Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“No, no, it’s like … she was bad for you ,” Xina said, sloshing her cup around and splattering it all over the coffee table, “ both of you!”

She probably would not have been quite so vehement if she were sober. But she wasn’t – she really wasn’t. For probably the first time in 4 years, she’d convinced Miguel to play hooky from work on a Friday – and more importantly, convinced him to pick up a bottle of wine from the Twencen dimension he was mentoring in. And now, Xina and Gabriel kinda sauced at 1pm on a work day while Miguel grumpily supervised . Xina was rapidly losing the ability to not be petty about her ex-boyfriend’s ex-and-also-dead fiancée.

“Xina, come on…” Miguel said, “Don’t do this. She’s – she’s dead, okay? It’s over.”

“She’s dead, yeah!” Xina said, “So we can say it out loud! Dana sucked! And I – I don’t care if she’s dead! She was awful!”

“Xina…” said Gabriel, opening another bottle, “can we maybe wait for the full year anniversary before we go dancing on her grave?”

“Miguel, she cheated on you with your boss – father – dad boss!” 

“We were – we were kinda … things were falling apart by then and she didn’t know Stone’s my dad,” Miguel said, catching his lip on his fang when he closed his mouth. 

“Are you seriously defending her ? ” said Xina, sitting up and leaning over to the chair Miguel was slouching in. She mushed at his mouth until his lip unstuck from his tooth. He didn’t move to stop her.

“I don’t know.” Miguel said, chin vaguely following Xina’s hand when she pulled it away, “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Shock me – Gabe, back me up! Dana was a garbage person and now she’s a dead garbage person.”

“Digo …”

“Seriously, Gabri? You were also engaged to her,” said Miguel.

Gabriel snorted, “Ch’yeah, hasta que me cuerneo con – “

“With me, I know, on Xina, why are we relitigating this?” Miguel asked, slumping against the chair, miserably. “Ya sé, no valgo madres and I’m a shock-up and…” Miguel trailed off, “I don’t wanna hear this all again right now.”

“Oh my shocking God , Mig, it’s not always about you,” Xina said, sighing. 

“Gabri just said ‘ hasta que me cuerneo con’ so it’s a little about me,” said Miguel.

“... Yeah, yeah. But. … Shock, what was I gonna say?” said Xina, muttering to herself.

“You know what it was like when – when she left me? Was –”

“A horrible betrayal by your brother?” said Miguel.

“Oh my God ,” said Xina, standing – and stumbling over the table a little, “jus’ stop being such a martyr! We get iiiiit.”

“I’m Spider-Man. Martyring’s the whole mmf ,” said Miguel, getting cut off when Xina crawled on to the arm of the chair he was sitting in and pressed a hand over his mouth. 

“Stop.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and let Xina push him deeper into the chair as she situated her legs in his lap.

“Gabriel, sorry, you were going to talk some shit?”

“Yes, thank you Xina,” said Gabriel, raising his bottle in her direction, “I was saying …Ay, ¿qué iba a decir?"

“Dana?”

“Oh yeah…” Gabriel said, then he sighed, “I don’t know. She wasn’t … she wasn’t nice to me? Not only because of the …” Gabriel trailed off and gestured to Miguel, who still had Xina’s hand pressed over his mouth. “I just mean she … made me feel bad without actually doing anything? It was just all this… this pressure to – to .. make her – make her… hacerla feliz – but nothing was ever – ” Gabriel cut himself off and shook his head, “I – I don’t want to talk about this anymore either, Xina.”

Xina groaned, “Fine. But we’re putting a pin in this.”

“Why?” 

“Because Dana died in front of us, Miguel, and maybe I need help processing my feelings over still hating her!” Xina half-shouted.

Gabriel and Miguel both fell silent – well, Miguel still had Xina’s hand over his mouth and apparently was perfectly happy with it, since he hadn’t tried to talk again or move her hand away.

Xina took a sip of her wine.

“You can still hate her,” Miguel said around Xina’s hand, “It’s complicated for us.”

