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The community fundraiser was today and Miles Morales would be attending as two people.
As Spiderman, the mayor had asked Miles to make an appearance. Sign some autographs, pose for photos, do some tricks, all in the name of charity. After the baby powder incident, seeing that Spiderman really was the friendly neighborhood hero would do the people good. Miles didn't see a way out of it: Spiderman would attend the event.
A week after the agreement, dad had said out of the blue "I think it would be a good thing if you were to do face painting at the event, Miles." He'd been looking at the refrigerator, where mama had hung a watercolor of sunflowers Miles painted for her for mother's day. "Your art brings so much light into the world. I know the community will enjoy it." How was Miles supposed to say no to that? It was a charity event, for the good of the community, and dad said that Miles personally could make it even better. Of course Miles agreed.
It was afternoon and Spiderman had already made his appearance, did the song and dance, and then left. It did not escape Miles' notice that money exchanged hands, a lot of people reaching for their pocketbooks to donate to the charity. Miles was pretty sure this was as close to being an influencer as he'd ever get. At least he got to hide his face behind a mask and be anonymous at the end of the day. On a rooftop, he took off his Spiderman suit because it was a hot July day and changed into his street clothes. He shoved his suit into the duffle bag that had held his clothes and face paints.
Miles ran down the building stairs and out into the crowded street.
The mood was festive. Decorations had been hung, upbeat music played from boomboxes, and the smell of cooking food scented the air. Laughter filled the air, people talking and playing and just relaxing. There were booths with information and wares and food. People moved between them, pausing to chat or buy a treat. Someone was selling beer.
Miles found his assigned booth, currently being manned by mama and dad. Mama sat on a stool painting a tiger on the face of a little girl. Dad managed the line of people waiting to paint their faces for a good cause, showing people the available designs and keeping them occupied. "Miles, where were you?" mama asked without looking away from her canvas.
Miles sat down on a stool behind her and began to set up his paints. "Sorry Mama," he said, glad he was able to avoid her eyes. "I got distracted."
"Miles," mama said, sounding exasperated. "You made a commitment and you need to honor it."
"I am, mama. I'm here, right?" Miles said.
Dad guided a little girl to sit in front of Miles and showed Miles the design she wanted. A butterfly.
Miles got to work. With Miles there to help, the line quickly dwindled until mama finally stood up and announced that she and dad were going to take a break. "Stay here and take people's money. We'll be back after we eat."
Miles painted the faces of adults and children and teenagers. He found that it was the most fun when people left the design up to him and usually they were pleased with the results. The time went by quickly and he wasn't surprised when his parents took a long break. It was only fair to them after they thought he bailed for the first half of the event. Miles didn't hold it against them. The vibes were too good to be angry and someone had brought him a lemonade so he was chilling.
It had been a while since he last had a customer when someone ducked under the tent and slid into the seat opposite of Miles. He was tall and lean, and had to fold himself to fit with his long legs. His beautiful deep brown eyes were half-lidded as he gazed at Miles, a smirk turning his lips up. "Hey, love," Hobie Brown said. "I heard you're an artist."
"You heard correct," Miles said, his heart skipping a beat. His face went hot and he sipped his lemonade. It cooled his mouth but only for an instant. How was it that Hobie entering the tent made the air hotter? Miles admired Hobie's many facial piercings, the sight of them making his belly tingle.
"Let me be your canvas," Hobie said. He stretched one leg across to knock his ankle against Miles'.
It was getting hotter. Miles longed for a breeze or a cool rain or a dip in the pool. As Hobie wore only a tank top, Miles couldn't help but admire Hobie's bare shoulders, his strong biceps. Hobie's stomach was flat and his black jeans were tight. Miles really, really liked everything about Hobie. "Aight," Miles said as he dragged his eyes back up to Hobie's face. His heart raced in his chest when his eyes met Hobie's.
Hobie smiled.
Miles smiled back. He tore his gaze away from Hobie's handsome face to select his paints. There was no question in his mind of what he wanted to paint. Miles dipped his paintbrush in yellow and made a quick motion across Hobie's cheek. He repeated this in a circle on Hobie's cheek and then again in a half moon at Hobie's jaw and forehead respectfully. The petals of sunflowers decorated Hobie's face.
Hobie held still for it all, eyes half closed and fixed on Miles. He was a perfect canvas. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones heavenly. Hobie had great skin. Miles' sunflowers looked good against Hobie's smooth brown skin.
When Hobie's face was painted, Miles set down his brush. It was with some regret because he would have liked to keep painting Hobie's skin, trailing sunflowers across Hobie's shoulders and maybe convincing Hobie to take his shirt off so Miles could decorate more of his body. "Take a look," Miles said and held out the mirror.
Hobie took it and raised it to look at his reflection. "Sunflowers, eh?" he said, giving them an approving look. "I'm feeling it. They're very Miles Morales."
