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    Summary

    “I wish I could say half the things you make me want to say,” he answered in a frustrated mumble as he pulled out the first aid kit and handed Miles a little red pill. “Swallow that.”

    “Like what?” the student asked, popping the painkiller onto his tongue and watching as Miguel wound ace bandages around his ankle and foot. The grip that the large, rough hand had on him was reverential and it sent thrills through him.

    “That would defeat the purpose of not saying,” Miguel grumbled, eyes on Miles’ foot.

    “Whatever,” Miles rolled his eyes, swallowing the pill before his mouth curled into a grin. “You know what else I could swallow?”

    Miguel has a very persistent problem on his hands in the form of one of his little soccer students: Miles Morales.

    FlowerFang Week Day 7: Free Space!

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