The cool autumn air sent a chill down Miles’s back as he landed on the rooftop. Glancing around the deserted pinnacle, he didn’t spot anyone.
“Pete? You here?”
He winced inwardly as he realized he was calling Spider-Man by his real name, in public. Again. He sighed underneath his mask, at least there wasn’t anyone around to overhear him this time. Dropping to one knee, Miles began to stretch his legs the way Peter had taught him. They were going to be practicing web-slinging today and he knew from past experience that the exercises could be rough on his shoulders and knees.
He had just finished his third set of stretches when he felt a faint prickle at the back of his neck. The sensation was still new enough to give him pause, but he recognized it as his Spider-Sense. Grinning beneath his mask, Miles turned in the direction of the feeling and saw another masked figure standing on the edge of the rooftop.
“Hey, Spider-Man,” he said, raising his hand in greeting.
“Hey Spider-Kid,” Peter replied, his voice light and amused as usual.
Miles felt his cheeks warm under his mask and he resisted the urge to cross his arms in annoyance. Ever since they’d started training in August, Peter had been throwing random nicknames at him while they trained. After all, he couldn’t call Miles by his real name when they were out in public. Somebody might be able to connect the dots between the younger Spider-Man’s real name and their association with the FEAST center. From there it would be an easy leap to deduce that the Senior Youth Leader had the same name and that they were in fact one and the same.
“Man, that’s gotta be the worst nickname you’ve come up with,” Miles grumbled as he stepped toward his mentor.
“I thought you said Kid Arachnid was the worst one,” Peter said unabashedly. Miles resisted the urge to punch his mentor in the arm and instead went in for a quick hug. Peter hugged him back as always and for a moment, Miles relished the feeling of the older man’s arms around him. Peter always gave the best hugs. Not that Miles would ever tell him that. He didn’t want to make things weird after all.
Miles pulled back after a few seconds, and Peter released him, patting him warmly on the back. “It’s good to see you again, kiddo. You ready to do some swinging?”
The older man suited words to actions and shot a weblike to a nearby building and leapt off the ledge. Grinning broadly beneath the red spandex, Miles shot out his own web and followed his mentor out into the city.
The red-and-blue figure slid through the open window in a blur. Resisting the urge to glance around, Miles looked and the opening and, feeling no warning tingles from his Spider-sense, he dove through the window.
Rolling as he hit the floor, Miles came up in the apartment on his feet. Peter was already standing in the living room, his mask and gloves off. The older man’s brown hair was sweat-matted and wet, but his green eyes were alight with excitement.
“That was great, Miles!” Peter was grinning broadly, white teeth shining. “You nailed that last swing!”
The other man’s good humor was infectious, and Miles couldn’t help but grin in response.
“Thanks Peter.” He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “You’re a really good teacher.”
“Nah,” Peter said and began to unzip the back of his suit from the hidden seam. “You’re just an A-class student.” He unzipped the suit in one go and tugged the upper half of the unisuit off. A glistening expanse of perfect pecs and abs popped into view and Miles felt his breath catch at the stunning display. He didn’t have chance to even process this when Peter slid the rest of his suit down to his ankles and stepped out of the fitted boots.
Miles could swear his heart actually skipped a beat at the sight of his nearly-mentor. Peter didn’t seem to notice any of this, and he scratched at one of his pecs. “I always get the worst nipple burn when I don’t wash the suit enough.”
He stooped to grab the discarded spandex and Miles felt heat rush to his cheeks as he watched Peter’s abs flex and stretch with the maneuver. Peter raised the suit to his nostrils and took a few cautionary sniffs before wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Yeah, definitely time for a wash.” He turned towards the hallway closet that held the stacked washer/dryer. Miles continued to stare at the other man’s nude form, unable to take his eyes off the walking CrossFit ad. Peter’s pecs were defined to the point of bulging. His biceps looked like they were made of steel cords and his stomach was completely flat with a perfect six-pack.
The unreal muscle definition continued down his thighs and legs. Miles was deeply grateful that the older hero’s most private parts were concealed by a pair of tight blue trunks. Blinking a couple times, Miles looked closer at the hero’s underwear and barely managed to restrain a groan. Peter’s underwear was dotted with tiny red Spider-Men. Beneath the safety of his mask, Miles rolled his eyes languidly.
After a minute, Miles managed to snap himself out of his ogling and hurried down the hallway to follow Peter. The hero was laying his suit out on a folding ironing board and was carefully removing all the bits of digital circuitry and gadgets.
Counting to ten in his head, Miles tried to put his awe aside and focused on the work Peter was doing. “Are those kinetic absorbers?”
Peter turned an approving smile on him.
“It sure is! Took me months to engineer it. Still working on a second set for…” his voice trailed off and he grinned. “Well, it’s been a challenge to replicate.”
Miles pursed his lips and looked closer. “Maybe I can help? Phin and I managed to make one in middle school, but it was way smaller.”