“I guess she didn’t gloat about stealing your shit-for-brains boyfriend to you.”:

“... I guess not.”

"How do we even deal with this?" said Xina.

"Maybe you should try getting into street fights with Flyboys and costumed freaks?" said Gabriel, dully, "That's what we do." 

 "Is that working for either of you?" said Xina.

 Neither Miguel nor Gabriel answered.

–

Miles wasn’t expecting anyone to be at Miguel’s apartment when he steps through the portal – he was vaguely aware of Miguel’s work schedule and, to be honest, just wanted to sulk for a while. 

He was having kind of a bad day. 

It wasn’t just the crappy test score he’d gotten back today, (he was glad it was a Wednesday and could wait till friday to explain the 68% score on that bio test to his parents when they had to sign it – wait, maybe he could get Miguel to sign it? No, no, bad idea to show that score to a guy with several biology-related doctorates) and it wasn’t just the wicked, icy January wind whipping through the city that cut right through the material of his suit, freezing him solid and sending him tumbling like a plastic bag through the air … it was also the volleyball he’d gotten hit with in gym class. And he wasn’t even playing .

He’d frozen – and it had nothing to do with the horrible -10 weather – when he saw the volleyball speeding toward his face. Well, not frozen … more like been paralyzed with choice. He could dodge it, but would that be too agile and get people suspicious? Or he could hit it back – and again, look too cool, too Spider-Man-y? And what if he hit it too hard and sent it cratering into the opposite wall? Or he could just move a little and kinda get hit but not really and – well, by then it was too late and he’d taken it square in the nose and looked like an idiot in front of all his classmates. Again. So, red-faced (and bloody-nosed), he fled from the gym and then the universe altogether. 

The apartment was not empty. 

Miguel was there, slouched in one of the chairs. A woman was sitting on the arm of the chair with her legs in Miguel’s lap, one hand pressed over Miguel’s mouth. Another person, a man, was seated on the couch. The coffee table was wet with splashed wine from an empty bottle that lay on its side. 

He stared at the group. They stared back in silence.

Then the woman spun around and ungagged Miguel, lifting her arms up in triumph!

“S’you!! You’re the – the – the kid! From the universe! You’re Mig’s — uh, uh – you’re the Spider-Kid!”

“Spider-Kid?” said Miles. 

“You’re his Daniel-san!”

“His who?”

“Oh, you’re … the guy,” the Not-Miguel man said, snapping his fingers, “Mark, Mitch…”

“Miles,” said Miguel, leaning around the woman, “What’re you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?”

“Uh – why aren’t you at work?” Miles said, evasively.

“Are you – bleeding? Why’re you bleeding?” Miguel stood up suddenly, upsetting the chair slightly and making the woman fall into the seat with a yelp. “Did somebody attack you?”

“No – “

“Who was it? That little cabrón with the – the –  ¿La gorra?” Miguel growled, taking a step forward.

“No! I got hit with a volleyball – what cabrón with a hat?”

“LYLA?” Miguel called out, “Volleyball or cabrón?”

LYLA flickered up next to Miles from his watch.

“Volleyball,” she said, spreading her hands in the air and projecting a screen – that showed Miles getting slammed in the face with the volleyball. 

Miles cringed as it looped him getting smacked over and over – he really didn’t want Miguel to see this and wanted the two strangers he was with to see it even less. 

“Okay, okay, LYLA, they get it!” Miles said, as he waved his hands through LYLA’s projection. 

“Who hit it?” Miguel said.

“Dylan Park,” said LYLA, projecting a looping video of Dylan’s very impressive spike. 

“Alright, where’s this kid live?”

“You’re not beating up a high schooler!” the man sitting on the couch said. 

“He – he didn’t mean to, he didn’t even laugh when it hit me.”

Miguel scowled for a moment and then slumped his shoulders, “ Fine, I won’t … beat up the high schooler. Why aren’t you at school, kid?” 

“Because I got hit with a volleyball in front of all my classmates! Why are you home at 1pm on a Friday with drunk houseguests and not at work?”

