Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miles knows he isn’t exactly ‘cool’. Sure, he’s Spider-Man, but so is she, and so are about a billion other beings stretched out across the web of storylines he confidently calls ‘the Spider-Verse’. At 17 he is now two years removed from having saved the multiverse a second time, yet somehow he feels even that doesn’t award him much applause. His hand reaches over to his nightstand from his small twin bed pushed into the corner of his childhood bedroom and grabs his old headphones. They’re quickly slipped on as he cycles through his numerous playlists and taps on one which seems to fit the vibes of his thoughts in the moment. Music tends to help him think, it focuses his thoughts to the beat of the bass and drums and organizes it all into one big symphony.

The song begins to hum through his head and he exhales, flopping back onto his bed quickly and going back to his thoughts. Gwen however, is pretty damn cool. She’s all rock and pink hair and eyebrow piercings. Her world is a colorful explosion of paint and emotions. Even more so, the people she hangs around are downright scary with how cool they are. Like Hobie specifically. He has no idea why Hobie is always a recurring thought, but somehow it always flows back to him. He thinks it’s likely jealousy, jealousy of the way he and Gwen are so close, how unbelievably open and carefree he is. The way he stands out so sorely yet wouldn’t spare a second glance to whoever stared, the way his piercings seem to perfectly accentuate his face, the way his clothes are so perfectly him down to the way they fit. His angled face and how every expression is nothing short of flawless. All jealousy, of course.

He glances over at the time on his alarm clock and sighs a sound of recognition as he pushes up from the bed and yawns. Despite it being a Saturday, when he’s not off at Visions his parents like him to wake up early and come eat breakfast with them since they miss out on it during the school week. He stumbles through the many items on his floor as he stands up. His room is a mess right now though, and he can’t be mad. Every Friday his interdimensional friends all link up and stop by to take a break from being a hero and just be kids. Last night he had managed to squeeze Hobie, Gwen, Margo, and Pavitr into his small room. All five of them pushed together on the floor watching movies on a too small laptop screen. Nights like those made being Spider-Man just a little bit easier, knowing he wasn’t really ‘the only one’. As he stares with a cheesy smile he’s suddenly pulled from thought by a voice that makes him jump.

“Miles! Mijo? El desayuno está listo!” His mother called from the kitchen. The playful urgency in her voice let him know that she was still in the process of carrying plates to the table. The sound of chairs being pulled out accompanied her voice and he looked towards his door before responding.

“Uh.. Yeah! Comin’ Mami!” He replied quickly, stepping into some slippers quickly and opening his bedroom door. He greeted his mother and father at the table with a sheepish smile and sat down.

“Buenos Dias, sorry about the uh.. Noise last night.” Miles apologized quickly while looking across the table at his parents. Rio waved her hand immediately as if brushing the sound of those words out of the air, Jeff however gave him a quick eyebrow raise.

“Don’t worry Miles, I know how you like to have your friends over. As long as they’re respectful and clean you know I don’t mind.” Rio assured him affectionately while spooning heaping servings of food onto his plate. He cringed slightly at it but smiled and thanked her, however she caught his slight face, “They don’t feed you enough over there at that school, you need to eat while you’re home!” She emphasized her words with a small jut of the wooden spoon she used to serve.

“You’re keeping up with your studies though. right? Now you know I’m all for you havin’ some friends but don’t let them distract you from your future, especially not that little uh- emo.. Yeah that girl Gwanda is somethin’.” His father detailed while using his fork to gesture towards Miles. The younger boy laughed a little awkwardly and looked back to his father.

“I’m keeping up with school Dad, and her name is Gwen! I know I messed up when I first introduced her but you can’t keep calling her Gwanda, she’ll kill me.” Miles expressed while taking a bite of his food. His father laughed and nodded, conceding with his criticisms and continuing to eat and speak with his family at the table. The three of them continued their light conversations before Miles was dismissed and went to the kitchen to wash his dishes before heading back to his room. He stretched and leaned back which caused his shirt to rise halfway up his stomach. Most of his pajamas were just clothes too old to wear outside anymore. They were either stained or beginning to get way too small for him. As he sighed and relaxed he looked down to find a pop of newspaper clippings and bright color sitting casually on the small box shelf in front of his windowsill. Miles jumped with a yelp as he finally connected the dots and realized it was Hobie’s eyes taking him in without a care in the world. He grumbled and snatched up a pillow from his bed to toss in Hobies face.

