than definitely agrees.
After another thirty minutes of driving, the couple reach their destination. Getting out of the car, Hobie walks around to the back to open the trunk. Miles helps with taking out their bags, then takes a look at his surroundings. One thing Hobie genuinely loves about Miles is how expressive his eyes are. Disgruntled, delighted, annoyed, they tell all. Warm brown sparkle as they look at cobble paths and quaint stone cottages.
“Welcome to Dorset, love. Keep up now, I have to go book us into our lodgings.”
Maybe it’s a side effect of being so inquisitive all the time, but Miles asks, “How are you able to afford this?” Can never stop asking questions, the mad lad.
Hobie steps into Miles’ space and gives him a kiss on the forehead, just because he can (He also loves how shorter Miles is than him. He’s told Miles this once, and the only response was a light shove and a “You’re just freakishly tall. Give me some of that height, will ya?” Hobie didn’t miss the darkening of his cheeks).
”Managed to call in a few favors from some people.” He holds out his hand. “Come now, love.”
Miles smiles and takes the hand. Hobie loves how warm it feels.
The area of Dorset they are in is small and quiet, but still full of plenty of life and vibrancy. The locals greet the pair as they make their way to their temporary stay. Miles eagerly takes in all of the sights. In the far-off hills, some sheep can be spotted. Miles tugs Hobie’s sleeve to get his attention. Hobie responds in kind, also pointing out facts whenever he can.
“Bro, look. You can see the ocean!” Then he pauses. “Is this why you reminded me so many times to bring my trunks?”
“Mm, yep.”
“Great surprise.”
“Not t’ worry, there’ll be plenty more.”
The grassy hills sing in the breeze. Some cyclists zip by them. Miles comments on wanting to try cycling, and Hobie makes a mental note to see if they can try it during their stay.
Plenty of eateries align the roads, and both Hobie and Miles point out which ones they’d like to visit. Miles even offered to pay for one of their meals, to which Hobie declined. “This is a celebration for ya. Lemme do this, okay?”
“I dunno, man. I feel kinda bad that you have to break bank for me.”
They come to a stop in front of their lodgings. Hobie stands in front of Miles, taking both of his hands into his own. “Dummy. You have literally saved your world, my world, an’ countless others. Pardon me for wanting to dote on ya a bit. You’ve more than earned it, lad.”
Miles fidgets; a nervous tick. Finally, he concedes. “Okay. Yeah, okay.”
Hobbie grins, even wider than he had when they had scored a victory against the Spot and Miguel. “Brill!” He nods in the direction of the door to the lodge. “We’re here, so let’s go inside.” Hobie lets go of Miles to fish the rented keys out of his pocket, unlock the door, and hold it open for him.
“I guess chivalry really isn’t dead,” Miles teases. “Thank you.”
“Nah, it just took a new form in the way of punk.”
The holiday lodge agent is waiting on the couch in the living room. Her eyes widen a bit at the sight of two teenage boys, but she quickly schools her expression back into something professional. Hobie likes that. It’s not her business what they’re doing here, after all. “You two must be Mr. Brown an’ Mr. Morales. Welcome to Dorset!” Her accent is even stronger than Hobie’s. That’s just a thing when you come from the countryside. Everyone speaks and it sounds like an incomprehensible pile of rubbish.
If Miles is having a hard time understanding the agent, he makes no show of it. “Happy to be here, thanks.”
“Let me give you a brief tour. As we’re standing here in the living room, the kitchen is right here behind us. We’ve kept it restocked with fresh goods for your arrival.” She waves to the kitchen and then focuses her attention towards a staircase. “These here lead to the bedroom and bathroom. There’s also a spare bedroom, but you’ll know which one is which once you take a gander at both. Well, that’s all from me. Any questions?”
“None fr’m me, thanks. You, Miles?”
Miles shakes his head. He’s still looking at the place in wonder. “Nah I’m good, thanks.”
“Right, then. Just remember, the checkout date and time is on the tag of the keys. I’ll be taking my leave now. Enjoy.”
“Thank you,” Hobie and Miles say in unison.
The agent takes her leave, which leaves the two alone again.
