press (2)
The next morning, Ganke shakes Miles awake at the crack of dawn, something he doesn’t normally get to do since he’s already gone most of the time. So both savor it, Miles allowing for Ganke to wake him up gentle- even if he shook the wrong shoulder, the one with shallow cuts all over it.
So they take their time, Ganke helping him with his shirts since it still hurts to move too much. They join Miles’ parents on the couch, Jeff with his coffee and Rio tucked close to him. Ganke and Miles find themselves doing the same. Jeff’s mouth falls open at the remarks the former reporter made before turning to Rio.
“Now how did she think that was a good idea to say?”
“Ay, how can she even say that? The hell?”
“Good she lost her job though- hollon, is that MJ being interviewed?”
“Yeah, she’s the one who received the footage from Spiderman.” Miles pipes up, immediately realizing his mistake. Thankfully MJ said the same thing he did, because if she didn’t he’d be in some hot water right now.
Miles groans at his phone buzzing in his pocket, seeing as he was comfortable in Ganke’s arms. He squints at the screen to see the recipient, an international number.
Good evenin’ Miles
What’s this I hear about you taking down a homophobic cunt on a fine Saturday morning?
Did a right good job by the way.
“Dude is that Hobie?”
“Yeah. Not sure how he got my number though.” Ganke chuckles, but keeps his lips sealed. Miles would forgive him for this one, right? Yeah.
yeah linda wasnt that smart
who gave you my number btw
nvm u probably got it urself
I did! God, I taught you so well
you didn’t teach me shit hobart
Who told you my government name
no one informed me of it hobart
Please stop calling me Hobart
fine.
hobart.
I’ll teleport into your room Morales
you wouldn’t dare
Miles pales as faint orange and pinks lights appear through a crack in his bedroom door. He launches himself off the couch and into his room. A laced up leather boot comes through the portal slowly, making an enterance as he thrusts the guitar handle through. His hand’s raised to play a tune, and Miles yanks him by his wrist out of the portal, guitar pick skittering onto the floor.
“Good show good show, now can you please unweb my hand from your wall.”
“Unweb yourself you twat.” Miles ennunciates twat in a horrible British accent, both huffing out a little laugh as Miles rips him free. Ganke, suspicious, goes to check on Miles but gets surprised when the door’s being held shut.
what the fuck are you guys doing
okay dont be mad
but hobies here
nice!! I finally get to meet him
also
theres an interdimensional portal in our room
Ganke starts banging on the door after Miles said that, Hobie cackling as he struggles to keep it closed by himself.
WHAT THE FUCK??
DUDE LET ME IN
AT LEAST LET ME SAY HI
MILES PLEASE ILL GIVE YOU THE PAV FIGURINE
WITH HIS LITTLE WORKING BRACELETS THAT I MADE
idk man thats a pretty good offer but
what about lego peter parker with the curly hair
thats so rare r u joking no
well then u cant come in
MILES PLEASE
He can feel Ganke against the knob of the door, doing the trick he usually does to get through a locked door without too much damage. He really regrets teaching him how to do that right now.
“Hobie you dick- you’re really just gonna stand there?”
“Yeah, you’re a fugitive.”
“Aren’t you a fugitive back on one thirty-eight?”
“I don’t believe in consistency.”
Without the aid of Hobie, Miles inevitably fails to keep Ganke out. Partly because he can’t deprive his boyfriend of some of the coolest shit he’ll ever see, and because he doesn’t want to break the door on acident. The door’s open for a bit too long before it slams.
Hobie and Miles go still while Ganke’s just in the middle of the room, gaping dumbly at the portal. Jeff's weight shifts from the couch to the floor.
“Miles, what the hell are y’all-”
“-Sorry dad! My window’s just open from last night.”
“Oh alright.”
Miles turns to Hobie and Ganke with the blankest stare he can muster, but of course he can’t hold it for long. Ganke looks towards Hobie, Hobie at Ganke. Then all three at the wall, the portal still open for use.
“You gave Hobie my number.” Miles accuses, not really caring.
“I did?” Ganke deflects.
“Yes, you did.”
“How’d you even know I was thinking about that? You psychic?”