“What the hell man?” Miles asked while rubbing a hand over his face, as he did he could hear Hobie’s loud laughter in the background. Although he very well could have dodged the pillow the way it sat messily in his lap meant he had just let it hit him, not caring much about the action at all. A small imprint of his black lipstick was left on the pillow which Miles’ eyes lingered on.

“Alright? What’s good ‘iles?” Hobie greeted hopping off the shelf and scooping Miles into a lazy handshake. He was smiling smugly and Miles was looking up at him (a nine inch height difference will do that to you), with an unamused expression. This close up he could see the many different silver slivers of metal pierced through his face, along with smudged eyeliner and messy lipstick. Hobie was… Something. Of all the words he could think of to describe the person in front of him, all of them were a label that he firmly rejected. He wasn’t a boy despite his usually masculine style and a face straight out of a modeling magazine, and he wasn’t a girl despite his makeup and painted nails. He was just Hobie.

“I’m... good? What’re you doin’ here? Wasn’t you just here last night?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow as he laughed gently and pulled away. His hand still felt warm and tingly from Hobie’s and he shook it slightly to get rid of the feeling. It distracted him more than he’d like to admit. Jealousy, he reminded himself.

“Can’t visit my favorite bloke no more? I just wanted a chat, maybe a swing around and some nosh, yeah?” He asked curiously, leaning in as he spoke before withdrawing as he finished. Miles paused for a second, watching Hobie’s face. He was lost for a minute, thinking about how striking he looked, and ‘wow, will this be the first time we’ve hung out alone?’ he exhaled sharply as Hobie impulsively leaned back in. Their faces sat just inches from each other and Miles spoke quickly, cutting off Hobie’s incoming questioning remark.

“It- It takes me too long to decipher half the stuff that comes out of yo’ mouth Hobes.” He said quickly with an added laugh that hopefully convinced Hobie that was the cause of his inexplicable pause. Before Hobie could explain he waved his hand, a gesture picked up from his mother, and cut him off. A laugh left the punk in front of him at the audacity but he quieted as Miles spoke.

“I got it, I got it. We can go for a swing, you go ahead, I'll catch up.” He assured Hobie which rewarded him with a happy grin. Hobie snagged his mask back up and pulled it over his face in one smooth motion, then he stuck out his finger at Miles.

“And don’t cut me off again ‘iles, I’ll snatch you up, I will. I don’t listen to nobody, not even you and your bleedin’ from the armpits shtick.” He told him playfully before webbing to a nearby building and swinging away. Miles rolled his eyes at the gesture and shuffled out of his pajamas and into his suit. The mask was pulled over his head, much less gracefully than the way Hobie had done, and a quick scribbled note was left on his bed for his parents.

' went swinging with hobie, gonna grab sum food. <3 u '

Hobie had paused ahead on the roof of some nearby apartment building when Miles came swinging by. Brooklyn’s Spider-Man knew his city like the back of his hand, he knew every crevice to web to and swing from. Despite knowing his familiarity with the city his confidence soared when Hobie looked a little impressed at the speed he exhibited while swinging past. Quickly, Hobie swung in que, picking up his speed until he was just behind Miles. The two of them had similar swinging styles, despite how it looked from the outside. Miles was self taught, fumbling through the motions of being Spider-Man by copying those around him. That led to a mushed-together web slinging style that had pieces of Gwen. Peter B.. and Noir’s styles. Similarly to Hobies who’s swinging style was just as different, it was erratic and everything down to even the look of his web fluid changed with each swing.

Miles led the way with ease, guiding them down to a lesser known Puerto Rican place a few blocks from his house. He lowered himself down to the street and watched as Hobie came crashing down beside him, exhilarated in every sense of the word. He turned to Miles and cocked his head in a way that just suggested the biggest grin lay hidden beneath his uniquely strewn together mask. Miles squinted at him before walking in. The two Spider-Men stepped into the place and were greeted with both confusion and appreciation.

“There’s two o’ ‘em now? Now I can’t believe this.” The person behind the small buffet style food counter remarked. Miles gave him a wave and walked forward, reaching over to dap him up quickly.

“S’nice to see you man. This time I’m paying, I gotta keep you in business.” Miles told the man in a significantly deepened voice. Hobie resisted the urge to chuckle as he did and leaned back to watch Miles work within his element.

