Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

And all the other jewels around me | They astounded me at first
I covered up my heart in boundaries | And all the fakes they called me cursed
But I'm not cursed, I'm not cursed | I was just covered in dirt.

Solitaire – Marina and the Diamonds 

By some stroke of miracle, he managed to save some lives in this utter destruction. But there were so many others who weren’t going home. And this was his burden and guilt to carry.

Miles doesn’t know how to feel after this. Yes, they defeated the Spot and saved his dad, for which he was grateful for…but the sting was still there. And he didn’t know who to trust other than Hobie, Pavitr, and Margo. They were the only ones who helped him from the start.

"Miles wait!" someone called out, almost begged. A lithe ghost dressed in white and black. Her suit was ripped in some places, but she was still standing. 

He turned his back on her and the elite Spider Society, a place that he knew he’d never belong, no matter how hard he tried.

You don't belong here. You never did. 

After being chased by Miguel and his followers, Miles made a vow to never cross paths with them. 

With a silent nod at the three Spiders he trusted the most, Miles swung out of the mess, using the dust cloud and the setting sun as his cover.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Pavitr asked in a concerned voice, looking at Hobie.

“I reckon he’ll be,” Hobie said in a pensive tone, “It’ll take a while. But he’ll be alright.”

“I hope so,” Margo said, glimmering in the dusk.

After the battle he went back home and told his parents everything, from the beginning to whatever this was. He told them about the spider, how it came from another dimension. He told them about Gwen…and the others. And then he told them about the Spider Society and the man leading it.

His parents listened patiently. Across from the table, his mother held his hands in both hers, her warm brown eyes watching him with concern and pain when he told them about canon events and how they were happy to let Jeff Morales die, about being the original anomaly, and about how he wasn’t meant to be Spider-Man.

His father rested his arms on Miles’ shoulder, keeping his boy close to him.

“Míjo,” his mother said softly, “I-I really am so sorry this happened to you.”

“You don’t need to apologise, Mámi,” Miles said softly, “It was never your fault. You-you were right - about everything. I don't belong there. I-I’ve already decided – I’m going to stay here. I’m not going to Princeton. I-I don’t care about the multiverse.”

“That’s why you wanted to study quantum physics,” Jefferson said quietly, “You wanted to see them.”

Miles nodded slowly.

“But not anymore,” he said resolutely.

Chapter Text

Early bird catches the worm is what the people tell me
Put on a face, put on a suit and then you'll be someone
I live for fun, live for one, live for little wonders

11:57 - Elemeno P

Being Spider-Man and Miles Morales was all about time-management and maintaining his work-school-life balance. It was about finding a routine, which he mercifully did now that he only had to focus on his universe and didn’t have to think about…them.

His roomie, Ganke, didn’t ask any questions when he came back. As with his parents, Miles told him everything – he was his only confidante in this universe. He listened with tacit attention and reassured Miles that he was anything but a mistake.

“You didn’t ask to be bit by that Spider, Miles,” his friend said earnestly, “And you didn’t kill our Peter Parker.”

It brought some comfort to Miles, but still Miguel’s words reverberated in his thoughts, even when he was asleep.

During school days, Miles diligently attended his classes, but he also kept an eye out for any trouble out there. His Spider-Man duties were compounded by further complications, now that his dad knew about it – so he had to make sure he stopped crime before his dad and his team got there first.

It had been three weeks since the incident. Some parts of the city were still rebuilding from the multiversal destruction. As always, the community in Brooklyn got straight to work.

Miles himself helped. As Miles volunteered at his local soup kitchen and ran errands for them; as Spider-Man he moved slabs of concrete and sadly, retrieved bodies trapped under the rubble. As Miles, he helped his Mamí in the pop-up hospitals, handing her medical equipment and treat injuries, and as Spidey he helped his dad fish out displaced people and animals, and guide them to shelter.

His city, his solace – it was broken. He thought the city would hate him – he had goaded the Spot on after all. If he didn’t mock him, this would never have happened. But New York didn’t hate him. Even Jamieson had something nice to say about him…which was truly unexpected. 

Interesting how the Spider Society came in for the battle but never stayed back for the clean-up, he thought bitterly. But it didn’t matter in the end - this was his home, and therefore his responsibility. If he ever saw any other Spider, other than Hobie, Pavitr and Margo, he will personally kick them out. They didn’t belong here.

He was no longer that kid who wanted to belong.

Weeks eventually rounded into months. His grades improved, but he felt more stretched than he should have. Even though he had a routine set up, Miles still found himself feeling more tired, more anxious, and more restless.

Chapter Text

Memories
It's gon' take some gettin' used to
Memories
Feel the pain when it hits you
Memories
Don't you ever let them fool you
Don't you ever let them fool you
'Cause I know that you know that it ain't true

Memories -  Thutmose

Miles wanted to spend Christmas with his parents – he’d missed out on Thanksgiving because of the volunteering and Spidey duties. He felt like he needed a break from everything and just focus on his family and his art. He might even sneak off to his spot under Brooklyn and maybe redo it…

He shook the thoughts out of his head as he wheeled his suitcase through the chilly streets of Brooklyn. He was already bundled up in his signature red hoodie and black jacket. He saw snowflakes sprinkling down from the clouds above him – it was the first snow in a long time he realised.

When he was little, he used to stick his tongue out, waiting for the flakes to land on them and melt instantly. Uncle Aaron would always chuckle fondly at him as he ruffled his hair. He missed him – especially during the holidays. Sometimes he wishes he was five years old again…his life was a lot simple then. He would have just been a kid, happy go lucky, not worried about his studies and not burdened by the mantle of being Brooklyn’s one and only Spider-Man.

I guess I couldn’t take care of that little boy, Miles thought, remembering his Mamí’s words before he followed Gwen.

There were nights when he would stay up thinking about that day. About Gwen and Peter and how they kept something so important from him. Miguel’s words and attacks hurt, but his friends’ betrayal was worse.

He would have given up anything to see them. And now the tables have turned. Now he’d do this alone and be alone, than be part of their club.

Well, it’s not like they ever wanted him in the first place.

He was the original anomaly – a curse. If he hadn’t been bit, his Peter Parker would have lived.

And yet, it was his universe that remained intact.

He was a few blocks away from his home when he felt his spider-senses tingling. Usually his spider-senses tingled whenever he was near danger or another Spider-Man. It seemed like it was the latter…it tingled more out of recognition than caution. The last time this happened was when he was with them at Spider Society HQ.

He quickly swivelled around, eyes scanning the street. He saw crowds of people in his neighbourhood milling about cheerfully – families, couples, and friends. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary…no unwanted familiar faces, nor masked vigilantes. Nevertheless, Miles kept his guard up as he walked the final five minutes to his house.

He was immediately greeted by hugs and kisses from his Abuela as he walked in through those doors. The woman looked a lot like his mother, but shorter and face lightly lined.

“Papa you’re growing taller every time I see you,” Abuela Gloria said, smiling, “And thinner! Do they even feed you there, mijo?”

“Sí 'lita!” Miles said, laughing, as he hugged her and lifted her off the floor.

His mamí playfully admonished him for lifting his Abuela, but he gave a sheepish smile back at her.

His grandmother looped her arm into his and gestured him to take her to the living room. They sat together and spoke about life, school, love and even Spider-Man.


Turns out his Abuela liked the superhero. More worryingly, she was convinced he was Puerto Rican. Miles shot a nervous smile at his mother.

“Do you have a special jeva in your life, míjo?” his grandmother asked him cheekily, “That fancy place gotta have pretty and smart girls.”

“Lita!” Miles cried, blushing.

Chapter Text

There are days I can't remember
There are days that last forever
Someday I'll come out from under you
Out from under you

Under you – Foo Fighters

Miles couldn’t sleep that night. Usually he’d get out his sketch-pad and draw something, but tonight he wasn’t feeling creative. He checked the time on his phone – 10.45 PM. Still not too late, he reasoned to himself. His hearing told him his parents and abuela were sound asleep. And it’s not like he was sneaking out. Not really.

He nimbly opened his bedroom window and slid out the apartment. It wasn’t snowing anymore, and Brooklyn was blanketed beneath a clear night sky. He climbed up to the terrace, where the water tower was – he always went here to clear his head. The air also seemed fresh here. He looked ahead at the glittering Manhattan skyline. Unlike the other variants of New York he’s been too, his New York was much larger – more formidable in some ways.

Sometimes he wondered whether he was the only hero this city had…were there others like him? He remembered another spider mentioning mutants, inhumans, and an elite group of superheroes existing in their universe. He didn’t think they existed in his universe; if they had, they would have helped rebuild the city.

He sighed.

He wondered where things went wrong and decided on the lottery for Visions Academy. He never belonged there from day one. Well…he thought he had made a friend there...but Gwen wasn’t even from his dimension. And then it became a constant journey of not belonging anywhere. Even when he got bit by that spider, he remembered how he had to prove himself to the other spiders his worth…that time when they were at Aunt May’s in Queens.

And just when he thought he belonged somewhere – a place where there were others like him…well no sense dwelling on that - he knows how that story ended.

He surveyed the streets of Brooklyn. There were still some tapes around the periphery of damaged buildings, but life seemed to continue. Maybe it’s time he too healed from this?

He was done feeling dejected all the time.

He was about to turn in for the night, when he felt his spider senses tingle again. And for the second time that day, it was out of recognition than danger. It was on his left – that’s where his senses were telling him it came from.

Swivelling around, he called out “Who’s there?”  as confidently as he can. He had his fists out in a fight stance and ready to pounce. He didn’t have his suit nor mask on, so he had to tread carefully.

“Hey buddy,” he heard a familiar voice call from the darkness. A familiar voice he didn’t particularly wanted to hear.

The floodlights illuminated a tall man with greying brown hair, brown eyes and a trench coat. He had his red and blue Spider-Man suit underneath. The last time Miles saw him, he looked happier. Now, his face seemed more lined with worry. He gave the boy a sheepish smile, opening his arms wide.

But Miles stayed rooted to his spot, heart beating rapidly and hazel eyes widened in shock. He slowly lowered his arms, but his fists were still clenched as they rested on either side of him.

“Peter,” he said quietly, “What are you doing here?”

“Wow, so no hugs for your mentor, huh?” the man said, sheepishly, “You’ve grown taller since I – uh- last saw you. Er, how have things been?”

Miles raised an eyebrow at the man. He seriously just didn’t ask him that, did he?

“Well, we’re still recovering bodies from the rubble, Peter,” Miles said coldly, “And people lost their homes. So I’m guessing things are quite peachy in our fair city.”

It gave him some satisfaction to see the man flinch.

“I’m really sorry about that Miles,” he said soberly, “Truly. We saw the aftermath and how you-“

“Oh, you saw the aftermath, did you?” Miles asked in a hollow voice. “Let me guess, Miguel made you watch it didn’t he? On his big screens? Did he also have a large box of popcorn to go around too?”

Peter looked aghast.

“Kid, what are you talking about-?”

“Oh right, of course,” Miles said, laughing hollowly, “It’s ‘for my own good’ as Gwen said, right? My canon event for saving my father – picking up the pieces.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed with worry. He took a few steps towards the boy, but was left feeling empty when he saw Miles walking further away from him, hugging himself to stay warm. Miles looked so vulnerable in that moment – a lot like the scared kid he met for the first time almost three years ago.

“We’re just worried about you, kid,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” Miles said, quietly, looking down, “Don’t. Seriously, don’t worry about me, Peter. Believe it or not, I’m doing fine.”

“Let us help you, Miles,” Peter offered, slowly walking towards the boy, “You’re straining yourself too much, kid-”

“I’m not,” Miles said firmly, brown eyes snapping up to glare at the man, “I don’t need your help or anyone's. Just go Pete. And please, don’t come back to my dimension.”

He turned around and left Peter in the terrace. He was tired and had enough.

When he snuck into his bed, he sobbed silently in his pillow.

Why now of all times?

Chapter Text

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth

Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cutouts

Speak no feeling, no, I don’t believe you

You don’t care a bit, you don’t care a bit.

Hide and Seek -  Imogen Heap

Miles woke up feeling miserable and exhausted, but he had to get up. He still had to buy his Mamí’s Christmas present – something he felt a bit guilty about seeing as he already bought presents for his father and ‘Lita. His Mamí liked wearing jewellery, so he decided to buy her the pearl earrings they sold at that shop by his school. He recalled it wasn’t too expensive and he had enough pocket money left.

He felt his senses tingle again when he walked past Visions Academy.

Why couldn’t Peter just take the hint and leave him alone? Miles didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t know whether he will ever be able to talk to his mentor, considering how badly last night’s confrontation went.

Former mentor, Miles reminded himself.

When he walked into the store, the signal disappeared. Good. Peter was finally leaving Miles alone.

The weather was pristinely clear today – blue skies without a cloud in sight. He liked mornings like these. It’s been a while since he properly had a look at the sky above him – he couldn’t do it before because it reminded him too much of her…her sky-blue eyes specifically.

But today was different. Today, the sky reminded him of happier days – weekends with his dad in Coney Island; hanging out with his friends and shooting hoops after school; chilling with Uncle Aaron; and hanging out with his family in Puerto Rico.

He didn’t know if he could forgive her – she hadn’t apologised since the chase and after the Spot incident. He didn’t know whether she tried to when he turned his back on her that day. Maybe she wanted to, but the damage was done, right?

Miles, it’s for your own good!

He frowned, lightly shaking his head. The more he thought about them, about her, the more anxious he got. They shouldn’t be living rent-free in his mind. Why couldn’t he just get over it? Why was it so damn hard?

You know why, a small voice in his head reminded him. You know well enough that some scars don't heal quickly, Miles. 

It was quiet when he came back home. He remembered his Mamí  and Lita were out on their own last minute shopping. It felt nice to have his Lita here – while his parents were always there to keep him safe, his Lita provided an extra layer of safety. She spoiled him a lot when he was little and she was always a good listener. 

He was wondering whether his 'Lita would like the present he got for him, when spider-senses pinged again.

And this time, it was coming from his room…

He took slow measured steps towards the door, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboard.

The silence was heavy. 

He quickly opened the door to his room, fully expecting Peter to be snooping around. 

Instead he saw her. She was sitting on the window ledge.

The first thing he noticed about her was how her blond hair was longer than last time, hanging lankly on one side. She still kept the other side of her head shaved – the side Miles accidentally got his hand stuck on when they first met.

He then noticed how she too looked drawn like Peter did – she had shadows under her blue eyes that almost looked like bruises and her face seemed hollower. He was almost concerned. He wanted to ask her what was wrong? Why did her eyes lose that spark?

And then he remembered what she did and said to him on the Moon Train.

I didn’t know…how to tell you.

He walked into his room, sighing resignedly. 

“What are you doing here, Gwen?” he asked in a tired voice. He saw her shoulders slump – she was wearing an oversized puffer jacket, but he could see the white of her suit peeking out. She had her turquoise pair of Chuck Taylors on – the ones Hobie gave her.

“Missed you too,” she rasped back, echoing the first words she said to him all those months ago, when she portalled into his room. She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Miles watched her with a blank expression.

“I-I just wanted to say hi,” she said in a small voice. She sounded fragile – breakable even.

“Hi,” Miles said coldly, “The window’s right behind you. Bye Gwen –”

“Miles wait-“ she said urgently.

He turned around to leave, but she grabbed his hand. Or rather her webs did – it gently tugged him back, forcing him to face her.

“Please Miles,” she begged, “I-I j-just wanted to talk –”

A cold surge of fury erupted from his chest. He wasn't ready to talk. Mentally he rehearsed how he would confront them, if the opportunity arose - but if last night's interaction with Peter was anything to go by, he wasn't prepared to face them.

He must have looked jarring because she took a step back, albeit hesitantly.

“What is there to talk about Gwen?” he demanded, trying to keep his anger at bay, “That Miguel was right? That I’m not meant to be Spider-Man? That people died because of me? Yeah, I'm done. I don't need constant reminders of how I'm a mistake, thanks." 

“Miles, that’s not true,” she said softly, regaining some courage as she took a step towards him, “We were so wrong and I-I’m so sorry.” 

“Are you, Gwen?” he asked in a hollow voice. 

“Miles, at the time we didn’t think we’d be wrong about -"

“Gwen, just don't," Miles said quietly, trying not to pay attention to his watering eyes, "Please." 

She hung her head in shame, and damn him, he felt horrible. Horrible for making her feel like this. Was she a victim like him too? He remembered how Jessica Drew hovered over her like a bird of prey– he remembered witnessing her coldly reprimand Gwen for visiting him.

