Chapter Text
Miles has got a new job, and he wants to do it right. That’s all! He runs with the Spider Society now, and he finally gets to spend the time he wanted to with his friends. He's loving all the dimension hopping going on, and containing anomalies is definitely more fun than catching bag-thieves. Not that catching bag-thieves isn't important, just. There are so many of them, and you gotta mix things up every now and then.
All in all, it's a great gig, and he loves being a part of something so big.
He'd love it a whole lot more if his boss didn’t hate him.
“Come on, Miles, he doesn’t hate you,” Gwen tries, unconvincingly, as she swings from one toppling building to another. Easy for her to say, Miguel actually likes her. “He just has a grumpy face!”
Miles shoots her a flat look and dodges a piece of falling debris. “A grumpy face,” he deadpans. “He tried to kill me and he thinks I’m going to destroy the universe.”
Allegedly, he no longer thinks that, but Miles will believe it when the guy stops watching him like he's a time bomb waiting to explode.
Gwen winces, “That was one time!” Yeah, and that's one time too many!
“He does have a grumpy face,” Pavitr comments, joining the group. “By the way, the east side is covered.”
“Got it, thanks Pav,” Gwen lands gracefully on a ledge and squints into the distance. Looks like this universe had an unlucky breakthrough of another dimension’s Green Goblin. Mile ranks this one a ten for its evil cackle and a six for overall danger.
“Guys, did you not see how mad he got last time? I only knocked a statue into the anomaly!”
“Yeah, and got it sent to another dimension, and we had to go get it back. Watch your left.” Pavitr is a far more neutral party in this discussion than Gwen. Miguel regards him with the same level of exacerbation he directs toward most of the younger spiders.
Miles swings out of the way of a flying telephone pole, then another. He doesn’t know where the Goblin’s getting all of them, he doesn’t feel like there are usually so many on one block. He scoffs, “Hobie lost a whole building last week, and Miguel just rolled his eyes!”
Gwen shrugs, “Well, it’s Hobie.”
“Thanks, that makes me feel all better.” He hates that it's actually a good point. Hobie actively disobeys on purpose, and Miguel just mildly disdains him.
"Maybe you and Miguel just need to have a talk," she suggests, indulging his complaints like she hasn't heard them a million times, "a good heart-to-heart, you know? I bet he's one of those 'mean on the outside soft on the inside' types."
Yeah, because last time they talked went super well. Didn't give Miles an existential crisis or anything. "I'm pretty sure there's a lump of coal where his heart's supposed to be, so I wouldn't count on it."
Gwen makes a noise as she lands on a ledge, "Just throwin' things out there."
“Not to change the subject, but we might have to lock in," Pav laments, gesturing in front of him. "We gotta get him out of here before he damages much more.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Miles sighs, popping his neck, “I know. Let's do it.”
They have the Green Goblin cornered in an old parking garage, closing in from all sides. They don’t give him the chance to start talking before they make their move. Gwen has to take an exam in a couple hours, so they’re not allowed to dilly dally.
Pavitr webs one green hand to the wall, followed quickly by two green legs while Gwen starts setting up the containment field.
Miles feels a shiver up his spine as the Goblin’s other hand twitches toward his belt. He jumps forward just as a blade materialize from nowhere, pushing past Pavitr. Miles grunts. He ignores the pain building in his side and grabs the Goblin’s spindly wrist, twisting until the knife drops to the ground.
Man. That’s gonna need stitches probably.
But that’s a worry for another time. “Gwen do you have him yet?”
“Almost… there! Anomaly contained,” Gwen presses a button on her watch and an orange field springs into place. She plants her hands on her hips and they all step back. “Nice job guys.”
They bump fists and open a portal back to Nueve York. They make their way to Miguel’s office to give their report. Usually, people would just submit an online report to LYLA, but since all of them are pretty new, they’re still reporting directly to the big boss so he can make sure they’re doing everything right.
Miles really, really doesn’t like giving reports. Miguel’s office feels oppressive and dark and Miguel always looks at him with a face that says what did you do this time, Morales? and you'd think he's be used to it by now, but he can honestly say it's less scary to get stabbed.
He’s sweating and his side is smarting from the stab wound and he’s nervous. The usual low roll of resentment he feels when he thinks about Miguel is quiet whenever he's actually around, though Miles couldn't tell you why without taking a dive into his feelings, which he absolutely does not want to do. Either way, it's a good thing Gwen always does the talking. Miles is perfectly content to stand in the back and make no noise whatsoever and hope he doesn’t get noticed.
Miles doesn’t hate Miguel or anything, he’s just absolutely terrified of him, and feels sick whenever he’s around. No hard feelings or anything, but the man did try to kill him and was pretty close to succeeding.
So.
Miles does his best to blend into the shadows.
Miguel doesn’t turn around when they enter the room. His hulking frame faces away from them, broad shoulders creating an intimidating outline against the screens in the dim light. Miles swallows and takes off his mask along with the other two.
“The anomaly has been contained,” says Gwen, the picture of composure, “the Green Goblin should be sent back to his original dimension without a problem.”
Miguel turns back a fraction, looking at them out of the corner of his eye. “Good work,” he says, without emotion. Miles sometimes wonders if he even has emotions other than rage and bloodlust. “No complications?”
