Peter shot a glance at M.J. as they sat across from one another, as if to say "Really?"
"What?" M.J. said, trying to look innocent.
Peter shook his head. "Nothing, except that was the tenth fry of mine that you just stole and ate," he said. "Don't you remember? In the exclusive dating handbook, it says only nine at the most are allowed."
"Show me," she challenged.
"I will," Peter replied, "just as soon as I finish writing the rest of it."
"Oh, so you want to be a writer now?" M.J. teased.
"If it'll help me keep my fries, maybe!" Peter retorted.
"Well, until then, I'm afraid no amount of fries are off the table," she said, reaching for another one. "Besides, Mick's does unlimited fry refills now, remember?"
"Lucky me; I might starve otherwise," Peter answered, prompting a smile and giggle from his girlfriend. If he was honest, Mary Jane had been stealing his fries long before she was his girlfriend, the habit going all the way back to their middle school years. Back then, he would've been nervous for calling her out on such a habit, as May had just been teaching him not to make a comment in that manner, because a girl might take that the wrong way. As they got older and their relationship evolved, he learned that, when it came to Mary Jane Watson, there was nothing much that could be said to get to her; in fact, such teasing about little things along these lines became regular for them, a sign of their affection for one another.
"How's Miles doing?" M.J. asked.
"He's doing pretty well, all things considered," Peter answered. "His mom is out of town this week on a teacher's conference or something, so we've been able to work on some stuff more out of his house than we normally would."
"Awesome," M.J. replied. "So he's grasping everything pretty well?"
"From an intellectual standpoint, absolutely," Peter assured her. "Still working on a lot of the practical things, but we'll get there."
"He seems like quite a bright kid," M.J. observed.
"He is, definitely," Peter said.
"Weird to think that there's basically going to be two of you out there soon," M.J. said as she took a sip of her water.
"Ha, something like that," Peter said, laughing. He then felt his phone buzzing. He pulled it out to see who it was.
"Ah, speaking of which," Peter said, showing M.J. the front of his phone to reveal Miles' number before answering. "Hey Miles, what's up?"
"I think I bit off more than I could chew man," Miles said, sounding distressed. "Need your help, pronto!"
"Where are you?" Peter asked, his body tensing up as he heard a loud grunt from Miles.
"Some back alley near 3rd and Grant," Miles said. "Thought it'd be a simple drug bust, until..."
Then the line went dead.
"Miles, Miles!" Peter shouted as he looked at M.J.
"Go," she whispered.
Peter didn't need to be told twice; he was up and out the door in an instant. Ducking into a nearby alley, he stripped off his outerwear to reveal his Spider-Man suit underneath, firing a web and launching off into the New York skyline.
It only took him a few minutes to reach 3rd and Grant, but there was no sign of Miles anywhere. He set the lenses in his mask to pick up anything he could, discovering footprints in one particular alley that appeared to head in the direction of a side entrance to an old warehouse. Peter jumped down, and before he could even reached to open the door, he heard a loud laugh.
"You got guts, kid!" The voice was unmistakable.
Tombstone.
Peter burst through the door, tearing it off its hinges immediately. The sight he saw behind it sent a wave of shock through his body: there was Miles, lying on the floor in a battered heap, with the six foot seven behemoth of a man standing over him with a crowbar.
"Oh, look who it is!" the hulking monster observed, grinning through his pointy teeth. "I was wondering if you might come for your little friend here."
Peter's fist clenches tightly, anger rapidly building within him.
"Let him go, Lonnie," Peter said.
Tombstone stepped out in front of Miles. "You beat me, you can have him," the man said. "I've been waiting for this rematch ever since I got out of..."
He didn't even get to finish his sentence, as Peter webbed the crowbar away from the man. He then fired another dose of webbing at the man's eyes, blinding him momentarily. Tombstone had only just gotten it off when Peter had jumped on him, grabbing his face by one hand. In one swift swing, he brought his legs around to the man's shoulders, flinging him across the room, sending him smashing into the ground.
