Chapter 8
The apartment was dead silent. Miles winced at the ckrsssssht of tearing paper as the portal folded shut. He looked around Hobie’s place, but the lights were off and the deep shadows weren't elevated by the cloudy light trickling dimly through the window. The apartment looked all but abandoned. Hobie’s bed was sort of made and his guitar wasn’t even on its stand. Miles spun on his heels and then, there he was.
Hobie was sprawled out on the couch, all long limbs that didn’t quite fit. His boots were fallen over each other at the door and his war vest had been discarded onto the kitchen counter. He had an arm tossed over his eyes and was snoring softly with the way his forearm was compacted into his nose. It was awfully endearing. Miles felt bad for waking Hobie up, he did, but this carefully scripted apology had been churning in his stomach for the last day and Miles knew he needed to bite the bullet before his cowardice got the better of him.
“Hobie.” He whispered, creeping closer in a way he hoped wouldn’t startle him. “Hobie.”
The next thing he knew, Miles was on the ground with spiderwebs sticking his shoulders and his legs to the scratched floors of Hobie’s home. Hobie loomed over him, frowning. “Y'scared me.”
“Sorry, uh.” Miles said, intelligently, as he struggled to escape Hobie’s webs. This was not going to plan. “I didn’t mean to- really, I just wanted to. Uh. Thank you. For the gifts.”
Hobie raised his eyebrows. He looked unimpressed. It was too dark for Miles to make out the text on his skin, but Hobie knelt next to him and started pulling away at the webs. “You’re welcome. I ‘ave some tubber ware to send back with you, for your mum.”
That threw Miles through a loop. Rio had given Hobie more food? And Hobie wanted to return it. Miles was super glad that Hobie and his parents appeared to be getting closer but the casual tone Hobie was using made Miles feel both like bygones were bygones and that Hobie wanted Miles out of his apartment in three seconds flat.
Once one of his arms we’re freed, Miles reached for Hobie’s hand. Hobie stopped him by grabbing his wrist. “Don’t try it, Miles.”
“What am I trying?” Miles asked, earnestly confused.
“I know your mum sent you to apologize. I know you don’t mean it. I don’t want to hear it.”
“What!?” Miles spat out. Hobie flinched for a second, and he felt horrible. After shaking his hand out of Hobie’s grip, Miles started yanking the webs off himself. Seeing that Miles could help himself at that point, Hobie stood up and walked to the other side of the apartment. “My mom is not making me apologize. I want to apologize because I want to apologize!”
“I said I don’t. want. to hear it.” Hobie turned his back to Miles. He fiddled with one of the stud bracelets on top of his dresser, trying to look busy.
“Well, I’m going to say it! I’m sorry, Hobie.” Miles said, furiously tearing at the webs covering his legs. “I was an asshole. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have said those things to you. That was wrong of me, and unfair to you.”
Miles scrambled to his feet and walked over to Hobie, trying to make him look at him. “I’m serious, Hobs. I- I can’t tell you how thankful I am for you coming to get me even though I said those things I know it must have been really hard and-”
“Yeah, Miles, it was fuckin’ hard.” Hobie snarled. He turned to face Miles, finally, eyes full of tears and face covered in angry text. Miles saw it then, the words in a deep red text on the crest of Hobie’s cheekbone: I don’t fucking need your help, Hobie! “It was fuckin’ hard to tell your parents that I didn’t know where you were, it was hard as bloody hell to get you out of that damn building, and it was near damn impossible to look your mum in the eye when you’re dying in your bed and she’s lookin’ to me for answers!” He shouted. Miles stepped back, for a second.
“Hobie-”
“I told you I don’t want to talk. I told you I don’t want to hear it. You- fuckin’ teleported into my home without askin’ me and I don’t have to stand here and listen to your bullshit!”