But she wasn’t chased by an army of Spider-People, a small voice in his head reminded him. She wasn’t called a mistake to her face. She wasn’t responsible for Peter Parker’s death. She wasn't seen as the sole person responsible for blowing a hole in the multiverse.

Because even though Gwen messed things up for the Spider-Society, she wasn’t an anomaly like him. In the grand calculus of the universe, she was part of the canon, and he wasn't. 

But this much Miles knew - if their roles were reversed and if he was in her place, he’d give his all to keep her safe from Miguel and his cronies. He would have warned her and been open about everything. 

“It shouldn’t have happened,” she murmured, “I-I wish it could have happened differently-“

“And we both know it wouldn’t have happened any differently,” Miles said.

“Miles-"

He couldn't look at her, or wouldn't look at her. It hurt too much. 

“I’m sorry Gwen. I don’t know whether I can forgive you. Maybe someday I will, but not today. Not now.”

“I understand,” she said, sniffling, “Before I leave, I just wanted to give you a present for the holidays.”

She took out a box out of the pocket of her jacket. It was small red box tied with black ribbons, just slightly bigger than the palm of his hand. She left it on his desk.

“Miles, I know you don’t believe me now, " she heard him say in a wavering voice, "but I’ll always be there for you. And I truly, truly am sorry. For everything that's happened to you." 

“Yeah, whatever,” Miles said dejectedly, glancing at the patch of sunlight on the floor. He felt the chill seep in as he heard the windows slide open.  

“I mean it Miles,” she said in a whisper, “I’m so sorry about everything I did and didn’t do. And I hope you can forgive me, one day.”

“Goodbye Gwen,” he said softly, trying his hardest to not cry.

She pulled her mask on and slipped out his window like a ghost.

Chapter Text

Get up, get out, get away from these liars,

‘Cause they don’t get your soul or your fire,

Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine,

And we’ll walk from this dark room for the last time.

Open Your Eyes - Snow Patrol 

Miles tried to look as happy as he could for the remainder of the day. He didn’t tell his parents about Gwen or Peter’s visits – partly because it’ll upset them and mostly because his ‘Lita would have gotten wind of things, which he did not want.

Not that his ‘Lita would tell people Miles was Spider-Man – she was a sensible woman.  He just didn’t want to endanger her along with his parents.

As Miles’ parents still had to work on Christmas Eve, he was left alone with his ‘Lita. His dad strictly warned him against ‘Spider-Manning’ when his ‘Lita was around.

“My guys will have it under control, son,” his dad said that evening, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. He took him aside to the landing.

“But if you don’t?” Miles asked apprehensively, eyebrows furrowed.

“Then I’ll call you,” he reassured, “If we’re absolutely out of options.”

“But-“

“No buts, son,” Jefferson Morales said firmly, “I want you to rest and recover. You’ve been working too hard, Miles. I don’t want to lose you.”

He said the last part in a soft voice.

What did his dad mean by ‘losing him’?

But I don’t want to lose you too, Miles wanted to say. I only just saved you.

He patted his son’s shoulder before he walked out the door.

All in all, his evening with his grandmother was fun. They spent Christmas Eve in the most American way – they wore ugly Christmas sweaters, decorated Gingerbread houses (they had a competition for the best decorated ‘casa’ – ‘Lita won), and baked cookies for Santa (Miles was old enough to admit that he didn’t exist, but still some traditions cannot be undone).

Another tradition was watching Christmas films. Usually it was a heartfelt and sweet film about the real meaning of Christmas,  but tonight ‘Lita opted for something funnier.

“Ay I remember you loving this film when you were little, papa,” she said between laughs, “Never stopped laughing.”

“That spider scene though!” Miles said, chuckling, “It has to be the most iconic scream in film history.”

“Oy, how would you feel if you had a spider on your face, huh?” ‘Lita asked in mock seriousness. Miles wanted to answer that but quickly decided against it. He had to admit even though he was Spider-Man, the idea of having a tarantula crawling on his face made him shudder.

“I thought so,” she said, raising her eyebrow at him. As the film’s end credits rolled, he could sense his ‘Lita watching him.

“It’s so nice to see you laugh, mijo,” she said, smiling softly, “You work too hard like your Mamí and Papí. You shouldn’t be working too hard, Miles. You’re still a little niñito, you know. Even though you’re taller than me.”

Was it so obvious that his ‘Lita noticed?

“Just trying to be the best, ‘Lita,” Miles said, smiling faintly.

“Mijo, you’re already the best of us all,” ‘Lita said, taking his hands in hers, “You’re already there. You don’t need to do more than you should, querido. I’m proud of you, your parents are proud of you, and everyone who came before us are proud of you.”

“’Lita?”

“I don’t know what happened to you, mi girasol,” his ‘Lita continued, her brown eyes concerned, “Your eyes lost that spark,  niño. I don’t know who hurt you, Miles, but if I ever find out who they are, no las personaré, lo prometo!”

He pictured his tiny  grandmother repeatedly hitting Miguel with her chancla. Now that would be a sight he’d pay to see. Knowing his ‘Lita, she wouldn’t be remotely intimidated by that behemoth of a man.

But then he remembered what that man was capable of. Miles never wanted his family to meet that man.

“And I want you to know that no matter what others say, no matter how much they push you down, you always get up. And you always remember that you’re more than enough, mi sol. You don’t need to be the best – you just need to be kind and true to yourself.”

“Si Abuelita,” Miles said, quietly, wiping his eyes. He didn’t want to cry – that’s all he’s been doing for the past two days.

But maybe, that’s what he needs.

Maybe he needs to cry the tears he couldn’t shed in the past few months to heal himself. Or start to heal himself. As his Mamí once said, healing is a journey, not a destination.

His ‘Lita hugged him and even though she was smaller than him, he felt safe in her arms. It reminded him of the time when he was little and he fell at his ‘Lita’s house in Puerto Rico. He remembered how she cleaned the cut on his knee and put a bright red band-aid to cover the wound. She hugged him then and he remembered how it immediately made him feel better.

“Girasol,” she murmured in his ear, stroking his hair, “You can always tell me everything, but only when you’re ready to, sí?”

“Sí ‘Lita.”

Chapter Text

So let's sink another drink
And it'll give me time to think
If I had the chance, I'd ask the world to dance
And I'd be dancing with myself, oh-oh

Dancing with myself - Billy Idol

This Christmas was a quiet affair compared to the previous years’, but Miles thought it was a nice change of pace. He was really happy to hear his parents and ‘Lita loved their presents. And he in turn was grateful for what he got too – art supplies and a new pair of Air Jordans from his parents and a knitted pullover from his ‘Lita.

Christmas lunch as always was a winner in the Morales household, now more so with his ‘Lita actively in the kitchen. Miles understood from a very young age that food was her love language – whenever ‘Lita was around, you can never be on an empty stomach.

When he turned in for the night, he remembered that red box on his desk. It reminded him of Pandora’s box – should he open it? Was he even ready to open it?  

He had a good day so far, right? Was he willing to ruin it?

It wasn’t until boxing day when he decided to open her present. He had come back in from his evening patrol, when he saw that box still sitting on his desk, tantalising him. He meticulously opened the ribbons and the red wrapping to reveal a black leather case, similar to the jewellery cases his Mamí had.  Maybe it was a glorified friendship bracelet, Miles thought, internally scoffing, Gwen’s twisted idea of a peace offering.

He chuckled hollowly when he opened the box.

Inside was a chunky metal wristband. A very familiar looking silver wristband designed to fit his wrist.

A few months ago, he was desperate to wear one of these things. He saw a piece of paper stuck to the base of the case’s lid. It was written in a neat handwriting in bright blue ink.

Welcome to the Spider-Society, Miles Gonzalo Morales. Your device will provide you with further resources about the values underpinning our Society and our mission. Once you put the device on, it will be associated with your DNA.*

This was a sick and twisted joke, almost adding insult to injury. He was tempted to throw it against the wall. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he placed the watch back in its case and put it away in his dresser drawer.

*

The next evening, he was perched at his usual spot – atop the Williamsburg Bank Building. Here the city resembled a vast constellation – the lights in the building were twinkling like stars. Below there were many people who were like him – who were breaking stereotypes about being Black or Latino, who were working tirelessly in thankless jobs like his parents, who were working hard to juggle their studies and make a living for their families. And plenty were still staving off the anxiety caused by the Spot, or some other trauma.

He was trying his best to do that himself – fight the uncontrollable panic he felt whenever he thought about losing those close to him. It’s been a few months since he’s had a full-blown panic attack, but he’s slowly working through it. Using the breathing techniques his Mamí taught him.

Miguel. There were similarities between them, and yet so many differences too. They were both part-Latino Spider-Men (well he assumed Miguel was part-Latino – he’s pretty sure ‘O’Hara’ is an Irish surname). They both called New York home. They both were one of the few Spider-Men who weren’t Peter Parker variants. And they both were exceptionally gifted and driven.

But unlike Miguel, he wasn’t going to allow fate to dictate his path in life and he wasn’t going to make any more sacrifices for the ‘greater good.’

Miguel haunted his nightmares. He was there lurking in the dark, a figure as formidable as the Grim Reaper himself. In his nightmares, Miles will try to run as far away from the man as possible, reliving that chase on the Moon Train. As it happened in real-life, he would be slammed against the metal, suddenly rendered completely immobile. He couldn’t look anywhere else, other than the seething red eyes glaring at him with hate.

You’re a mistake.

He exhaled out a sharp breath.

They had to be thick-skinned to send him that watch and the invitation after everything. 

He looked at the city again – this was where he belonged. He belonged in this fragmented city with his fellow New Yorkers. Not in the clinical pristineness of Miguel’s Neuva York – a place where anomalies like him weren’t welcome.

“I don’t belong,” Miles said softly, “But that’s alright.”

“I beg to differ, mate,” a voice spoke up behind him. Miles jumped, swivelling around. Why hadn’t his Spider-Sense picked up on this stranger’s presence?

Hobie Brown emerged from the shadows, his form in erratic shades of purple and pink. He didn’t have his mask on but he was in his signature Spider-Punk suit, with his guitar on tow. As usual, he wore a look of nonchalance on his face. Miles couldn’t hold any animosity towards him – he genuinely helped from day one.

“Sup man,” Miles said, greeting the taller boy, bumping fists, “Long time, no see?”

Hobie sat beside him, his form flashing between red and pink. To Miles Hobie reminded him of a living work of art – a dynamic collage. He really was someone who didn’t believe in consistency.

He wondered what Hobie’s dimension must look like. Pavitr’s dimension was bright and full of life, and Nueva York was apocalyptic in both the world-ending and banal sense.

Well, he now had a magic watch that could take him there, but was he tempted enough to use something Miguel created? The man could track his movements with it…he didn’t feel comfortable about linking his DNA with the technology the maniac created.

“Been busy with gigs,” Hobie said calmly, “Fighting oppression, the usual. How ‘bout you, lil’ bruv?”

“Still rocking and reeling, I guess,” Miles said quietly, “I’m busier than usual during the holidays. People who lost everything are turning to crime now – me and Dad are gentle with them. Otherwise, no big villains since the Spot. Unless you count Typeface, but he’s more into vandalising.”

“That’s how Spidey’s feeling,” Hobie simply replied, “I wanna know how my man Miles is feelin’. And be honest, bruv.”

Miles sighed and remained silent for a few minutes. And then he poured out his feelings.  

“It’s not easy y’know,” he admitted, “Trying to be Spider-Man and Miles. It never was easy, but especially now when we’re trying to rebuild the city.”

He wanted to tell Hobie about his nightmares about Miguel, but didn’t think now was the time.

Or rather he didn’t feel like he was ready to.

“Also, I guess I’m having an existential crisis,” he continued, “Am I still a good Spider-Man? That spider was meant to bite someone else – there is a dimension out there without a Spider-Man, and I-I don’t think things might be great there right?”

“Well there are other fighters around, bruv,” Hobie said calmly, “I’ve been to one universe where there’s a bloke in a suit made out of iron. Too bad he’s one of the billionaire, playboy, philanthropist kind. Bit of a knob too. Wonder who he sounds like…”

Hobie said the last part with sarcasm, which made Miles chuckle.

“No one ever said it’ll be easy, lil’ bruv,” Hobie continued, “And you never asked for this to happen. The spider bite, your Pete being brown bread, and Miguel being an A-Level knob. Ain’t nothing you have control over. But what you do have control over is who you are, mate. And to me, Miles Morales and Spider-Man are like bangers and mash – they go together. It don’t matter if that spider came from another dimension – as far as I’m concerned, it bit the right man.”

Miles always wondered what it would be like to have an older brother. Uncle Aaron was almost there, but he was very much an adult.  His Dad was…well too much of a dad – overprotective and strict. There was also Peter, but he too wasn’t really a big brother – there was a nonchalance to him that almost put him on the same level as his uncle.
But Hobie was like a big brother – he had his back from day one. When he first met him, he thought the older boy was derisive when he pointed out Miles’ sheltered life. Turns out he was shielding him from the storm to come.

“Just know I’m here for yah bruv,” Hobie said in a softer voice, wrapping his arm around Miles’ shoulder, “me and Lil’ Steppa. And Margo too, I suppose.”

Miles was about to ask him who ‘Little Steppa’ was, but then remembered that’s what the taller boy called Pavitr when they first met in Mumbattan. Yes, he wouldn’t mind saying hi to Pavitr again. Like Hobie, Pavitr was another Spider he couldn’t hold any animosity towards – another one who helped to get him out. Pavitr reminded him of himself when he was younger – bright and optimistic as a warm summer’s day.

“Yeah,” Miles said, smiling faintly, “That would be fun.”

“You hungry, bruv?” Hobie asked, “I wanna try food from your dimension. Gonna assume you’ve got money. I ain’t got none.”

Miles’ stomach chose to rumble loudly at that point. He laughed loudly.

“Yeah man, I know a good place,” Miles said, getting up and pulling his mask on.

Later in the evening, when he snuck back in his room, he saw something on his bed. A box with glitching colours and the Union Jack on top of it. A parting gift from Hobie. Now this was a gift he was ready to open.

He opened the box up to reveal a black and red smartphone. A blue post-it note was attached to its black screen.

‘Case you need back-up, bruv.

Miles chuckled as he turned the phone on. Instead of a Sony or Apple opening screen, it showed a glitching spider symbol. The home screen only had two  apps – contacts and messages. He tapped on the contacts app and saw three contacts listed – Margo, Pav, and of course, Hobie.

He hoped he didn’t need to use this phone any time soon, but he’ll still keep it with him. Just in case.

Chapter Text

When the sun shines, we'll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be your friend
Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella

Umbrella - Rihanna

Hobie visited again one morning and this time he brought Pavitr with him. The younger boy gave Miles a warm hug and brought with him a thermos of chai and some Indian snacks or ‘chaat’ as he called them.

Like last time, they were sitting at Miles’ usual spot, keeping an eye out for any disturbances or crime. But mostly, they talked.

Miles’ always thought Pavitr was perpetually sunny and happy-go-lucky. Turns out he too faced losses at a young age.

“My Bhim Chacha,” Pavitr said, smiling wistfully, “He was the wisest and kindest man I’ve ever known. When we lost him, I remember I was so angry. I really wanted to hurt the people who killed him. I could have burned the world, so angry I was. And then I remembered what my Chacha stood for –responsibility, kindness and forgiveness. If he had the chance, he would have easily forgiven those who hurt him in the end.”

So Pavitr also lost an uncle. Just like him. And just like Peter.

“I guess it made me who I am today,” he continued, “But still, if I had the chance…if I had known he was going to pass away…I would tried to save him.”

Miles knew that deep-seated regret. It never leaves; instead it sinks into your skin like the biting cold. He too would’ve tried his absolute best to save Uncle Aaron, if he had known that he was going to lose him forever. He didn’t have anything of his uncle’s, save for the photo he had of him and his dad.

And the mural beneath Brooklyn. That was a place special to him and his uncle.

And that damn spider.

He hasn’t been there in a while. Maybe he’ll add more faces to that mural. Hobie, Pavitr and Margo. He wanted to erase Peter and Gwen, back when the wounds were still fresh. But as much as he hated to admit it, they were a part of his journey. They taught him how to be Spider-Man, no matter how undeserving he was of that mantle.

“You can’t change the past mate,” Hobie said, clapping Pavitr’s back, “It makes us who we are. What you can change is now.”