“Hey, Hobes,” Miles calls. “Let’s take our bags upstairs and then go get something to eat.”
“Aye.”
The upstairs isn’t that much bigger than it was downstairs. The bedrooms faced each other across the hall, and the bathroom was farther away from both rooms, on the opposite side of the hall. The whole space felt so homey.
When they entered the master bedroom, Hobie put down their bags and flops down on the bed. He let his lanky arms spread over the span of the bed and he closed his eyes. There was the soft thump of some more bags joining the pile, and then he felt a weight on his chest and torso. Hobie smiles, then wraps his arms around Miles. “Soon you’ll be as tall as me, bruv.”
Miles softly snorts. “Get real. Nobody will ever be as tall as you.”
“Ya still have like a year or two’s worth of height to grow into.” Hobie uses one of his arms to prop up his head, the very picture of relaxing. Miles’ weight on his chest is very comforting.
Miles crosses his arms and then lays his chin on top. “You’re probably the only person who believes that.”
“Can’t keep a guy from dreamin’.”
Hobie just says whatever is on his mind, because he always speaks truth. Yet, he knows his honesty makes Miles flustered. It’s not that Miles doesn’t believe him, far from it. He’s just not used to hearing what he himself believes. So when Hobie compliments Miles at any given time, he’s not doing it just to be suave and make Miles fluster. It’s a constant reaffirmation of the truth.
Even then, Miles’ modesty can get the best of him and there’s only so many compliments he can handle in the span of a few minutes. When this happens, Miles likes to deploy his favorite diversion: kissing Hobie.
One thing Hobie has picked up on fairly quickly is that Miles likes to touch during their make outs. Lips are never the only point of contact. Sometimes it’s linked hands, other times hugging, or their personal favorite, cupping the other's face. It narrows down the world to just the two of them. In these moments they aren’t Spider-Punk nor Spider-Man, the people’s heroes; they are Hobie Brown and Miles Morales, two young men in love.
They trade kisses for a bit longer before Hobie has to (heartbreakingly) push Miles off of him so they can both get ready for dinner out on the town. Miles bounces a bit before landing next to Hobie on the mattress. He looks at him flatly.
“Real funny.”
“What can I say? The world’s a stage and ‘m the fan favorite jester.” Hobie leaves out of the room, but not before maturely sticking his tongue out at Miles. “Be back from the can in a jiff. Don’t fall asleep.”
A muffled bastard drifts through the door. Hobie grins.
“Okay, my man. Order to your heart’s content. Aht, aht. No protesting. I have more than enough to cover us for this trip.”
Miles’ mouth closes with an audible click of his teeth. Hobie counts that as a victory.
Tonight, they’ve both chosen some kind of home comforts style of restaurant. Miles wanted to try the beef wellington. Hobie had a bit of a sugar craving at the moment, so he ordered an eton mess as dessert alongside his bubble and squeak.
Hobie looks at Miles. Miles looks at Hobie. The two try to maintain some faux air of class and seriousness, but they end up cracking and laughing a bit. “Why’re you starin’ at me so intensely? Like whatcha see that much, mate?”
He expected Miles to roll his eyes, maybe even give him a light kick in the shin underneath the table. None of those things happen. Instead, Miles leans over to dig through the bag he brought with him to the restaurant. He rightens himself when he finds what he’s looking for: a camera.
“Lemme guess: your mother?”
Miles lets out a sigh of defeat. “Sí. She wanted me to take photos of our vacation. I mean, we have phones to do that, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I liked mamí’s idea more. It feels more personal this way, I think.”
Hobie can’t argue with sentiments like that. “Make sure you get my good side, will ya?”
Miles laughs, and the sound knocks the wind out of Hobie’s lungs. “Hobie, all you have are good sides. You were a former runway model for a reason. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to capture your beauty to the utmost standards.”
“Right on, that’s all I ask. Should I pose for ya?”
Hobie watches in as Miles fidgets with the camera, presumably trying to get everything in order. “Nah, just look natural.”
Natural. Hobie can do that.
Throughout the course of their meal, Miles takes more photos of Hobie, and even some of the food itself. Hobie shares some of his eton mess with Miles, who says, “Okay. Maybe English food isn’t all bad, but it definitely doesn’t compare to pollo guisado or sopa de arroz, let's be real.”