“No, no, no, no. It’s always on the house for you, you know this. You just keep our city safe, I keep you full right?” The clerk asked with a smile, assuring the compassionate boy he was completely fine. “Who’s this friend?” He asked curiously as Hobie gave him a quick salute as a greeting.

“He’s in town for the day. Thought I’d show him some good places to munch.” The black and red draped Spider confirmed as he gently poked Hobie with his elbow and gestured to the menu. Miles already knew what he wanted so he wanted to let Hobie go first.

“Mm, hook me up with the mofongo, yeah? After that I’m well.” Hobie decided quickly, before looking over to Miles. The man let out a small chuckle.

“You got friends in Britain Spider-Man?” He asked which elicited a small chuckle from Miles, he nodded and quickly placed his order. After ten minutes at most the two were back decorating the skyline of Brooklyn with elaborate web tricks, doing their best not to spill their food. They made it to the top of some giant tower and rested up on the ledge before bringing their food out to finally eat. Hobie took one bite and was absolutely elated.

“Good on you for supportin’ the locals Miles, this scran is straight lush y’feel me?” Hobie asked with a grin, having taken off his mask to fully enjoy the food. Miles nodded and pointed a work at Hobie lazily.

“I knew you’d probably beat me up if I took you to a chain. Gotta pull out the big guns when you come around.” He replied with a nod before taking another bite of food, “Now tell me, seriously, why’re you here? Not like- I mean not like I don’t like having you around.. But y’know, we haven’t ever really hung out one-on-one.. Y’know?” He rambled out awkwardly, which he had a bad habit of doing much too often. He quickly shut up and averted his gaze to his food as he waited for Hobie’s response. The punk nodded along to what he said before looking off and out into Brooklyn.

“Yeah I guess I just wanted to chill with you bruv. Plus, I’ve been catchin’ those vibes mate. You get a lil’ tense everytime me and Gwen get to chillin’. I wanted to let you know me and her don’t got nothin’ alright? We’re mates, nothin’ more. I don’t want nothin’ like that gettin’ in the way of us chillin’, so I wanted to let you know.” Hobie said plainly, always straight to the point. He was always honest and always wanted to make sure his friends felt supported, that was part of the essence of punk and he inhabited it with full pride. “And yeah I woulda’ bloody mopped you had you gone and taken me to some capitalistic monopolized chain.” He added playfully to lessen the mood while looking back over to Miles whose hands were covering his face nervously.

“Aye! I didn’t mean to embarrass you bruv! I thought ‘cause it was so obvious you wouldn’t’a minded it!” He defended quickly while stifling laughs.

“Hobie.” Miles said simply and sighed, feeling even more called out than before. “You… know?” He asked genuinely which caused Hobie to erupt into more laughter which in turn led to him getting punched in the arm.

“Miles the whole bloody crew knows! ‘Cept for Gwendy of course. You’re not real subtle mate.” Hobie admitted to him with several gestures, Miles groaned frustratedly and leaned back against the wall connected to the ledge they sat on.

“I’m sorry for shootin’ you those looks man. I just, damn.. Uh. Look I’ve just liked her for a while and you’re mad cool –you already know that– and I guess I just felt like.. Why would she choose me and you’re right there.. And you’re just.. So cool- If that makes any sense.” He ended his second small rant within ten minutes with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m jus’ me ‘iles. I’m not cool or nothin’. Cool is a term that reflects social hierarchy y’feel me? Ian’ nothin’ but me bruv. Gwendy adores you. I’d know I gotta hear about it all day.” He complained in a playfully exasperated manner, “Aye, tell you what, I’ll be your designated wingman for a minute, help you get the confidence n’ ask Gwendy out, yeah?” Hobie offered, though something in his tone sounded a little reserved. If Miles noticed he didn’t seem to pay it any mind as he perked up immediately.

“Man that’s a lot though… I wouldn't wanna like.. bother you or anything. We’d get to hang out more though.” He added blankly before redirecting his thoughts. Once again the fishing line of his thoughts had snagged on Hobie, his thick boots and spiky battle vest. Miles shook his head just barely to clear the thought. He couldn’t be ‘jealous’ of Hobie anymore. Right now he had to focus on Gwen.

“See? Already a sound upside y’get me? I’ll come over, few days a week, we’ll chill, I’ll get you into some punk stuff for Gwens sake. I got you Miles.” Hobie promised with a grin, holding out his fist for a quick bump. Miles smiled back sheepishly and connected their fists.