“No,” Miles said, “‘now’ is a ‘canon event’, Hobie. Changing it could have…anomalous consequences on the multiverse.” He said the last part in a deep voice, mocking Miguel.

Hobie smirked while Pavitr chortled.

“That’s the best impression ever,” he snorted, “You should hear Margo doing it. Her impression of him getting angry at Peni for quitting the Society was uncanny.

Miles raised his eyebrows.

“Peni left the Spider-Society?” he asked, trying to keep his astonishment concealed.

He didn’t know how to feel about Peni – she neither supported him but nor did she actively chase him down. He didn’t resent her, but that didn’t mean he trusted her. Still, he was surprised to hear she had left Miguel’s elite strike force.

“Oh yeah,” Pavitr said, nodding, “She decided to quit a couple of months ago –after the Spot incident. Hobie and I did our own thing of course – but it’s not like Miguel was going to miss us, so he never yelled at us (“Probably had a right gig when we left,” Hobie interjected). Margo told us Peni leftbecause she didn’t think the Society wasn’t her thing anymore.”

“Her thing?” Miles asked, frowning in confusion.

“She probably didn’t expect ‘em to stand on the sidelines, innit?” Hobie clarified, “Probably expected ‘em to be the good guys.”

Miles chuckled.

“Good on her, I guess?” he said sheepishly.

“Anyone who flips the proverbial bird at that wanker is an ally,” Hobie said, shrugging.

Miles didn’t know what a ‘wanker’ was but he was certain it wasn’t a good word and it was an adjective used to describe Miguel.

Miles was going to take the two boys for a tour of the city when he felt his spidey-senses go off. They all felt it go off.

“You feel that, lads?” Hobie asked, nodding at the younger boys.

“Uh-huh,” Miles said, nodding, “That’s not good, whatever it is.”

Then they heard a loud boom nearby, followed by screams.

And then cackling.

“Oh that ain’t a good sound, bruv,” Hobie said, putting his mask on.

It was a Green Goblin, there was no doubt about it. He was dressed in all green, flying over Williamsburg in a glider. And he was throwing pumpkin bombs at civilians, which Miles knew was a signature Goblin assault move.

But this wasn’t Green Goblin from Miles’ universe…that variant of Norman Osbourne died with this universe’s Peter Parker. Also, Green Goblin in Miles’ universe was a gargantuan, winged creature – not unlike the many gargoyles perched on top of New York’s skyscrapers. This offender was clearly a man in a campy green costume.

The three Spider-Men were observing him from the roof of an apartment block, keeping themselves concealed.

“That guy yours?” Hobie asked, cocking his head, “’Coz he certainly ain’t mine.”

“Nope,” Miles said. He turned to ask Pavitr the same question.

“Definitely not from my universe,” he confirmed.

“So he could be someone copying the OG Goblin,” Miles said darkly.

Before he could share his plan of attack, Miles noticed something unusual about this Goblin. The man had doubled over in pain mid-flight, snarling and cursing as he plummeted. His form distorted in shards of bright lights and colours.

“Guys,” Miles gasped, “He’s glitching, look! He’s from another universe!”

Chapter Text

Well, I gotta keep it going keep it going full steam
Too sweet to be sour too nice to be mean
Well, on the tough-guy style I’m not too keen
Trying to change the world, I’m going to plot and scheme

Intergalactic – Beastie Boys

“Okay,” Pavitr said, “this is bad. Very bad.” They were watching the Goblin hover once again, recovered and with a new zest for terrorising the many hipsters of Williamsburg.

Miles scanned the scene before him. There were lot of civilians in the streets – panicking and running away. He needed to get them out of the way first.

He felt his cellphone buzzing in his pocket. Without even looking at the screen, he answered.

“Hey Dad, kinda busy right now dealing with a –“

“Spider-Man,” his father hissed, “I don’t want you to be risking your neck when my guys can contain him. Don’t be stupid.”

“Sorry Cap,” Miles said sheepishly, “This is a job for me. And er my team.”

His dad was silent for a good minute before he spoke. 

“Your team?” Jefferson hissed, and Miles could just picture him frowning, “Since when were you part of a team, Spider-Man? Wait…don’t tell me it’s those alternative-verse guys?”

His dad all but yelled the last part.

“Maybe,” Miles said, laughing nervously,  “Anyway, we have a…plan…Of sorts.”

He saw Hobie give him a questioning glance. 

“A PLAN OF SORTS?”  his dad thundered, “THAT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE A PLAN MI-SPIDER-MAN!”

“It’s a working plan!” Miles said defensively, “er okay, bye! Love you!”

“Don’t you hang up on me-“ Jefferson threatened, but Miles hung up, looking both guilty and horrified.

He was definitely getting grounded for this…but he really didn’t want to get his dad be in the middle of another multiverse-related incident.

“You’re a right anarchist mate,” Hobie said sounding impressed. Then in a serious tone he asked “So, you said you have a plan. Care to share, bruv?”

“First,” Miles said, readying to jump off the building, “We need to evacuate civilians. There’s three of us and about a hundred people down there. I think we can share the workload.”

“Sharing is caring,” Pavitr agreed.

“I believe in the even division of labour,” Hobie said, nodding.

They simultaneously leapt off, shooting their webs to buildings nearest to the epicentre. The three of them picked up civilians and swung them to safety. Some were annoyed at being picked up like a child, some were grateful. But most marvelled at seeing three Spider-Men.

“Come out and play Spider-Man!” Goblin said cackling, zooming high above them. When one of them tried to shoot a web at his glider, the man would zoom away, not before hurling a pumpkin bomb in their direction.

While the three Spider-Men were able to defuse the bombs (Pavitr with his yo-yo, Hobie with the riffs played on his guitar, and Miles with his venom-strike), they could barely land a punch on Goblin because of his glider. Miles flinched when he saw the variant slice a lamppost in half.

He didn’t want his city to be more damaged than it already was. He regrouped with the boys in a nearby alley, huddling together.

“He needs to get off that glider,” Pavitr said, panting.

“We could bash ‘is head with Bessie,” Hobie said, shrugging.

“Who or what is a Bessie?” Miles asked, perplexed, “Okay never mind, just don’t do anything to his head. We’re Spider-Men – we don’t kill.”

“Only maim,” Pavitr said, waggling his finger at Hobie.

Hobie put his hand up.

“Fine, fine, I ain’t gonna bash ‘is head, like I did with my Goblin,” Hobie said in a defeated tone, “But it don’t look like he’s planning to slow down.”

Miles frowned deep in thought. 

“We need to use our webs,” Miles said, “to drag the glider down and web him up – between the three of us we can do both. But we need to lure him to us so that he’s flying low enough. Otherwise, we’ll have to coordinate our movement from the rooftops, and I don’t want to cause more property damage or put any lives in danger. And we gotta be quick – the longer he stays in this dimension, the more damage he’s gonna to do.”

“So, we do it when he’s glitching,” Pavitr said simply. 

Miles beamed at the boy, patting his back.

“Genius! That’s when he’s vulnerable – glitching is painful. While we wait for him to glitch, we can lure him to Williamsburg Pier – it’s closed for construction.”

“Where’s that?” Pavitr asked.

“Just follow my lead,” Miles said, running off.

“Sounds like a plan,” Hobie said, “Still reckon he needs a bashing to the head by Bessie.”

“Oye Gobby!” Miles yelled, waving at the man in the air. He was joined by Hobie and Pavitr.  

“Ah, Spider-Man,” Miles heard him say gleefuly, zooming his way towards him, “And all three of you too. My what fun we’re going to have!”

“You know the plan guys,” Miles said hurriedly, “Just swing in the direction I’m heading, but as soon as he glitches, two of us grab his glider and one of us will web him up. Good luck!”

Goblin continued to throw pumpkin bombs at them, but they managed to intercept it yet again, thanks to their spidey-senses. They successfully lured him away from the street and a few yards from the closed pier, with New York's skyline standing imposingly behind them.

It was once they were over the other side of the fence when they saw Goblin glitching.

He immediately began to drop from the sky.

“Now!” Miles yelled at Pavitr, who was the closest to him, “Let’s grab his glider”

They shot their webs at the glider, pulling the heavy contraption towards them with all their strength. 

“Hobie!” Miles yelled in a strained voice, "Do your thing, man!" 

“Sure thing lil’ bruv!”

Hobie leapt up and shot his webs at Goblin, wrapping him up in a tight cocoon. He roughly grabbed the villain and slammed him on the concrete ground,  but not hard enough to cause serious damage. Goblin grunted and cursed in pain and anger, glaring at Hobie through his sneering green mask.  

“Oi! Watch your potty mouth, plonker,” Hobie scolded.

“I’ll squash you three meddling spiders!” Goblin snarled, glaring at all three Spider-Men, “Mark my words! You may not be my Spider-Man, but I will crush you vermins!”

“Shanti,” Pavitr said, holding out his hands in a placating manner to the Goblin. Then turning to Hobie, he said, “We need to get him back to his home dimension, Hobie. We haven’t had an anomaly since the Spot, and I’m not too sure if our gizmo knows where he’s meant to go.”

“I could get Margo,” Hobie said, “She’d know which universe this git is from, and then we can try to send him there.” He nudged the Goblin with the toe of his boot.

“I’ll kill you!” he hissed.

“Shut it, tosser,” Hobie said calmly, shooting a web at the Goblin’s mouth. 

He took his phone out, a similar one that he gifted to Miles, and brought it to his ear.

“Yo Margie,” he said, “listen, we have an anomaly in Milesy’s universe (Miles frowned at being called ‘Milesy’) and we ain’t got a scooby doo about where to dump the bloke – fancy letting us know where he’s from? I can send you a picture right-”

Hobie paused, listening patiently to Margo's reply. 

“Oh that tosser benched you? Right, so that means we need to go to HQ? Well that git blocked me access, so I can’t go in even with my gizmo, love.”

Miles suddenly remembered the watch Gwen gave him – the one he got for his Christmas present. Surely that could open up a portal to Spider Society’s HQ…they only need to drop Goblin off. They didn’t need to stick around. 

Nothing bad will happen right? 

Yeah, Miles reassured himself mentally. And still there was that sneaking nervousness creeping up on him. 

But I have to do it.

“I-I think I know a way,” Miles piped up, “To send him back I mean.”

“Imma call you right back Margie,” Hobie said, staring at Miles with a puzzled look.

“Wait right here,” Miles said quickly before shooting a web and swinging away.

Chapter Text

These people are weird in here
And they're giving me the fear
Just because you know my name
Doesn't mean you know my game

The Outsider - Marina and the Diamonds

He clipped the gizmo on his wrist and felt it tingle. The triangular screen lit up orange as a female voice began to speak.

“Welcome to the Spider-Society, Miles Gonzalo Morales,” it said, “We are a collective dedicated to protecting the Spider-Verse.”

“I forgot it did that,” Miles heard Pavitr murmur to Hobie.

“It’s authoritarian technology bruv,” Hobie said darkly, “You sure you wanna use that, Miles? That nutter could nick your DNA and create a disease that could easily kill ya. He is a geneticist you know.”

Miles didn’t know whether to be touched or worried by Hobie’s commentaries.

“What choice to we have?” he asked them, “We need to send Goblin home, right? And this is the only way. It doesn’t mean I’m going to join his clubhouse. Not in a million years.”

“And we believe you, bro,” Pavitr said, “We’re just worried about why he sent you the watch in the first place.”

Miles smiled sadly.

“It was Gwen, actually,” he said softly, “She gave it to me for Christmas.”

The boys remained solemnly silent. 

The gizmo started to explain the concept of the multiverse (and by default the Spider-Verse) before it delved into what it needs protecting from. Miles rolled his eyes. He of all people already knew what the Spider-Society was protecting the multiverse from -anomalies like him.

He really didn't have time for this spiel. 

“Hey, can you open the portal to Spider HQ?” Miles spoke into the gizmo in an impatient tone, “It’s kind of urgent.”

“Portal to HQ opening,” the automated voice announced.

And on cue the hexagonal shaped anomaly appeared right in front of them, blocking their view of New York. He remembered the first time he saw the portal… an infinite corridor of orange hexagons. It was when she walked back into his life almost six months ago.

He shook that memory from his mind. He had a job to do. He lifted the bound Goblin (who was wriggling in his hold) and was about to jump into the portal when he heard loud shuffling behind him. Hobie and Pavitr were following him.

“I ain’t letting you go there alone, bruv,” Hobie said sternly, “We a band.”

“Well more a team,” Pavitr corrected.

“I don’t believe in teams,” Hobie countered, “I believe in bands. We stick together.”

“Alright, jump in,”  Miles said, smiling behind his mask and shaking his head absently. Whether they were a band or a team, today was a refreshing change of pace for him,  “But remember we’re only going to stick around for few minutes. So, no stealing Hobie.”

“Can’t promise that mate.”

Miles' past experience with portal travelling was uncomfortable. This time around though he seemed to be handling it well. He, Hobie. Pavitr and the bound Goblin variant were soaring through the hexagonal rings without so much as a hitch. He noted how the villain eyed the portal with a mixture of wonder and fear.

And within a few minutes, they found themselves landing on cold, smooth concrete. Miles felt his spider-senses tingle out of familiarity and trepidation.

They were in the Lobby.

He found himself in the same cavernous, sunlit room he made his escape through those months ago. It was still white with beams zigzagging between the floor and ceiling. The place was still crawling with Spider-Men, variants of Peter Parker no doubt.

He tried to remember what he felt when he first set foot here.

Amazement and no doubt awe. 

He wanted to be a part of this community so bad – to be with people who are like him. Being inside the Lobby that first time almost gave him a flicker of belonging then. 

But now being back in the Lobby suffocated him. He felt his chest tighten as he took nimble, unsteady steps forward, bumping shoulders with other Spiders, who either apologised or told him to ‘watch it.”

His vision began to blur. It wasn’t just the place – it was the crowd of Spider-Men walking past him. They all chased him last time he was here…they all wanted to hurt him and get his dad killed…

Would they recognise him? 

Not here.

It’s not going to happen.

You’re not alone.

No one’s going to chase you.

You’re not alone.

Hobie and Pav are here with you, Miles. 

He remembered the breathing techniques his Mami taught him, taking in deep breaths and slowly releasing it to ground himself.

Just as he was about to feel another wave of tightening around his chest, he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. He looked back to see Hobie, watching him with an impassive expression.

“You’re alright little bro,” the taller boy reassured, “We’ve got your back.”

“In the most literal sense,” Pavitr chipped in, taking hold of Goblin now.

“Remember mate, deep breaths.”

Miles nodded awkwardly and uttered out a breathless “Thanks.”

“The anomaly chamber is dead ahead,” Hobie said helpfully, guiding Miles around the throng of Spider-People passing by them.

They turned a corner around and saw the familiar illuminated red cells. The one Miles himself was momentarily trapped in a few months ago.

“Reckon we should just leave ‘im here,” Hobie said, cocking his head to his right-hand corner.

Pavitr deposited the prisoner and patted his head.

“Be good,” he said sweetly. Goblin growled behind his webbed mouth, no doubt wanting to threaten the trio verbally.

It seemed too easy. 

Way too easy, Miles thought with a sliver of doubt. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Miles said quickly, “We-we did what we have to do. We don’t have to stick around.”

Hobie gave a nod.

“Yeah, open up that portal Miles,” he instructed. 

Just as he was about to speak into his watch, his spider senses flared.

And this time it detected danger. 

Fangs. Claws.

You're a mistake. 

He swivelled around to his right, where the entrance to the Anomaly chamber was.

Miles felt like all the blood in his veins had frozen solid. His gaze dropped to his shaking hands.

No. 

Oh god, please do not let it be him, he prayed. Anyone but him.

Everywhere you go you're an anomaly. 

But he knew there was no point in praying.

He knew the devil was in the room with them now. 

“Miles,” the tall shadow spoke tersely, "You're here."

Pavitr gasped audibly, grabbing Miles’ shoulder, while Hobie stood in front of him in a protective stance.

“Oh look,” Hobie drawled, “It’s the Cult Leader himself.”

Heart hammering, Miles sneaked a look through Hobie’s arm at the man responsible for his nightmares.

Miguel O’Hara.

Chapter Text

Fall asleep soon
Like they're gonna wake you up
It's pushin' out this insecurity
Well you won't push me, you can't push me
I've cut many slashed and bruised
I'll get my way and I'll see the day
That it'll come out clearer

Fade Out/In - Paloalto

He wished he never saw Miguel again. He wished the battle was the last place he saw the towering man. But that never happened.