Hobie’s had both at the Morales household. “As an Englishman, I take full pride in our cuisine… but I can concede defeat, just this once.”
“Mmhm.” Miles sits back in his seat, triumphant. “Thought so.”
“Sod off.” But there’s no real venom in his voice.
Miles just laughs. Hobie looks on with a smile on his face and laughter caught in his chest.
It’s dark now. Hobie and Miles are walking along the beach, hand in hand. It’s just them, everyone else has shacked up for the night. The moon shines down on everything in her sight, giving everything a soft indigo look under the blanket of the night. The fireflies are out tonight and they add to the soothing liminal feeling that only the night could bring.
“Are you knackered, Miles?” Hobie asks. He’s feeling the weight of the day himself, but if Miles wants to stay out a bit longer, then he’ll oblige.
“British slang is so damn weird,” Miles’ nose scrunches up before relaxing again. “No, well, maybe a little. But I do want to take some more pictures and just spend a bit more time with you before we head in for the night.”
They come across a rock that’s close to the shoreline. Hobie relaxes and watches as Miles photographs the ocean, the fireflies, and even manages to take a selfie of himself with the moon’s light helping to give ambiance. Hobie wonders what it’s like to be a visual artist, what their thought processes are when they decide to bring an idea to life.
Hobie himself is an artist of the ears, he likes to deprave people of sight because then, they are able to really listen, let the music deep into their skin and become intertwined with their DNA. Every now and again, however, Hobie likes to take in the sights. Things can be so pleasing to the eye, and listening isn’t always the best way to interact with that beauty. Sometimes, looking can convey more than words and guitar riffs ever could.
“Hey,” comes his partner’s voice right in front of him. Hobie looks up to see Miles looking down at him, still holding the camera. “What are you thinking about so hard?”
“You,” comes the easy answer. Miles sits next to him, and Hobie immediately leans in. “You’re so wonderful, you know that?”
“You’re just as wonderful, Hobie.”
“I know I am, but this is about you.” he looks out towards the ocean. “I remember ya telling me once, that y’ dad said something about there bein’ a spark in you. I agree, but I think there’s more to it. I think you were the revolution we all needed, Miles.”
He looks at Miles, who’s looking up at him just as softly. “You saved us just by bein’ yourself. That’s beyond extraordinary. That’s revolutionary.”
Miles links their hands together. “Well, it’s people like you and my parents that make it easy. It’s like I said, Hobie. You’re just as wonderful.”
They meet in the middle for a kiss. “Let’s go back inside,” Hobie suggests. “Head to bed, sound good?”
“Sure.”
Day two is much warmer.
“Race you to the beach, Hobie!”
Hobie watches as Miles starts legging it to the shoreline. He laughs a bit maniacally and starts chasing after him. Hobie overtakes Miles by hopping on rooftops of stone cottages. He dodges some clotheslines left out by people. “Bit sad, innit?!” He calls from the rooftops.
“Hey!” Hobie hears a thwip, and suddenly there are another pair of feet stomping on the shingled roofs. Unfortunately for Miles, Hobie has covered more than enough ground, and is about two roofs away from the finish line. Making full use of his leg length, he pushes himself off the last roof and lands in the sand. Thankfully, it’s in an area that’s farther off from everyone else, so nobody gawks at some random blud just dropping in from seemingly the sky.
Twenty seconds later, Miles lands right next. “You damn cheater.” He smirks.
Hobie holds his hands up in a faux-placating manner. “Hey now, ya never established the rules.”
Miles playfully rolls his eyes and sets the beach bag down. “Even if I had, you probably wouldn’t have followed them.”
Very true. “My boyfriend is so smart.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now help me put the sunscreen on and set up our spot.” Hobie grins.
When they’re both covered head to toe in sunscreen and have everything situated, Hobie slings Miles over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and runs to the ocean.
“Hobie, don’t you dare—” And then they’re both submerged in water. It was a good thing that Miles swapped out the multidimensional watch for one of the day passes that had been reworked to last longer than a few hours, courtesy of Margo some while back. Otherwise, things would’ve taken a not so fun turn.