“Because I – .” Miguel shrugged, “I got hit with 20 years of bad decisions, I don’t know. Sit down, I’ll get you some ice.”

Miguel turned and stalked to the kitchen, leaving Miles alone with the two strangers.

“Hi,” said the woman, eyes bright and grinning excitedly.

“This’s uh – Xina an’ my brother, Gabriel,” Miguel said over his shoulder as he rooted around in the freezer, “We built the dimension gizmo together.”

“Hi,” the woman – Xina – said again, staring unblinkingly at Miles as he sat in the unoccupied chair. 

“Hi…?” said Miles.

“She’s excited because you’re a twencen kid,” said the man – Gabriel. Him being Miguel’s brother made a lot of sense – he looked uncannily like him, nearly as tall but with skinnier shoulders and softer, friendlier features.

“Twencen?” Miles said, looking away from Xina.

“Twentieth century and the couple of decades around it,” said Miguel, slapping the bag of frozen peas onto Miles' face, “Xina’s a little obsessed.” 

Miles sputtered for a second and pulled the frozen bag away from his face. 

“Dude, since when do you have food in your freezer?”

Miguel dropped down on the couch next to Gabriel, “I found it in the freezer when I moved in, I don’t think it’s classified as food anymore – Xina, stop staring.”

“I’m not!” Xina said, staring at Miles.

Miles stared back over the bag of frozen peas.

“So,” Miguel said, “Volleyball?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Miles, slightly muffled by the peas, “I just uh … can we talk about this later, maybe?”

“¡Ay, que no te de pena!” said Gabriel, putting his feet on the coffee table and accidentally kicking the bottle – Miguel webbed it just in time to stop it smashing and shot his brother a dirty look. “We know Miguel and he’s gotten into way stupider stuff than you have.”

“That’s true,” Miguel said, walking over to the kitchen and dropping the bottle into some kind of humming hole in the counter, “but leave the kid alone, alright?”

“Fine, we’ll talk about stupid stuff you’ve done,” Xina said, smirking. 

Miguel sighed heavily from the kitchen. 

“Seriously – what’s he been getting up to?” said Xina, settling back in the chair.

“Uh. He bit a drone? I think LYLA’s got a video?”

“¡¿ Seas mamón ?! ” said Gabriel, barking out a laugh and spinning to look at Miguel in the kitchen.

There was a distant thud as Miguel thunked his head against the fridge.

“I’m definitely letting that thing hit you next time!”

“Empty threat!” said Miles.

Chapter Text

“Exactly how often do you come to my apartment when I’m not here?” Miguel said, once he’d managed to get Gabriel and Xina to leave to get ‘ snacks or whatever ’ at the bodega in the base level of the apartment building. 

“Uh,” said Miles, “Sometimes?”

Miguel frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“So – Xina! Seems nice! What’s, uh - what’s with you guys?”

“Xina? What do you mean?” Miguel said, way too casually.

“She was sitting in your lap, man,” said Miles.

“She wasn’t.”

“She basically was.”

“Okay, well, what’s with you and Gwen?”

Oh shit oh shit abort abort abort.

“Gwen? I – psh, I mean, nothing, you – you said I can’t go see her! Because of – universe stuff, so nothing is going on with us!” Miles said, trying to sound as unscrambled as possible.

“Three weeks,” said Miguel.

“... What?”

“Three weeks, I think we’ll be done with the new watch. The portal’s more stable, doesn’t do any damage to the multiverse. Won’t need a watch to go through and you shouldn’t be able to glitch inside if you’re not wearing one.”

“So … I can go see Gwen?” Miles said, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears and a smile breaking over his face.

“Yeah – so, what’s with you?”

“Man – nothing! Shut up!” Miles said, “You obviously see Xina all the time.”

“And what’s with me and Xina is way less important that why you’re in my universe instead of in class.”

Miles sighed, embarrassed, “You saw the volleyball.”

“I did.”

“And it hit me.”

“Uh huh.”

