Chapter Text
Miles has been having a blast! Ever since he had gotten a watch from Miguel and had been allowed to go out on missions with the Spider-Band, he had been nothing but jovial and lighthearted. Hobie had taken him on a date at one of his band points just last week to introduce his mates. Miles could still feel the echoes of the hard baseline and slamming of drums in his ribcage as an aftereffect of their spectacular concert.
Gwen had taken him on a date as well that very morning. “Just a little something small” she had called it. That something small turned out to be a day full of hopping between buildings in her dimension to go to a dance club hosted by her high school. At first, he was nervous. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. He was an artist, not a dancer. But Gwen was insistent, playfully goading him into joining her freestyle hip-hop performance. He jumped and bobbed and swung around in circles as he and Gwen tore up the gym dance floor, laughing all the while.
He had so much fun dancing and swinging around with his girlfriend that he didn't realize that his watch had alerted him of a message from Miguel until he arrived home. Tired from his excursions, he decided not to answer right away. If it was serious, Miguel would message him with a hologram or with Lyla.
On the next day, however, there were many messages from Miguel. His inbox was buzzing and hissing at him as the violent red of the messages blared at him with urgency.
“What does ‘e want?” Hobie asked, leaning over Miles’ shoulder.
They were currently having lunch in the cafeteria. Burgers and fries were scattered around their little group, abandoned in favor of Miles’ watch.
Miles shrugged. “I dunno? I don’t think I’ve gotten into any trouble lately.”
“Debatable,” Gwen snorted.
“Uh, wow. So rude.” Miles rolled his eyes. “You’ve been spending way too much time with the MP.”
“No, I haven’t!” Gwen protested.
The group had affectionately dubbed Prowler Miles “MP”. He hadn’t been given a watch but they made sure to hang out with him as often as possible. Turned out he was a really funny guy, in his own way. True, he wasn’t bubbly and awkward like their Miles, but he was deviously creative and intelligent. MP and Miles got along pretty well. They teamed up on intense missions with MP being allowed to leave Dimension-42, and 90% of the time, their missions went off without a hitch.
“Maybe it's a new mission?” Pav suggested with a mouth full of naan. He preferred to bring his own lunch.
“Maybe? I’ll take that over another scolding,” Miles grumbled.
“Better go before he comes after you in person,” Gwen said.
“Good luck, Sunflower!” Hobie said with a salute and a grin. As Miles made his leave, Hobie stole another fry. Miles flipped him off, earning a laugh as a result.
The trek to Miguel’s office was a long one. Passed the main hallways, through the holding areas for the anomalies, and down a dark, dreary corridor. It still gave Miles the chills. The memories of his first time at headquarters usually did. He tried not to think about it.
Up ahead the familiar eerie glow of the office monitors lit the rest of Miles’ path. Finally, he entered the room. As expected, Miguel was standing by his monitors on his platform, thankfully lowered. He didn’t know if he could stand another round of the painfully slow descent. Miguel knew it made everyone restless when he was prepared to chastise them.
“Hey, Miguel! You wanted to see me?” Miles called out.
Miguel turned around, his brown eyes red from the monitors. He didn’t smile per se, but the corners of his lips quivered a little at the sight of the young Spider-Man. Ever since… At the events, Miguel had been much kinder, more gentle in his manners, which Miles appreciated. His apology and behavior had made their relationship better. Miguel was a good mentor when he wasn’t determined to slam a teenager into a train for the sake of the multiverse.
“Miles. Yes, give me a second.” Miguel turned around to finish whatever he was working on; closing documents and videos till his screen was almost empty.
Miles shifted nervously in his spot as Miguel strode forward. Once they were mere feet apart, however, the man’s confidence diminished slightly. He cleared his throat but no words came out. He tried again but got the same result. Miles waited for, what? He was curious and tense. Whatever Miguel had to say to him must be important. Was it a multiverse problem? Did he create another hole in the continuum? Was there a powerful anomaly in Dimension-1610?
Miguel eventually found his voice and gruffly forced out. “Miles. I… Dios mío. ¿Por qué es tan difícil?”
“Are you ok?” Miles asked.
“I… I wanted to talk to you about something important.” Miguel said. He looked like he was about to combust.
“Yea?”
Miguel cleared his throat again. “Miles, I feel like I need to apologize again.”
Miles felt his heart stop. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, Miles, I do,” Miguel said. He was determined. “My last apology wasn’t enough to make up for all I’ve done.”
“It was enough, seriously.”
“Miles.”
The tone alone made Miles freeze. It was too similar. Too similar. The cold voices in his ear hadn’t died and the thoughts in his mind had yet to leave him alone.
YOU’RE A MISTAKE!
EVERYWHERE YOU GO, YOU’RE AN ANOMALY!
IT'S YOUR FAULT!
Miguel seemed to notice Miles’ change and quickly backpedaled. “No, Miles, I… Jesús, esto se va a la mierda . Look, Miles, I know what I did is unacceptable. I was too absorbed in my work and I hurt you badly. I always swore, after Gabriella, that I would never...”
“It’s fine,” Miles mumbled. He just wanted to leave.
“It isn’t fine! I need to do this right!” Miguel argued.