Chapter Text

That exact conversation is what led Hobie into Miles’ room the very next Saturday with a piercing kit and blue latex gloves. Hobie had just snapped the blue gloves onto his wrists when Miles began to get nervous. They were positioned to where Hobie stood in front of Miles who was seated on his bed. Due to their already massive height difference he craned his neck upwards to see what Hobie was doing.

“Hobie, my parents are gonna kill me.” He spoke hushedly which elicited a small chuckle from the Punk-y boy ahead of him. He eyed the alcohol pads and needle in Hobies hands and winced when the taller boy pricked the end of the sharp object with his other finger. The punk's eyes glanced back over to meet Miles and he smiled supportively.

“Look mate, I jus’ wanted to do you a favor. If you’re nervous I got you, but if you don't want to do it at all I can put all this away an’ we can jus’ chill, yeah?” Hobie offered affectionately, reaching over to tilt Miles’ head up using the bottom of his chin as leverage. They had originally planned on giving Miles a septum, partly due to its ease of hiding, and he was only trying to gauge if the anatomy was right. However, that didn't stop the butterflies which quickly crowded Miles' stomach. He tensed up as Hobie stared down at him with piercing eyes, completely coated in the shadow of the boy's lanky being. The way Hobie had done it so carelessly added more fuel to the heat pooling in his guts. Was he nervous about the piercing? No, that had been a distant buzzing in the back of his head for a while now. So why was he so tense? Hobie sucked his teeth and let Miles’ head fall from his grasp. For some reason Miles found himself missing the hand before Hobie spoke and cut through that inexplicable thought.

“Sorry luv, seems you don't got the right anatomy for a septum anyway.” He informed Miles somberly as his hands slid back into the pockets of his vest. He leaned back into a posture which was more comfortable for him and waited for a response from the boy hoping to be pierced. Immediately Miles face dropped into one of disappointment.

“Really? Man. I can't get anywhere else?” The boy asked with a slight frown clouding his face. He had hoped to impress Gwen with a piercing, hoping it would radiate coolness the way it did for Hobie and her. He had also hoped it would impress Hobie, although that was based on the bounds of pursuing a friendship, not a relationship. He had prepped himself the entire night before to be stone-faced when the needle went through. Now he felt it would all go to waste.

“Nah mate, just means we’d have to pierce somewhere more obvious. You’d look peng with a nostril, yeah? Maybe cartilage since your ears are already pierced.” Hobie advised as his finger softly prodded at the place where he’d pierce the nostril and a few points along the ear where he could pierce the cartilage. While speaking he leaned back in and squinted as if examining Miles’ features in full. It made his heart race for reasons he couldn't place.

“I’d- I’d have to avoid my parents like the plague.” He responded simply as he poked at his right nostril, as if trying to gauge the feeling it would give when pierced. “And what does ‘peng’ mean?” Miles asked with a cocked eyebrow. Most of the British Bullshit™ Hobie said he ignored simply because he didn't understand a lick of it. This time however he couldn't tell if it was a compliment. Hobie chuckled and eyed Miles playfully.

“Guess you’ll have to hang around more if you want a scooby doo on that one bruv.” The punk suggested with a playfully clueless shrug. Every movement he made exuded confidence, Miles admired him for it. Admired him enough that those pesky fluttering feelings kept arising in his stomach.

“But don’t avoid the question ‘iles, you want it or nah?” He asked as he cocked his head to the side and offered a sly grin. Miles looked off nervously, breaking the eye contact he had been focusing so hard to maintain. He was either full in with uncomfortably direct eye contact or fully out, and right now he desired the freedom of not looking this person in the eyes.

“Uhm.. Y’know what. Yeah jus’ go ahead. Do it quick though! Promise me you’re gonna do it quick!” Miles spoke, glancing back over to Hobie calmly. As he set out the stipulations for getting this piercing done his hand gestures cranked up to the max. He was definitely Rio’s son. Hobie got a chuckle out of it and agreed by stepping closer again with a 16 gauge needle and antiseptic in hand to keep things safe. His few steps landed him standing between Miles legs holding his chin reassuringly while positioning the needle. In his hands he felt how tense Miles was, he saw the way his eyes scrunched up bracing for the pain. He hadn’t seen anybody this nervous for a piercing since Gwen’s first one.