“I … just froze,” said Miles, “I didn’t know if I should hit it back or dodge it or – because Spider-Man, he can do all those things! Spider-Man doesn’t get hit by volleyballs! But nobody’s allowed to know I’m Spider-Man and if I dodge it, is that too Spider-Man-y? Is hitting it back too cool for Miles Morales to do? And then I just kinda got stuck thinking about it and… that’s when the ball hit me and that’s why I’m here.”

“Right,” said Miguel, “I get it.”

“... So?”

“So…? I’m sorry that happened? I’m … sure your classmates won’t remember it?”

“No – man, what should I do next time?”

“Oh,” said Miguel, “I don’t know, getting hit by the ball was probably your best option.”

“Seriously?”

“Kid, the whole secret identity thing is full of stuff like this. I’m not saying it’s easy or comfortable but you don’t really have a choice. You have to hide being Miles when you’re Spider-Man and hide being Spider-Man when you’re Miles.”

Miles groaned and slumped on the couch, “This sucks. I just gotta let myself look like an idiot for the rest of my life? Is that what you do?”

“No, I wear drop crotch sweatpants because I think they look cool,” Miguel said, rolling his eyes, “Not because I’m trying to get people to ignore my weird spider-build.”

“Spider-build lets you run on all fours, though, that’s cool.”

“Whether or not that’s cool depends mainly on your tolerance for your brother’s housecat jokes,” said Miguel.

“... Speaking of, they’ve been gone, uh, a while. Should we… go look for them?” said Miles.

“You just want to see what Nueva York looks like.”

“Dude, there’s palm trees down there! What the fuck!”

Miguel sighed, “Yeah, alright, let’s go find my brother –”

“And your girlfriend.”

Miguel glared Miles and shook his head, “Do not .”

“Alright, alright …” Miles held his hands up.

“I mean it, especially not in front of her.” 

“She was sitting in your lap.”

“We have a complicated history and…” Miguel said, then trailed off when he saw Miles smirking. He grumbled and stalked to the door, “... Ya Cállate. ”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, well, you were thinkin’ it…”

The elevator downstairs was appropriately futuristic and video-gamey – albeit the walls were lined with screens blinking advertisements, all of which were for Alchemax products. Since when did Alchemax make food? Or – kitchen appliances? Or pants? … Well, since when was probably some time between 2019 and 2099. Eventually, the screen shifted away from ads and flickered to public service announcements. 

A familiar mask appeared on the screen, frozen mid-attack on the camera, followed by a dozen other photos of various levels of clarity and angles and a few looping videos.

"Wanted: Individual known as “Spider-Man” , the screen read.

Reward for information leading to individual’s capture.

Height: Approximately 7”0

Weight: Estimated 250 to 350.

Suspected mutate. 

Do not approach - considered dangerous.

And at the bottom, the chyron scrolled through the various crimes – including murder.

Miguel stiffened a little when Miles looked up at him. His shoulders were hunched and he had the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, looking extremely not Spider-Man-shaped

“Spider-Man’s wanted for murder?”

“You knew that already,” said Miguel, staring forward.

“Kind of different when it’s on a screen with a million other crimes.”

“What Alchemax calls murder is called self-defense to anyone else, unless you don’t consider mutates to be people . If somebody killed Spider-Man, they wouldn’t call it murder. It’d be “destruction of company asset” or something.”

Miles winced and the screen shifted to another Public Service video – a man in a green, demonic mask gliding on purple wings. The chryon read much the same as Spider-Man’s had, albeit without anything about being a mutate. One of the looping videos had Spider-Man in the background, dodging out of frame just after the Goblin did. They weren’t fighting – in fact, they seemed to be on the same side.

“You have a Green Goblin? And he – teams up with Spider-Man?”

“Sometimes,” Miguel said, “When he’s, you know, not drunk in the middle of the day and taking half an hour to buy a bag of pretzels.” 

Miles boggled. Gabriel?

“He – “ Miles started.

Miguel held up a hand, “Long story. Brain implant interfacing with a chip in the mask planted by dead ex-fiancee’s sister.  – don’t worry about it.”

“Dead ex – Wait, whose? His or –”

 “Ehh, both?” Miguel said, awkwardly. 