Miles flinched. “Please, Miguel. I don’t need another apology.”
“But it’s what you deserve. I haven’t been the good guy I claim to be. I go off about the role of Spider-Man and the necessity of our heroics and then I fall short with you.
Miles needed to leave . Now! He didn’t want to hear this. He didn't want to remember. He didn’t want to remember the feeling of talons ripping into his suit nor the burning of train metal digging into his bruised back. He didn’t want to remember the terror of being kidnapped twice in one night and the agony of electricity not of his own coursing through his veins, prolonged for hours until his mind had turned to mush. He didn’t want to remember how he was tempted to trace the ghostly remnants of the B-11 on his scalp every morning when he checked the growth of his hair.
A large hand was on his shoulder before Miles could figure out why his chest hurt so badly or why his lungs were burning. A tiny voice in his head, unlike all the others, was telling him to breathe. So he did. He took a large gulp of air and another, yet his lungs hungered for more. Hot tears brimmed in his eyes and he rubbed them away, furious at himself for allowing them to manifest in the first place.
“Miles, breath, hijo. That’s it. Breathe deep, breath slow. Está bien, hijo.” Miguel said soothingly. “In and out. That’s it.”
Miles did as he was told and took one last deep breath before he looked up at Miguel’s concerned face. “I-I’m ok.”
Miguel frowned. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“No thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
“ No. Gracias.” Miles mockingly repeated.
“Miles, please-” Miguel started.
“No, just, stop! I don’t want another apology! I don’t want to be reminded of what happened!” Miles exclaimed. “I don’t want you to make up for it. If you feel guilty, fine; but don’t remind me!”
Miguel was looking at him in shock as if he had never seen anything like him before. His dark brows were stretched up to his hairline and his body was rigid. Miles wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Miguel O’Hara, one of the strongest of the Spider-Society, was rendered silent by Miles’ outburst.
Miles turned to go, but Miguel’s hand was still steady and firm on his shoulder. Just as Miles was about to “kindly” tell the man to let go, Miguel did something unexpected. He hugged him . It was awkward at first, but as Miguel stood there holding Miles in his arms, Miles felt something break and shatter into pieces. Horrible sobs wracked Miles’ body as he clung to the giant of a man. Miguel relaxed enough to begin rubbing circles into his back, slowly rocking the two of them back and forth as if he had been made to do so for this very moment.
“Está bien, Miles. Está bien. Simplemente déjalo salir todo.” Miguel murmured comfortingly.
Miles sniffled and slowly looked up. He could feel his cheeks begin to redden at the realization of what he had done, but he made no move to force himself out of the hug. It was…nice.
“Miles. Even if you don’t want to hear it, I am so, so sorry--for everything I did. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”
Miles sniffed. “R-Really?”
“Of course.”
Miles buried his face into Miguel’s chest and sighed. He needed a moment. Miguel let him. They stood there, in Miguel’s office, swaying back and forth and allowing the silence to set in alongside Miguel’s promise.
Later, when Miles left to go back to his friends and Miguel to his work, it was a nonverbal agreement to let the issue rest and that they needn’t speak of the meeting again. But Miles was fine with that. In fact, he was perfectly ok. In a way, he felt ten times better now. It was like his mami always said, a good cry does wonders.
Back in their little nook in the wall, his friends were waiting for him. Pav, noticing him first, waved enthusiastically.
“Hey, Miles! Have a good talk?”
Gwen and Hobie turned around and smiled, but at first glance at his red eyes and tired posture, they leaped into action.
“Are you ok?” Gwen asked. “Did he say anything? We can beat him up if you want?”
“Just say the word, ‘iles. I ain’t afraid to knock around some heads with my guitar,” Hobie said seriously.
“Guys, I’m fine,” Miles laughed. “We just had another apology session. It’s all good.”
“Oh. That all?” Hobie asked.
“That’s all.”
“Well a’ight then.” Hobie went back to lounging in his spot, nicking pieces of the other’s food without a care.
Gwen shook her head at the punk with a fond smile. “So, you good?” She asked Miles.
“All good.”
“Good. Now sit back down, you won’t believe what Margo just sent us from D-42.”
Miles groaned. “God, what did she do now?”
Gwen grinned. “See for yourself.”
She held up her phone where the image of MP and Margo, sitting in Uncle Aaron-42’s living room, were engaged in a hilarious situation. MP, tied down with cables and glaring defiantly at the camera. Meanwhile, Margo was gleefully projecting hairstyles on top of his head with holograms as Penny and her SP//DR Bot were busy painting his nails. Uncle Aaron-42 was watching from behind, obviously amused at the sight.
Miles snorted a laugh and took the phone to text a copy to himself. “This is going as my background for the next month.”
“That’s just one picture,” Gwen added. “C’mon, sit down!”
This was perfect. His boyfriend and girlfriend and Pav, sitting around and having fun and making fun of MP. All was right in the world. No doubt they would be going over to D-42 to “help” once they finished their lunch. Then they’d be summoned by Miguel to be “scolded” for such childish antics. Then he’d send them away with a barely concealed grin as they laughed all the way back to their hideaway spot.
Yeah, Miles was having a blast!