The man stalked him in his nightmares. In the aftermath of the battle, Miles even feared he might be lurking around the corner, ready to complete what he couldn’t do when he tried to  prise the Go-Home Machine open with his bare hands.

But worst of all, whenever Miles doubted himself – which he found was a lot in recent days - it was his voice he kept hearing, hissing his flaws in his ear.

You’re a mistake.

Miles wished he could turn invisible on command right now but couldn’t. And he knew it had to do with Miguel.

Miles closed his eyes momentarily and tried to focus on his breathing. Which seemed to work, until Miguel spoke again, this time diverting his ire onto Hobie and Pavitr.

“I thought the two of you quit,” Miguel snapped, glaring imposingly at Hobie and Pavitr.

“Yeah, we did,” Hobie countered, looking straight at him and not backing down, “The only reason we’re here is to protect Miles from you, Varney. We have no interest in joining your coven.”

Miles didn’t get the ‘Varney’ reference, but Miguel certainly seemed to.

He watched the man’s angular face scowl further with displeasure, if that even was possible. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, as if he was trying to reign in his temper. Miles’ gaze dropped to the man’s hands – his talons weren’t out, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

“I see you brought in an anomaly,” he finally said in a brusque tone, looking at Miles, who immediately dropped his gaze to his shoes.

Miles felt beads of sweat pooling on his forehead.

“That’s why we came here,” Pavitr said quickly. Miles noticed his hand was still gripping his shoulder, “Because of the anomaly. We didn’t have a way to send him back, so we brought him here. Miles has a watch.”

“And our job is done,” Hobie said with finality, “so best we be off. Toodles-“

“Wait,” Miles heard the older man say in a steely voice, “I need to speak to Morales.”

You’re not supposed to be Spider-Man.

“I think not, mate,” Hobie said, almost testily, “We need to go back to our dimensions, and Miles has to go back to his father – the bloke you tried to kill, ‘case you forgot.”

Miguel’s eyes glowed an angry shade of red.

“This doesn’t concern you,” he snarled irritably, pointing at Hobie as he walked closer to them, “Morales, I need to speak to you. Alone.”

If you hadn’t been bit, your Peter Parker would have lived.

Miles felt his heartbeat jolt erratically. He felt his palms sweating. He saw Miguel’s boots – they were getting closer.

Instead he died, saving you.

Was the room suddenly too stuffy?

“Come off it, mate,” Miles heard Hobie say as he strategically blocked Miles from Miguel's view, “Do you really think we’re gonna leave him alone? With you? You’re barking, mate!”

“If he’s catching anomalies and bringing them here, then yes, he is expected to report to me directly,” he heard Miguel snap at Hobie.

“You’re bonkers,” Hobie declared, “Miles, turn your gizmo on, bruv. We’re getting out of here.”

“Miles?” he heard Pavitr ask in a concerned voice.

“I’d like to see you try,” he heard Miguel threaten in a menacing voice that made his entire body tremor, “It’s my gizmo. I can override it.”

You’re just a kid who has no idea what he’s doing.

“I’d like to see you try, mate,” he heard Hobie mimic in a dark voice, but now that was getting muffled and overtaken by the sound of his erratic heartbeats.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Brown.”

“Why you so obsessed with Miles, huh?” he heard Hobie challenge the man, “Is it because he proved you wrong? With your canon bullshit?”

“Hobie don’t,” he heard another voice say. Not Pavitr, not Miguel.

“Oh look, Humbling Reality Spider-Man is here too.”

“Can you stop calling me that?” the voice whined.

Peter. Yes, it was him, standing beside Miguel. He was wearing his red Spider-Man suit. He gave Miles a concerned look. Well, too late for that.

Miles began to back away, the din of the anomaly chamber getting to him. He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be this easy. Pavitr noticed his discomfort.

“Miles, bro, are you alright?”  

He felt himself sway.

Arms, He felt arms behind him, looped under his arms. Catching him.  

“Miles!”

“See what you did, you tosser?”

“Miles are you alright?”

“Clearly, he’s not fit – for the job nor for the society.”  

Miles felt a cold sort of burning deep inside.

“You better take that back, you git,” he heard Hobie growl, “Miles is the strongest Spider I’ve known. The best.”

“He was never going to be a good fit. He couldn’t handle this one anomaly without endangering lives.”

You don’t belong here, you never did.

He knew Miguel wasn’t lying when he said that. Miles was an anomaly and will never belong in his clandestine organisation.

He wasn’t perfect nor physically strong like some of the other spiders the man recruited.

Miles had to admit that he was still learning the ropes for a mantle that wasn’t meant for him. But he was at least getting the job done.

He remembered the past few months of doing it alone – of cleaning up the destruction left in the wake of their battle; of pulling out bodies days after the battle; of re-habilitating people who had lost everything and only saw crime as an option.

That didn’t make him weak and he was sure neither Miguel nor Peter nor anyone else in this society had to go through this. 

Miguel was continuing his tirade about Miles – about how he couldn’t be trusted to take down any anomalies without causing disruption. Something snapped in Miles, and his anxiety and fear gave way to surging fury.

“Just shows how you should never have been bit-“

“SHUT THE HELL UP, MAN!” Miles roared, getting up suddenly and rounding at the tall man, electricity crackling around him.

Miguel looked shocked at first, but his face quickly bore a livid expression. There was silence in the Anomaly chamber, and everyone was watching him in anticipation.

“I will give you a chance to apologise to me, Morales,” Miguel hissed with fury, taking a step towards him, eyes a dangerous, luminescent red.

Miles didn’t regret what he said next. Even though his spider sense tingled with Miguel standing close to him, his adrenaline overpowered it.

“I owe you an apology?” Miles said, laughing hollowly, “My man, you and your spider thugs should be apologising to me. You should be apologising to me for chasing me and harassing my family, asshole.”  

“How dare-“the man snarled, advancing towards him.

“You come anywhere near me I’m going to zap your ass,” Miles warned coldly, “Don’t try me, man. I’m not playing.”

Miles didn’t know where the courage came from, but he welcomed it.

Miguel’s eyes widened a fraction as he stood stock still, hands resting on his waist as he glared at Miles. No doubt he remembered how Miles damaged his suit in their fight on the moon train.

“I don’t owe you,” Miles said pointing at the man, “shit. Just because you or Gwen or whoever gave me that watch doesn’t mean I’m going to be a part of your team and answer to you. I’m not going to work for you. I’m not going to go on your missions. I’m not even going to set foot in this place – I don’t belong here. I’m only going to use your watch if I have an anomaly to return.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Miguel challenged, arms folded and glaring down at him with an annoying smug look on his face.

Miles glared directly into the man’s red eyes.

“I. Just. Did,” he said, punctuating every word, "And I don't need your approval. I don't need you." 

He was sure he saw Miguel flinch, almost looked upset event, but it only lasted for a few seconds. His face was back to its usual scowl. 

“That was one anomaly, Morales, and it took three of you to handle it. How are you going to handle more, all at once? You can’t rely on your rag-tag team all the time.”

“I’ll manage,” Miles assured him, determinedly, “I did when you all destroyed my Brooklyn in the battle with Spot. I cleaned it up, along with my dad, and I’ll do it again.” Then, turning to Hobie and Pavitr he said, “Let’s go guys. We’re done here.”

Chapter Text

I never will forget those nights,
I wonder if it was a dream,
Remember how you made me crazy,
Remember how I made you scream,
And I don’t understand what happened to our love,
But, babe, I’m gonna get you back,
I’m gonna show you what I’m made of

The Boys of Summer - Don Healey

He set his spray can down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Miles was at his spot beneath Brooklyn, where his mural was. Well, he wasn’t supposed to be there, because he was grounded by his parents, but he decided the mural needed more people added to it. He had already added Hobie – which proved to be harder than he originally anticipated given it was Hobie, the living-collage. But he reckons he did a good job of capturing him.

All he had to do now was add Pavitr and Margo. He already added a rough outline of Pavitr’s face, so really was just a matter of colouring it in. Once he’s done, he’ll share the photo with them.

He decided to take a break and read through the messages on his Spider-phone, as he had taken to calling it. It was the morning of New Year’s Eve, two days after his confrontation with Miguel. As Margo wasn’t there to witness it first-hand, Pavitr and Hobie took it upon themselves to relay the events of the day.

Margo: No way did he call Miggy an asshole :D Miles you badass! First you outrun him, then you prove his half-assed theories wrong AND THEN you call him out. Nice work!

Miles : Um, thanks? Lol?

Hobie: He’s a real rebel. I’m so proud of you @Miles.

Pavitr: Hobie’s a proud mumma.

Margo: I’m planning on quitting for good, though. Miggy’s such a bitch man. I got benched because I forgot to complete a mission report. As if I don’t have enough going on here at home.

Hobie: If things get rough, you’re welcome in my dimension, Margie.

Margo: Thanks Hobie <3

Miles remembered overhearing Margo’s parents fighting in the background and it was rough. Being Spider-Byte was probably her way of getting away from it all.

Pavitr: Do a Peni! Tell him where to shove it and then quit!

Margo: Wow, Hobie really is rubbing off on ya @Pavitr. Speaking of, I heard Peni teamed up with two other spiders. They’re working together to contain anomalies in their own universes.

Miles wondered who the two other spiders were? Not Peter, as he’s still in the society and he didn’t think Gwen would be teaming up with Peni either. It was likely to be Noir and Spider-Ham – she was with them the first time he met her. Her face was looking back at him from the mural, along with Noir, Ham’s.  

Pavitr: I think we could do the same. Just the four of us?  I think we can work together, like we did with the Goblin in Miles’ universe.

Margo: Maybe. But we need to have a prototype for the go-home machine. We’ve got the dimension-hopping sussed. But when it comes to transporting anomalies, we’re nowhere near Miggy’s tech.

Hobie: Yeah and I can’t nick Miggy’s one, now that @Miles called him a wanker.  I doubt he’s gonna welcome us with open arms.

Margo: @Hobie, I doubt he would have welcomed you with open arms even anyway lol. He really wasn’t a fan of yours to begin with.  

Miles: Seriously what is a ‘wanker’?

Hobie: I’ll give you an in-depth lesson in our fine Cockney slang, mate.

Miles: Sure :-) 

His dad wasn’t happy about him fighting Green Goblin. He was even more disappointed when he found out about Miles travelling to Nueva York.

“Miles, stop putting yourself in danger!” he hissed angrily when he returned from Nueva York that evening. His Mami had a late shift that night, and his ‘Lita was staying over at her old friends house that night. It’s been a while since they spoke about Miles’ Spider-Manning activities.

“Dad, I have to stop people like him,” Miles said in a frustrated voice, “If I don’t do anything,  Miguel and his gang will try to interfere. This is our home dad, and I think we’re responsible for making things right!”

It took some effort to convince him, but he relented in the end.

“Just-just be careful son,” he said, gripping Miles shoulders with both hands, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I promise Dad. You won’t. I’m strong because of you and mami.”

His father hugged him tight that evening.

Miles sighed. As much as he would like to be part of the team Pavitr was proposing, he had to be realistic – Miles was still at school – they all were…well maybe not Hobie… but still. Tackling multiversal threats on top of their usual responsibilities would add another level of complexity to being a Spider-Person.

He really wished there was another society out there to deal with variants and threats. Like a variant agency or something. The multiverse was big enough, right?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t register hearing footsteps behind him. His spider-senses tingled but so subtly that he didn’t notice it at the time.

“Hey,” a voice spoke behind him.

Miles jumped in shock and glanced behind him. It was Gwen. She was wearing a purple woollen coat and tights. She had her hair tied back. 

“Don’t do that!” he yelped, clutching his chest.

She smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I -I didn’t want to…you know, ruin your peace,” she said awkwardly waving her hands around.

She walked into the cavernous room and looked at his mural, awe written on her face. He saw her gaze fixed at the centre of the mural, where her face was painted.

“This-this is amazing Miles,” she said in an impressed voice, “You’re brilliant at art.”

He remembered how she flipped through his sketchbook, blushing at the memory. It was mainly sketches and drawings of her in it.

“Is that what you want to do?” she asked, drawing him away from that pastel-lit memory, “After school I mean…be an artist?”

She looked at him with her bright blue eyes with a questioning glance.

Truth was he still didn’t know what he wanted to do.

“I guess,” he said softly, “I uh originally was planning to study physics at Princeton. They were doing research on interdimensional traveling. I was interested in that.”

“Oh, that sounds neat,” she said awkwardly, “But I guess you don’t want to anymore?”

“No,” he said after a while, “Figured others already got there in the end. Interdimensional travel I mean.”

Gwen winced. Of course, she knew who Miles was referring to.

They remained silent for a few minutes before Gwen spoke.

“Miles,” she said carefully, “I …I know things between us will never be like before, and I accept that it’s my fault.”

Not this again, he thought indignantly..

As if sensing his impatience, Gwen held her hand up.

“Please Miles,” she begged, “Just…just hear me out this once. And then it’s for you to decide what happens next. I’ll respect your decision, whichever way it goes.”

“Fine,” he huffed, pinching his nose, “the floor is yours.” He couldn’t look at her; he slumped down on the makeshift sofa and had his back to her.

“After Peter,” she said in a wavering voice, “I-I didn’t think I’d ever get close to anyone. I kept myself withdrawn from my dad, Ben, and May. And then I met you.”

Miles exhaled, looking at his shoes. He felt his guts lurch uncomfortably.

“I don’t know how to describe it, but you were like a spark in the dark. You brought light with you, wherever you went.”

“So what? Like I’m glowing in the dark?” Miles quipped back.

He heard her chuckle.

“I was thinking more like a bright star,” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made him a little happy.

“You gave me hope, Miles. I was at my lowest when I landed in your universe.  I didn’t think I deserved to be close to anyone and then you walk in.”

“More like got my hand stuck on your hair,” Miles mumbled, smiling faintly .

“And that too,” she said, and he could almost imagine her rolling her eyes playfully, “Miles you showed me that anything is possible. That people like me deserve second-chances, that people like Peter B. Parker, who honestly still is the worst Spider-Man I’ve come across, could find happiness.”

Miles smiled softly at that. Peter really was the worst Spider-Man he knew.

“Miles you taught us all that there is no rulebook to being a Spider-Person. That you can write your own story and your own happiness. That you can do both. You proved all of us wrong, and especially Miguel.”

“The perks of being an anomaly, I guess,” Miles murmured.

He heard her sigh.

“Miles, I’m truly sorry for what I did to you,” she said, “I-I should have been honest to you from the beginning. About the Society and about where you fitted in all of this. I was wrong to keep that from you. I want you to know that you were never a mistake.”

“Yeah?” Miles said, turning around and facing her, “Well sometimes, I don’t feel that way Gwen. Sometimes I feel like a fluke. Like I robbed this chance from someone else.”

Her eyes softened. She walked towards him and held his shoulders. He didn’t have it in him to shrug it off. He gazed at her.

“You were always meant to be Spider-Man Miles,” she said determinedly, “And as far as I know, you’re the best Spider-Man. The multiverse really is lucky to have you, and so am I. I really am sorry that I never took your side – that I was too much of a coward to go against Miguel and Jess. But now I don’t need them. I need my friend more. 

I understand if you don’t ever forgive me,” she said despondently, “But I want you to know that I’ve always got your back Miles. Multiversal threats or otherwise. My doors will always be open to you.”

He didn’t know how to feel – Gwen’s apology was sincere and heartfelt. He could even see tears in her eyes.

He mattered to her, and that’s what Miles wanted. To have a meaningful place in someone else’s life. It gave him a sense of joy and purpose. But he didn’t know if it could be undone all at once – all in one day.

He remembered what his Mami once told him- which he suspects was passed down to her from ‘Lita.

Forgiveness is a journey that stops your heart from breaking further, mijo.  

As Gwen said, things may never be the way it was. But he was tired of feeling so uncertain. There were moments where he felt euphoric, and then there were also many moments where he felt like he was in a nose-diving plane.

Before he learnt about the society, it was loneliness that plagued him, but since his fall out with Gwen, there were so many other things breaking his soul.

For his sake, he could try to forgive.

It's a leap of faith. 

“I can try to,” he said finally, “We can try to be friends again, I mean.”

Her face burst into a happy smile – a genuine smile that was bright enough to illuminate this dim place. She looked like she wanted to hug him but thought against it - he was glad because he didn't know if he was ready for that today. 

Instead she held out her hand.

“Friends?” she asked hopefully.

“Friends.”

