Chapter 12
The city had finally begun to hush. After hours of dodging sirens and shadows, Gwen slipped silently through her bedroom window, fingers tugging at the hem of her Spider-Woman suit as she peeled it from her sore limbs. The adrenaline from patrol still lingered in her bloodstream, but her bones ached in that all-too-familiar way that told her she was done for the night.
She tossed the mask aside and pulled on an oversized hoodie, tugging the hood over her still-sweaty hair. The fabric of the sweater brushed against a bruise she didn’t realize she had, and she winced.
Gwen wandered out, craving something warm from the corner store—tea, maybe, or a snack. Anything to remind her she was a normal girl again.
That’s when she saw them.
Three boys, no older than fifteen, surrounding a younger kid at the edge of the alley, their uniforms giving away that they went to the same local school—Miles’s school. One had a rusted metal bat, the other two laughed as they shoved the smaller boy to the ground, kicking his backpack away.
Gwen’s heart clenched, her throat dry. Peter. She blinked, and for half a second, she saw him—not the kid, but Peter—pushed into lockers, books knocked from his hands, always shrugging it off with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
“Hey!” Gwen stormed forward before her brain caught up to her feet.
The boys turned, one of them squinting at her.
“What, you his older sister?”
She stepped between them, fists clenched inside her hoodie pockets. “Pick on someone your own size."
The bat-wielding one laughed, eyes scanning her, unimpressed. “The hell are you gonna do?”
“I said—leave him alone.”
Her voice didn’t sound as strong as she wanted, and she hated that. Her face wasn’t covered. Her identity wasn’t hidden. No webs, no flips, no mask to shield her.
“Get lost.”
One of the boys shoved her shoulder. Gwen held her ground.
But then the one with the bat, smirking too widely, raised it lazily and swung.
Gwen tried to dodge, but her reaction time—distracted, tired, drained—wasn’t fast enough.
Crack.
Pain burst through her lip and cheek. She stumbled back, blood already wet on her mouth, coppery and warm. The kids scattered immediately, either realizing they’d gone too far or just thinking it was hilarious enough to run from.
The younger boy she tried to help disappeared down the street.
Gwen stood there, hands to her face, heart hammering—not from fear but from shame. Because she couldn’t save him. Not tonight.
She sank against the alley wall, hoodie sleeve pressed to her bleeding lip, eyes glassy.
Maybe she wasn’t Spider-Woman without the suit.
Maybe she wasn’t anyone at all.
Miles nearly tripped over himself when he saw her.
He had just opened his bedroom window to let her in—same as always—but the moment Gwen’s hood dropped back and he caught sight of her split lip and the faint bruise forming on her cheekbone, everything in him stopped.
“The hell—? Gwen?” he said sharply, stepping toward her as she landed.
She tried to smile, tried to make it nothing. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
But it was. Her lower lip was split, puffy and raw, with dried blood at the corner of her mouth. Miles reached for her face like he was afraid she’d vanish if he touched her, fingertips hovering just short of brushing her cheek.
“Who did this?”
She sighed and gently waved his hand off. “It’s not worth it.”
“Gwen.”
“Just some neighborhood kids, okay? From your school, I think. I was out getting a drink and saw them messing with some little kid. Thought I’d help. One of them had a bat.”
He swore under his breath, pacing away before coming back again. “You tried to stop them and they cracked you with a bat? With a bat?”
“It wasn’t that serious—”
“You’re bleeding, Gwen!”
She fell quiet. The hoodie she wore was two sizes too big and smelled like his detergent, comforting and warm. It felt wrong that he was worked up while she just felt... tired. She leaned against the edge of his bed, arms crossed, gaze drifting to the floorboards.
Miles took a breath, then sat beside her. “Sorry. I just... I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“I know,” she murmured.
He touched her hand this time, carefully. “You okay?”
“Physically? Sure. Emotionally? Eh. Getting used to being punched in the face lately.”
His laugh was soft and short. “You wanna lie down?”
She nodded.