“Nah, just Dark type.”
Hobie lets out an involuntary snort.
“Hobart, are you alright my good fellow?”
“Miles, please. Please stop calling me Hobart.”
But it only makes Hobie snort more, covering his mouth to try and dampen the sound.
Ganke’s got his head through the portal while they’re distracted laughing, and Hobie immediately snaps back to reality. He and Miles pull Ganke out by his shoulders, Miles hitting the portal closed with the help of the Hammer.
“I’m not even going to ask how he did that.” Ganke mutters.
“Good. It’ll hurt your brain.” Hobie pats Ganke’s shoulder before taking the desk chair, his legs up like he owns the place. Miles was not having it.
“Hobie get yo funky ass crust pants out my seat.” They’re cool, don’t get him wrong, but Miles simply does not want that stench on any of his belongings. If there is a stench, that is.
“Hey, they do not stink! I wash them on cold once a week using Gain.”
“Wash em’ again you wanker. I know they stand up if you take them off.”
Ganke hollers and throws himself against the wall as Hobie and Miles bicker about the state of Hobie’s wardrobe, so much so that he briefly hears a bet over twenty quid go on in the background. Out the corner of his eye, Hobie steps out of his pants. Ganke hears him drop to the floor in a scream of quiet anguish and strained laughter, Miles tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.
In the middle of the room, with no support whatsoever, stood Hobie’s pants on the floor. Miles even checked for any webbing to give Hobie the benefit of the doubt. He couldn’t. Hobie recollects himself, waltzes over to the side of the room in tights and boxers, reopens a portal and slaps twenty five dollars in Miles’ hand.
“Hobie-” Miles voice cracks, trying to hand him the money back.
“Speak nothing of this, Morales.” Hobie spat with no venom, making the crucial mistake of pointing at him.
“Bro why yo’ finger look like a backwood.”
“Oh my day- how do you even think of that?” He chuckles looking at his hands. “No wonder Miguel hates you.”
“He hates you too!”
“Yeah, not as much as you though. I’m just temporarily banned from HQ.”
“Why am I not surprised.”
“Cause’ it’s Miguel. He’d ban you if you breathe too hard.” Miles takes a deep breath, gesturing with his hands.
“Nah, on the topic of Miguel- how can that nigga expect to keep the universe together if he gotta take a damn flu shot if he wanna keep his spider powers in check. That nigga can’t stick to walls but he can sure stick to that damn Da Rules book like he Jorgen von Strangle-”
Hobie’s mouth goes slack as Ganke grins like an idiot. Clearly, Hobie’s never witnessed a rant from Miles in all its unedited glory. The range of emotions Hobie felt can’t be sumarized by any words, just long and short blinks, eyes darting to Ganke for confirmation that they're hearing the same thing, and silent gasps for air.
“Please tell him to stop talking I’m going to piss myself.”
“No. He’s gotta keep going- you gotta let him do this.” Ganke’s teetering on the edge of losing it just like Hobie, camera shaking in his off hand.
“Please, Ganke-”
“-and can we please talk about this mufucka’ chasing me up some typa damn rocket- oh my god. Do I look like Venom to you bitch? Is it cause’ I’m black? Did you mistake me for tar, Miguel O’ Hara? On my momma I should’ve kicked his ass to the O’Hare airport since he wanna-”
Hobie shakily inputs the coordinates back to Earth 138, getting one more good wheeze out on Ganke’s shoulder before he left. A little after, Miles finished with a huff and Ganke stopped taping.
“God damn that felt good. Wait, where’d Hobie go?”
“Left a bit before you were done.”
“Damn it. Send him the rest.”
“Alright, want me to send it to Pav too?”
“No, he’d probably figure out a way to make it Miguel’s ringtone.”
Ganke looks at Miles dead on, pressing send so hard it should’ve cracked his screen. Miles doesn’t even try to stop him. He doesn't even scold him when hours later, he has endless voicemails from Miguel all in varying lengths. Some are purely in Spanish, some in English, some hold more threats more others, some are even holograms.
"Worth it?" Ganke asks, swiping to the next message.
"Worth it."