Chapter Text

And while we're waiting we could try saving the world
Or are we storing that up for a rainy day?
I'm anticipating the time when it'll be my turn
It could be fun to try
I think that I'll save the world as a fun afternoon activity

Saving the World - Brook Fraser

Winter recess was over and Miles found himself back in the dorm rooms of Brooklyn’s Visions Academy. He relayed everything to Ganke – about the watch, about the Spider-Gang, about Gwen, and about Miguel.

“Jerk had it coming,” Ganke said simply, shrugging.

“Yeah, he did,” Miles said, “But I don’t know if I did the right thing man. He could be watching me right now, planning to get rid of me or hurt my family.”

“I think you’re paranoid, man.”

“Says you who never got jumped by a guy twice your size,” Miles playfully retorted.

And Miles once again found himself falling into an easy routine, only this time, he also made time for his Spider-Friends. He very cautiously asked Hobie if it was alright to let Gwen be a part of their chats.

They were in Mumbattan, containing rogue versions of Typeface who were vandalising the city’s temples and mosques. It wasn’t a dangerous mission, but still a worthy challenge. Miles used his gizmo (which surprisingly was still operational) to send them back to the go-home machine at Spider Society HQ.

Miles’ last visit to Mumbattan was short-lived but still impactful in his Spider-Man journey. This was where it really began, he thought. This was where Spot gained more power and nearly destroyed Pavitr’s dimension.

This was also where Miles had disrupted a critical canon event – one that lead him to a twisted journey to Nueva York.

Mumbattan today was a sight to behold -the skies were a pastel pink in the afternoon and there was a gentle breeze offsetting the warmth and humidity. It was like his New York and yet it was so different.

He, Hobie and Pavitr were sitting on the rooftop of Maya Aunty’s apartment, sipping hot cups of aromatic chai and watching the streets far below them, the city sounds wafting up through the crevice of steel and concrete.

“Mate, if you’ve forgiven her, then who are we to stop ya?” Hobie finally said.

“Agreed,” Pavitr said earnestly, “It wasn’t nice that she didn’t stick by you then, but if she’s apologised and if you think she was genuine, we’re not going to hold it against her.”

From what he knew, it seemed like Gwen wasn’t closely associated with the society.

But Peter was still there – working as Jessica Drew’s replacement, now that she had a child to tend to. Sometimes Miles wonders how someone as stern and blunt as her could look after a baby, dote on them full-time…but then again, mothers were ferocious. His Mami was one of them – one minute she’s the most caring person in the world, and then next she would become genuinely frightening, especially if she suspected Miles of hiding something from her.

He’s glad his Mami now knew about his Spider-Manning duties. It didn’t mean she approved it and certainly didn’t mean she was willing to trust Gwen, but at least they can be transparent about it.

“Mijo,” she said carefully, when they caught up for lunch one weekend, “I want you to be careful this time. I can’t tell you who to forgive and who not to, but I worry about Gwanda breaking your heart again.”

“Her name is Gwen actually,” Miles corrected, “I can’t remember why we went with that alias to be honest.”

“Well, your papa and I don’t completely trust her, mijo, regardless of what her name is,” his mami said disapprovingly, “And that Peter guy – I’m not fond of him either. I don’t think I’ll be as forgiving as you, nene.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Forgiveness is a journey that stops your heart from breaking more’ mami?” Miles teased.

“Oye, you know that’s relative,” she said, swatting his hand, “Mijo if someone deliberately hurt you, you know I won’t be nice to them. Like that Miguelito O’Hare. If I ever see that man, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Miles snorted. He would hardly refer to that behemoth of a man as ‘Miguelito.’ People call their toddlers or pets ‘Miguelito’ – not  raging grown men with claws and fangs. Sometimes Miles wonders what would have happened to him if Miguel tore through the Go-Home machine. Would Miguel have killed him along with his father?

This isn’t the first time he heard his mother mention the man – he would often hear her list things she’d do to Miguel for hurting her son…something he’d pay good money to see.

“Mami, you seriously don’t want to meet that man,” Miles said solemnly, “And I don’t think he’s someone who’ll listen to anyone other than himself.”

“Mijo, I want to put that man in his place,” Rio said seriously, cupping her boy’s face, “You’re still a kid, even though you’re taller than me. What he did to you was wrong and frankly dangerous. You could have been killed from the physical attacks. And I almost lost you because of the words he said to you.”

He heard her mami’s voice break a little when she said the last part.  

“Mami, it’s okay,” Miles said, holding her hands, “I know who I am now. I – I don’t need to prove myself to him, or to Peter, or to anyone else. I don’t need to belong there with them – I don’t need to be a part of their narrative. I write my own story.”

“Ay mijo, you’re too wise for your own good,” she said softly, ruffling his hair.

“I got it from you and dad, Mami,” he said, smiling.

Later that afternoon, the Spider-Band, as Hobie took to calling it, met up in Miles’ Universe. Gwen also tagged along and to say the atmosphere was tense was an understatement. Margo eyed the girl with mistrust, while Hobie regarded her with a fathomless expression on his face.

Even though Miles was slowly forgiving her, the rest of the band were still coldly suspicious towards her.

But Pavitr, being the ice-breaker of the group, managed to ease the tension by talking about food. They had burgers at the same place Miles took Peter almost three years ago. Afterwards they grabbed something to drink and swung up to the Miles’ spot on top of the Williamsburg Bank Building to watch the sun set.

“So you still in Miggy’s clubhouse, Gwendy?” Hobie asked coolly. Miles eyed the blond girl cautiously.

“Actually, I’m solo,” she said quietly, “I don’t deal with them that much. If I have anomalies showing up in my universe, which is very rare, I just use my gizmo to send them back to HQ. I sometimes write the mission reports for him too, but mostly because Peter nags me to.”

“Who? Humbling Reality?” Hobie asked, raising a pierced eyebrow.

Maybe Miles should start calling him that…

“Yep.”

“Bureaucracy is another form of oppression,” Hobie said, “I don’t agree with it. And it’s a waste of time.”

“I guess I see the value of keeping mission reports,” Miles said, “sometimes you might need to brush up on a variant, in case they turn up again.”

“True,” Pavitr said, agreeing, “Like with the Typeface incident.”

“Yes,” Miles said.

“Miles, mate, you have a bright future ahead of you, yeah? Don’t turn into Miggy,” Hobie said seriously, making Miles laugh out loud.

“Trust me Hobie, that’s never going to happen.”

For the remainder of the evening, they just stayed there – the five of them. They talked about how their universes were different – turns out there were very few things that made it different.

“We have Coca-Cola in ours,” Margo said, “But over here, you call it something else.”

“Soda-Kola?” Miles said uncertainly, “But that’s what it’s called though!”

“And we don’t have ‘PDNY’,” Margo continued, ticking off the divergences using her fingers, “We call it ‘NYPD’.”

“Huh,” Gwen said softly, “I have to tell my dad about that one.”

“Me too,” Miles added.

“And in Titanic, Jack dies,” Margo continued.

“No way!” Gwen said, sounding genuinely shocked, “It’s Rose in ours – she sacrifices herself for love. But pretty sure she could have fit on that lifeboat!”

“What’s Titanic?” Miles aksed cluelessly.

“Yo, you haven’t seen Titanic?” Margo gasped, eyebrows widening.

“No,” Miles said slowly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s a cinematic masterpiece, bro!”

“Alright, alright,” Miles chuckled, raising his hand in mock surrender.

“Hey, at least chai is the one constant across  the multiverse,’ Pavitr said brightly, “And samosa and chaat.”

“The one from your universe tasted dope!”

Hobie didn’t add to the conversation that much – unless it was music related. The punk band? The D'Angelos. The best singer of all time? Frankie Jupiter. The best heavy metal band? Monkey’s Fist. Each universe had variants and anomalies, but to Hobie that was a thing to be celebrated. 

He took out his guitar, ‘Bessie’, and started strumming familiar chords, occasionally humming along. 

And in that moment, they were just kids. 

Chapter Text

Lookin' back to find my way, never seemed so hard
Yesterday's belated rest, changing of the gods
I would never change a thing even if I could
All the songs we used to sing, everything was good

Resolve – Foo Fighters

Even though it was still winter, the weather today was uncharacteristically warm. Which was why he decided to visit Uncle Aaron before heading home for the weekend. He felt accomplished today – he handed in his essay – which he got Hobie and Gwen to proofread, and he passed his AP Physics assignment, thanks to the study sessions he and Pav had. In turn he helped Margo with her English assignment, and Gwen with her art history essay.

He and Gwen still had a tentative friendship – it wasn’t like last time where they effortlessly connected with one another. Things were still awkward when they were left alone – Miles still felt uncomfortable and it seemed even Gwen felt like she was walking on eggshells.   

They didn’t come across any anomalies in the recent weeks, but they shared notes on how to tackle common adversaries. Despite living in different universes, they were quick to discover common weaknesses amongst their Electro or Sandmen variants.

The walk to the graveyard was quiet and uneventful. He bought a bouquet of flowers on his way there – he made sure there were sunflowers this time. The last time he visited Uncle Aaron’s grave was shortly after defeating the Spot and turning his back on the Spider Society. He needed to talk to someone then and his parents…weren’t the right people for it then. It was that precarious moment when being both Miles and Spider-Man became too much for him…

His uncle was buried beside Miles’ grandparents – people he’d rarely met. His dad tried to distance himself from them, so much so that he changed his name from ‘Jefferson Davis’ to ‘Jefferson Morales.’ Miles sat in front of his uncle and brushed away the melting snow at the foot of his gravestone before he placed the bouquet of flowers.

“How’s it hanging, Uncle Aaron?” Miles asked. Of course, he didn’t expect a reply. No matter how desperately he wanted to.

“Just wanted to talk to you,” Miles continued, “It’s been a while I was last here and a lot has happened since then.”

He only heard the sound of the city in the background – car horns honking, people shouting – the usual sounds of New York.

“I-I miss you man,” Miles said, choking, “that’ll never change. But I’ve made new friends – they’re out of town, but so much like me. I reckon you’d even get along with some of them. Hobie especially.”

“I uh also fell out with some of my old friends – well one of them right now. They hurt me a lot. But I’m trying to forgive and heal Uncle Aaron – it’s hard but I’m trying. Gotta be strong, right?”

Miles swallowed and wiped a stray tear.

He sat there for a few more minutes quietly contemplating  about the past few weeks before he got up to leave. A gentle breeze flowed behind him as he walked away, and he swore he heard someone faintly whisper “Just keep goin’ Miles. You’re on your way.”

That evening in his bedroom he thought about the mural beneath Brooklyn. He had completed it – he just needed to add some more finishing touches to Margo’s portrait, but otherwise, it was perfect. When it came to art, Miles realised he was definitely a perfectionist.

His remembered the centrepiece of the mural – A black figure outlined in white, an empty slate that had ‘No expectations’ proudly emblazoned above it – as if declaring its defiance for fitting in. That was meant to be him – in the most literal sense. He remembered how his uncle carefully outlined his form with a white spray paint, only a couple of days before he was murdered. A couple of minutes before that spider bit him.

He’s no longer that kid without expectations. People expected a lot from him now. His teachers, his friends, his parents. Brooklyn. Being Spider-Man was a sacrifice, but it was also a job that held high expectations. In Miles’ case more so – he’s the second Spider-Man this city birthed – he had shoes to fill that others didn’t have to. He had to uphold a legacy that other Spider-People probably didn't have to - certainly not Peter B or Miguel. 

He sometimes wondered what would have happened if his universe’s Peter Parker survived. Would he have shown him the ropes, like he promised minutes before his passing?

Would Miles have been a better Spider-Man had he been trained by him?

Would they have worked together to protect the city from the Spot?

Probably, he conceded.

As he was preparing for tomorrow, he heard a distinct thump on the terrace above him. And muffled voices speaking incoherently.

Great home invaders by the sound of it, Miles thought exasperatedly as he suited up.  He slid his window open quietly as he climbed up to the roof.

“What if he doesn’t want to see us? Poor fella, we never visited him,” Miles heard a gravelly voice ask. They sounded very familiar and almost nervous.

“I-I didn’t think that would be the case,” another nervous voice said. A girl’s voice.

“Doll, if someone treated me like that, I’d never want to see ‘em. I know Ham and I weren’t part of that cult, but we still feel like we let ‘im down.”

“Boy am I nervous about this,” another voice said. A goofier sounding one.

Miles became invisible as he reached the top – he could make out shadows of four figures – two looked like humans, one an animal and the other a large gargantuan something.

Could it be them?

They were still murmuring amongst themselves when they abruptly stopped and swivelled their head to where he was. The terrace was suddenly illuminated and it revealed familiar faces.

“Hi Miles,” Peni said softly. He saw her smiling in a way that barely reached her eyes.

“Hey Peni,” he said softly, “Noir, and Ham.”

“You know you can call me Peter, Miles,” both man and pig said simultaneously. Miles couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You wanna talk?” Peni asked nervously, coming closer to him.

He looked at Peni closely. She looked the way he felt – tired but content with how things were going.

She didn’t chase me, he reminded himself. She wasn’t part of Miguel’s crusade against him.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “Let’s talk. It’s long overdue, right?”

Peni chuckled.

“Right.”

Chapter Text

Then I look at you
And the world's alright with me
Just one look at you
And I know it's gonna be
A lovely day (lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day)

Lovely Day - Ben Withers

“I left after what they did to you Miles,” Peni explained in a soft voice, “I found Ham and Noir in their universes and told them all about the Spider-Society and anomalies. We then decided to responsibly relocate anomalies in our universes. I created gizmos for all of us.”

She showed him a version of the watch he had – a more slimmer and sleeker version of it.

Peni was from the 31^st Century, so naturally her technology would be more advanced than Miguel’s.

“We don’t even need the Go-Home machine,” Peni continued, “This does it all on its own – it directly sends anomalies to their home dimension.”

They were still on the roof top, facing the mural he and his father painted of Uncle Aaron.

“Yeah, Margo mentioned that,” Miles murmured, “About you leaving the Society.”

“I-I really am sorry, Miles” Peni said demurely, “For everything – for not visiting you, for not backing you. I should have stood my ground then. I was grieving and I guess I needed to cope with my own loss – so Miguel’s theories at the time made sense…that I had to go through that because all Spider-People were fated to.”

Miles stayed quiet. He was watching Noir and Ham looking his mural, and judging by their stance, they seemed to be impressed. How many more Spider-People fell for that canon theory? How many more of them thought that was what their life had in store for them?

Miles admitted he almost fell for it too when his uncle died.

Maybe canons were a way for Miguel to cope with his grief – he lost his ‘daughter’, right?

“I’m sorry for your loss, Peni,” Miles said after a while.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Peni replied quietly, “So you said Margo told you about me. Are you still in touch with her? I liked her a lot.”

“Yeah,” he said, “And I’m in touch with Hobie and Pavitr, and more recently, Gwen. She’s gone solo.”

Peni’s eyebrows shot up.

“Gwen was in quite deep,” Peni remarked, “Really looked up to Jessica. Surprised she’s left.”

“Maybe you inspired her,” Miles said, faintly smiling.

“I don’t think so,” Peni said, laughing faintly, “If anything, you inspired us Miles, by proving Miguel wrong.”

“You sure?”

“Miles when you saved your dad and your world, you reminded us that nothing is pre-written – that bad things happen because it’s life – not because it’s a canon event or nexus event or absolute points or whatever. Bad things happen, and they can be stopped without any universe shattering consequences.”

She laughed humourlessly.

“It’s so funny, because Noir called Miguel out for these reasons,” she explained, “He tried to recruit him, but Noir saw right through him. Called him a ‘grifter.’.”

So Noir saw through him? Well, he was a private eye in his universe, so naturally he would take things with a grain of salt.

“And what about Ham?” Miles asked.

“Miguel never approached him,” Peni said frowning, “Maybe he was planning on recruiting him later on but didn’t get around to it.”

“In any case, I would have never joined that mad clubhouse,” a goofy voice declared. Ham and Noir decided to join them, the former squeezing between Miles and Peni on the bench. Noir stood behind Miles and rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Oddly Miles found it comforting.

“You’re a real fighter, son,” Noir said in a gruff voice, “That’s why that grifter didn’t want  you in his team. You outsmarted him.”

“Yeah Miles, you proved him and the society wrong,” Ham said, playfully punching his arm.

“Thanks?” Miles said uncertainly.

“You bruised his ego,” Ham continued.

“And you kicked his large hard-boiled ass,” Noir added, earning a snort from Ham.

Talking about Miguel’s junk was straight up nasty, Miles decided with a grimace.