Peter nodded absently as he finished stripping the suit and then shoved the whole thing into the washer and slammed the lid. The machine chimes pleasantly and began to hum as it got to work.
“That’s awesome, Miles. Lemme wash off our training session and then maybe we can work on it together.” He turned towards the bathroom and Miles couldn’t help but stare at the firm buttocks that were outlined clearly through the form-fitting trunks.
“Snap out of it, Miles,” he muttered to himself. “Quit staring. You’ve seen naked dudes before.”
But he had to admit to himself that Peter made even the most athletic of his friends and teammates look scrawny by comparison. Not even Liem, the obnoxious basketball point guard who was ridiculously proud of his 4-pack. Not that Miles cared about how nice Peter’s body looked. Aside from pure jealousy and sheer appreciation for muscles that impressive.
Shaking the dangerous thoughts aside, Miles followed his friend down the corridor. As he approached, he heard the sound of running water and tried not to think about the hot water running along Peter’s perfect, naked body.
“Jesus Christ,” Miles muttered to himself. “Get a fucking grip, Morales.” He was in the middle of berating himself for ogling his mentor, who was just trying to help Miles out and would be mortified if he knew Miles was looking at him like that. The thought of Peter looking at him with horrified revulsion was still racing through Miles’s thoughts when he heard a voice cut through his mental fog.
“Hey Miles, can you grab me my towel?”
Miles just blinked in incomprehension.
“Huh?”
“My towel, Miles. It’s just in my bedroom.”
When Miles still failed to generate a response, Peter called out again, sounding mildly annoyed. “Come on, Miles, don’t make me drip all over the apartment. It takes forever to clean up.”
That penetrated the fog surrounding Miles’ head and he nodded reflexively. “Right, towel, bedroom. On it!”
He trotted back down the hallway and turned left into Peter’s bedroom. The room was familiar enough, with a sizeable queen bed in the center. The dark blue bedcovers were rumpled as usual, and a detritus of dirty clothes lined the edges of the room.
Miles spied a crumpled pair of plaid boxers lying on top of a threadbare grey t-shirt and rolled his eyes. “Mom would take one look at this place and ground Peter for a month.” He chuckled at that and snagged Peter’s towel from where it had fallen on the floor and carried it back to the bathroom.
The sight that greeted him nearly made him faint. Standing on the bathmat, rivulets of water running down his naked body, was Peter. Completely and utterly naked. Stupefied by the sight before him, Miles tried to look away, at the floor, the ceiling, the walls, anywhere else. But his eyes homed in on Peter’s groin, staring at the one part that had been covered up until now. His eyes went as wide as silver dollars and his mouth gaped open at the sight of Peter’s dick.
Thankfully, before Miles could start to ogle his mentor’s cock, Peter snatched the towel out of Miles’s slack hand and gave himself a good rub-down before wrapping it around his waist. “Thanks, kiddo.” The taller man patted Miles on the back as he sidled past him and padded towards his bedroom.
After he heard the bedroom door close with an audible thud, Miles turned to face the wall and banged his head against it.
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
A few minutes later, Miles heard the bedroom door open again and he quickly moved back into the apartment. Hair still damp and mussed, Peter was, thankfully, full clothed, wearing the thin grey t-shirt and a pair of tattered flannel bottoms. “Hey, so you hungry? I know from experience that swinging around the city like that can build up a monster appetite.”
Miles blinked only once before nodding, eager to act like things were normal again.
“Yeah, yeah I could eat.”
“Great,” Peter said and padded down the hall to the kitchen. “I’ll cook. I think I’ve got some rice in the fridge and some chicken I can quickly fry up.”
Miles followed him absently, his mind working on autopilot. “I’ll get Eddie’s Pizza on speed dial.”
“Hey!” Peter sounded miffed. “You love my chicken curry and you know it.”
Miles cracked a grin and shook his head. “As long as you don’t try to make dumplings.”
A thunk sounded from the kitchen and Peter groaned. “MJ told you that story.”
Miles smirked and hopped onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island. “You’ve got a fire extinguisher around here, right?”
Peter let out a snort, spun and snatched the mask of Miles’s face. “That’s enough sass out of you, kid.” He strode over the washer and paused it, stripped the circuitry out of the mask and tossed it into the machine before resuming it. The steady rumble soothed Miles’s racing thoughts as Peter came back to the kitchen.
“You done all your homework?”
“Mostly.”
Peter didn’t look up from slicing the chicken. “Miles…”
Miles sighed and slid off the stool to get his backpack. As fun as he was, Peter never gave an inch when it came to Miles’s education. He’d be glad when he graduated next year.
As Miles wrote out his literary analysis of Hamlet, the savoury aroma of chicken and onions filled his nostrils. Smiling to himself, the younger Spider-Man continued to write as the older one made dinner.