They didn’t kiss that night. Miles leaned over once like he might, but she winced when his thumb brushed too close to her lip, and he didn’t try again. Instead, they just lay there, her cheek against his chest, his hand gently stroking her back over the hoodie.
The room was quiet. The city buzzed faintly outside the window, and Gwen's breath began to slow.
“Did you at least get the kid out?” he asked quietly.
“I think so,” she whispered.
Miles didn’t say anything after that.
But in his head, he was already thinking about who he’d seen lately at school with a rusted metal bat. About who ran in packs. About who would’ve been bold enough to swing at someone trying to help.
And about what he was going to do to them.
Miles didn’t say a word the next morning.
He just showed up to school with his hood up, earbuds in, and something cold and sharp brewing behind his eyes.
He didn’t tell Gwen what he planned. He didn’t even tell himself. But the minute he walked past the cafeteria and caught sight of those boys laughing like nothing had happened—like they hadn’t left her bleeding—he knew.
Three of them.
It wasn’t hard to tell who did it. The one in the middle, tall and skinny with a metal bat leaned against his leg, still scuffed from last night, was running his mouth the loudest. Talking about how they “ran up on this stuck-up chick” who thought she was some kind of hero. The way he mimed the swing… Miles saw red.
They didn’t see him coming.
He didn’t give them a chance to get smart. One moment they were laughing, and the next, the guy with the bat was slammed against the lockers, gasping as Miles drove a fist into his gut hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
The bat clattered to the floor.
“What the hell—?!” one of the others shouted.
Too late.
Miles turned, ducked a wild swing, and cracked the second guy across the face. The third tried to run—he didn’t make it. Miles grabbed him by the collar, slammed him into the wall, and hissed through his teeth, “You think it’s funny putting your hands on people?”
“No, man—!”
“I said do you think it’s funny?!”
The kid didn’t answer. Just whimpered.
The one with the bat tried to get up again. Miles turned and—bam—knocked him flat on his back with a brutal right hook. A teacher yelled something in the distance, but Miles didn’t hear it. His pulse was thundering in his ears. All he could see was Gwen’s face—her split lip, the soft flinch when he leaned in, her trying to hide how much it hurt.
That was you, he thought, looking down at the boy who’d swung the bat. That was you who hurt her.
He crouched, grabbed the front of the kid’s jacket, and whispered, “Next time you wanna swing a bat, try it on someone who hits back.”
Then he let him drop.
The hallway was chaos by then—phones out, teachers yelling, kids backing away like he was radioactive. But Miles didn’t care. He didn’t even look behind him as he walked out. He knew he’d be suspended. Maybe worse.
But it didn’t matter.
He’d protected Gwen.
Just like she would’ve done for him.
Gwen adjusted her grip on the paper bag in her arms, balancing the weight of Miles’s textbooks and notebooks as she approached the Morales apartment. She hadn’t meant to come at a weird time—just wanted to drop off the things he forgot during his sudden suspension. Maybe wave through the door and leave. But now, standing outside the apartment, she suddenly felt underdressed and awkward.
She knocked once, softly.
The door opened a few seconds later to reveal a woman Gwen instantly recognized, though they'd never met face to face.
Miss Rio Morales.
Gwen straightened up immediately. “Hello, Miss Morales,” she said, voice firm and respectful. “Sorry to bother you. I brought Miles’s things from school.”
Rio blinked—almost like she was surprised Gwen used the formal title. But instead of correcting her, like Gwen had half-expected, Rio smiled warmly and stepped aside. “Well, aren’t you polite? Come on in, sweetheart.”
Gwen hesitated, then nodded, clutching the paper bag a little tighter. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The apartment smelled like simmering sofrito and warm spices. It was neat, homey, and full of life. Gwen stepped inside carefully, not wanting to track anything in from the street.
Just as she was placing the bag down near the kitchen counter, a familiar voice called out from the couch.
“Is that little Gwen Stacy?”
She turned and saw Uncle Aaron, lounging comfortably, one arm slung across the backrest like he owned the whole world. He had that same easy confidence she’d seen before—but this time, his smirk was almost fond.
Gwen blinked. “You… remember me?”
