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Hobie had been strumming mindlessly his guitar, sat on his bed, when the sound of a multidimensional portal echoed in front of him. Hobie lifted his head: Miles was standing just out of the open portal. He closed it behind himself. He was wearing his suit and looking a bit roughed up, with dust and scratches all over.
«How bad is it, sunflower?», asked Hobie, already putting down his guitar beside the bed and getting up.
He used his favourite pet name, the one that was born when Hobie had asked Miles his favourite song and Miles had made him listen to it – Hobie didn’t really like it, but Miles had later found a rock cover that made him appreciate it more. When Miles had asked Hobie why he thought “sunflower” fitting as a nickname, he had simply answered «Cah you’re a sunflower» and no prompting had brought him to elaborate. Truth was that Hobie really thought that Miles had all that love to give, similarly to what the song said – even if he didn’t think that being on the receiving hand of Miles’ love could ever be too much; as much as he didn’t think that without someone Miles would “be left in the dust”: he was whole on his own, he was his own person.
«It’s nothing that bad actually», explained Miles, pulling the mask off his head. He was sporting a split lip. «It’d just be the third day in a row I get home like this and mom walked in on me patching myself up the other day. I can’t have her and dad worry more than they’re already doing.»
Hobie hummed in answer, lifting his hands up and letting them hover about his jaw. Miles nodded. Hobie cupped delicately Miles’ face with both hands, using them to make him slowly rotate his head from side to side to better check him. Apart from the split on the right side of his lower lip, he had a little cut on his left temple. He didn’t even have any bruises from the last couple days – probably due to the healing factor having cured them in record time –, but there was still a whole lot to check.
«C’mon, sunflower, suit off», ordered Hobie in a low, gentle voice.
Miles obliged with a little roll of his eyes, ignoring the heat he felt crawling up his neck. Miles could hear the verse in his head – “Crash at my place, baby, you’re a wreck” – as he looked at Hobie examining him from head to toe, from front to back. Yeah, he mustn’t have looked the best – more holdups than one could count, plus a villain of the week per day will make that to a person –, but surely not as bad as he would have looked once. Now sixteen, Miles had fought his fair share of villains who had taught him how to better himself – the Spot in their multidimensional adventure had been an especially big lesson in that.
«You’re right, you’re not too bad, but you’ve to shower and then I’ve cuts to disinfect and a couple that I need to bandage as well», stated Hobie, getting up from the crouch he had taken to check Miles’ right calf and going toward his dresser.
«Hey, man, that’s not necessary at all, I just need a couple band-aids and a couple hours to be sure nobody’s at home and I’ll be out of your hair», protested Miles turning towards Hobie, his arms up at his chest level, hands moving from one side to the other frantically.
«I don’t wanna you “out of my hair”», responded Hobie, putting a big towel, a microfibre towel and a pair of boxers in Miles’ arms. He took him by the shoulders and turned him toward the door, gently and firmly pushing him through it. «Y’know where the bathroom is, go shower. Or d’you want me to help?»
Miles turned at that and saw Hobie lift his eyebrows and smirk. He felt heat rise in his cheeks, neck and ears. He quickly turned his head to look in front of himself.
«Aite, aite, whatever, Imma shower, but not 'cause you told me to», said Miles, scurrying to the other side of the hallway and through the bathroom threshold. He quickly closed the door behind himself and leaned into it with his back, left hand pressed against the surface while the right held the towels and underwear to his chest. His heart was beating rapidly. Hobie was just joking around, it was not a serious proposal, he told himself, it was stupid to feel so nervous over what he had said.
Miles peeled himself off the door and put down the things Hobie had lent him on the space on the right of the sink. He undressed and got in the shower. He borrowed Hobie’s products, noticing how there were some hair specific ones that had to be for when Gwen and Pavitr stopped by – which served him as a reminder that he wasn’t special, he was just one of Hobie’s friends, and that Hobie’s previous comment was nothing he should be fretting about so much. Miles washed as quickly as possible and got out of the shower. He dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist and then used the microfibre one on his hair. He put the boxers on and opened the door.
«Hobes, where are your hair products?»
Hobie, who had returned to his strumming, put the guitar down once again and entered the bathroom. He opened the cabinet on the left of the sink, extracting three different containers and placing them next to the basin.
«Want me to do your hair, Brooklyn?», asked Hobie.