“Come on man, we need to talk, communication is like- the most important tenet of a relationship-”
“Is that what this is?” Hobie laughed, pressing his tongue into his lip piercing. Miles saw that nervous tick and his spidey sense winced, bracing him for what Hobie said next. “Because, Miles, I’ve been noticing that the only times I see you is to get your ass out of trouble or to fucking snog! Don’t tell me that this is anything other than you having someone do your dirty work while you experiment with liking blokes!”
“Hobie!”
“Don’t do this to me, Miles.” Hobie said, his yelling so quickly crumpled into a whimper. That shine in his eyes was back and he pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t- I can’t-”
Miles waited a second for Hobie to finish his sentence. When it became clear Hobie couldn’t go on, Miles stepped closer again. “Do what to you, Hobs?”
“Look at me like that, man.” Hobie said, his voice breaking. “You get aaall fuckin’ doe-eyed and it’s- it’s- augh! It’s frustrating. You’re frustrating! I want-” Hobie interrupted himself again. He covered his face with his hands, knuckles curling as he dug his fingernails into his skin. Miles reached to stop him and Hobie smacked his hand away.
“What do you want?” He gently asked.
“I want you, Miles.” Hobie said, voice torn with a sob, tears on his face. “I want you. Like nuthin’ I’ve ever wanted and it- it scares me, what you do to me, and I know you don’t feel the same-”
“I do feel the same!” Miles gasped.
“No you don’t.” Hobie said, resolute. “Please don’ play with me Miles, I can’t deal with that right now.”
“I’m not playing! I want you too- always have! I mean, I kind of hated you at right at the start- I shouldn’t have led with that, but you know what I mean!” Miles felt like a kid throwing a tantrum, stomping his little foot in the ground to get all eyes on him. “I want you Hobie. I want you all the time. I want, I want to go to school, and study electrons and atoms and all of this other science bullshit when I don’t even like science that much so I can wake up in your bed without a watch on! I want you in my kitchen, I want you to meet my aunties and uncles, I want you to yell at me when you need to and tell me I’m pretty when you feel like it and I’ve never done anything like this before so I don’t know what it means!”
“Don’t, Miles.” Hobie said, voice shaking with tears or rage, Miles didn’t know.
“Please Hobie.” Countered Miles. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just one more chance. I love you too much to give you up after one fight. I’ll respect whatever you say, I will, but I’m prepared to-”
Hobie grabbed the front of Miles’ shirt and pulled. Miles gasped, bracing himself for a punch, but the only thing that hit his jaw was the worn cotton of Hobie’s well-loved shirt. He was getting serious hugs lately. Miles needed more close run-ins with death, apparently. That concerning thought was diminished when Miles threw his arms around Hobie in return, hugging him just as tightly. He felt one of Hobie’s hands slide up his back under his shirt, the other grasping at the short hairs on the back of Miles’ head to hold him just a little closer. Miles held onto Hobie's shirt and pressed his face further against Hobie’s collarbone.
This is what Miles was looking for. Feeling completely protected in someone’s arms, completely sheltered. Knowing you could trust them when they told you everything was going to be okay because they could weather the world beside you.
“I’m sorry too.” Hobie gasped, squeezing Miles with that superhuman grip. “I’m so sorry for yellin’ at you, Miles. I started it- I know I did I just- you scared me.”
Hobie’s hands came up and framed Miles’ face. His grip was pinching, a little, his thumbs digging into Miles’ cheeks and his pinkies into soft spot behind his ears. Miles held onto his wrists and looked at the tears in Hobie’s eyes, the text across his face changing too rapidly for Miles to really read it. He caught glimpses of yes, thank you, Miles Morales is Back in New London, I love you, yes. “I was so afraid of losing you, Miles. Of you getting hurt. I’m sorry I pushed you away, I, I just-”
“It’s okay.” Miles said. He felt a little watery himself. “It’s okay. I know Hobie, I know.”
And he did know. It came with being Spiderman, didn’t it? Holding onto loved ones a little too tight. Keeping secrets and lying with the hope that you could keep them safe when, more often that not, it was those white lies that had everything come crashing down.
