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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

"Miles. Miles!"

Miles opens his eyes and blinks twice. Distantly, there's a ringing in his left ear and a dull throbbing pain somewhere around his right shoulder. He can feel the bitter cold from the frosted grass through his mask, rendering his cheek partly numb.

"Miles - wake up, Miles please!"

A glint of cyan blue dances in his vision - is that the sky already? No it's still dawn. Slowly the world comes back into focus and with it a pair of eyes he knows all too well, staring right into his soul.

"Gwen?"

Slowly, his bearings return. Right. They're beside a steaming dent which just an hour ago was the entrance to Prospect Park. Debris clutters the lake's surface and trees have been blown from their roots. A few civilians are visible in the dusty background, their screams fading away as they scatter from the scene like ants. Or spiders.

His partner in crime stands over him, her face masked and unreadable. A dazzling gold outline frames her white hood in the rising sun. She's holding one arm out which Miles begrudgingly accepts. Their fingers intertwine as if they were always meant to -

What??? Must be the blood loss...

He notices Gwen's hand is trembling, but focuses on regaining his stance dizzily. She looks a little worse for wear; suit tattered at the elbows, normally luminous teal chucks coated in the sludge of winter - but otherwise she's unharmed.

Well, that's one relief.

He struggles to keep himself balanced but tries not to let it show. Gwen appears too distracted to notice the wound on his shoulder but Miles knows she's aware of it; he senses her panicky breaths and overly quick heartbeat.

Big deal! I'll look at it later.

Just like him, she retains a calm demeanour - if their nemesis is still conscious, it's unfathomable that they show any weakness.

Cautiously, their spider-senses a faint hum, Miles and Gwen approach the scene. Their destination is a small island in the lake. Miles remembers boating around there with Duke and Barbara that one day they skived off middle school. The experience was well worth the shouting he got from Mom when he returned home.

Oh, Mami...

The place is unrecognisable now, several trees crushed by the remains of a smoking, formerly airborne vehicle. The two spiders shoot webs toward a large, miraculously remaining tree and propel themselves across the lake's icy waters.

Gwen, never passing an excuse to show off, lands with precision on the balls of her feet, barely sinking into the island's muddy banks. Miles's vertigo causes him to land a little more roughly, skimming his fingers across the tree's frosted, slippery bark for stability.

Finally they can get a closer look. It's a pair of artificial emerald wings, tangled and torn in a clump of gorse bushes. Each wing is the size of two men and a frenzy of neon colors. And at the centre lies the body of an unconscious elderly man. There's a gash of crimson across his shiny head. Lemon and lime coloured feathers are scattered around his immobile form, charred at the edges thanks to Miles's prior electrocution.

"Can you believe that dude is Vulture?" Miles says, kicking up a downy pile into a neon frenzy.

"I recognised him straight away" Gwen replies. She's dealt with the feathered villain twice already in her universe. "Neither of mine looked like this guy though. He's so much.. brighter"

"I gotta say, I was expecting something a bit less...corny"

"You think this guy is corny? One of mine was a catfish and the other was Italian - oh my god, Miles" - finally she addresses his shoulder and her voice falters. "You're bleeding so much!"

"Eh? No big deal right? I've dealt with worse."

Miles sounds more confident than he feels. He knows he looks a hot mess right now - wound aside, his suit's torn at the waist and shoulder, shreds of spandex clinging on for dear life.

Without hesitation Gwen tears a piece of jade green fabric off the dormant Vulture's sleeve. Miles stares at it with distaste, but lets her make a tourniquet for his right arm using a particularly sharp feather. If it came to losing a limb or wearing this man's ridiculous attire, even he'd pick the latter option.

Hurriedly, Gwen explains what caused his little knockout. "He whacked you from behind with one of his wacky talon thingies" she finishes tying the tourniquet. "Thought you would've caught it before the hit." Gwen's voice suddenly gains a cautious edge, the one that irritated Miles beyond his wits' end. "Is your sense going whack-a-doo again?"