«What?!», squeaked Miles. Hobie couldn’t have just said what he thought he had heard.
«Want me to do your hair?», repeated Hobie, his lips forming a lopsided smirk. «I jus’ spent a couple days doing bugger all while you were ‘round hero-ing, you can let someone take care of you for a little while.»
Miles pouted a little, thinking about it.
«C’mon, it’ll be relaxing, like being at the salon», carried on Hobie, placing his hands on Miles' shoulders.
«If you want so much to, knock yourself out», allowed Miles with a roll of his eyes and a little smile.
With a smile of his own, Hobie took out from under the sink a stool with his right bare foot and used his hands – still placed on Miles’ shoulders – to push him to sit down. Miles watched in the mirror as Hobie took the first flacon and poured a little quantity of its content on his left palm, put down the bottle and massaged the substance between his hands. Then his fingers were in his hair, gently applying the product with movements going from the roots to the ends. Miles couldn’t help but close his eyes. Hobie had been right, it was really relaxing. It was nice having someone else – someone he cared about and trusted – doing his hair, it reminded him of when his mother used to do it when he was a kid; it was sending little shivers down from where Hobie’s hands were touching to his back and limbs. His mami’s words – those said to him under a cistern what felt like so long ago – came to mind. When he had gotten out into the world it hadn’t loved and rooted for him, but Hobie? Hobie had been on his side from moment one; with him he felt safe, not only in this moment, but always. Maybe it wasn’t what his mom had meant, but he was keeping his promise in a way: her boy felt nothing but loved as of right now.
«Cream or oil?», asked Hobie’s voice at his back, not taking his hands away from Miles' hair, his movements slow.
Miles cracked an eye open with a little questioning murmur.
«Cream or oil first, sunflower?», repeated Hobie, with another lopsided smirk that said he had noticed how Miles was unwinding under his touch as he had predicted.
«Cream», answered Miles, who tried to ignore the heat rising in his neck, face and ears. He hoped Hobie couldn’t feel it.
Miles closed his eyes once again and let himself be lulled by the sounds of Hobie opening another bottle and squeezing out some product; then it was all about the sensation of Hobie’s fingers in his hair. It was amazing being reminded, close and personal, how those big hands – so used to force and violence – could be this tender and careful. He tried to ignore his traitorous brain whispering to him that this was a thing that Hobie couldn’t be doing with Gwen and Pavitr too. He loved his other friends dearly, but the little spark of something different in Hobie’s regards wouldn’t be ignored and wouldn’t stop him from hoping that Hobie could feel the same. It was a ridiculous idea, Miles knew, nobody half as cool as Hobie would ever like Miles in that way; Miles still found absurd that Hobie was his friend in the first place.
Suddenly Miles perceived the presence behind him come closer and felt Hobie’s front press flush against his own back. He opened his eyes wide and met the other’s unflinching gaze in the mirror, while his arms were encircling Miles.
«Hair’s done, hun», he told him, opening the faucet and washing his hands, eyes never leaving Miles’ own. Lost in the sensation and in his thoughts Miles must have missed Hobie applying the third product as well.
Miles once again hoped Hobie’s proximity didn’t let him feel the heat that was slithering under his skin. He had to swallow a couple time under that inscrutable stare, before being able to speak.
«Thanks, man.»
«Time to crack on with your wounds», added Hobie, drying his hands without breaking the circle of his arms around Miles. He moved left to the cabinet once again, putting away the hair products and taking out the disinfectant, a package of cotton balls and some gauze. He took a cotton ball out and applied some disinfectant on it, then he started cleaning the cuts Miles had on his back. It was a quick process, mostly focused on the area under Miles’ right shoulder blade.
«A’ight, back’s done», Hobie informed him. Miles turned, having the sink on his right now.
«Thanks, man», he repeated, extending his hands toward the medical tool. Hobie shook his head.
«Told you I was going to do it.»
Miles watched him blinking for some seconds as he dabbed at the cuts on his face – which in the mirror had looked healed enough already to Miles. He remembered the words Hobie had told him before sending him to shower; he hadn’t thought he had meant them literally.
«Dude, don’t worry, you don’t have to», protested Miles, trying to get the cotton ball out of Hobie’s grasp, who in response lifted his arm over his head, using the little height advantage he still had on Miles.