"I didn' mean any of what I said, I swear it." Hobie was sputtering, tripping over his words. "I just- I'm so- I don' know, Miles. I don't want this to fall apart on me."
"I know." Miles promised.
"I love you. I- I love you so much it makes me act up- it make me sick, 'iles." Hobie said, urgent, like if he didn't speak Miles would blow away. He squeezed his eyes shut and a few rogue tears slid down his face. “I’m sorry I get so mean.”
“We all have our hang ups. We’ll work on it.” Miles said after a startled laugh. He put his hand on the back of Hobie’s neck. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah, love.” Hobie closed the distance. Miles could feel the wetness on Hobie's cheeks against his skin and could taste the salt between their lips. He held Hobie a little tighter, slotting his fingers amongst the wicks at the back of Hobie's neck and gently scratching. Hobie's arm around his back tugged closer and Miles felt himself having to bend to accommodate the demanding press of Hobie's mouth against his. Miles stepped forward to rebalance himself and Hobie's back tapped against the wall. Hobie pulled away and spoke against Miles' mouth. "I'm so glad you're okay. I w's scared for you."
Miles kissed the corner of Hobie’s mouth. “You have yourself to thank for that. Thank you for saving me, Hobs, again.”
"I couldn' not." Hobie said, and Miles liked this side of Hobie. The honest side, without the bravado, just his truths and the vulnerability he was finally starting to show. Every word sounded ripped out of him like he was fighting himself to say what he meant and it hurt. Miles kissed him again in thanks.
“I think your parents like me now.” Hobie added, smiling.
“Can we not talk about my parents while we make out?”
“I’ll put that on my Not to Mention list.”
“Fuck off.” Miles laughed, startled, having to pull away for a moment just to collect himself. “I meant everything I said, Hobie. I want you in my life. Every piece of you. Even the ugly parts.”
“So you’re thinking I’m ugly now?”
“Let me be serious.” Miles sighed, but the teasing was acceptable. Hobie needed to get seven days of jabs in all in one conversation.
“I love you so much.” Hobie said, his hands falling to rest on Miles' waist. “I want you in my life too, every piece of you.”
“Good.” It was easy to agree with the idea of Hobie in his bed every morning. Hobie by his side whenever he needed him. Miles felt a little giddy at the prospect of Hobie, with his piercings and studs and his beautiful wicks meeting Ganke and his aunties and his uncles. He felt so lucky, even after almost dying and having his heart torn out within the same day, because he knew not everyone got what he got. Miles knew that not everyone had a family like him, the space to deal with his emotions, or a partner willing to weather it all. Miles made a promise to himself right there that he was going to be thankful for the rest of his life. “My mom would kill me if I told her we broke up. She’s like. Emotionally invested in us now.”
Hobie laughed but his voice was still thick with unshed tears. “Don’t put that kinda pressure on me.”
"Nah, I'm gonna put so much pressure on you." Miles said, resting his arms around Hobie's waist and leaning into him. The buzzing caused by the interdimensional travel hummed between them and soothed Miles' aching muscles. "You're gonna meet my family and they're gonna love you. And we'll take you in and teach you how to cook."
"I can cook."
"Yeah, white people food."
"Oh so we're playing dirty now-" Hobie grabbed onto Miles hips and picked him up. Miles gasped and started to struggle, but Hobie got an arm under his thighs and carried him into the living room before dropping him on the couch. Hobie climbed on top of him, and even though Miles tried to block his hands, Hobie got his fingers into the crease of Miles' neck, along his sides, poking and tickling until he leaned down with a laugh and sealed their lips with a kiss.
It was hard navigating the world as Spiderman. It was also hard navigating the world as a traumatized kid in a system that worked against you. But Miles knew, he just knew, that he could be patient. He and Hobie we're still growing, still changing, still finding their places in the world. Miles would wait and wait and wait even if the day they slotted into the world like they slotted into each other never came. He just wanted to be with Hobie, knowing that he had the same patience for him. Knowing that no matter how much they fought, they'd both go head first into danger and patch up their wounds together.