Miles leaves Gwen trailing. Police sirens are ringing in the distance, replacing the shrieks from the crowd. The sun has fully risen now, and more and more pedestrians are beginning to arrive at the scene.

God, I need a good nap after this.

Shaking his head as if it'll clear the exhaustion away, Miles points towards the underground station that's bustling with early risers and workers. With a nod of understanding, Gwen hurls him up and they make their way to Parkside Avenue.

Surely Brooklyn's passengers would be somewhat used to seeing a bleeding out Spider-Man by now, but that doesn't stop the staring. Several people take recordings and Miles groans, knowing full well what Jameson's news report will be this morning.

"SPIDER-MAN DRAGS VULTURE INTO PUBLIC PROPERTY DAMAGE SCANDAL!"

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Recently, Miles has found his spider sense to be clouded.

His intuition has bluntened.

He may be amongst the most powerful of Spider-Men, but he's found himself in a weak spots way too frequently.

The last time he felt his sense at its maximum strength was right before Mami disappeared under the rubble on that awful, awful day. Since then, it's faded to a distant buzz. Almost as if it burnt out trying to warn him.

Noir claims this reaction is normal, that grief affects a spider just as it would anyone else. All he can do is move on.

When that bullet pierced Uncle Aaron's body, Miles had felt incredibly powerless. He was just a scared child holding onto the man he loved, the man he looked up to. He had watched the man who had failed him and ultimately given his life to protect him, wither away in his young arms. At the time, it felt as if all hope had disappeared with Aaron's soul.

But it hadn't taken long for that hopelessness to morph into anger, and with a little push from the Spider-Gang he was able to channel that fury into sheer motivation and strength.

With Mami? It was like the opposite. He'd learnt to accept defeat. Now he's experienced first-hand that Spider-Man can't always protect the ones he loves the most.

He'll never forgive Miguel O'Hara, but he bitterly finds himself sympathising with the man more and more these days.

His father is his rock. Since Miles revealed his identity, there are no longer any secrets between them and they support each other. But Miles has become paranoid. The disproving of Miguel's canon event theory does little to null his fears. No one close to him is safe.

Gwen understands this. Formally, he accepted her apology first time since deep down, he harbours the same feelings he once did towards that laughing girl he met at Visions Academy. They're just...mixed in with everything else going on. Diluted, you could say.

They agreed to take it slow. Not just friends and not yet lovers, but something in-between. This point shifts every day.

Sometimes, they are comfortable enough to hold hands. Other times, they aren't compelled enough to even exchange words.

Pav calls what they have a situationship, but that word feels trivial, frivolous. It doesn't capture the complexity of their relationship.

Their newly discovered connection has complicated matters even more. Now, he knows she feels the same way.

He senses her hurt when he's stiff with her. She can tell when the memories of her betrayal come gushing back. And Miles knows. He knows, and tells himself every single day, that none of this was her fault really. But he's no longer the same forgiving boy his parents raised him to be. He is battle-hardened.

He is Spider-Man.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

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The bitter smell of burnt logs and tar fills the air, fading a little the further they get from the station. Behind them a trail of dark smoke unwinds in the sky; the fire brigade must have finally put out Vulture's mess.

Where Brooklyn meets Harlem there lies a neat but grimy apartment block. Miles and Ganke are only temporarily renting out this overpriced condo until the two of them are off to college in New Jersey. Ignoring the stares, Miles grasps Gwen's arm for support and they heave their way out of the station and through several narrow side streets.

Here, the grey concrete buildings are splashed with colour; bold, bright letters in hues of crimson and cyan. Several of the artwork is Miles' own, including the mural of the city's honorary Spider-Woman.

Her masked figure surveys the pair as they slump past; splashes of pink and ivory paint dripping down the wall emboldened "Hermosa". Beautiful.

