“I love you.” The new Spiderman backed away, saluting casually.
What the-? Before Jeff had time to process this completely unexpected farewell, New!Spidey tossed the whole unit a quick “And look behind you!” and swung away, leaving them to gape at the sight of Wilson Fisk strung in webbing thirty feet off the ground, and that was a whole other business to handle.
It took the rest of Officer Davis’ shift to get Fisk down (seriously, thirty feet? They’d had to use two fire engines, a blowtorch, and a safety net) and handcuffed, read the Kingpin his rights, take him to the station, and book him. Everyone had known Fisk was Kingpin, for years, but the charges never stuck because nobody could ever get any evidence. Officer Davis’ bodycam footage had captured the fight with Spiderman and had even caught snippets of confession to higher crimes than assaulting a vigilante. The DA was incredibly excited, the captain said. This was the biggest breakthrough prosecutors had had yet.
Jeff was glad. He was, really. It was just that he was a little too tired to be thinking about Kingpin’s chances at trial. It had been a bad few days and a crazy night. Aaron – they hadn’t talked in a couple of months, and yeah, they’d been drifting apart for years but that was his brother, and now he was dead, and Jeff had never gotten to say goodbye. What that would do to Miles, so close to his uncle, and already clearly upset about something –
Oh, Miles.
He stopped in front of the hospital to pick Rio up from her night shift, a little early for once, and saw her rush out the door, looking scared and relieved all at once.
“Jeff! I was worried sick, what happened? Rachel swore she saw you on the news when they were covering that explosion!”
“I’m good, I’m sorry for worrying you- I watched Spiderman fight Fisk.”
Rio paused in the middle of checking her seatbelt. “Spiderman? The grad student who died?”
“There’s a new one. He came up to me after, acted so different.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was definitely trying to change his voice, to sound deep, and it sounded like…remember when Miles had that phase when he was trying to sound like Aaron?”
“Mi niño lindo,” Rio said fondly.
“He was tiny, too,” Jeff added, frowning as he negotiated switching lanes. “He might even be a kid.”
“That kid…Parker, he started young, didn’t he? Maybe this one is too. How tiny is tiny?”
“Not fully grown.” Jeff doesn’t need to look over at the passenger seat to feel the exasperated look Rio is giving him.
“My height? Miles’ height?”
“Miles’ height. Get this, he hugged me.” He slowed down as they approached an intersection. “And! He said ‘I love you’. ‘I love you!’”
Rio stifled a smile. “Maybe it is Miles,” she joked.
“Sure, let’s-” but whatever Jeff was about to say died in his throat.
The height.
The voice change.
The hug.
The ‘I love you’.
The appearance right after Miles hung up.
Jeff slammed on the brakes just as the light turned red.
“Oh my God. It IS Miles.”
---x---
Miles came home on Friday evening as planned.
What he did not plan on was seeing his parents act…weird.
“I don’t get it, man,” he told Eddie, a friend from his old school. “Mami’s suddenly talking about first aid a lot.”
“Isn’t she a nurse?”
“Yeah, and she’s always been big on first aid but never this much? Dude, I’ve been home one day and she’s already been like, ‘Mijo, you know what, you need to know how to set a dislocated bone’ and, ‘Miles, if you ever need stitches, get them done by a trained professional, like me, and don’t scratch afterwards.’”
Eddie was quiet for a second. Then, “That’s so specific, does she think you’re gonna get hurt tagging?”
“But I’ve been tagging for a long time, and-”
Wait.
Tagging isn’t that prone to injuries but Miles did have a new hobby with a way bigger risk of injury.
Being Spiderman.
“-weird, I wonder why Mrs Morales is-”
“Heeeey Eddie, I gotta go okay talktoyousoonbye.” Miles hung up, cutting off Eddie’s confused goodbye, and fell back onto his bed.
Do they suspect I’m Spiderman?
Miles reviewed the evidence.
When Dad picked him up and they passed a mural of the old Spiderman-
“You know, the old guy was breaking the vigilante law but he was trying to do good.”
“What?”
“Spiderman,” Dad elaborated, jerking his head at the mural. “Phillip Parker or whatever.”
“Peter,” Miles corrected automatically, sitting up. What the heck?
“Peter Parker, right. He seemed like a good guy, his wife was talking about how he felt responsibility. I mean, he was still breaking the law, but he saved a lot of people. And this new guy-”
“The new guy?”
“Yeah, the new Spiderman. Wears black. He stopped to talk to me after that fight at Fisk Tower.”