“Y’got this mate. Breathe in as it goes in, breathe out when I put the jewelry in.” Hobie directed softly and Miles nodded stiffly. The punk squinted down at the action, slightly amused by the whole situation. He hadn’t understood the nervousness surrounding piercings even when he got his own. Pain is temporary, metal bars stabbed through your face were, mostly, forever. He laughed gently and then gave Miles a brief countdown,

3… 2… 1…

The needle went through and the pain was searing hot for a second, but Miles breathed in like he was supposed to. Despite that first inhale feeling more like a wince than a true breath, he needed that exhale for when the jewelry went in. If the original piercing wasn't that bad it felt like the jewelry being slipped through prodded every nerve ending in his nose. He exhaled out shakily and bit down on his cheek to try and conceal any noises of pain. Then just like that, he was done. For some reason though Hobie was still holding his face comfortingly, it confused him so he gently opened his eyes.

“How ya’ feelin’ luv?” He asked reassuringly, squeezing the points he held Miles’ face at gently to make sure he hadn’t passed out. The feeling sent shivers down Miles’ spine. Shit, why was Hobie making him feel so awkward? The dude was always touchy, what was so different? What was making him feel like he did… with Gwen? He shocked himself at the thought and jerked away from Hobies hand. He saw a small frown pass over his face but it quickly wiped away. A nervous chuckle left Miles’ lips and he fiddled around with his hands again.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, man. I’m good.” He answered with a nervous edge to his tone while looking off. That thought scared him for some reason. He really didn't understand what it meant. What were the implications of it? Miles tried to slow his rambling thoughts by refocusing on the conversation, “Am I lookin’ ‘peng’?” He asked goofily, sparing a small laugh at his god awful American accent completely butchering how pretty it sounded leaving of Hobies’ lips. Okay seriously what the fuck. As he spiraled in his own head Hobie laughed and it brought him back immediately.

“Don’t eva’ use my slang again y’hear? You sound bloody awful, mighta’ jus’ popped my eardrum wit’ that one ‘iles.” Hobie joked and mimed sticking a pinky in his ear to accentuate his dramatic response to Miles’ verbal bludgeoning of his culture. The smaller boy nodded with a grin and chuckled along nervously as well. He sniffed and winced as he felt the sharp intake of air shift his nose piercing. Quickly, he snapped his hands up to cover his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Dang man! That hurts! How long til’ breathin’ doesn’t feel like gettin’ stabbed?” He asked with a joking tone although he was incredibly serious. Hobie cocked his head to the side and that same lazy grin spread across his cheeks. The shorter boys doe eyes fell to it for a brief second and caught the boy adjusting his piercing with his tongue before flicking back up to his eyes. Why was he so stuck on that movement? Why was he so stuck on it that even now, as Hobie very considerately answered his question, he was nearly completely tuned out.

“months- Luv. Are you even listenin’ to a word I’m yappin’? You feelin’ lightheaded or sum’?” He asked Miles as an edge of concern tweaked at his eyebrows to make them furrow as he inspected the boy. Embarrassment rose in Miles’ chest and he messed with the hem of his shirt nervously as he looked off before answering. This shirt was a good texture to reset with, it helped him to hone in and remember the task at hand. Or rather, the conversation really, most conversations were tasks for Miles. This one just a little less uncomforting than the rest.

“Yeah- Well, no. Sorry man. Say what you were sayin’?” Miles asked and flashed him a smile that was hopefully convincing enough for him to repeat himself. Hobie exhaled and rolled his eyeliner lined eyes before refocusing on Miles’ face. He held his hands up as he began his performance since Miles obviously needed a new method of speech to grasp what he said. The doe eyed boy was laughing before everything even started,

“So- As I was sayin’ mate, that things gonna need to heal for 9 months. But it should stop hurtin’ after a few weeks, yeah?” As he spoke he mimed out practically every other word. He pointed towards Miles nose first then pinched the tip of it lightly, just enough to get him laughing at the absurdity of it. Then he nodded as he finished his small speech. Lastly he set to finishing his stage act by drawing out the letters to spell ‘week’, W-E-E-K, in the air. It obviously appeared backwards for Miles but that didn't take away from its dramatic effect and what Hobie was trying to do. His whole performance earned him a scoff before a genuine chuckle from Brooklyn’s Spider-Man. Hobie then just stared for a second before adding ceremonial (and lazily executed) jazz hands to his little solo act and eyeing Miles’ hands as if to encourage a little applause for his hard work. Begrudgingly, Miles abided by his silent request and clapped for him just barely. Hobie bowed dramatically before toning down his exaggeratory expressions back to regular ol’ him.