Miles may not be ready for a relationship, but he channels his feelings for Gwen the only way he can - through his art.

He side-eyes her as they walk past. She's pretending to show only fleeting admiration, but even her mask can't fully conceal the wistfulness in her eyes.

Ganke must have left for work already because the windows are all closed when they arrive at the apartment. Fabio is spending the evening with his abuela so the area is empty. A rather wonky pile of tie-dyed bedding is stacked on the velvet teal couch from where Gwen stayed last night.

Pushing the covers aside, Miles slumps on the couch and pulls away the hastily applied bandage from his right shoulder. He puts a hand out to tenderly feel the claw marks on his back. It can't be that bad...right? His fingers come back covered in fresh red blood. Uh oh.

Hospital? Not an option if they wanted to avoid awkward questions. Perhaps he could ask Mam - ohhh - the realisation hits him in the chest like a tonne of bricks for the second time that day, but he has no time to dwell on his grief right now. His father worried enough about him as it was, there wasn't a point stirring the pot over simple injuries. Besides, his regeneration would kick in in due time. No big deal.

Gwen, however, can't help but worry. "Hey," he gives her a little shake. "Listen, I'm fine. Fine." She nods, turning away so he doesn't see the tears in her eyes. She can't fool him; he remembers that look well.

Miles calls them Puppy Eyes, wide and piercing like that of a little dog. He uses the term jokingly, but they have a knack for worming their way into his heart every time. The eyes that stared wistfully through his invisible form after his beating at the hands of the older spiders. Her hands included, nags the painful memory somewhere in his clouded conscience.

He tries to push it away, recalling the look of worry back in his disastrous first day in Spider Society HQ. Just the sight of him glitching had been enough to send her to tears. Whenever he is hurt, she can't bear to watch because she cares for him. Miles has to tell himself this regularly, for Gwen is not the greatest at showing it.

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Gwen brings over the green first aid box, already lying ready on the kitchen counter. Way too frequently used to be left at the back of a musty kitchen cupboard like it would be in your run-of-the-mill household.

Behind her, she can hear Miles sinking into the sofa with a hiss of pain. By the time she's at his side he's shifting position, painstakingly ensuring his shoulder doesn't touch the soft fabric. Gwen suspects this has less to do with further irritating the wound than it is to prevent blood from staining the couch. Despite their current situation, she can't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching.

"Thread it for me and I'll do it myself" Miles says with a grateful smile. Or what might pass for a smile if his face wasn't so ashy from blood loss, and he didn't have to cling to the armrest for support while clumsily unravelling the bandage.

It's worse than she thought. The wound underneath still hasn't closed, a gaping cut from his collarbone down to his back. Tears of crimson trickle down his skin.

"How will you reach your own back, dummy?" Gwen tries to sound casual but her voice wobbles. "Gained any Ms Marvel-esque powers I should know about recently?"

Miles laughs at her weak joke, but winces straight afterwards.

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Now, Gwen Stacy is a professional when it comes to many things. But stitching a wound is not one of them.

Truth be told, she has never been keen on the sight of blood in general. Her first few injuries as Spider-Woman were tended to by Peter, a natural carer. She would appear at his window, bleeding and exhausted and he would fix her up in no time. No questions were asked and no answers were given. Perhaps Peter simply assumed she'd been jumped by Ned and his gang, Gwen had told herself at the time.

How she didn't realise he had figured her identity sooner, she would never know.

"I've never stitched a wound before" Gwen blurts out, looking slightly ashamed of herself. Tending to one's own injuries was something to be expected of all Spider-People. Yet she'd forlorn that duty entirely, since Hobie had stepped into that role for her after Peter.

And it's not like hand sewing is something Gwen is unfamiliar with. She's been doing it since the age of eight, when her ballet instructor first demonstrated how to stitch the ribbons and elastic into pointe shoes before a performance.