“Ewww! Noir!” Peni shrieked, reaching over Miles to slap the tall man’s bicep, “Stop talking about O’Hara’s large behind, please!”

“It’s the truth doll,” Noir said, shrugging, “the man has a keister as large as his ego.”

They went on patrol later that night. Well more like a tour of 1610’s New York. They might have looked awkward together, with a pig, a mecha and a guy in black and white swinging along with Spider-Man over the streets of New York. But Miles didn’t see anything awkward about them.

Peni marvelled at how much smaller New York was in this universe, while Noir was fascinated by how technologically advanced the city had become compared to the last time he was here.

Ham just wanted to try the best hot dog this dimension had to offer - Miles did try telling him that it was made out of pigs, but the pig wasn't fazed by it, which disturbed him. 

"Hot dogs in my universe are made out of human meat," Ham said nonchalantly, "So I don't mind." 

Now Miles was truly concerned. 

After sampling five hot dog stands, Ham finally found ‘the one’. They found a terrace and sat there, eating their snacks and watching the skyscrapers tower above them.

“By the way Miles,” the pig said, “I met a variant of you in my universe.”

As Porker was from a universe where animals talked and apparently ate human flesh, Miles was certain his variant had to be an animal.

“Oh yeah? What’s species is he?”

“A cat,” Ham said cheerfully, “And his name – get this – is Meows Morales.”

Miles laughed. Of all the animals his variant had to be, it was a damn cat. He wondered if Meows Morales was approached by Miguel? The maniac had a cat, a dinosaur, a lego Spider-Man and a damn parked car in his taskforce. And yet, Miles was somehow an anomaly.

Maybe Meows was seen as one too.

“And he wears the same jacket and shoes as you,” Ham commented, “he’s you, but as a cat. Do you lick yourself too?”

“Um, no,” Miles said, caught off-guard by the awkward question. “I’d like to meet him, though.”

“You should!” Ham said bracingly, “Peni’s met him. And so has Noir.”

 “Maybe not now, but once it’s spring break, I might come over and say hi to my homie Meows.”

“He really is an adorable fella,” Noir commented, “Very clingy though.”

“He loved Noir’s hat,” Peni said, giggling, “sat on it all day.”

They sat there for a few more hours before reached Miles’ apartment. Peni’s gizmo opened up the familiar hexagonal portal, but unlike the ones he’s seen these were orderly and didn’t rotate around.

“Miles,” Peni said sincerely, hugging him close, “I want you to know that you are always welcome to hang with us. You’re our friend, and we will always have your back. I’ve saved my number on your Spidey-Phone, so you better stay in touch with me!”

“I will,” Miles laughed, “And you can help us too. Me, Hobie, and Pavitr team up every now and then to contain anomalies in our universes. You can help us too if we need reinforcements.”

“I will,” Peni promised, hopping into Sp//dr. The robot waved at him before it hopped into the portal.

“Ditto,” Noir said, saluting Miles, “I like the sound of the crew you’re hanging with, abyssinia pally. Get them peepers some doss. You’re growing into a man now, so rest up.” He followed Peni.

Miles really needed to learn 1930s slang he realised. Noir was almost as cryptic as Hobie he realised.

“Miles, you’re as brilliant as my friend Meows,” Ham said, giving him a fist bump, “If you need our help, we’ll both join yah.”

Miles couldn’t help but smile at the thought of a teenager, a pig and a cat saving the day.

“Thanks Ham,” he said earnestly.

“Call me Peter, buddy,” the pig said as he gently fell into the hexagonal corridor.

And just like that, they were gone, leaving Miles to himself.

He wanted to ask why they visited him after all this time…but for once he didn’t want to dwell on that.

He was content with how the multiverse was flowing. 

Chapter Text

But I wish I could feel it all for you
I wish I could be it all for you
If I could erase the pain
Then maybe you'd feel the same
I'd do it all for you, I would

Guns and Horses - Ellie Goulding 

Lately Miles found himself gravitating towards final resting places. Last week was Uncle Aaron. Today he was visiting Peter Parker – his Peter Parker. The one who died. Unlike Uncle Aaron's,  Peter’s grave was still decorated with Spider-Man memorablia and gifts – the classic blue and red suit. A testament to how he was beloved by millions of strangers. Miles put his bouquet of flowers on the headstone and stood before it. 

“Hey Mr Parker,” he murmured awkwardly. It felt wrong to just address him as ‘Peter’ – even though he looked so much like Peter B. This Peter Parker felt like a stranger, but a kind one.

He was the only one willing to show me the ropes without hesitation, Miles realised. Even Peter B needed convincing.

“I’m not going to ask you how’s it going. It’ll be insensitive of me,” ,” Miles said, standing awkwardly in front of the grave. “Instead, I’d just  tell you how things have been since you’ve been gone.”

“Well, Aunt May moved to Florida – she seems happy there from what I gather from her last email. And uh, I think she’s seeing someone. Miss Watson is still here –she’s no longer working for the Bugle though – I think she’s working for TNY, which is really the best upgrade for her. She wrote a nice story about Spider-Man, which I appreciate a lot.  And that Collider’s still bust for now.”

He updated his predecessor about his two years as Spider-Man. The ups and the downs. How he found it difficult to juggle through life, school and work on top of Spider-Manning.

“I actually met a variant of you,” Miles babbled, laughing awkwardly, “I mean a lot of variants of you – there’s even a pig version of you named Peter Porker. But my mentor was a …well how do I say this nicely…a janky version of you actually. Probably the worst mentor anyone could have asked actually but he told me all about it being a leap of faith – about being Spider-Man I mean.”

And then the conversation inevitably gravitated towards  the Spot, the Spider Society, Miguel, and then him, Miles Morales – the original anomaly.

“I didn’t mean to kill you, Mr Parker,” Miles said solemnly, sitting down, “I-I didn’t even want that spider to bite me. I never wanted these powers. I’m so sorry Mr Parker. I –“

“Miles?” a voice behind him enquired softly.

Miles quickly swivelled around to see Peter B. Parker, towering above him. Miles jumped up and took a step away from him.

He saw Peter’s face etched with worry and hand reaching out to him. Miles shrunk away from the man further.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring the older man.

Peter sighed, watching the boy with furrowed eyebrows.

“I uh was hoping if we can talk, Miles,” he said carefully, “Properly this time. I just need to clear the air between us.”

Miles glared at the man. Clearing the air?

“Is that what you call it, Pete?” Miles asked, snorting derisively, “’Clear the air’?’”

“Maybe the choice of words weren’t too great,” Peter muttered, tapping his finger on his chin.

Miles raised his hands in exasperation.

“Man, you’re so full of it,” Miles said angrily, “I’m off-“. Just as he turned around to leave, Miles felt something stuck to the back of his jacket, pulling him back.

“I’m not letting you go Miles,” Peter said determinedly, “Not this time. Not ever.”

Miles heard enough. He took his jacket off, dumped it on the snowy ground. He almost regretted it afterwards – today was cold.

“Okay, didn’t go quite as planned,” he heard Peter mumble. Miles stomped away from the grave, hugging his arms to keep himself warm.

He thought it’d be a quiet afternoon, but Peter B’s appearance complicated that. Miles was so angry that his spider-senses couldn’t register what was heading towards him.

He felt something soft and cold hitting the back of his head, melting away into cold droplets.

He knew what it was straight away – his uncle Aaron used to throw it at him too.

He turned around and saw Peter looking away, and whistling as if he had nothing to do with the aerial assault. Miles saw his jacket hanging from the man’s arm.

“A snowball?” Miles implored, “Really? A snowball?”’

“I don’t know why you’d think that was me, Miles,” Peter said, in a serious voice, “I’d never do-“

“Knock it off, Peter!” Miles yelled, getting frustrated, “I know you threw the damn snowball at me!”

“Could be ghosts,” the man said, shrugging nonchalantly, “we are in a graveyard after all.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Miles snapped, stomping away from him.

“Well I had to get your attention!” the man yelped defensively.

Miles scoffed, ignoring the footsteps crunching through the snow behind him.

“Aren’t you cold?” he heard Peter ask.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in another universe?” Miles responded snidely.

“Well, yeah, but like I said,” Peter said carefully, “I need to talk to you.”

“Well I don’t want to talk to you!” Miles said with finality. He decided to turn invisible.

“Hey! Where’d you go?!”

Miles silently swung himself up to a tree branch. If he stayed still, maybe Peter would leave him alone.

He wasn’t ready to talk. As much as it pained him to say it, he’d rather hurl insults at Miguel than have a heart-to-heart with Peter. The former was genuine cathartic than the latter. It was easier to get angry at Miguel, Miles realised.

He was watching the man scratch his head as he cluelessly scanned around for Miles, calling his name out.

“Oh wait hold on,” Miles heard the man say excitedly, “I’ve got my goober! Just need to find the right code.”

Miles watched the man fiddle with the watch on his wrist.

“Here ya go!” Peter yipped. Miles saw the watch emit orange holograms.

“Now let’s just scan around,” Peter murmured, raising his watch arm around, panning slowly from left to right, “Should be able to scan your heat signature.”

Miles stood still and sighed. Of course Miguel would install something in his stupid gizmo to keep track of his movements. They’ll chase him to the ends of the earth, he realised.

Like ripping off a band-aid, this was something Miles had to do in order to get Peter to leave him alone.

He landed on the ground with a soft thump right behind the man.

Peter yelped and jumped away.

“D-Don’t do that again,” he admonished softly, “I’m not getting any younger, you know!”

Miles rolled his eyes.

“Peter you had months to talk to me,” he said in a tired voice, “Even before I knew about your Spider-Society. Why are you so desperate to talk to me now?”

Peter watched the boy with a look of an honest remorse that made Miles hold his tongue. Again, he didn’t have it in him to deliberately hurt anyone. 

“Well,” he started awkwardly, watching the boy cautiously with brown eyes,  “Because it took me this long to realise how badly I screwed up, Miles. I came here to make it up to you... to apologise properly this time.

Miles looked down at his Air Jordans. He didn't flinch when he felt Peter drape his jacket over his shoulder. He didn't flinch when the man rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. 

"It's cold here," he heard the man ramble. " And I am starving. Why don't we go to that place we went to last time? And then we can talk properly. I-Is there a place where you get away from it all? All of us have one, right?" 

“Yeah, there is," Miles said in a thick voice. 

“Then we'll go there and properly talk, kiddo." 

Chapter Text

You were my fire, so I burned, 'til there was nothing left of me

I, I touched your face, I held you close, 'til I could barely breathe

Why give me hope, then give me up, just to be the death of me

Save the rest of me

Hesitate - Stone Sour

Lunch was an awkward affair. Peter tried to initiate a conversation, but Miles kept on giving him simple ‘yes’, ‘no’, or one-worded answers.

“The burgers are still so good here, right?”

“Sure.”

“How have you been?”

“Good.”

“Uh, how’s school going?”

“Great.”

“Are you planning to go anywhere for your spring break?”

“No.”

Truth be told, Miles wasn’t a fan of small talk, and especially with someone who hurt him.

For the remaining fifteen minutes, they ate their burger in silence. Miles paid for both him and Peter before exiting the joint.

On their way to the next spot, Miles as Spider-Man managed to stop a purse-snatcher, a pickpocket and a little girl from getting run over. The latter gave him a hug and a kiss to the cheek.

“I wuv you Spidey,” the girl, whose name was Charlie,  said shyly.

“And I wuv you too, Charlie,” Miles said in his Brooklyn-accented voice, “Now next time you have to be careful alright? Always hold onto your mamma’s hand when you’re on the road, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Thank you Spider-Man!” the girl’s mother said, almost on the verge of tears.

“Ma’am, I’m just doing my job as your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.”

Peter was watching the scene unfold from  a hidden spot. He kept himself away from the action in case people mistook him for this universe’s Peter Parker – the one who died.

They didn’t go to Bank Building, even though that was a place that helped him to get away from things. It didn’t feel right to take Peter there for some reason. Instead he took Peter to his spot beneath the city. Technically that was one of the places he got away from everything too.

Peter was in awe of the mural in front of him.

“Wow kiddo,” he said, clapping Miles’ back, “You did all of this? I knew you’re good at art but this is something else, Miles!”

Miles felt something warm up deep inside him when Peter spoke about his art like that – somewhere between impressed and proud. And he hated that feeling so much – it made it hard for him to hold resentment towards the man.

“Yeah,” Miles said awkwardly, “Well most of it. My uncle helped too – he drew that one.”

He gestured to the black figure in the middle.

“Very cool! You’ve even added Hobie, Pav and Margo! This is very impressive, buddy!”

“Thanks,” Miles said quietly, looking away from the man, “It’s just one of the things I do to – uh get away from it.”

“I see,” Peter said, nodding, “I noticed you have a lot of drawings of Gwen here. You wanna tell me something?”

Miles shifted awkwardly as he sat down on the makeshift couch.

“No,” he said, voice squeaking a bit, “I did those before…the Spider-Society happened.”

“Oh,” Peter said in an awkward voice, the truth dawning on him, “Right.”

Peter was standing across from him, arms folded and back resting against the mural.

“It’s time I spoke, huh?” Peter said, chuckling awkwardly.

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Miles said in a tired voice.

“Right,” Peter rambled awkwardly, “That’s why I’m here. To apologise – because you deserve it more than anyone else in the entire Spider-Verse.“

Miles cringed. This was uncomfortable, but Miles couldn’t decide for whom – him or Peter?

There it was – that awkward pause. And then Peter spoke again.

“Miles, I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark. It-it wasn’t right and you deserved the truth. About everything -the society, the Spider-Verse, and your place in it-“

“Yeah, I know,” Miles cut in, feeling his blood surge in anger, “My place in this universe as a mistake, right?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. He almost looked pained, which Miles thought he didn’t have a right to.

“Miles, you’re anything but a mistake,” he said in a soft voice.

“If anything,” Peter continued, “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, and Gwen and everyone else. If I hadn’t met you kiddo, I never would have gotten back with MJ and I never would’ve had May-Day.  I never wanted kids before, but you changed me Miles.”

“Yeah, you told me this,” Miles said, getting up, “Right before you led Miguel and his entire gang to me.”

The older man’s face turned grim with remorse.

“Miles, that was a genuine mistake,” he said, almost pleaded, “I never wanted them to find you.”

“And yet you joined them,” Miles said quietly, “You hunted me down too.”

“And I’ll always regret it Miles,” he said, taking a cautious step towards the boy.

“I-I trusted you man! And when-“ Miles took a deep breath in, “when Miguel slammed me against the train – and I tried calling you for help –”

Miles felt his vision cloud with tears of anger and hurt. Peter and the mural became a colourful blur.

“I-I was scared, Pete,” Miles said in a broken voice, wiping his eyes furiously, “and alone. And you and Gwen-”

He registered arms wrapped around his thin frame, and it felt oddly comforting. The man was still part of that stupid Spider Society. He was Miguel’s right-hand – at least until Jessica Drew returned. Every part of him wanted to push away, but he felt safe when he was held by Peter.

“I won’t let that happen to you again,” Peter said softly, “I’ll never turn my back on you again kid. You’re such a good kid and we…didn’t treat you right. You didn’t deserve Miguel’s crap and you didn’t deserve to be alienated.”

“I’m proud of you Miles,” he heard Peter say in a muffled voice, “Both as Spider-Man and Miles Morales. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done to rebuild this city and community. I’m so proud of how you’ve been leading your team, especially when you were tackling anomalies in other dimensions, but even in other ways too. I want May-Day to be like you when she grows up, Miles.”

He pulled away from Miles but still rested both his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Miles looked at the ground, refusing to meet the man’s eyes. He couldn’t stop his tears – it’s as if his system wanted it all out, all at once.

“I’ve screwed up a-and I know no amount of apologies could fix it, Miles,” Peter said in a shaky voice, “But I-I’m going to try , buddy. I’m going to do my absolute best to gain your trust again and even if you don’t trust me that’s…that’s okay too. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, especially when you needed me the most. I mean it when I say this– I’m never going to abandon you.”

“You are so loved kiddo – by your community, your family, by us,” Peter continued, gently thumbing away the tears on Miles’ cheek, “Do you know how rare it is for Jamieson to praise Spider-Man?”

Miles gave a weak chuckle. Jamieson was a bit kinder to him nowadays, especially in the aftermath of the Battle of Brooklyn.

“Miles, y-you made me want to be a better person,” he rambled, “Also made me want to be a better Spider-Man. Kid, you’re the best out of all of us.”

You’re the best of all of us, Miles. 

