It was a while since he’d had such a nightmare, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise.
After today, after having to deal with 3 villains in succession and running out of webs while in freefall (which wasn’t the first time–but it had been a while since the last time), Miles wasn’t expecting to get any good sleep. But it was 3am, and his parents needed theirs, so he couldn’t just ask his dad to take a walk like before.
Plus, he was an adult. Just because his parents let him stick around since rent prices were insanely high in New York didn’t change that.
Still… he needed to take a walk. Talk to someone who understood.
So he suited up, took his watch, and ported into Spider Society.
It was weirdly quiet, though not entirely. Those he passed were obviously going in other directions, busy with whatever they were working on, and it didn’t feel right to stop them to chat, even if some perked up and waved at Miles as he passed.
Over the years, he’d really bonded with some people–a far cry from his first encounter with most of them trying to capture him.
He eventually found himself at the main office, the dark space illuminated by the screens surrounding their fearless, and somewhat frightening, leader. His figure made Miles flash back to one of the things that featured in his nightmares long ago, of being pinned to a train by an enraged, desperate man with sharp claws and red eyes in shadow.
But when Miguel turned around, even as his eyes flashed red, his expression softened when he spotted Miles in the dark, giving him the briefest smile before returning to the stoic blank face he liked to wear.
The way Miles' heart skipped a beat was reminiscent of the fear, but it wasn't fear that he was feeling when he swung up to where Miguel was and exaggeratedly leaned over to see what he was working on.
He was already a tall kid, but as an adult he nearly hit Miguel's height, which was quite the feat considering just how enormous the man was. There were obviously those bigger than him like Petra and Hulk Spidey, but Miguel O'Hara, leader of spider society, was an intimidating figure indeed.
Miles was a lot closer to him in height than bulk, remaining about as lean as your average spider person, but with just a bit more muscle to round him out after his teenage years. Given that spider strength didn't scale with size, he was happy that he wasn't going to be a beanpole all his life.
His exaggerated lean got him close enough to make contact with part of Miguel's muscled back, and Miguel seemed to relax at his touch, even as he gently shouldered him in annoyance.
“Need something, Arañito?”
“Nah, man. Just… wanted to say hi.”
“At 3 in the morning.”
Miles glanced at the clock, which didn't match up to his own time, and realized that Miguel must just know his time off the top of his head, or had been monitoring it recently.
“Well maybe you need something, how about that?” Miles ribbed, and was surprised when Miguel turned fully around without his spider sense warning him.
He realized why when he saw Miguel's expression, this (cute) patient half smile, as he seemed to await Miles' actual reason for being there.
“¿Estás bien?”
“Sí, sí. Just…”
Just a nightmare sounded so childish that he couldn't let it out, and his uncertainty must have been obvious, because he then felt Miguel's large hand spread flat over his heart, feeling his heartbeat. Only for a moment did Miles remember the pain of those talons on Miguel's fingertips, but he was… well, he wasn't afraid Miguel would ever turn them against him again. Not anymore.
“Maybe I do need something,” Miguel said gently, a bit of a twinkle in his eye. “Care to guess what it is?”
Miles felt his heart pick up, and knew Miguel could feel it too, under his warm, broad hand. Excitement. Anticipation. Not fear, not like…
Somewhat chapped, yet still soft lips pressed against his own, and Miles pulled away from the memory–of almost dying today, multiple times over, of being flattened on the pavement or crushed by debris or things that his durability could weather, but not without leaving him broken.
Instead, he closed his eyes, focusing on Miguel's lips, his cheekbones when Miles raised a hand to stroke his face, the hand on his chest gently running down to his stomach, then his side, leaving tingling warmth in its wake.
Miles put a hand on his back and pulled him close, his strength bringing Miguel in with ease, not that the man fought against it. With their bodies pressed together like this, kiss deepening, Miles didn't need to be anywhere else.
He didn't need to be afraid, because he was here, now, with the love of his life who somehow, against all odds, loved him in return.
At the end of it, Miles had both arms around Miguel's waist and kept him locked in an embrace, and Miguel rested his head on Miles' shoulder. Miles was tall enough that this wasn't as much of a strain as it could have been, but Miguel still had quite a bit of height on him.
“You okay, mi vida?” Miguel said quietly.
“Nightmare,” Miles admitted quietly.
“Ah. The fall.”
“Yeah.”
Miguel shifted and Miles felt him press his lips to the side of his head, leaving soft kisses, over and over, gentle but firm.
“I thought I'd lose you,” Miguel said. “When I saw what happened.”
Oh. Miles didn't consider that–but why would he? It happened to him. He didn't consider what it might look like to an outside observer, especially to Miguel.
“I'm sorry. It's not about me, I just… I'm glad you came,” Miguel continued, and Miles turned his head so that he and Miguel could press their foreheads together and touch noses and come so very close to touching lips. Feeling each other, feeling the closeness after today's terrifying events.
“So am I,” Miles whispered, feeling tears well up from the fear finally being expressed–the terror of the fall, the pain and exhaustion of the battle… the catharsis of crying it out with someone who loved him and felt even a little of the fear he felt. Miguel hugged him tight, and he let himself cry.