Miles had sat his parents down on the living room couch first thing in the morning. His father wiped the crust from his eyes while his mother alternated between yawning and nursing a lukewarm mug of coffee. Her hair was still rolled into a bun, and Miles' father complained about the lack of breakfast and not getting the chance to take of his pj's. Miles would have felt a twinge of guilt for waking them so early if not for the fact that he hadn't slept the entire night, which while not an abnormal habit for a crime fighting teenager, Miles had been agonizing over something far more personal than a night of punching criminals, he was about to let his parent's in on his biggest secret.

Miles exhaled as he looked down at his parents on the couch. "Hang on a second." He retreated back to his room and he could hear his father's complaining intensify, but he had to retrieve his white board and a couple of dry erase markers with the nifty erasers on the cap. Like Ganke always said 'There nothing that can't be explained with a white board.'

"So you guys know my best superhero friends right? Sam and Kamala?" Miles stood in front of them and uncapped a black marker, adding drawings of a spider, a lightning bolt, and a crude depiction of a Nova helmet. "We've been in a lot of fights on and off the battlefield, and we've all grown pretty close. Like super close. Like, close like you guys. Understand?"

Miles' father tilted his head at the dry erase board, "So you and Sam both have a thing for Kamala and started fighting over her huh? No worries son I've been there, You know that expression may the best win? Just be better man, you'll win the girl." Rio Morales gave her husband Jefferson a sharp look, he coughed and adjusted his glasses "That is not to say that women are prizes to be won, and Kamala is a lovely girl, and 'fighting over a girl' is an antiquated semantic of the patriarchy and it implies that the woman has no choice and objectifies her as spoils of war, and we raised you better than that. She'll decide who she wants to be with and you gotta respect that decision." Jefferson dared a glance over at his wife who gave a simple nod of approval causing his shoulders to slump and a relieved sigh to escape him.

Miles was amused, amused but frustrated. "Thank you for that piece of fatherly wisdom dad it is much appreciated, but no. That is not the situation that I find myself in." Miles wiped the white board clean, and drew an R and then a J with them spaced far apart. "Okay so mom this R is you, and dad you're the J." He drew circles around both letters and then connected them with a line. "This line represents the love that you have for each other, you both love each other romantically, sexually and unconditionally. Now this is where I need you guys to really pay attention."

Beneath the letters for his parents Miles drew an M and below that to it's left he drew a K and opposite of that he drew an S. Just like with his parents' initials he drew circles around each of the new letters and connected them with an line. Together, they formed a triangle. "I'm the M, Sam is the S and Kamala is the K." Miles could feel his heart speed up when recognition didn't immediately dance across his parents faces. "And we all love each other romantically, sexually, and unconditionally."

All the subtleties had been dispensed with, and dropping the anvil on their heads made Miles feel like he was that much more susceptible to impending judgement and shame. They wore puzzled expressions, but he could see the gears turning. His mother was the first to speak.

"So… instead of being a couple you're all a triple?"

"Yeah mom, essentially."

"But how does that work? Are you and Sam sharing Kamala?"

"What? NO it's not like that."

"Are they sharing you?"

"Again, not like that mom."

"Then what is it like?"

"Okay, I love them and they love me, but they also love each other. When we go on dates, we do it as a unit." Miles paused for a moment blushing. "And well the same thing goes for sex. And yes I've been having sex with both of them and yes we've been practicing safe sex. Sometimes one of us can't make it to a date or hangout session, but it's okay if two of us hang out without the third. No one gets jealous as long as no two are sneaking around. So no, no one is being shared. We're like a Tricycle of Love. More balanced together than apart."

Miles watched his mother close her eyes. A hand went to the Rosary that was permanently around her neck and she, sighed. "Miles, I'm trying to interpret this in a way that doesn't sound like you're just sleeping around with your best friends, I'm really trying. I don't understand this thing you're doing, but I don't understand your need to run around in spandex either. If this makes all three of you happy and none of you are being hurt, then I can accept it."

The white board hit the floor and Miles found himself sandwiched between his parents. His mother's arms tight around him while his father chuckled, as he joined in. "Tricycle of love huh? I wish I had some smooth shit like that to say back in the nineties. Macking on two people at once, and ethically. You really are my son.