“And you don’t owe the society or Miguel anything,” Peter said, quietly, “you’re the Ultimate Spider-Man – not a mistake. You were meant to be Spider-Man. I’m sorry it took me this long to apologise to you. I owed you an apology a long time ago, and I realised I didn’t try hard enough that night when we spoke.”

Miles stayed silent for a few minutes before he spoke, voice wavering.

“I-I’m tired Pete,” he said, “I don’t want to be angry anymore. A-and I want to trust you…but I need time.”

“Of course bud,” Peter said in a soft voice, wrapping his arm around Miles’ shoulder, “But if you ever need me, I’m just a call away with the goober. You’re always welcome in my dimension.”

“Okay.”

And they stayed like that for a few hours more.

Chapter Text

Hello! Well, it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Unfortunately, this isn’t a chapter update, but an update about the story itself.

When I began this story in 2023, I really enjoyed writing the more emotional and angsty parts. I felt like I really thrived as a writer in those moments.

As of late, you may have noticed the story took a more action approach – more centring on the plot.  And my updates have been…well…scarce. While it was fun to write these moments too, I now feel like the story really isn’t moving anywhere and I’m losing the character development side of it, which I love in any good story.

Instead, I feel like I’ve crammed the fic with too many characters, so much so that it’s shifting away from the direction I hoped to take it. And honestly it has been burning me out, trying to figure out how I can make the story better given its current trajectory. That’s not a fun place to be in – creative burn out is straight up draining and more so when you let a story develop organically. 

But I also love this story far too much to give it up– I love how we’ve built a community and created a universe where Miles’ (and the other characters’) vulnerability becomes their resilience.

So, I’m planning to re-write this story from Chapter 18 onwards – I felt like this is the point where things started going astray from a narrative perspective and this is the best place that could branch "The Original Anomaly" into a fresher story.  

Ultimately it means the story you’re going to read in the next few months is going to look very different from the one you’ve reading thus far – in tone, in plot and probably in its dramatis personae.

The chapters following Chapter 18 will still be available on my profile – I’ll try to move it over to my “First Drafts” folder in the coming few weeks, along with updating the tags. Maybe we can still create something out of these in the future? 

But for now, I’m going to start writing a newer story, hopefully one that will interest everyone! 

Always in creativity,

TimTammy23 

Chapter Text

Shoulda known from the beginnin'
I was put on Earth to win it
Wanna tango where we livin'?
Anyway you try to spin it (yeah, yeah)
Heroes lookin' at me in the mirror
Couldn't tell but now I see it clear

This is my time - Lecrae

“Dunno why you’re back on speaking terms with him, mate,” Hobie said when he came to visit. It had been almost a week since Miles and Peter had tentatively reconciled…

That still didn’t mean that Miles trusted the man…a few days isn’t going to undo betrayal like that.

But like he’s maintained in the past – he wanted to move from all that. 

“He’s been chums with that git for a while now,” Hobie continued. “Could be spying on ya is all I’m saying, bruv.”

They were back at the Williamsburg Bank Building waiting for Pav. The sky was a beautiful cerulean blue, but Brooklyn was freezing. The city had another bout of snow fall and it was difficult for him to do his usual patrolling because of the frigid temperatures. Also his dad won’t let him – he kept telling him his officers had everything under control.

And his mami was another case – she didn’t stop talking about the patients she had on the ventilator because of the flu and other respiratory infections.

“Spider-Man or not, it don’t mean you can’t catch a virus, papa,” she chided earlier that day.

Miles did consider what Hobie said.  Was Peter reconnecting with him just another ploy? He still didn’t forget how Peter’s device betrayed him in Nueva York. And how Peter in general betrayed him about his whole ‘place’ in this stupid multiverse.

“I did think that at first,” Miles admitted, shivering as the cold air stung his face. His breath came out in a wispy vapour. “But I reckon if Miguel wanted to spy on me, it’d have happened a long time ago when I got the gizmo.”

“You need to destroy that thing, mate,” Hobie said seriously.

“Unless you speed up on your gizmo, I ain’t throwing it away yet,” Miles cautioned playfully.

“Besides, if old Miggy was spying at me, he’s not gonna see anything entertaining,” he continued, “Just a kid juggling his many responsibilities. Nothing new here.”

“Your funeral, mate,” Hobie said seriously.

Pav arrived about almost an hour later than usual. Apparently he was accosted by Gayatri and he could not, out of pure respect and affection, dissuade her.

“I reckon you should tell her, mate,” Hobie said, clapping the younger boy’s shoulder as they walked past the throngs of commuters and tourists in the Upper East Side. “It’ll be much easier for yah to go about." 

“Yeah Pav,” Miles agreed, “You don’t want to keep her in the dark.”

“Easy for you to say,” Pav said glumly, “Gwen already knows you’re Spider-mpf!.”

“Keep it down, man!” Miles said quickly clapping his hand over Pav’s mouth, frantically looking around him. Thankfully no one heard Pav - New Yorkers were milling around in their normal, routined way. 

Miles ignored the heat creeping up his face. “Also, me and Gwen aren’t a thing!”

“Yet,” Hobie added, raising a pierced eyebrow. Miles rolled his eyes as he let go of Pav.

Yes things between him and Gwen thawed a lot, but that still didn’t mean that the two of them were dating. They’re still very much friends.

The trio arrived at the shawarma place, moonlighting as normal teenagers hanging out for the weekend. That’s what Miles told his mami before he set off that earlier that day.

“’Hanging out’, huh papito?” Rio had said, narrowing her brown eyes at her son, hands on her hips. That body language typically screamed doubt and trouble for Miles.

“Uh yeah,” Miles said, smiling nervously, “Because things are pretty normal right now, right? So we’re doing normal things!”

It wasn’t a complete lie – life was seemingly anomaly-less in Miles’ universe. Just as Miles had wanted it.

“I’d like to meet these ‘friends’ of yours before you leave,” Rio demanded, “Otherwise I’m gonna confiscate those web bracelets off you.”

“Web shooters, mami,” Miles corrected, sighing dramatically, “And trust me, we won’t be doing Spider-Man things.”

Miles promised his mami that he’ll bring his friends over after they hung out.

“Ain’t gonna lie, fam,” Hobie said, as he took a bite out of his falafel shawarma, “This is dandy. Exquisite if I do say so myself – you rarely find places like these in my ‘verse.”

“We don’t have a lot of shawarma places either,” Pav agreed, taking nimble bites out of his own wrap. “But it’s nice to try something different. I do like the flavour-profile of this wrap though. The spice and salinity are perfectly balanced.”

Miles chuckled.

“Man you two be talking like y’all are judges on MaestroChef,” he snorted, shaking his head.

“You mean MasterChe-” Pav was about to say, before his eyes widened.

Hobie and Miles exchanged a look – they didn’t need to ask Pav ‘What was wrong?’ Their spider-senses too picked something up.

They swivelled over to the direction where the kitchen was...

Sure enough, there was a portal swirling open behind the counter. And it looked nothing like the ones from Spider HQ.

It was inky and black, swirling as it got larger and edges flashing in vivid, blinding lights.

It looked a lot like the portals Fisk’s collider generated, Miles realised, slowly standing up and backing away, his shawarma neglected on his plate.

He faintly registered hearing panic erupting around him, voices shrieking and bodies scrambling to get out. He felt the chill of the cold air outside blast inside as the windows and doors smashed open.

He thought it was the portal itself that incited the chaos. He was wrong.

It was what crawled out of the portal that had everyone freaked out. As it slowly stood up to its full towering height, Miles knew immediately that this thing wasn’t human, even if it looked like one.

It turned to face them and Miles really wished it hadn’t – it was definitely going to give him nightmares for a good few weeks.

Leering sharp teeth, glistening black skin, and a lolling bright red tongue. It was straight out of a Lovecraftian horror story.

And it wasn’t good that the portal behind this thing began to get smaller with every passing second.

Miles swore that thing made direct eye contact with him – he saw the white slits narrow in recognition.

“Um you are seeing this right?” Pav squeaked, backing away slowly.

“Yeah,” Hobie said, steely, “And trust me, you don’t want that thing anywhere near you.”

He was about to ask Hobie about what that thing was, when his senses flared once again. But this time, something seemed different…

He turned to look at the portal once more. His brown eyes widened, but he didn’t know whether to be shocked, surprised or worried.

“No way,” he heard Pavitr say faintly, also in astonishment.

“Bloody ‘ell,” Hobie murmured.

They saw another figure leap out of the closing portal, their movements controlled despite the chaos unfolding in the tiny restaurant.

It was a lithe, masked figure.

Wearing an almost familiar black and red suit.

Chapter Text

Now look at this
Madness, the magnet keeps attracting me, me
I try to run, but see, I'm not that fast
I think I'm first but surely finish last, last

Day n Nite - Kid Cudi

“Oh no you don’t, ugly!” the new Spider-Man yelped as he shot a web at the monster’s face, trying to reel it towards him. “Don’t know where you brought me man, but I’m taking you right back –”

Miles saw it tear the webs off its face. With a snarl, the creature it lunged at Spider-Man, talons outstretched and ready to cause damage.

Spider-Man deftly dodged the attack, swiftly leaping to the other side of the restaurant, his feet glued to the wall.

“Yah missed!” he teased before shooting another web bomb at the creature’s face.

But that monster was smart too. It dodged the webs. Grinning and licking its lips with its scarlet, long tongue, the creature’s arms shot out, sinewy black tissue stretching and elongating not unlike Miles’ webs.

“Uh-oh!” Pav said, backing away as the rope-like tissues wrapped around the masked vigilante’s throat. The creature lurched him forward, lifting the flailing figure high in the air.

“Now what did I say about strangling people?” Spider-Man choked as he tried to prise himself free.

The thing only hissed and snarled at him, sounding very much like it wasn’t from this planet at all.

Miles’ brown eyes widened when saw the monster’s sinewy fingers worm around Spider-Man’s throat, branching over his neck and down his collarbone. It was as if that thing was trying to absorb him in some way.

Miles and Hobie exchanged a look. The needed to do something, and fast. He, Pav and Hobie were in their civilian clothes – fighting the creature meant risking exposing their identity. Save for Bessie, Hobie’s beloved guitar, there was nothing about them that screamed Spider-Men.

And speaking of Hobie’s guitar…

Hobie pick up Bessie and sling it over him. Miles noticed the guitar was buzzing already, as if it was being charged by an unseen force. He always did wonder if Hobie had bioelectric like him...he did coach him about using his palms.

Pav cast Hobie a doubtful, if not bewildered look.

“Mate, trust me,” he told him, taking out a pick out of the back pocket of his jeans. "This'll work a charm on ye olde ugly over there." 

He raised it above his head before bringing t down, strumming a loud, deafening riff. Miles and Pav quickly covered their ears as Hobie’s shreds pierced through the chaos.

But they weren’t the only ones covering their ears. Miles saw the creature was shrieking, tossing the Spider-Man into the kitchen out back. Miles winced when he saw large pots and pans fall from the shelves above. Spider-Man or not, that’s gotta hurt, he thought.

The creature clapped their taloned hands over their ears…or where Miles presumed were their ears. The monster fell to the ground, writhing as its sinewy black skin tried to detach itself from its form, as if it were in a desperate bid to escape and latch onto something else.

Why did that look familiar to him?

The louder and complicated Hobie’s riffs played, the more the creature flailed. Until it completely collapsed onto the floor in a crumped mass of black goo.

Miles was convinced the creature actually melted into a black pool of inky liquid, like the Wicked Witch of the West. But he quickly realised it was the portal opening in the tiled, greasy floor – starting off dark and then swirling open into a  jarringly colourful and bright swirl pool.

Miles covered his eyes and backed away as the portal grew. It began to suck everything in it’s vicinity like a miniature blackhole. In fell the creature, followed by tables, chairs and shawarma.

It was a good thing they all had sticky hands like a real spider, he thought as he held onto the counter for dear life. Pav did the same, while Hobie braced himself against the wall.

And eventually it began to close, its brightness ebbing away. Whatever furniture that was enroute to the portal hovered in the air before it promptly fell,  disintegrating as it landed on the tiled floor.

There was silence before he heard voices again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a crowd outside congregating on the street, curious eyes peering in through the broken front window, gasping, marvelling and even cursing at what had transpired. Some eyes were on him, some were on Pav and Hobie. But most of them pointed out back, where the Spider-Man was.

“Was he wearing a new suit?” someone asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this out-of-form before,” another said frankly.

“Jameson’s right about him!” an indignant voice declared.

Miles wanted to groan. Of course he was going to cop the blame for what this Spider-Man did. He could just imagine Jameson ranting off about it in his new podcast.

They turned to the kitchen when they heard the sound of pots and pans clanging in the back. And someone groaning 'Not cool' in a pained voice. 

Miles watched Spider-Man stand up awkwardly, elbow propped (and slipping) against the counter. It was now pretty obvious – this guy’s suit was very similar to his – except Miles’ still had the red stripes along the side and this guy’s had a v-shaped red accent along his torso – similar to Miles’ earlier concepts he realised.

Miles was pretty sure no one saw that…

“Where- where did he –” the masked vigilante began, before he abruptly paused, and stared at the three of them. Even though Miles knew he was looking at them, it still looked awkward because he had his mask on…it made Miles wonder if this is how most people felt whenever they saw him around. A masked man without any facial expressions.

The new Spider-Man cocked his head to the side, a gesture that seemed too familiar to Miles.

“Wait a minute,” he started slowly, “Y’all are like m- ARGH!”

Miles watched Spider-Man collapse and land on the floor, clutching his head  and torso as his form splintered into bright, refracted beams of light. 

Miles flinched at the memory of that pain…. It only lasts a few seconds but it truly felt like your atoms were trying to rip themselves apart.

“W-what the hell was th-that?!” Spider-Man asked, clutching his side as he once again stood up, bracing himself by holding the counter.

It confirmed one thing for Miles: this guy definitely didn’t know anything about inter-dimensional travelling. 

This guy was as much an anomaly as that thing it was fighting.

“You glitched mate,” Hobie said simply.

“Glitched?” he questioned, sounding faintly skeptical. 

“Yeah,” Pav said solemnly, “It’s like every fibre of your bodily functions are trying not to function.”

“Man what are you saying?” the newcomer said breathlessly, “All of this doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ll explain everything,” Miles said quickly in a quiet voice. Outside, People were still hesitant to come in, but some had their eyes narrowed at them. They needed to get out of here before they got caught. 

“Meet us at Brooklyn Bridge – on the tower at the Brooklyn end. We’ll explain everything. It’s not safe here. Go!” He whispered the last part.

Spider-Man didn’t need telling twice – he used his webs to zip through the broken shopfront window to make his escape. The crowd instinctively parted away, gasping out of fear or disgusted astonishment.

The owner of the shop was the most indignant. He shouted something very furious in Arabic. Miles really hoped the guy had an insurance policy that also covered vigilante-related damages. Apparently most companies offered coverage for that type of incidents now.

Using the distraction to their advantage, the trio slipped out the restaurant and towards Brooklyn Bridge.

Chapter Text

Don't look ahead, there's stormy weather
Another roadblock in our way
But if we go, we go together
Our hands are tied here if we stay

Disparate Youth - Santigold.

“You know, you can take that mask off, right?” Miles said, smiling wryly at the newcomer.

The new Spider-Man still had his mask on and it was awkward for the guys to sustain a conversation with him.

“Can’t risk it man,” he replied back, “What if there’s another me here, then? Chances are he looks like me, right?”

“Fair enough,” Miles agreed. Peter B did look a lot like this universe’s Peter – albeit a brunette and janky version of him. Sometimes Miles  wondered whether there was a variant of him out there in the multiverse who looked exactly like him. So far, he only knew of Meows Morales – his cat counterpart from Spider-Ham’s universe.

“I concur,” Hobie said, while Pav hummed in agreement. The younger spider-man was scrolling through his phone, the light from his screen illuminating his face in a ghostly white light.

The wind blew onto their faces and buried deep in their bones. Despite the cold, the bridge below was alive; people still milling around the boardwalk, laughing, chattering and taking pictures of Manhattan’s glittering skyline, and beneath them cars zoomed across the East River, occasionally punctuated by car horns honking impatiently. 

For the next few minutes they sat in overbearing silence. Miles was deep in thought – thinking about where that thing was. On the way to the bridge, Hobie quickly gave a rundown of what that goopy creature was. It was a symbiote – a parasitic creature from outer space that loved to attach itself to all life forms, but especially Spider-Man. Apparently, getting latched by that thing was also a canon event in Miguel’s world.