“Really? What, uh, what’d he say?”
“I mean, I don’t approve of vigilantism, but he said he looked forward to working with me, and maybe he actually will.”
When Mami went on a long first-aid rant-
“Listen, Miles, it’s important for everyone to get proper medical care after injuries, so remember this is just a stopgap until you can make it to a professional.”
“I know-”
“Is the first aid kit in your room at school fully stocked?”
“What? I think so.”
Mami clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “When you go back to school, check! And let me know so we can buy whatever’s missing next weekend, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You know what, maybe we need to get you some more heavy-duty supplies, check that you have ibuprofen, and maybe get some eyewash-”
“Why would I need eyewash?” Miles asked, amused but puzzled.
“What if there’s an accident in chemistry class?”
“The labs all have first aid kits, Mami.”
Mami seems to be groping for a justification. “You use spray paint in your art, if that gets in your eyes, it’ll be very bad. Not to mention-”
“Okay, okay, we’ll get eyewash.”
Hmmm.
---x---
It takes further weekends, because Miles is a scientist and he doesn’t draw conclusions without solid evidence to support his hypothesis.
In that time, he receives two (2) monologues about the morality of vigilantism and surprisingly Dad’s stance on it has changed a little to be more supportive (“Within reason!”); five (5) in-depth first aid tutorials for increasingly unusual situations; fourteen (14) offhand comments about the new Spiderman; and one (1) slightly terrifying moment that seals the deal and went something like:
“Have you got everything you need for school, mijo?” Mami asks over dinner.
“Yep, and don’t worry, I’ll check again just before I go to sleep,” Miles mumbles through a mouthful of mofongo.
“Chew your food, son,” Dad says automatically, and then, “Are you sure? Your books, calculator, markers, suit, extra socks?”
Miles frowns. “What do you mean, suit?”
Dad stutters for a second and Mami says, a little too fast, “In case you have a presentation! You want to be well dressed, make a good impression.”
“We just wear our uniforms,” Miles points out. “They even have ties.”
“Okay, so no suit.” His parents give him identical, weirdly superficial grins.
Okay, yeah. They know.
---x---
“Mami, Dad, I have something to tell you.”
Rio and Jeff mute the news and sit up expectantly. They, ever since that night Jeff slammed the brakes at a red light and figured out their son was Spiderman, have been implementing a Plan.
Part of the Plan is, of course, trying to subtly show Miles that they support him whether or not he admits he is Spiderman. The other part has been them practicing their expressions for if (when) Miles finally confesses his secret identity: surprised, supportive, understanding. This is the part they’re a little more worried about.
“Um,” Miles shuffles his feet a little. “I don’t want you guys to be worried, and let’s- let’s talk about this, but I don’t really want to keep secrets from you.”
Rio says, gently, “Miles, whatever you want to tell us, we’re here for you.”
Miles is pretty sure they’ve been prepping for his confession. He’s a good kid, he tries to live up to the values his parents taught him and be a good Spiderman, but. He’s also a kid. Kids have impulses. His impulse, right now, is-
“I- I got a C on my physics test.”
Jeff and Rio don’t expect that. “What?!”
“Well, that’s, uh,” Jeff tries to marshal his thoughts away from his expectations of a Spiderman confession to questions of academics. “That’s okay, as long as you do your best, it doesn’t have to be a specific grade-”
“I’m kidding, you guys, you know I’m talking about Spiderman.”
Play dumb! “Spiderman? Who’s Spiderman?” Not that dumb!
Miles sighs. “Me, Mami. I’m Spiderman. I know you guys already know but I wanted you to hear it from me.”
They stare at him, a little disconcerted by how easily he’s seen through them. There’s an awkward silence.
Then Jeff clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is gentle. “Sit down, Miles. Let’s talk about this.”
---x---
Alright, okay, here we go, one last time. I promise, just this once.
My name is Miles Morales. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last three months I’ve been the one and only Spiderman. I’m pretty sure you know the rest. I saved a whole bunch of people, found evidence so my dad and his friends at the DA’s office could put away Kingpin, did not actually get a C on my physics test, told my parents I was Spiderman, and saved a bunch more people. My parents, they’re cool with it. My dad helps with the crime fighting. My mom helps with the, uh, medical stuff. You know, anyone can wear the mask. And when I feel like no one else gets it, I remember that I’m not alone. I’ve got my friends, the Spiders of their universes, and I’ve got my parents.
I’m Spiderman. I’m not the only one. And all it takes is a leap of faith.