“Course I do,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I got a good memory."
Her ears turned pink.
Aaron chuckled. “Good instincts. Miles doesn’t let just anyone get close.”
Rio passed Gwen a glass of water. “You’re not just anyone though, are you?”
Gwen blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You brought his things,” Rio said, “called me Miss Morales, and showed up with a respectful tone. That’s a lot more than most these days. You’re welcome here anytime, Gwen.”
Gwen felt heat rush to her cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Morales.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow at her again, clearly amused. “You always this proper?”
“She’s classy,” Rio said before Gwen could answer. “And that’s rare.”
Gwen felt like she’d been unexpectedly folded into the family without warning. She wasn’t even sure Miles was home—probably wasn’t, based on the silence—but now Rio was already offering, “Dinner’s almost done. You’ll stay, right?”
Gwen looked between them. Rio’s soft gaze. Aaron’s amused but approving smirk. She swallowed and gave a little nod.
"I’d be honored.”
Rio looked pleased. “Good girl. Go ahead and sit, I’ll set another plate.”
Gwen settled onto the edge of the couch, heart still thudding. It wasn’t what she planned, but maybe this was better than she’d hoped.
The table was already set when Gwen sat down beside Miles. He looked surprised to see her—hair still damp from a shower, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants like he wasn’t expecting company. She offered a small wave, a smile tugging at her lips as if to say, Surprise.
“Yo,” he said, nudging her under the table with his knee. “Didn’t know you were coming.”
“I just dropped off your stuff. Your mom invited me to stay,” Gwen whispered back.
Rio placed the last bowl down—rice, beans, and roast chicken—before sitting across from them. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Aaron grabbed his fork and grinned. “Now this is a family table.”
Gwen sat straight and proper, resisting the urge to fiddle with the napkin in her lap. It had been a while since she’d had dinner like this. Home-cooked. Warm. With people laughing around the table.
“This is really good,” Gwen said between bites.
Rio beamed. “Thank you, mija.”
Aaron leaned on his elbow. “So, Gwen. Your dad’s Captain Stacy, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Miles stiffened a little beside her, but Gwen kept her voice light. “He’s… been doing alright. Just a little overprotective these days.”
“Can’t blame him,” Aaron said. “City’s been wild.”
“You still doing ballet?” Rio asked, taking a sip of her water.
Gwen blinked in surprise. “Yes, miss. I am.”
“Miles told me once. Said you were graceful.”
Gwen shot him a look. Miles cleared his throat and stared very intently at his rice.
Rio chuckled. “You should see him when he talks about you. All bashful.”
Miles groaned. “Mom—”
Aaron cackled. “He’s redder than the beans.”
Gwen laughed quietly, her cheeks warming again, but she didn’t mind it. The teasing wasn’t cruel. It was… cozy.
“Do you play any instruments too?” Rio asked.
“I play drums,” Gwen answered. “I’m in a band, actually. We’re not half bad.”
“I’ll bet,” Aaron said, nodding. “You seem like a rhythm kind of girl.”
As the conversation went on, Gwen found herself slipping into it easily. Talking about her hobbies. Listening to Rio talk about her nursing shifts. Even Aaron added in a story or two, most of which Miles rolled his eyes at.
Eventually, Rio put her fork down and gave Miles a look. “By the way. We’re still going to talk about why you got suspended for a week.”
Gwen glanced at him, eyes wide. Oops.
Miles leaned back, groaning. “C’mon, Ma…”
Rio crossed her arms. “I don’t care if the other kids started it, you don’t finish it with fists.”
Aaron muttered, “Unless it’s deserved,” under his breath.
Gwen tried not to laugh but snorted anyway, covering her mouth with her napkin.
After the meal, Gwen offered to help clean up. She stood by the sink drying dishes while Rio washed, the two working in comfortable silence for a moment.
“You’re good for him, you know,” Rio said quietly.
Gwen looked over. “I—thank you.”
Rio handed her the next plate. “Next time you come by, bring a little something for the table. A bottle of soda. Or dessert. Deal?”
Gwen smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Deal, Miss Morales.”