It has been a cumulative month and a half since you’ve noticed a distinct difference in Hobie. It first started when you both were walking the cold cobble streets of New London. The air was dry and nipped at your cheeks turning them flush and making your nose run. You were walking with Hobie, bumping shoulders occasionally, his platforms thudding against the stone street. He was walking you home from the pub, and you were sincerely close to being under the category of plastered. It was nearing midnight, and Hobie insisted he walk you home.
A clatter from a local establishment caught both of your attention, along with the shattering of glass. Next thing you know, Hobie’s hand is in front of your face clutching a glass reeking of some sort of cheap liquor. What befuddled you, despite your intoxicated state, was how exactly Hobie moved so quickly, and when you glanced at him. He was scowling at the shattered window to the establishment, the warm interior light leaking out in beams. However, despite yourself you dropped it, and took it as being honed in on the environment; besides, you were drunk, it probably didn’t move as fast as you thought.
The second occasion was vastly different. It was around noontime, still bitterly cold, but the sun was high in the sky. Your hands were shoved deep in the pockets of your coat, clinging to whatever warmth you could cumulate. Once again, you were walking with Hobie, as you had liked him for a while now. And any outing with him sated your urges to scream at his face that you liked him with every breath in your lungs. You had gone as far as telling Spider-Man of your childlike crush not mentioning Hobie’s name of course, who had simply guffawed at your confession, much to your chagrin.
One second you were having a lovely conversation with Hobie about music, punk of course, the next? Kraven and his goons were wreaking havoc on the square. Lighting fires, tearing up local establishments, harassing any civilians they could get their slimy mits on. When you turned to your right, where Hobie should’ve been standing, he was nowhere to be seen. Instantaneously you called out his name amidst the screaming and small explosions, seemingly to no avail.
Per usual the V.E.N.O.M corps were of absolutely no help, and whilst calling out for Hobie you managed to gravitate right to the center of the fray. Where you saw Spider-Man and Kraven were engaged in a violent fist fight, it looked like Spider-Man was winning. But you weren’t sure. In the end, Kraven managed to escape, but not without significant injuries. And Spider-Man swung off without a word, you were standing in the rubble of the square, you clenched fists shake with the after effects of adrenaline.
You began calling out for Hobie, like many others trying to locate their loved ones, except the person you were looking for you couldn’t miss. You swiveled to your left, and low and behold, Hobie Brown stood before you, sporting a split lip and black eyes. He was out of breath and his hands shook faintly, he looked like he was just in a fight, you assumed he got attacked by one of Kraven’s goons. But that didn’t explain him being out of breath, the assault on the town square was rather concentrated. You brushed it off and helped your friend.
The third time Hobie Brown acted differently was after you had a conversation with Spider-Man, of all people. Snow had not covered the majority of New London, and whatever wasn’t covered, was going to be. You stood at the very top of you apartment building, sporting your winter attire of course, because quite frankly it was fucking cold. You knew that soon you’d leave for Hobie’s place to binge watch some movies and order some grease filled take out.
You were kind of stalling. Torn between wanting to spend time with your friend, and crush, and not spending time with him and distancing yourself. You knew it was a dumb idea, but regularly that did not stop you, and you also knew that Hobie would most definitely catch on and start asking questions. Something you undoubtedly did not need. Long story very short, you were contemplating, yet you find yourself distracted.
By the signature blue and red suit to your right, and a puppy-like head tilt.
“Wha’cha doin’ up ‘ere all alone?” A thick accented voice asks you from behind the mask, you brush off how familiar it sounds. There are a lot of people in New London who sound similar to each other.
“Can I be honest with you?” You implored, to which he nodded.
“I’m stalling.” You can’t help but giggle a bit as you watch Spider-Man’s eyes shrink in question, knowing his mask mirrors his face.
“Stalin’? Now why’s ‘at luv?”
“I’m supposed to go hang out with a friend soon, and my predicament is that I like him” You pause to gauge his reaction, which remained indifferent.
“And I don’t know if I should hang out with him and just stop being a baby, or distance myself until I don’t like him.” Spider-Man raised a gloved hand and shook it in tandem with his head.
“‘At’s nonsense. Why ‘on’t you confess, m’sure he wouldn’t mind. What’s this lad’s name? Same one as last time?” You exhaled a lung full of air, sighing dreamily, as if his name alone brought you peace. You looked away from Spider-Man and at the scenery once again, your eyes softened.
“His name is Hobie, yes the same as last time, Hobie Brown.” You looked back at Spider-Man, a small blush resting high on your cheekbones. He stared back at you with wide eyes, which quickly relaxed, he forced out a cough and placed both hands on the metal railing.
“Well I say you ‘on’t go with the forma option.”
~
You sit on the couch, resting your legs atop Hobie’s lap
“Hey Hobie.”
“Hmm?” His hum of acknowledgement rumbled deep in his chest.
“Are you….Spider-Man?” You observe no change in his body language, nor his expression. His eyes remain glued to whatever he’s reading on his phone.
“Yeah.” Casually, your best friend, and crush, flips your world on its head. You try forcing down the flush that threatens to creep up your neck.
“That’s embarrassing,” you mumble while pulling the blankets back over your body, covering your flushed face with the blankets. You vaguely feel Hobie shift underneath your legs, then you feel his cold finger gently pinching your cartilage. Toying with the metal ring, tugging on it softly before he leans down.
“Ya’ ears always blush befor’ ya’ face does luv.” You can feel his breath fan across your ear, tickling the hairs on your neck, making them stand on edge. He presses the back of his hand tenderly against the back of your neck, the chill of his rings prompting goosebumps to rise on your skin. The, now red flush, nearly sizzling against his cooled skin. He lays his palm down on your nape, thumb tenderly massaging just below your hairline on the side of your neck, it makes your heart skip at least eight beats.
The tenderness of his dexterous fingers lulled you, flooding your brain with endorphins. Carefully, you peel out from your blanket protection, meekly locking eyes with Hobie. A mistake. Your breath is robbed from your lungs, his eyes glimmer with mischief and excitement, his lips are pulled into a knowing smirk. His eyebrows are just slightly raised, and all together creating teasing expression.
“Wha’? You embarrassed ‘cause ya’ confessed ta Spider-Man?” The wolfish grin makes heat bloom on your cheeks, so pretty.
“Thank you luv.” Your blush deepens, the heat beneath your cheeks becomes unbearable. You quickly place your hands over your face, the temperature of your hands contrasting your face.
“Nuh uh, you don’ get ta’ hide ya’ face.”