It wasn't until thirteen when she'd been allowed to actually train en pointe though. Thirteen is when the spider's venom provided the growth boost for the bones in her feet to fully develop, something she had anticipated for a very long time.

When Gwen's x-ray scan showed that her foot plates had closed, her teacher was overjoyed. She should've been excited, celebrating that she could finally advance onto the next stage of her training.

But frightened by her changing body and seemingly uncontrollable new powers, she had quit after just one week.

Her father, while disappointed, had demonstrated a kind understanding she knew she didn't deserve. Em Jay had been furious, Peter sympathetic and Glory amused. They had all thought that was the end of her childhood hobby.

Except Gwen didn't stop there, instead incorporating her natural hyperflexibility into her web-swinging.

And well - surely it couldn't be that different with her long-acquired sewing skills?

At her embarrassing revelation, a look of surprise briefly sweeps over Miles's features, but he doesn't inquire further.

"Huh. I just thought you hated blood and guts and stuff."

"That too" Gwen admits sheepishly.

"Well if you still wanna go though with this - and I know you do cause once you set your mind on something you gotta go through with it -"

Gwen feels the heat rising to her face. It was unfair how much his little observations flustered her.

"- well, the internet exists."

"Oh... right"

After a few more blundering murmurs, Miles watches Gwen scroll through Wikihow and several health articles with a worn sort of patience.

Deep breaths, Gwen.

Gingerly, she peels away the blood-soaked spandex and gets to work.

It isn't as bad as she expected. Instead of sewing in a box shape like she would with her shoes, she makes little even stitches back and forth.

But piercing skin with a needle is very different to satin.

Miles's face is turned away from her. If he's in further pain, he doesn't show it. But she quickens her pace anyway. Once the entire length of the gash has been pulled together, she secures her suture with a knot and ties it off.

Exhausted, she plops herself in the seat beside Miles - then leaps up again with a yelp - she's landed on the corner of a cardboard box, and not just any box, but her Gaynors for the week. Gwen had planned to fix up her ribbons that day, but she's definitely not in the mood right now. She haphazardly tosses the box onto the ground.

For a while, the pair just sit there in a comfortable silence, but with an awkward gap between them. Gwen breaks it with a quiet chuckle "Your mom would be laughing if she saw this mess".

Miles smiles a little. Rio donned the nursing scrubs for thirteen years and could've fixed him up in seconds. He wonders if she would laugh at Gwen's shaky, uneven stitches.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she presses gently, and Miles tries not to wince internally.

No, he doesn't want to talk about it.

But should he? He recalls his father's tearful words outside his dormitory door, begging him to speak to him. Reminding him that he was there for him, always.

And truth be told, he's so damn tired. Tired of keeping secrets from Gwen. Tired of holding her at arm's length. His resentment for her role in the events that shaped his life for the worse is fading into a dull exhaustion at this very moment.

And so for the first time in five years, he opens his heart to her.

Chapter Text

"I wasn't fast enough" he whispers. Staring intently at his knees, he wishes the memories would float away. His vision blurs at the edges but he blinks the tears away. Intent on remaining strong, calm and collected. "She could've run, I could've grabbed her. But I didn't. And now she's gone. Gone, Gwen."

He feels Gwen stiffen beside him, placing her warm, gloved hand onto his. Pale turquoise, tamed aquamarine, the surgical glove is same shade of blue-green Mami wore. Rio worked in that hospital for nine years. A decade's worth of lives saved during her own life, and many more thanks to her death.

"You were battling Spot. It's not your fault."

It's the same thing he's already heard from everyone else. The frustration bubbles up within him.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe more than you think. I lost my mom too, you know." Gwen retorts, a little more harshly than intended. "I didn't mean to snap" she mutters and squeezes his arm, horrified at her sudden loss in temper.

Miles stares up at her as if he's only just seeing her for the first time, a clouded, distant look in his hazel eyes. He'd already experienced "the talk" from Noir. The awkward chatter from Peter B. The slightly comical obituary from Ham.