«I want to», rebutted Hobie. «If you didn’t wanna be helped, you shouldn’t’ve come here.»
Miles didn’t know what to answer to that; he chose to pout then, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Hobie smirked lopsidedly, knowing he had won. He gently took Miles’ right arm by the wrist and started disinfecting his wounds, turning it this way and that to reach any and all scraps he had. He did the same with his left arm. He then crouched down.
«Make space for me», requested Hobie, tapping the inside of Miles’ right kneecap with his left index finger.
Miles opened his eyes so wide he was sure they were going to pop out. He stared at Hobie for a couple seconds, unsure he had understood correctly, despite the non-verbal message being clear to him – they had by now fine-tuned communicating without words. When Hobie only watched him back – still tapping on his knee like he was keeping the time of a song only he could hear –, Miles spread his legs. Hobie slotted himself in between them and went on dabbing at the wounds on his torso. Miles felt pretty aflame at this point; he was surprised Hobie hadn’t asked him if he was running a fever, all up close and personal as he had gotten he must have been feeling the increase in Miles’ body temperature. What Hobie did though was turning around and sitting cross-legged between Miles’ legs, moving on to disinfect them. When he was done, he stretched out his right arm over the sink, putting down the cotton ball and taking a piece of gauze.
«Okay, this is really unnecessary!», protested Miles. «I ain’t got anything that need bandages.»
«You’ve got some pretty nice slashes on your right calf, mate, like someone grabbed at you with claws», pointed out Hobie. «Was Miguel at you again and you didn’t call me?»
«Nah, 'twas just Black Cat», answered Miles with a shrug. «Tried to catch me while taunting her, but she barely got at me.»
Hobie got on his feet and turned around once again – without leaving the space between Miles’ legs –, this once taking Miles’ left arm and starting to bandage the upper part.
Miles went on: «Still, here you are. I know we're friends, but I could have done this on my own; I just really needed a place to crash for a couple hours. I didn’t need all this babysitting, man.»
«Baby-sitting? Is this what you think this is?», asked Hobie, his composure fractured for a second by his raised eyebrows, piercings gleaming.
«Yeah, man, you’re older and shit, so you must feel like a big brother babysitting his little one. Why else would you be doing this?»
There it was, one of Miles’ biggest fears out in the open: that Hobie only helped him out of some sense of duty that he felt because he saw him like a kid. Hobie stood up straight. Looking in his eyes, another verse went off in Miles’ head: “Fightin’ for my trust and you won’t back down/Even if we gotta risk it all right now”. There was an uncertainty in Hobie’s gaze so unusual Miles felt like he was on the thinnest of ice, like that simple query had brought into question their entire friendship. Hobie looked about to say what was tormenting him, when he took a look at Miles’ entire form, widened his eyes, and then abruptly turned his back on him, striding toward his bedroom.
«Come, mate, you've to dress. Pretty sure you left some of your tings here the last few times», he called from the other room. He said it like it wasn’t obvious, considering the amount of time Miles spent hanging around at his place; like Hobie himself didn’t leave clothes and notebooks full of music and guitar picks and hair ties and whatnot in Miles’ dorm room or bedroom – Miles purposely ignored the thought that as much didn’t happen with Gwen and Pav.
Bemused, Miles obeyed more out of habit.
«I ain't having this conversation while you’re almost starkers», he heard Hobie mumble under his breath while rummaging in the wardrobe.
He threw Miles a pair of black knee-length tracksuit shorts and a t-shirt with one of van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” printed on the front; Miles quickly put them on while Hobie was closing the wardrobe. Once again Hobie looked at him with that uncharacteristic insecurity that compelled Miles to take a couple steps forward to him.
«Hey, 'sfine», he reassured Hobie, placing his hands on his upper arms and slowly stroking them from up to down and vice versa. «If something’s weighing on your mind you know you can tell me.»
The uncertainty still didn’t leave Hobie’s eyes, but he made a little smile.
«Always so thoughtful, darlin’», he murmured, delicately grabbing at Miles’ arms in turn. He took a deep, shaky breath. «I don’t see it as baby-sitting, cah it doesn’t feel like a duty, it’s something I want to do. And I want to do it cah what I feel for you isn’t what a big brother feels. I may've got sibling feelings for Gwendy and Pav, but not for you.»
