Consistency

Convincing Rio and Aaron to let him go to Hobie's was difficult, but he managed it with his twin’s help and assurances that he would be on the roof. They took off before sunset, and were at their destination before the world grew dark. The Prowler climbs up the fire escape and the retired spider man enters through the front door. Miles makes his quiet way through the building until he finds the apartment number and knocks quietly.

Hobie opens the door with a soft smile. 

“Hey,” he says softly, letting Miles in. “Make yourself comfortable. Hungry?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Where's your guard dog?”

“On the roof,” Miles points upward. “Where should I put my bag?”

“Anywhere works.”

Miles drops it beside the couch and then follows Hobie towards the kitchen. “How’s everyone?”

“Alright,” he shrugs. “Worked to the bone, almost. Gwendy wants you found. You mean a lot to her.”

Miles snuffed, “Enough for her to lie to me.”

“She wanted to keep you safe,” Hobie huffed back. “You’re right, technically, you never were supposed to be spider man.”

“Caused more harm than good, I think,” he hummed back. 

“What was her name? The girl you couldn't save?”

Miles grits his teeth, “Gwendolyn Stace. She was a bartender.”

“This universe's Gwen Stacy?”

“Yeah. She would have lived without me getting in the mess,” he shakes his head. Hobie squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Miles. It wasn't right for me to judge you about it.”

“It’s fine,” he gives a wane smile. “Would’ve been better for everyone if I never got off that floor.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Who else is gonna make my coffee?”

“That sludge you drink?” Miles chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Anyone could.”

“Nah. You make it best,” Hobie chuckled. Tentatively, he reached out and drew Miles into a hug - allowing him enough time to move out of reach. “I really am so sorry. No one should have gone through what you did. I’m sorry we chased you off, that you landed here, that you…” He takes a soft breath. “I’m sorry, Miles.” Miles clutched him tightly, huffing softly. He presses his head more insistently into Hobie’s shoulder in an attempt to not cry. “And it is not your fault. Whatever your stupid head or anyone else says. It is not your fault.”

Miles breaks, clutching Hobie and sobbing into his shoulder. Hobie just holds him, murmuring quietly to him and waiting for him to calm.

Miles pulls back and wipes his face sometime later. “Alright?” Hobie asks, hands lingering on his shoulders. He was warm, delightfully graciously warm. Miles gives a slow nod. 

“Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” Hobie says, handing him a bottle. “Don't trust the city water.”

“Smart choice,”  Miles sniffled. 

“Painkillers?” Hobie offered. Miles shakes his head. “Wanna sit down?” Miles follows him to the couch and they sit on opposite ends of it. Miles curled into himself with his water hugged to his chest. Hobie watched him for a moment before looking down at his phone. He would wait forever if it meant Miles opening up to him more - however long it took he would be there for him. It was unfair of him to make the assumptions he did when they first reunited, to assume that Miles gave up his suit for a small reason. 

He scrolled around his phone, reading a few articles or looking for a new song to play on his guitar. Miles slowly relaxed, eventually leaning over and placing his head on Hobie’s shoulder. When Hobie looks down at him, Miles is looking up at him. Hobie smiled a bit and then went back to his phone. There was no need to talk. Miles was looking at Hobie’s phone as well. Hobie shifted, freeing the arm Miles was on to wrap it around him and pull him a bit closer. After a second, Miles relaxed easily into him. 

“How bad are the nightmares?” Hobie asked softly, still looking at his phone, a while later.

“I uh… I keep hurting them. They try to wake me up and I just… fight back,” he murmured back. Hobie sweeps his thumb gently across Miles’ shoulder. 

“You won’t have to worry about that with me, alright? I’ll heal fast, I’m stronger than they are.” Slowly, Miles nods. “Have you tried anything to help?”

“Therapy, but it’s slow going. Can’t really talk about everything I’ve done, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Hobie agrees. “Anything else?”

“No. Rio offered to get a sleep med prescription, but I don't think I can handle that… being unable to control where and when I fall asleep.”

Hobie hums softly, “understandable.” 

They talk and talk and talk. Miles felt so at peace for the first time since he became Spiderman. 

He fell asleep on Hobie's shoulder, warm and safe. However, he awoke a few short hours later to his phone ringing. 

He answers without looking, groaning. “What time is it?” he asked, yawning.

“Warehouse. 30 minutes.” followed by a dial tone. Miles sits up quickly, rubbing his face. Hobie was asleep, and he almost felt bad for leaving without him being awake but he wouldn't have been called so shortly unless it was something immediately wrong. Especially if he was called to the warehouse, not the apartment. He writes a note that something came up and leaves, grabbing his bag as he goes. He decides to swing, as it's the quickest, especially at night. 

It takes him 20 minutes to get there, and he lingers outside to prepare himself for whatever has gone wrong. Aaron could be hurt, or Miles, or anyone else he cared for.