Miles could not help the way he lifted his chin and puffed his chest out with pride. It meant a lot to him that Hobie liked his artwork. "They're kinda Hobie Brown too," he suggested.
Hobie smiled, slow and satisfied. "I think you're right, love." He reached across and set the mirror on Miles' table. Around his wrist was a custom transporter, painted in bright colors and untraceable.
Miles ached for Hobie's touch. He would take anything if it meant they were in contact. But he didn't want to come across as awkward. Miles knew Hobie liked him but did Hobie like him? Did he burn and ache for Miles the way Miles did for him? If only Uncle Aaron was around to give him advice.
He heard his parents' voices moments before they entered the tent.
"Uh, mama, dad!" Miles scrambled to his feet, suddenly feeling like he'd been caught doing something wrong. They weren't doing anything wrong but he definitely didn't want his parents around while he…while they…flirted? Were they flirting? "This is Hobie Brown. He's my…my…" Miles faltered. What were they?
"I'm his boyfriend," Hobie filled in, getting to his feet. He shook Mama's hand and said, "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Morales." To dad, Hobie said, "Jeff." And didn't offer his hand.
Dad looked scandalized.
Miles' jaw dropped. Boyfriend?! It sounded amazing. It sounded unbelievable. Should they have talked about this first? Probably. But Miles was more than happy to be Hobie's boyfriend.
Hobie put his arm around Miles' shoulders and squeezed. "Do you mind if I steal Miles for the fireworks?"
Miles wondered if this was the first time Hobie ever asked anyone for permission to do anything. He smiled fondly up at Hobie. Was he okay with the coolest Spiderman ever declaring them boyfriends? Absolutely. Miles turned to his parents and gave them a pleading look. "No one's gonna want their faces painted while the fireworks are happening anyway," he pointed out.
"Alright, go. But you better be home by eleven, Miles," mama said.
Miles grabbed his duffle bag and pulled Hobie out of the tent before his dad could say anything contrary. His hand slid down from Hobies wrist to his hand and suddenly their fingers were laced together. Miles hoped Hobie didn't realize how sweaty and sticky his hand was - it was nerves and excitement and the summer heat all rolled into one - but Miles was sure he'd realize the moment he tried to let go of Miles' hand.
Hobie kept pace with him as they weaved through the crowd. Then he took over the lead, pulling Miles into an alley and up the side of a wall.
They ran up the side of a building and onto a rooftop. No one else was up there except a flock of pigeons, who took off in a flutter of feathers when they arrived.
Miles couldn't help but smile.
Hobie cupped Miles' face in his hands, smiling because Miles was smiling. "Now that I've told your parents we're dating, I suppose we'll have to wait until the appropriate time to fake a breakup."
"I don't want to breakup," Miles said. "I want to paint more of you. Will you let me?" This suddenly felt like a need so great it was detrimental. Miles needed to do this.
"We'll miss the fireworks," Hobie said even as he backed away and peeled off his tank top. He bunched it up, dropped the fabric on the rooftop.
Miles made a noise of wanting in the back of his throat. He's had a crush on Hobie since the moment they met and Hobie visited Miles in his dimension every week. Every single week, without fail, for six months, Hobie had been showing up to spend time with Miles. And Miles fell harder every single visit. "Fireworks are boring," Miles said, eyes glued to Hobie's chest.
Hobie's nipples were pierced and this was so distracting that Miles barely noticed Hobie also had a navel piercing. Hobie caught Miles' eyes and quirked an eyebrow. "See anything you like?"
"So much," Miles agreed as he approached Hobie. "I like everything I see." When he was in front of Hobie, Miles put his arms around Hobie's neck. He had to stand on tiptoe because as much as Miles had grown in the past six months, Hobie had grown just as much. Miles secretly liked how small and petite Hobie's height made him feel.
Hobie placed his hands on Miles' waist, drawing Miles to him and squeezing his hips. His eyes were full of warmth and tenderness as he locked gazes with Miles. Slowly, giving Miles time to back away or say no, Hobie lowered his face toward Miles'.
Miles did not turn away or say no. He surged upward, pressed his lips to Hobie's with an eager whine. He hadn't meant to make that noise but Miles didn't have time to be embarrassed because in the next moment, Hobie was kissing him back.
Hobie kissed Miles sweetly, hotly. His kisses were golden like honey upon Miles' lips. Hobie's breath tasted like cinnamon gum. He held Miles close and tender. His lip ring was so sexy it made Miles dizzy with want.
Fireworks went off in the background, lit up the space behind Miles' eyelids with flashes of color. He opened his eyes only to glimpse Hobie's face through his lashes before letting his eyelids fall closed in bliss. When he kissed Hobie it was like fireworks going off in Miles and that was so cliche it was stupid but Miles loved it.
"Good?" Hobie asked against Miles' lips.
"Perfect," Miles said back and went in for another kiss. There would be time to decorate Hobie in sunflowers later. Afterall, they were still young and they had all the time in the world.