Babysitting

Lyla sent a message to Hobie that they'd made some progress in their research, and had found a way to change Miles back to his old self, except that the machine needed further tuning, which would probably take a day or so-
"Take him to the control center at 3 p.m. tomorrow okay? We'll work something out--"

"I don't know," Lyla heard this and looked up at Hobie, who was carrying the little boy to his eyes with one hand: "Yo Peter Pan, you wanna be turned back?"

"What--he's only two now!!!! You can't seriously be asking for his opinion!"

"Of course I can," Hobie replied calmly, "He's a two years old with his own will, and I respect that."

"Alright that's it." Peter squeezed himself into the picture and yelled at Hobie through the comm screen, "You're turning him back!!!! I don't care about your whole free, punky-anarchy theory, YOU ARE BRINGING MILES HERE AND TURN HIM--"
The signal was cut off.

"Wobie?"

Hobie lowered his head and looked at the boy sitting in his arms who was gently tugging on his necklace at the moment:"'S up hon?"
He looked at Miles' pouting mouth and bulging cheeks and seemed to understand what the other man was trying to ask, so Hobie knelt down and placed the boy on his knee: "Do you wanna back to normal, or you prefer to stay like this? Well actually, Imma send you back tomorrow anyway, but I still need to ask you."

Miles sniffled, his drooping eyelashes preventing Hobie from seeing the watery eyes: "If I were to be turned back then, will I still remember all this? Evewry thing we did, what you said to me, will I remember all that?"

Hobie had never considered the question. He moved slowly over and rubbed the tip of his nose against Miles' cheek:" I don't know baby. can't promise anything."

Miles' mouth deflated. His voice became shaky and choked, and his lifted eyes filled with tears that would break the heart of anyone who saw them: "Then what of I forget? What i-if, w-what if any of this . ...I-I can't, can't remember..."
The sobbing made it hard to keep his words together, and before Hobie had time to say something soothing, Miles finally couldn't help but break into a bawling fit:" I-I don't... I don't wanna forget this . .y-your words I-I don't w-wanna.... .wobie I like, like you.. . please," Miles looked up wide-eyed, both little hands clutching Hobie's jacket and begging, "Please wobie, don't let me forget everything..."

Hobie thought he didn't have a heart, or that his heart had long ago become harder than stone, devoid of emotion, except for the anger that flowed against capitalism and dictators; but when he looked into the little boy's eyes, Hobie was forced to admit that perhaps, deep down, there was still some kind of human emotion, a piece of softness inside him.

"C'mon Peter Pan," In the end Hobie didn't give a precise answer; he didn't like to be evasive, but he hated even more now to see the disappointed look in Miles's eyes: "Let's get you home--stay at my place for the night."

.............................. .............................. ......
Hobie took him back to his boat. As they walked down the dock Hobie could clearly sense the little boy's disobeying: Miles crawled around on his shoulders and almost fell off two or three times - Hobie tugged at the sash behind his back in mid-air and began to think seriously about the need for a nursery bag like Peter's; and when he finally figured out that Miles was trying to jump into the sea to play in the water, Hobie firmly put his hands in the little boy's armpits to holding him firmly in place:"You're not swimming in the ocean, sorry kiddo. But later you can have a bath, there's gonna be plenty of water for you."

"Can I have a wobber duck?"

"... I have a cat, would that work?"

…………
Miles enjoyed an ample bubble bath and Hobie's service of drying him off with a washcloth; they had not found Hobie's cat named Cat, as Hobie had said that he did not want to constrain the freedom of any living being, and that perhaps Cat was just going out for a walk or was planning to carry out adventures of his own.

Hobie had put Miles to bed at nine o'clock sharp, having consulted Miles and asked him if he wished to be alone in a room or with Hobie; at first Miles had insisted that he was a big boy, and that he wasn't afraid of anything, but his hand clutched Hobie's jacket tightly and he just wouldn't let it go, and so Hobie had decided, after compromising, to stay in the guest room with Miles and rest.

"Wobie?"

"Yes boy." Hobie responded softly indicating he was listening.

"Why do you call me Peter Pan?"

"Coz you're like him. A fearless little boy, brave, sometimes can be a little silly."

"Who's Peter Pan ?"

Hobie twisted his head around to look at Miles' innocent eyes realizing that the other man had probably never heard that story at this point in time, so he patiently explained the Peter Pan fairy tale to the other man, and halfway through his story Miles' attention was drawn to something else: "Is that a guitar? Is that yours?"

"Yes Peter Pan."

"Can you play me a song?"

"You know it's really late for little boys to be asleep--"

"Pwease?” Young Miles looked at the other man with wide eyes: "Pwease Wobie? Pwease???"