“None.”
Turning to face them completely, Miguel hums, and Miles feels his chest tighten a little. “Then you’re dismissed.” The three of them start to turn. “Not you, Morales.”
His heart drops and he shares a quick look with Pav and Gwen, Pav gives him a pat and a worried glance before heading out. Gwen leans in close with a frown to whisper, “Want me to stick around?”
Miles smiles, grateful for her concern, but shakes his head. “You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
"Alright, just... make sure to get that looked at, Miles." She gestures to his side and he nods encouragingly. Gwen fixes him with an unsure look, but makes her way out. The door shuts softly after her, leaving him alone with Miguel.
Miles peals his hand away from his bleeding side and tries to put on a relaxed face. It's not even that bad, he can feel the bleeding starting to slow down. But still, thank god his suit is dark. He doesn't feel like getting yelled at for being reckless again. Miles swings his arms by his sides and smiles wide, “Hey, Miguel!” Immediately, he regrets the familiar tone he went with. It just slipped out. Miguel doesn’t respond. “I don’t suppose… this is about the dog from yesterday?”
“Of course this is about the dog, Morales," he snaps. "And don't think you can hide an injury from me. I can smell your blood from here.”
'Cause that's not super creepy at all. Miles wrinkles his nose. "I wasn't trying to-"
"When are you going to stop being so reckless?" Miguel jumps down from his floating platform and the floor shakes with his landing. His face is all sharp angles and deep frowns in the red lighting, his fangs are just visible in a snarl. “What were you thinking?”
"Wait, are we back to the dog thing?" Miguel snarls and Miles shuts right the hell up. His breathing is starting to pick up a little and his chest tense. Miles stands his ground. “I mean,” he smiles nervously, “we finished the mission, right? It’s all good, isn’t it?”
The air starts to feel a little thin as Miguel approaches, hands on his hips and casting shadows as he towers over Miles. But then again, the dizziness might be from the blood loss. He glances around the room, wishing he could just run out the door. Logically, Miles knows Miguel isn’t going to kill him, but their past tells a different, super discouraging story.
Miguel closes in, and Miles falls back a step. “All good?” Miguel growls, “Will you think it’s ‘all good’ when your recklessness gets one of your teammates killed?” Miguel's momentum doesn't slow, and Miles falls back another step. "Will it be 'all good' when a citizen dies because you didn't think your stunt through?"
It takes all the brain power Miles has to hear his words while the room feels like it’s closing in around him. He manages to breathe out an answer even when the words stick in his throat. “No. I’m sorry.”
Miles swallows, waves of frustration lapping at his chest; he hates having to go along with this, getting scolded like a kid. It makes him feel pathetic and small and angry. He hates apologizing when he knows he did the right thing. But he doesn't know what will happen if he doesn't, so he keeps his mouth shut, teeth aching.
“You think that’s good enough?” Miguel bears his fangs again, and Miles can help but flinch this time, heart a hummingbird in his chest, “How many times is this now?”
“But no one got hurt,” Miles says, feeling the ridiculous need to defend himself when he knows it doesn't do any good, “and I wasn’t just gonna let it die!”
“That time!” Miguel roars, and Miles jumps back. “No one got hurt that time! But what about next time? You overstep again, Morales, and you’ll have a lot more to worry about than dogs. Understand?” Miguel places the tip of a claw on Miles’ chest, and he feels like he might pass out. “Vete de aqui.”
“Yes,” he manages to gasp, “I’m sorry.”
Miles practically bolts the second he’s past the office door, chest burning with adrenaline. He opens a portal right to his bedroom at home and snaps it shut behind him. He tries to breathe. He buries his head in his hands for a long while before the pain in his side snaps him out of it.
More often these days, Miles wonders if he’d be better off going solo. Sticking to his own universe and quitting the Spider society. He dismisses the thought every time. The Society is where his friends are, he’s not gonna leave them. And working with them gives him a chance to make impactful change for a lot of people. It's the whole reason he's Spiderman. He can't give that up.
Exhausted and head muddled with emotions, Miles stitches himself up as quickly as possible and slaps a bandage over it so he doesn't get blood on his sheets. It’s sloppy work, but it’ll have to do. The thought of going to the med team right now overwhelms him. He just wants to bury himself in blankets and sleep in his own bed.
He’s gonna have to sew up the suit too, but for now he leaves it in a heap in his closet. He pulls on his pajamas, wincing when the action pull at his side. His bed calls to him, and Miles wants nothing more than to climb in, but he hears the jingle of keys and finds himself in the hallway just after the front door opens.
His mom sighs as she comes through the door and toes off her shoes. She’s still in her scrubs, hair tied loosely and bag hanging from the crook of her elbow. She looks tired. Miles shuffles over to her, body heavy with exhaustion.
“Miles? What’s wrong, mijo?” His mom takes his face between her hands and runs a thumb over his cheekbone.
Miles doesn’t answer, just falls into her arms and stays there for a while. She wraps her arms around him, and waits until he pulls back to ask again.
“It’s nothing, mami,” Miles says, and she knows it’s not the truth. She doesn’t push. “I’m just tired.”