Consistency

It was another three weeks before it was ever talked about. Aaron was livid when they got home and Rio was icing the back of her head. Milo shrunk so far into himself that an equally livid Miles stopped before anything could happen. Milo hid in Miles’ room for almost four days until Aaron promised that nothing would happen. And then Milo refused to look at Aaron for fear of making him mad again. He found a good job at a good coffee shop, earning enough to pull his weight and save for a new binder. 

Rio surprised him one day with the binder, in his size, before he could even earn half of the money he needed to get his own. He cried and paid her back in full out of his next check. All in all, he was learning the flow of life in the Morales household. 

Everything was moving on, and he was happy for the first time in a while. 

They were eating when it was brought up. 

“Milo, Honey,” Rio started, unsure. “We want to talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” he says, setting his fork down. He smiles, and Miles looks down. He gets worried then. 

“We think you should talk to someone,” Aaron says. “Nothing wrong with it, but you… your nightmares are bad, Milo. You’ve been screaming every night since you came here, and you hurt Rio.”

Milo swallows, a bitter feeling rising in his throat. He almost felt like he was gonna get sick. “Was it bad?”

“No, honey,” Rio assured. “Just a concussion. But it might not be… next time.”

In the last three weeks, Milo had destroyed two pillows, attacked Miles, and almost put a hole in the wall with Aaron in or just after he had awoken from his horrible dreams. 

“I’m sorry,” he says meekly.

“It’s okay,” Miles takes his hand and squeezes it. “We just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I think it's a good idea,” Milo says, sniffling. He tugs his hand away from Miles and rests both in his lap. “I think I'm just gonna try and get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Rio says gently. “Do you want me to make you an appointment?”

“Okay,” he says quietly before he stands. He puts away his plate and goes to lie down on the couch. He listens to them discuss quietly who and where he should go to therapy before they come to a conclusion. 

He falls into a troubled sleep - again. When he woke up, he was drenched in cold sweat, and Miles had pinned him to the ground. 

“You okay?” Miles asks, releasing him. Milo just shrugged and sobbed. Miles holds him through it and sits with him until the sun crests over New York and Milo gets dressed for work while Miles dresses for school. 

“We’ll get you through this,” Miles says when Milo catches sight of a fresh electrical burn on Miles’ shoulder. “Doesn't even hurt,” he lies through a hiss when Rio patches it up.

He just gives a sad smile and sets out to go to the coffee shop. He is moving up fast in the ranks, and now that he isn't saving for a new binder, he wants to try and buy the shop - he loves it and it would ease the financial strain on the Morales family some. The goal is much higher than a binder - more than triple, actually - but he was going to do it.

He had just begun the first pot of coffee to brew when the door chimed as someone entered the building. 

“Coffee just got started,” he warns. “10-minute wait, unless you want a cold brew.” 

The person on the other side of the bar gives an acknowledging hum, scanning the menu over the counter. Miles continues to prep in case they order something not pre-prepared and finally looks over. 

Across the counter, dressed in a distressed pair of denim, a shirt that has seen better days, and a leather vest with spikes and pins,  with his glorious wicks, and his facial piercings and knowing smirk and god-forsaken choker, with his guitar strung over his back, and a telltale lump if his mask in his pocket, with his black boots and blue laces, is Hobie Brown. 

The other had yet to look over at him, still scanning the menu, and it was thankfully empty beside the other so Milo didn't make a huge fool of himself when the pastry dough he was about to set out to rise slid from his hands. The metal bowl clatters on the floor, and Milo feels completely exposed when Hobie looks over - first disinterested with a small sneer, and then utterly enraptured by the fact that Milo was standing there gaping like a fish out of water. 

“Miles,” he says, his face shifting to a friendly look, amused almost. 

“Milo,” he corrects, pointing at his name tag. He swallows, though. It felt unbelievably good to be recognized for himself and not the other that shares his face. He stoops to pick up the bowl and sets it down on the counter. 

“I thought you went home?” Hobie asked, looking around. 

“I did..?” he tries. “The spider’s DNA brought me here, and there wasn't an easy way home?”

“That's a horrible lie,” Hobie tells him, chuckling. Milo gives an unsure one back. “If you aren't in your universe, then your dad isn't in danger, you think.”

“Maybe,” he looks away, scrubbing hard at the clean counters. Hobie chuckles again. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Hobie says, pulling out his wallet. “Can I get hot coffee with three shots of espresso, two sugars, no cream, and one of those blueberry muffins?” 

Milo blinks for a moment, “What?”

“Is the coffee not done? It’s been 10 minutes.”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” Milo nods. “Coffee, 3 shots, 2 sugars, blueberry muffin?” he confirms, punching it into the computer.

“Yep.”

“Your total is 9 dollars and 53 cents,” Milo informs. “Cash or card?”

“Cash,” he says, offering a ten-dollar bill. 

“American cash,” Milo huffed, “Why am I surprised at that?”

“Can't do everything in London,” Hobie smirks. Milo hands him his change and receipt. 

“I’ll get that started,” Milo tells him, huffing out a laugh. 

“It’s good to see you got outta there, Miles,” Hobie says, grabbing his hand gently. “And Gwen misses you.”

Milo scoffs softly, “I'm sure. New watch?” he asks, finally noticing the device.

“I’ll explain later. Wanna go for a swing tonight?”

Milo gives a soft smile, “I retired.”

“Do you still shoot webs?” Hobie asks with a frown.

“I mean, yeah?” to prove his point, Milo webs the blueberry muffin over from farther away on the counter.

“Okay then. We don’t have to do any hero stuff.”

“I haven't swung in weeks, though.”

“It's like riding a bike, Miles.”

“Tonight then,” Milo shrugs and moves away to start his coffee. “I’ll bring it over when it's done.” He turns his back, silently freaking out. His hand still tingled where Hobie had held it as he made the coffee. He finishes it and goes to give it to Hobie. He was sitting in the corner, near the window, watching the world outside. 

During the day, it reminded Milo of his New York. At night was a different story. He sets it down with a smile and then goes about finishing the morning prep before another customer arrives. This continues into the day, and Hobie stays for a while, sometimes working on his guitar, and sometimes watching outside. 

Sometimes watching Milo.

He orders another drink before his watch goes off and he takes his leave. Milo almost immediately thinks the space is too big when Hobie wasn't there. He ignores it as the lunch rush slowly seeps into the coffee shop and works in tandem with the other staff there.