".... . fine."
Hobie gave in to such a look. He hugged his guitar from the corner and adjusted it while asking the little boy who was happily twirling around on one side, "Whacha ya wanna listen? Twinkle twinkle little star?"

"Anything you usually play is fine Wobie." Miles flopped back on his pillow and cocked his head at the other, not realizing that the request was a bit difficult for Hobie; the punk gave up after a moment of thinking about the music he usually played: he didn't want to psych a kid out.

In the end, Hobie chose a song with a slow melody that he used to play when he was a street vendor.

"Let's fall in love for the night

And forget it in the morning

Play me a song that you like

You can bet I'll know every line"

.......…
Just when Hobie thought the little boy had fallen asleep and was about to put down his guitar and leave quietly, a soft voice suddenly came from the bed.

"Wobie?"

Hobie sighed softly at having his plans to sneak away interrupted: "Yes dear?"

"What if I stay like this forever? What if--I can't be back to normal?" Maybe kids are like that, after worrying about whether or not they'll get their beloved thing and then finally obtaining it, they immediately start worrying about what will happen if they lose it.

"Well," Hobie said as he stretched his legs out and lay on the bed folded over, one of his arms wrapping Miles into his arms, "That way we would never have to leave neverland."

Hobie thought that would be enough to put Miles to sleep, but he felt something hot burrow into his arms; Miles' hot, little body pressed up against him, his limbs wrapped tightly around Hobie's arm.

"I love you Wobie." he said softly as he pressed his cheek against Hobie's skin.
Hobie felt something flow all the way into his heart along with Miles' breath sprayed on his skin. Something warm, lukewarm, like getting a steaming hot dog from a street stand in the middle of winter with ketchup and yellow mustard squeezed on top, or a whole muffin with maple syrup drizzled from the top.

"It's Hobie."

"Obie?" queried Miles, staring up at the punk in the darkness, struggling to try and will the bite to become.

"No. Hobie. H-O-B-I-E. I don't really care but, if you're saying love, then you gotta say it right." said Hobie as he rolled over and rewrapped Miles in his arms.

"I love you Hobie." This time he finally said it right.

Hobie didn't answer. He simply brushed his lips against Miles' forehead, leaving a black lipstick mark on the little boy's smooth skin for an instant.
And Miles was instantly displeased with this. He waved his hand in mid-air in protest: "Hey--you didn't say it back!"

"Say what back?" shrugged Hobie, deliberately feigning ignorance and letting Miles' little fist land on his chest.

"You gotta say it back! Say 'I wove you Miles'." Miles squirmed around in displeasure, his hand touching Hobie's lip ring.

"I like you." said Hobie, purposely avoiding another word that began with L.

"No!"
Miles pounded into Hobie's chest again: "They're not the same! You gotta say--"

"Yeah I know." When he sensed the young boy's seriousness, Hobie finally stopped teasing him. He spread out his palms to let both of Miles' hands fall into them, then quickly closed them to firmly wrap around Miles' hands.

"I love you Miles."

"I love you too Wobie--Hobie."

Then all was quiet. Hobie and his little boy, his Peter Pan, fell asleep in each other's arms, or rather, Hobie took Miles in his arms; Miles now fit perfectly into Hobie's waist and belly, while his head was buried in his chest. They drifted off into sleep together, on Hobie's boat, which now floated silently in the middle of the ocean, like that distant island in the fairy tale, Neverland .

.............................. .............................. ...
It was another three hours before Hobie finally woke up slowly after he smashed the brand new alarm clock above his bed.
He hated mornings and afternoons, evenings were slightly better because he was able to get out and do what he liked, mornings didn't even exist in his vocabulary -
But he had to get up before the afternoon. Hobie remembered that he needed to get Miles to headquarters.

And their journey was not a very pleasant one. Miles looked like he'd gone from a little angel to a little devil overnight, twisting and turning or punching and kicking along the way as he resisted getting back to headquarters; at first Hobie thought the little boy was just getting out of bed and still carrying a temper, but by the time they'd crossed the portal and stepped through the HQ, Miles already had tears in his eyes again.

"I don't wanna do that--it's gonna hurt!"

"It is not." Hobie calmly hugged Miles to his chest: "That I can promise you, it won't hurt even one bit."

"You don't know that!" Miles screamed shrilly, "You never did it, how would you know--"

"Alright, tell me what's all this about." Hobie immediately realized what this was about; he didn't move to straighten Miles' collar and adjust the somewhat crooked Spider-Man hat he'd knitted with his own hands: "You're not scared, are you? No. You're about the bravest kid I ever met, and if you feel anything during the process, just wear this-" Hobie slipped the woolly hat on for him: "This will give you strength."