“So how did this all happen?” he asked.

The masked man slumped his shoulders, sighing. Maybe calling him ‘man’ was a bit misleading, now that Miles thought about it. He was probably around the same age as them – maybe a bit older. He wasn’t as tall or muscular as Miguel and nor did he sound mature like Peter B.

“I don’t know man,” he said, “I was rescuing shoppers from these symbiotes and one of them got away. I was chasing it and then a portal opened…and I found myself here.”

“It’s been a while since it happened,” the masked vigilante continued to murmur.

“You mean it’s happened before?” Hobie asked, pierced eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah,” Spider-Man confirmed, nodding.  “When those random Spider-Bots showed up from other dimensions. But that lady took it away – she said if some dude – ah forgot his name- Mike I think? – came to look for these, she said it’s finders keepers. I think she stole them.”

Miles didn’t know what Spider-Bots were, but Hobie an Pav exchanged a knowing look.

“Don’t think we know of a Mike,” Pav said, frowning faintly. His eyes were still trained on his phone. He winced when he watched the next video. “Ooof Jameson’s already done a live broadcast.”

Miles groaned loudly, hearing the man's gravelly voice play back through Pav's phone. As usual, he was calling Miles a feckless menace. 

"Sorry about that, man," Spider-Man said to Miles, sounding genuinely apoloigetic. "I didn't realise Jameson existed in your universe too." 

“Unfortunately he does,” Pav sighed, “That’s one thing we have common across the multiverse. Every Spider-Man must have a J.Jonah Jameson calling them a menace." 

“It's a canon event,” Hobie said seriously, while Pav snickered in the background. Even Miles couldn't hide his smile. 

“What’s a canon event?” new Spider-Man asked. 

Miles was about to explain the concept but was interrupted by the shrill sound of his phone ringging. His brown eyes widened when he read the contact name illuminating his screen.

“Yeah, you better answer that,” Pav said, flinching and peeking over his shoulder.

“Nah, you don’t have to mate,” Hobie quipped, leaning against the brick façade of the tower, arms folded casually.

As much as Miles would like to ignore phone calls from his father, he knew what the consequences of that action would yield. Last time he did that, he was grounded.

He quickly slid his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

“D-Dad! What a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed, shooting a pained smile at the Spider-Man. To his credit, the masked figure did give him an encouraging double thumbs up, as if to say ‘You got this, buddy!’

 “To what do I owe the ple-“ Miles began before he paused and flinched.

An angry, irate voice was buzzing through the voice, too tinny and faint to be audible. But the three spider-men got it – Miles was probably getting an earful from his old man.

“But dad-!”

Hobie, Pav and Spider-Man heard the voice buzz again, sounding less than pleased.

“Dad can’t it wait – Oh come on! That’s unfair! Even for you!” Miles protested.

“Oh dear,” Pav tutted, shaking his head in faux disappointment, trying to hide a smirk. Miles narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh dear is right,” Spider-Man murmured in an apprehensive voice.

Miles soon realised his mistake and quickly tried to remediate it, but it was too late. Judging by his cringing, his father definitely wasn’t impressed.

“Of course you’re not! But don’t you think it’s a bit drama- no I’m not calling you a drama queen dad!”

“Yeesh,” Hobie said, shaking his head in faux disappointment, “Kids these days, aye?”

Miles shot a web bomb in his direction, but predictably (and annoyingly), Hobie deftly dodged it. There were strands of white threads sticking on the wall behind him as he smugly smiled. Miles flipped a bird at his friend. 

Miles couldn’t get a word in, and after a few more minutes of what definitely was scolding, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine dad,” he said in a tired voice, “I’m heading back now.”  

He ended the call with a tap. The three Spider-Men watched him expectantly.  

“So?” Pav asked eagerly.

“He said I need to come back home, otherwise I’m grounded,” Miles said glumly. “And my dad wants to talk…to you guys too.”

"So your dad knows you're Spider-Man?" Spider-Man asked.

"Kind of hard to hide it from him," Miles said sheepishly. 

“Well, lads,” Hobie said casually, “Let’s not keep the good Cap waiting.”

Chapter Text

Mama, I'm chasin' a ghost
I don't know who he is
Mama, I'm chasin' a ghost
I don't know where he is
Mama, I'm chasin' a ghost
Do I look like him? (Like what?)

Like him – Tyler the Creator

Miles eyes widened when he saw his parents in the living room already. He had hoped they were in the kitchen – it would have made it easier for him and the guys to sneak in.

He shot a sheepish smile at his Mami, who was sitting on the couch. Her right leg wasfolded over her left and her lips were pursed. His dad meanwhile was standing behind her, arms folded, jaws tense.

Yep they were definitely pissed off and he was definitely getting grounded.  

Rio’s eyes narrowed when she saw the other three Spider-Men filing behind her son. She noted they were roughly around the same  age as her son – there was the tall  one with piercings, a shorter one with thick, long hair, and another slightly muscly one who was still wearing his Spider-Man mask.

“Hi, Mami!” Miles said nervously, plopping down across from her.

“You’re looking at three months, mijo,” Rio said in a dangerously calm voice.

It gave her some satisfaction to see him flinch. The other three however…

The tall one with the piercings looked unbothered (and also looked like trouble in Rio’s opinion) and the short one was far too cheerful given the situation. He even shook their hands, much to Jeff’s annoyance. Now was not the time to ‘meet the parents.’

“Wow you look like your mom,” she heard the boy say to her son, “But your nose and eyes? Definitely your dad, bro!”

Miles gave him a nervous laugh.

“Thanks Pav,” he murmured. Jeff narrowed his eyes at his son.

“Your pop’s looks mad, bruv,” the tall one pointed out. Rio noticed he had an accent – British probably. He was the only one not sitting down – he leant against the wall, watching them perceptively.

“Oh, I look mad, huh?” Jeff said bluntly, rounding at the tall one. The brit wasn’t even remotely fazed, which both Rio and Miles knew would annoy Jeff.

“Well, I’ve seen angrier folks, if I’m honest,” he said, shrugging, “Ellie’s dad is one of ‘em, but then again, he’s a variant of that git mind you, so naturally he’d look pissed -"

“Thank you, very much, Hobie!” Miles said quickly, shooting his dad an apologetic smile. “Heeey Dad! Weren’t you supposed to be working l-"

“Don’t even go there, Miles,” Jeff warned.  

“Miles?” Spider-Man said in a surprised tone, cocking his head to one side.

“Yep, that’s our Miles,” Pav confirmed, clapping Spider-Man’s shoulder, “Thought you knew that already!”

Miles however wasn’t focussing on their conversation. He was giving his parents an apologetic smile, especially his dad.

“Okie dokie!” Miles said quickly, waving his hands awkwardly, “I uh won’t go there again!”

“Son, how many times do I have to tell you about patrolling?” the man asked in a tired, annoyed voice.

“Dad, it wasn’t our fault,” Miles said quickly, waving his hands frantically, “For real! That thing was out of this world. Er, literally. We were just having shwar-“

Jeff’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m pretty sure that was you. Beating that thing. And causing property damage. And also endangering yourself and the public.”

“Yeah that suit looked like yours, mijo,” Rio said sternly, turning to glare at her son.

Before Miles could get a word out, thankfully Spider-Man interjected.

“Actually, it was me,” the he said quickly, standing up and waving his arms apologetically. “I was the one who fought that symbiote. Well tried to anyway.”

Jeff’s eyes fell on the masked stranger. Sure enough, the suit did look an awful lot like his son’s, but it seemed more hi-tech.

“Yeah Jeff,” Hobie confirmed calmly, “That was new guy here.” If Hobie noticed the dirty look his father shot him, he seemed blissfully unbothered. Which he probably was, Miles deduced. 

“Yes Jeff,” Spider-Man nodded, “I came out of a portal and–”

He abruptly stopped talking. At first Miles thought it was because his dad gave him a stink eye for using his first name. But it wasn't that.

Spider-Man was rooted to the spot, carefully scrutinising the police captain behind his mask. It did look a bit creepy at first.

“No way,” Miles heard the guy mutter to himself, “This- this isn’t possible…it can’t be-”

“What can’t be?” Pav asked sincerely, but the new guy ignored him and continued to stare at Jeff. The latter was unnerved.

“Miles, what’s wrong with him?” Jeff asked his son, looking at the newcomer with suspicion. “Why’s he staring at me like that?”

“Uh dunno,” Miles said, shrugging, “Maybe he worked with a version of you from his universe, Dad?”

And then Spider-Man spoke in a timid, shaky voice. His sincerity was almost childlike to Miles,

“Are you – are you Jeff Davis?” he asked his father.

Jeff pulled a disgruntled expression. It’s been a very long time since someone called him that…

“Changed it to ‘Morales’ about two years go,” the man retorted frankly. “Don’t want to keep that man’s name.”

“Oh,” Spider-Man said faintly, shoulders slumping a little.

Perplexed, Miles walked over to the masked figure, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

“You good man?” he asked carefully.

He didn’t answer Miles. With trembling hands, he slowly slid his mask off, finally revealing his face to them all.

Miles’ hunch was right – this Spider-Man was only a few years older than him – probably the same age as Hobie. He had dark skin and thick brows. And his hair was weaved in short dreads – which Miles admitted kind of looked cool.

But it was his eyes that caught Miles’ attention.

They were glazed with tears.

Before Miles could ask whether he was okay, the new guy took measured steps towards his dad. He continued to stare at Jeff, which even Miles had to admit must have been uncomfortable.

And then, without a warning the guy ran and gave his father a bear hug. Had Miles’ dad been a smaller man, the force of the hug could have easily barrelled him down.

“Ooof!” Jeff grunted, swaying slightly as he held his ground. 

“I totally didn’t expect that,” Miles heard Pav gasp.

“Neither did I, mate,” Hobie added, genuinely sounding surprised.

Miles was just…confused.

“Que?” Rio murmured in a puzzled voice, shooting a glance at her son.

“Oh-Kay!” Jeff exclaimed breathlessly, arms held up. “Miles, why is your friend hugging me?!”

“I don’t know, dad,” Miles said absently, trying to make sense of the scene. He saw Spider-Man’s face wrinkled in pain, tears now freely flowing.

“It’s you,” Miles heard the guy sob into his dad’s chest, “Y-You look different. But it really is you.”

Jeff cast a despairing look at his wife and then at his son. While he wasn’t averse to physical displays of affection, getting hugged by strangers was not something he liked for the obvious reasons.  

“It’s be-been hard without you,” the guy said in a thick voice. “I miss you, so much, dad.”

The room fell silent. Rio looked scandalised, almost angry, Pav was confused and Jeff looked positively horrified. 

But it all made sense to Miles. And it seemed that it all made sense for Hobie too. 

“Blimey,” he said, “New guy is a Miles from another universe!”

Chapter Text

And I'm a million different people
From one day to the next
I can't change my mold
No, no, no, no, no

Bitter Sweet Symphony, The Verve

Miles stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, now bathed in a ghostly light from the street outside.

It was almost two in the morning and the apartment was attuned to its usual rhythms. He heard the dull humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Interlaced with that, he heard his parents’ even breathing from the room next to his.

And then he heard the anomalous sound from the living room – the faint snoring of his variant from a different universe.

Well it finally happened, and he was pleased to know that it wasn't the cat variant of his. 

He was quietly optimistic that there was another variant of him. One that was Spider-Man. Even though they looked different and were different ages, it was the little things that made them similar.

His Mami spoke about how the older Miles’ body language was similar to his, or how he and his variant had particular ways of pronouncing certain words, or how they both frowned and wrinkled their noses when they were deep in though. The latter was candidly pointed out by Pav.

True to his nature, Jeff was guarded. Miles spotted him eying his variant with suspicion throughout the  evening. But an encouraging smile from his real son assuaged his concerns, and he slowly began to regard the older Miles Morales with some trust.

Miles’ older variant spoke about his life, how he already graduated from Brooklyn Visions and how he’s now studying music engineering at college. In his universe,  Peter Parker, or ‘Pete’ as he affectionately calls him, was still Spider-Man and was very much alive. Unlike Peter B. Parker, this older Miles’ Pete was a better mentor – he really took the time and effort show this Miles the strings.

His tone softened when he  mentioned his girlfriend and Miles felt his ears heat up. His parents’ however exchanged a look – one that would have Miles worried.

“Well I ain’t surprised,” Hobie declared casually, while Pav almost squealed in his excitement.

“Oh do tell us her name!” Pav asked cheerfully from across the room. If Miles was standing next to the boy, he definitely would have elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Hailey,” older Miles said, smiling fondly as he nursed his cup of coffee, “She’s crazy talented. And really amazing.”

Rio turned to her son, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. Oh here we go, Miles thought, rolling his eyes in frustration.

“Oye! Don’t roll your eyes at me, papa!” the woman scolded, “Do you know anyone called Hailey at your school?”

“Mami!”

“Don’t ‘Mami’ me, papito!”

“Actually Ms Morales,” Hobie interrupted, “We reckon your son fancies Gwendy.”

“Hobie!” Miles yelped, turning to glare at the Brit. As always he simply smirked back at him.   

“Look, he’s blushing!” Pav pointed out.

“’Gwendy’?” Jeff repeated, brown eyes narrowed behind his glasses, “Hold on, Is she Gwanda the emo?”

Oh kill me now, Miles thought, groaning internally.

“She’s already met the parents, Miles!” Pav snorted.

“Dude, stop!”

“Of course Miles likes her,” Rio muttered, rolling her eyes.

The conversation thankfully steered away from girlfriends and instead orbited around the other Miles’ parents. In his universe his  mother Rio Morales was a school teacher from Brooklyn, who eventually went on to become Harlem’s councilwoman.

 Both Jeff and Miles shot an impressed look at their Rio, who only  gave them a knowing smile. They didn’t doubt her capability – if she wanted to, she could run for a public office like that.

And then things started to get awkward when it came to talking about the other Jeff – not Morales but Davis.

“So I’m gonna guess I’m no longer alive in your uh dimension,” Jeff said carefully, watching his son’s variant.

Older Miles sighed, while the younger Miles felt his heart rate climb as his thoughts ran awry.

“He died while on duty,” the other Miles said quietly, “He was going to get a medal from the mayor at City Hall. And then…well Martin Li killed him along with others that day.”

He spat the name out in a venomous, angry voice. It  was a name vaguely familiar to the Miles of this universe.

“Martin Li’s a proper git in my dimension,” Hobie added coolly, “Bloody facist wanker.”

Jeff shot Hobie an annoyed look – one that Miles often got when he swore. Again, it did very little to ebb the lanky Spider-Man’s nonchalance.

“It happened before I was bitten,” Older Miles continued solemnly, oblivious to Hobie’s offence.  “If I was Spider-Man…I – I could have saved him.”

Miles saw his mother’s eyebrows furrow, while his father looked uncomfortable. Jeff had reached out his hand, probably to rest it on Older Miles’ shoulder. That was his love language, Miles recognised.  But the man quickly withdrew, no doubt registering how awkward it would appear.

He may have been a variant of Older Miles’ father, but he wasn’t the man himself.

Now a few hours later in bed, Miles thought about…well everything. His place in all this. Him being Spider-Man. Him being an anomaly. The anomaly. Canon events.

He didn’t know if Jeff Davis’ death was a canon event or just a tragedy. And he didn’t know if he was really an anomaly anymore.

If he really wasn’t meant to have the mantle of Spider-Man, then surely the multiverse wouldn’t allow another variant of Miles Morales to get bitten by a weird spider, right?

Every other universe had one Spider-Man, but here was a different truth presented to him – a universe where Peter Parker and Miles Morales could both be Spider-Man.

Would that have been him and his Peter Parker, had he been alive? Would he have the same brotherly relationship Older Miles shared with his Pete?  

His reverie was broken by a pinging sound. But instead of his normal phone, it was his Spider-Phone that had lit up on the nightstand.  No doubt a message from one of the webheads he thought, as he reached for his phone. Word had already got out amongst the Web Warriors that there’s a new Miles Morales in town.

Margo wanted to know if this new Miles was cuter, while Penny wanted to know more about his engineering skills.

All Gwen had texted was ‘Whoa that’s cool!”

He squinted as the bright light from his phone subtly illuminated his bedroom. When he read the message, his  heart almost dropped. And he swore he had flatlined when he read who had sent the message.

This message is written on behalf of the Spider-Overlord.

Morales, we need to talk. Meet me on the roof of your apartment building.

Miguel.

Fuck right off, Miles groaned mentally.