Hobie comes up to the surface after Miles. “That was fun, yeah?”
Miles splashes water at him. “You asshole… let’s do that again!”
They spend the whole day at the beach, playing in the water, building sandcastles, snacking on the lunch they packed.
It’s sunset now. Hobie and Miles watch as the oranges, reds and purples of the sky glisten and make the water look like a sea of jewels. At one point while they’re resting under their umbrellas, an old woman approaches them. “Excuse me, dearies.”
Miles looks up first. Hobie watches curiously. “Hi, ma’am. How can we help you?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, I don’t mean to startle you two. I just wanted t’ say I think you make a cute couple.”
Now Hobie speaks up, out of surprise. “Pardon?”
“We don’t see many young people in these parts. Dorset is mainly of older adults and retirees. It’s nice to see some youths around here, even more so in love. I think it’s wonderful.”
“Ah…” Miles says awkwardly. Hobie takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Mikes returns that squeeze. “Thank you, he makes me super happy.”
“The same fo’ me,” Hobie chimes in.
The woman smiles. “I’ll leave you two gents to it. Take care.”
“Bye ma’am,” they both say.
Miles lays back in the beach blanket. “Dorset is full of cool people.”
“Told ya so.”
It’s definitely not Hobie’s imagination, that the air between them feels so electric right now. He could blame it on Miles’ venom ability, but this is something much deeper than that. When he leans down to kiss Miles, the other’s mouth tastes of fruits and sunshine. One kiss becomes two, and two becomes a much deeper three. Unfortunately, they’re in a public space, so this is as far as they can go.
But…
“Let’s go back to the lodge, love. We can continue this there.”
In no time, they both have their bags packed and Miles is all but dragging Hobie back to their lodge.
The third and final day is more calm than the first two.
The pair rent some bikes and cycle through the town. Eventually, they find a botanical garden area and decide to rest there. Miles brought his art supplies and camera, too. Art inspiration never sleeps, Hobie thinks amusedly.
He stretches, feeling the pleasant pain of scratches on his back. Hobie lays his head on Miles’ lap, content to just let his boyfriend do his thing and listen to the rustle of the trees and plants around them.
“I had a lot of fun,” Miles speaks softly into the quiet. “Thank you for planning this.” His hand lightly rubs through Hobie’s scalp, careful to not mess up his wicks.
A hum of content leaves Hobie’s chest. “I’d wanted to do this for ya for a long while, Miles. Glad I finally got the chance. You deserve it, you know?”
Miles sets his supplies to the side and leans down to kiss Hobie. “Yeah, I’m finally starting to understand that now.”
At night, Hobie drives his van out of Dorset. The ride back, music is playing in the vehicle, and surprisingly it’s not punk music. Newsflash, Hobie is well versed in other music genres besides punk, it’s just that it’s the genre that speaks best to him.
The music currently playing is “Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green. Miles lit up with delight. “This is one of my dad’s favorite songs. He played it for my mom when they first began dating.”
“Pops got taste. This is a classic.”
The whole time back to their starting point, they sing along to the various songs. It nearly makes Hobie’s heart break when they finally arrive at their separation point.
“Don’t be a big baby about it,” Miles laughs as they hug. “You’re gonna see me next week, anyway.”
That’s too long of a wait. “I guess so.”
“I know so.” Hobie gets one last kiss from Miles before he opens a portal to his world. He picks up his bags. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”
“I’ll see you soon. Give your mom my love!”
A laugh. “I most definitely will.”
Hobie watches as Miles steps through, and then the portal closes.
Miles steps through the portal to see his mom and dad relaxing on the couch. His dad nearly jumps ten feet into the air out of shock; he’s never quite gotten used to the way the multidimensional watch works.
“Welcome back, mijo.” His mom comes to help with Mile’s bags. His dad follows suit. “Did you enjoy your vacation?”
The warmth of Dorset still lingers under Miles’ skin. “Yep, and I took lots of photos. Hobie sends his kind regards, by the way.”
His mom laughs while his dad just sighs. “That kid is something else.”
Miles mirrors his mom’s smile. “Yeah, he really is.”