“What the fuck!”

“This is also why I said Xina and I have a complicated history.”

“Man, what did you do ?”

“Long story,” Miguel said as the elevator dinged and opened up to the ground floor.

A small crowd was gathered outside the building’s indoor bodega, watching a large screen that showed a live feed of some kind of attack elsewhere in the city.

Doc Ock was attacking – and not the Doc Ock that Miles was familiar with. For one thing – this one was definitely a robot and for another, he looked entirely out of place in this world. Like a paper cutout. This didn’t seem to be hindering him any as an arm swung a car into the crowd of armed cops surrounding him.

Xina turned as soon as Miguel stepped off the elevator and headed straight for them. Gabriel followed her.

“Is this like – “ Xina nodded to Miles “With the green thing and the pixels?” 

Miguel nodded, glaring at the screen. He turned to Gabriel, “You still drunk?” 

“I’m fine,” said Gabriel.

Miguel looked at Xina for confirmation – Gabriel scoffed.

“He’s…fine,” Xina said, then leaned in and talked quietly, “You should get him downtown so you can take him back home without the Public Eye seeing. They’re not far from where Valhalla landed. Try and get him inside – I’ll let my contacts know to clear the area.”

Miguel nodded once and turned back to the elevator, followed by Gabriel and Miles when both brothers turned to him expectantly.

Miles hurriedly followed.

—

As interesting as the Papercraft Doc Ock looked … he was kind of a dull fight. Miguel’s talons cut his arms like a paper shredder and he was webbed up quickly enough, once they’d dragged him Downtown. Miles’ quick tour of the city was a little more violent then he’d been hoping. Uptown had been blindingly clean and artificial and Downtown…

“Do you guys do most of your vigilante stuff down here?” said Miles as they waited for Miguel to return from dropping the Doc Ock back in his own weird craft world.

“It needs more help than Uptown, usually,” said Gabriel, “Uptown’s got problems, sure, but the Public Eye – who generally try and shoot us both on sight – are around. Downtown’s got roaming cannibal Indie Mutate gangs, murderous Black Card kids from Uptown looking for a thrill and people too poor to get out. They need our help more.”

“Is it making a difference?” said Miles.

Gabriel hummed, “I dunno. We’re only two guys and this is, you know, systemic. But a bandaid’s better than an open wound, right?”

“I guess,” said Miles.

A few minutes passed in silence.

Miles turned again to Gabriel, “So. You’re the Green Goblin?” 

“Yep,” said Gabriel.

“Spider-Man said it… was a long story?”

“Yeah, you know… Cheating ex-fiancee, sibling rivaly, brain-washing chip, cycle of abuse,” Gabriel said, “Long story!”

Miles raised an eyebrow at Gabriel, “Cheating, dead ex-fiancee?”

Gabriel had trouble meeting Miles’ eye, “Uh – look, we had kind of shitty homelife and, uh, Miggy wasn’t the best in his early 20s?”

Miles paused, “... Be honest, was Miguel like … a supervillain before he became Spider-Man? Because I’m starting to get the full picture here and…”

The bright geometric portal started to glow and Miguel stepped through, “Supervillain implies superpowers. I was just an asshole.”

“You were right on the edge,” said Gabriel, “You could’ve gone either way once you got spidered.”

“Don’t call it that,” said Miguel, then apparently pushed the thought aside, “We need to figure out how many of these out of universe villains are showing up. If they’re showing up in other dimensions besides ours, that might be a problem.”

“How big a problem?” said Gabriel.

“Collapse of the fabric of space-time problem,” Miguel said, shooting a strand of webline away from the alcove of whatever the Valhalla Building was, “So – we should probably keep an eye on that.”

“And by we you mean me and Xina, who do all the watch programming, right?” said Gabriel.

“Atta boy. Whoever said you weren’t as smart as me, huh?” said Miguel, and he jumped out of the alcove and swung away.

Gabriel sighed, “Don’t let him tell you he only used to be an asshole, alright?” 

The wings of the Goblin suit hummed to life and Gabriel and Miles took off after Miguel.