Miles felt both relieved and dejected at the same time by does words. Did Hobie not love him in a personal way? Did he care for him just like another Spider-Man charge?
«What I mean», clarified Hobie, like he was reading Miles’ running thoughts, «is that I fancy you, sunflower. I know you probably still fancy Gwendy: there’s no problem, I won’t hold it against you. The fact that you now know doesn’t have to change a thing if you don’t want it to. I don’t want you to feel in any obligation to requite me or change your way of being jus’ cah of my feelings. Jus' shut me down gently, a’ight?»
Miles had stilled in his comforting movements the moment he had heard the word “fancy”: he just couldn’t believe that Hobie fucking Brown had uttered that word regarding him. The sad lopsided little smile that accompanied Hobie’s last words though put him back into action. He gently and firmly cradled Hobie’s jaw in his hands.
«How could I ever shut you down? I’ve stopped liking Gwen ages ago. I like you as well, Hobie, I was afraid you were gonna shut me down.»
Hobie’s eyes widened and a full-on smile bloomed on his face; immediately his arms sneaked their way from Miles’ own arms to around his waist, bringing him straight into Hobie’s chest, who bent his head the little inches they had left in difference to completely engulf Miles in his presence.
«God, luv, you’ve jus’ made me the most chuffed person in all the universes», murmured Hobie from next to his right temple.
«We've just gotten together and you’re already calling me “luv”?», laughed Miles, with a poor imitation of Hobie’s accent. He was actually feeling heat rise all under his skin at the simple pet name, but at this point he couldn’t care less, especially he couldn’t care less if Hobie took notice.
«And you’re already calling us an item, luv, when all we did was confess we fancy each other», chuckled Hobie in turn.
«Am I wrong though?», asked Miles, with the slightest touch of fear Hobie could have wanted them to take it slow or to have something more casual than a steady relationship.
«Not if I’ve got anything to say ‘bout it», answered Hobie, placing a kiss on Miles’ temple and straightening without freeing him completely from his embrace. Hobie smiled down at him. «I’ve been waiting a long while to call you “luv”, now that I’m free to do so there’ll be nothing stopping me from saying it, luv.»
And, oh, the moment that little term of endearment left Hobie’s lips Miles could see all the caring poured into it in his eyes.
«No stopping you from this side, babe», replied Miles, giving a try of his own at the pet name thing.
«“Babe”?», asked Hobie, raising his right eyebrow, piercing gleaming at the movement. «I kinda like it when it’s you saying it.»
Hobie smirked and Miles couldn’t help but kiss it right off his face, now that he could. It was just a little peck, that either way made Hobie widen his eyes. Miles worried for a second he had been too forward, that it was too early, that he should have waited, but then Hobie’s lips were once again on his and, ah, maybe he was wrong once again; he could live with being wrong if it meant this.
One of the first things Miles noticed was Hobie’s lip piercing: it wasn’t as cold as Miles had imagined, warmed by Hobie’s own body heat, but it wasn’t has hot as the rest of his mouth, and the different consistency and texture were something interesting, that he liked. Miles started with little movements, guided just the littlest by Hobie’s own. It was a completely new territory for him, but Hobie knew that and let him take his sweet time in learning and exploring. When he felt ready, Miles took some more courage and opened his mouth, licking at Hobie’s piercing – like he had dreamed of doing more than once. He felt Hobie’s hands dig into his waist, pressing them closer, and the shudder that passed through him. With a touch of mischief Miles repeated the action. This time he was rewarded with a panted «Sunflower» against his lips. He straight up giggled – such was the effect of having one Hobie Brown at his mercy – and then nipped at Hobie’s lower lip. The reaction was a silent gasp, that Miles used to slip the tip of his tongue into Hobie’s mouth. From there Miles’ exploration only went farther, bringing him to bury his hands at the base of Hobie’s hair. Miles happily licked into Hobie’s mouth till he chose to part from him to take a little breath, not without Hobie trailing behind Miles’ lips as they left his, like he didn’t care for breathing if it meant having Miles away from him. Miles was pretty sure he could never get enough of the sensation of kissing him either. They rested their foreheads against one another’s.
«You’re gonna be the end of me, luv», murmured Hobie in the little space between them.
Miles giggled once more, leaving another peck to Hobie’s lips. There were a lot of things he could get used to, first and foremost that now he could kiss Hobie Brown whenever he wanted.