But whilst isolating himself he never even thought to ask Gwen who he now shares the experience of losing a mother with.

"Sorry. Didn't think to ask"

"It's fine. I understand why you wouldn't want to be so open with me after... everything." Gwen's voice trails off.

But Miles doesn't leave her hanging this time. He takes her hands within his own again, giving a reassuring squeeze. Gwen visibly relaxes, then pries one hand out of his to hold onto him too.

"Is this okay?" she asks nervously, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

"Better than okay" he replies, caressing her fingers.

A faint blush creeps over Gwen's face. It doesn't bypass her notice that this is the first time he's ever initiated affection. Or at least, the first time since he slid his hand towards her on that clocktower. How times had changed since then.

"Miles" Gwen says urgently, locking eyes. "I know what it's like. The helplessness. The knowing there's nothing you can do but watch them die."

It's all too much.

It's been years since he last let the tears fall, but it's as if an old wound has reopened.

Unlike last time, there's a salve on that wound. Soothing it, cooling his emotions. The calm in his storm, rubbing circles into his back as he ducks his tear-stained face from her view.

She doesn't say anything.

She doesn't need to.

She just stays beside him, her presence letting him know she's there for him. It's the only thing he ever wanted of her.

It's a while before someone speaks. It's Miles, to Gwen's surprise.

"What was she like?" he asks, his expression thoughtful. "Your mom" he adds, at Gwen's look of confusion.

Gwen racks her brains for memories of the woman who left her life before they could cement themself in her life. She recalls a faint smell of cinnamon and long, dark hair. Hair that would soon disappear with chemo treatment.

"She was...warm" Gwen stutters a little on the last word "and she never smiled, like, ever. Cause she was ill."

Unintentionally, they have moved closer to each other, both now centred on the long couch. The exhaustion is beginning to weigh down on Gwen, and she finds herself tuning out of their conversation.

"My mami - she told me once. That our family doesn't run from things."

Gwen finds herself leaning into his warmth - only to remember the shoulder she just stitched up. She bolts back up like she's been burnt.

But Miles misses her warmth already. "No, it's cool. It's practically healed anyway."

Gwen ignores him, doing her best to remain upright, resting her head on the cushions instead. She can't fall asleep now, she has to...

"I'm tired of running from you, Gwen."

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Miles suppresses a grin as Gwen's head lolls back onto his shoulder, her breathing slow. He tucks her feet onto the couch and peels the surgical gloves off her clammy hands.

Too dazed to really care, he tosses the gloves to the ground - but they don't hit the carpet. A box is on the floor. It's Gwen's ballet shoes that she pushed off the sofa earlier.

Tentatively, Miles draws open the lid. Inside is a pair of turquoise shoes - the standard in Earth-65's Vision Academy, or so he has heard. Everyone wears the same teal uniform to cater to a more diverse range of students as opposed to a limited selection of skin tones.

Miles Morales is many things. He's an artist and a physicist. He's Spider-Man.

He also happens to be pretty damn good with a needle and thread.

Gwen is still sleeping, her mouth open slightly and her breathing shallow. Too exhausted to notice Miles beside her forcing himself to remain upright for her sake; a threaded needle in one hand, a ballet shoe in the other. The afternoon sun peaks through the curtains

For a short time, they stay together, and Miles wonders if this could last forever. Just the two of them, no bad guys, no worries.

Well, no worries except for his roommate crashing into the room like a bull would a china shop.

Ganke kicks the door open and hurls a couple of books onto the desk with an irritatingly loud thud. Gwen, thankfully, is no light sleeper and doesn't so much as stir.

When his eyes find Miles and his current position, Ganke whistles. "Oops. Did I interrupt you and your Spider-Lady friend?"

Miles rolls his eyes with a giveaway smirk, and Ganke grins back. "I'll be in room 10. Study session" and he leaves them in peace.