"Thanks, Hobie. "Miles sniffled hard, still looking listless; there was not a hint of a smile on his little face, and his hands were clenched into fists hanging down at the sides of his body.

Hobie rubbed his hair, while trying to ignore the little bit of affliction in his mind. This wasn't like him.

.............................. ..............................

They made their way to the control room and stood in front of a somewhat scary looking machine; according to Lyla and Miguel, Miles would need to drill in, start the machine, and after five minutes had passed, teenage Miles would be back.

"Okay kid, hop in." Miguel's voice sounded gentle, perhaps because Miles was a kid now, and his patience seemed endless: "Don't worry, we'll get you back to normal soon. gosh honestly you do look better this way..."

And Miles still looked uneasy, as he made his way to the machine he turned back frequently to look for the familiar figure, and just at the moment he stood in front of the door about to step in, the little boy suddenly changed his mind again, turning and darting towards one of the men, pouncing on the other man and hugging his plimsolls.

Hobie raised an eyebrow and ignored Miguel's complicated look bending down and patiently taking Miles into his arms. He heard the little boy whisper against his ear
"I love you Hobie. and don't forget to say it back, when I am . . you know, when I am turned back."

Miles then quickly let go of his hand and ran toward the machine without looking back.

Hobie looked at the tiny figure that was moving away from him, and for the first time, the feeling that he was going to lose it came over him; and he suddenly had the crazy idea that he would like to take Miles away with him and bring him back to his ship, and then they would sail away together and escape from this damned world-even if it was only for a brief moment.

But he didn't. Hobie watched thoughtfully as the tiny figure of Miles ran, tightening the hat he'd knitted on his head as he ran, two black balls of wool fluttering behind him as he finally disappeared into the huge machine.

He remembered what he had called Miles, Peter Pan, which didn't seem so accurate now; Peter Pan was a sad, never-growing-up child whose willfulness had robbed him of the ability to love people, and he was indeed a child, willful, selfish, harboring an inexplicable fear of growing up and ultimately letting the people who loved him get hurt while he would mouth off to hide his desire for love.
Perhaps the opposite of love is not hate. Perhaps the opposite of love is simply forgetting. And his boy wasn't afraid of oblivion.

Hobie watched as a burst of light flashed through the machine, and it occurred to him that his boy was sitting alone in the machine, facing his greatest fear-the unknown. And he was not afraid of it.

.............................. .............................. ............
The wait was longer than expected, maybe ten minutes passed, maybe more; and when the door to the machine finally opened, a puff of white smoke drifted by and Miles Morales emerged from it.
A restored sixteen year old, teenage version of Miles.
"Okay, you're back, good to see you. Now get outta here and go back to work."
Miguel's demeanor was noticeably colder, after he confirmed that there was nothing wrong with Miles. Miles still had his uniform on, as well as one of Hobie's jackets.

"Good to see you back kid!!!"
Peter was also there, and he excitedly swooped down and put his arm around Miles' shoulders: "You okay, huh? Remember anything, everything alright? Boy you gotta tell us what happened!"

"Okay okay--take it easy Peter!" said Miles, feeling like he was being shaken apart by Peter; he managed to break free of Spider-Man's hold and slowly stepped aside:" I remember we were--Hobie and I were on a mission, we were fighting, and we were doing fine--then I got shot by someone.... . and then, next thing I know, I'm here."

"Huh." Peter's expression was a little complicated, it looked like Miles had lost the memory of the days he'd been getting smaller. It was a shame, he'd loved little Miles-

"Yo. A'right Miles, you're back."

Hobie, on the other hand, was a little calmer, walking over to Miles and naturally wrapping his arm around Miles' shoulders, just like he always did.

It was like nothing had happened, no Neverland, no memories of time and the past. He was like the ocean where his ship was docked, hiding all the shocking waves with a surface calmness.

"Yeah . . and thanks Hobie, for bringing me back."
Miles grinned at Hobie as if nothing had happened, not noticing that Hobie was slowly loosening his grip on his shoulder, instead looking down and rummaging for something; when he finally found it, Hobie was on the verge of leaving.

"Hey Hobie--wait!"
Miles went after him. He shoved something into Hobie's hand. Punk lowered his head and saw that it was a black knit cap.

"You know, there's something more I remember. i remember we falling in love for the night,"
Miles puts his arms around Hobie's shoulders and moves up to plant a kiss on the other man's cheek: "and I didn't forget it in the morning."

………………

"Let's fall in love for the night

And forget it in the morning

Play me a song that you like

You can bet I'll know every line"

.......…

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