“Thank you, that was very helpful Hobes.” Miles complimented sarcastically though he was genuinely pleased by the whole ordeal. It was funny and distracted him enough from the throbbing pain in his nose. Hobie grinned and sniffed to adjust his nose ring.

“I’m a helpful bloke ‘iles. Y’know. Killin’ fascists, takin’ down oppressive systems, walkin’ granny across the street.” He joked casually before his expression turned serious, “But y’know mate really the most helpful thing we do as Spider-Man is helpin’ the community in the smaller ways not jus’ the big ones. We teach em’ to help each other, walk granny across the street, and we see a community that’s sustain-” Hobie launched into his rant about community and how it is truly the greatest weapon against evil, one which Miles and just about every other Spider-Kid has heard a billion times, and was promptly cut off by Miles. Brooklyn’s Spider-Man eyed Hobie with an unamused expression as he finished off the Punks sentence.

“Sustainable and able to build together against evil instead of relying on quote-unquote self proclaimed self- righteous heroes.” He quoted Hobie’s own words back to him which earned him a pleased grin. Immediately he lit up at the silent praise and then stuttered for a second as he realized the simple act of Hobie liking something he’d said had completely brightened his face. Jesus. What the hell was this? And was Hobie noticing his weird behavior and just not saying anything? As Miles internally freaked out Hobie was already well on his way into another Punk-y rant about Spider-Man could very easily become an oppressive system in and of itself without the right application of powers. Once Miles tuned back in he nodded, chuckled, and urged Hobie to talk more. Hobie was expressive, he spoke as if each word was plucked from his soul while still adding that cool and lazy edge to it that made him so magnetic. Miles really enjoyed it.

Once Hobie packed up all of his piercing supplies he sat down next to Miles on the bed and they eased into their effortless conversations. Ever since the day when they addressed everything on that spot, eating delicious meals and pouring their hearts out (well, mostly Miles), the two had discovered conversation could really go easy if there wasn't this weird tension between them. Miles had also become more acutely aware of Hobie’s love for being physically close to those he cared about. When they sat together his lanky arm slung over Miles’ shoulder and when they laid back Hobie laid right next to him as they stared up at the popcorn ceiling and talked about shitty landlords (Hobie’s idea) and the odd shapes the little bumps in the ceiling sometimes made (Miles’ idea). After a little while longer of the two laying together peacefully Hobie received a buzz on his watch and sucked his teeth irritatedly.

“Sorry bruv’. I gotta get goin’. Anomaly back in my universe.” He explained as he made a sour face at his watch. As if he was upset he had to go. Miles’ face scrunched up as well as he inspected the expression, trying to tie together why Hobie might be upset to go before he realized he should probably be seeing him out instead of staring at him blankly. The Brooklyn boy nodded awkwardly for a second before remembering to speak.

“Yeah! Alright, here um- Let me see you out man. I know it’s just… walk to the window... but uh. Look nevermind it let me walk you out, swing you out, whatever.” He rambled awkwardly and when he looked back over Hobie was smiling at him in a way which vibrated endearment into the air and plastered it to Miles’ heart. Jeez. Hobie had a smile that tugged at his heartstrings. He really needs to stop thinking such weird stuff about his friend.

“O’ course luv. Walk me out to your window, what a gentleman this one.” He joked in his accented tone as he hopped off the bed and hyperbolically extended his arm to Miles for him to take his hand. The doe eyed boy laughed and rolled his eyes disbelievingly before taking his hand and proceeding to walk Hobie to the window. Hobes practically marched over and once they were there he bent down while letting his eyes watch Miles to gauge his reaction and kiss his hand. Moonlight shone through the window and let the shine of the mark on his hand become apparent. He had left a smudge of black lipstick before he stood up. Miles’s face was entirely unreadable,

“Thanks for escortin’ me out Prince of Brooklyn. This ‘Ella’s gotta get back ‘fore my carriage turns into a pumpkin or sum’.” He joked before letting his hand go gently and waving as his mask was shoved down, somehow swallowing his thick hair entirely, and he perched on the window for a few seconds before zipping away. Miles’ heart tugged in his chest and he closed his window after a few minutes of just staring. Afterwards he sighed and turned the lights out to head to bed. Tomorrow he would at least have school which would be a great way to have an extra week to not have to somehow hide his nose from his Mom and Dad. Fortunately that would be a problem for him to deal with next Friday, y’know, when his parents disown him for piercing his nose secretly.