Driven by instinct, protectiveness, and pure, unadulterated rage, Peter didn't stop there, not letting up on his opponent for a second. Laying waste to Tombstone, he poured on the assault, throwing punch after punch and kick after kick. The antiserum he injected to remove the man's invulnerability must've worked better than he realized, because it wasn't long before blood began showing itself on Tombstone's nose and mouth and his face began to swell. Finally, Peter delivered one last powerful right hook, sending the man toppling to the ground, unconscious. He wrapped the man up tightly in webbing, securing him for the police later.
He then turned his attention over to Miles, running over to his protege.
"Miles," Peter said. "Miles, can you hear me?" Just as he felt the kid's neck for a pulse, the boy stirred slightly, moaning.
"Hey man, it's alright, I'm going to get you out of here." Cradling the young man in his arms, Peter scooped him up and exited the building.
Thankfully, Miles would end up being okay, at least physically. The boy's midsection and face were bruised and swollen almost entirely, and he had some internal bleeding, but within a couple days, and with Mary Jane helping Peter play doctor (she did have plenty of experience, after all), the kid was close enough to normal to pass for just being sore when his mom had returned from her conference.
It turned out that Tombstone hadn't even been there at first; Miles said it just appeared to be a basic drug deal going down, but no sooner had he jumped into the fray then the hulking drug lord, fresh out of jail, had arrived on the scene. Miles had tried, but his inexperience proved his undoing. The only good thing about the whole ordeal was that Tombstone hadn't even bothered to try and take off Miles's mask. Peter expected as much; in all their years fighting one another, Lonnie had never cared about knowing his identity. The man loved two things, and two things only: money and a good fight.
It had been two weeks since the incident, and Miles still hadn't resumed training. At first, it had been at Peter's instruction, but the boy had put up no argument, visibly shaken from the whole thing. Peter had kept waiting for him to call, saying he was ready to jump back into it, but it hadn't come. Mary Jane encouraged him, saying he was right to give him some time off from training, but he was beginning to wonder if he should've given into the boy's begging to be trained in the first place. He saw so much of himself in Miles: the desire to help others, the sense of responsibility, all of it. He also remembered all the times he almost lost his life at the hands of some crime lord or madman; how many times he almost made May have to bury him too. Had it been right to risk Rio having to do the same?
All these thoughts were flowing through his head one night as he perched himself atop the Chrysler building, when his mask showed a call from Miles coming in. It was nearly two in the morning, and he had a feeling his protege was supposed to be in bed right now.
"Miles?" he answered. "What's going on?"
He was answered with what he recognized as heavy breathing.
"In and out man, it's okay," Peter said softly, trying to help relax the boy. "Nice and easy." It seemed to work, as soon the boy's breathing could no longer be heard.
"Thanks," Miles said quietly. "Sorry for calling so late."
"You don't ever have to apologize to me for something like this," Peter said gently but firmly. "I'm always here for you. What's up?"
"Nothing," Miles replied. "Well, it's something, but, it's nothing major really, it's just..."
"You had a nightmare about it, didn't you?"
There was a pause on the other end.
"How'd you know?" Miles asked.
"Because I remember my first trauma," Peter said, his voice still heavy even though it had been years since his own incident. "It's the hardest one."
"How do you get over something like that?" Miles asked. "Every time I go to sleep, I see the crowbar coming at me, hear him laughing..."
"One day at a time," Peter said, closing his eyes as he remembered his own string of sleepless nights once upon a time. He still remembered Fisk lording over him, demeaning him as a sad, pathetic child. Most of all, he remembered when the Katana in the man's hand sliced through his midsection, cutting him open. He had barely escaped to make it to M.J.'s yard, half-dead by the time he got there. If she hadn't stolen her dad's car to get him to the E.R, he would've bled out.
"Look man," Peter continued. "There is nothing wrong with admitting you're scared after something like this. Being a superhero doesn't mean that we are never afraid. You can't let it rule you either, but you have to do this on your own terms, Miles. Take all the time you need, and if you need anything else, anything at all, I will be there in a second."
"Okay, thanks man," Miles said gratefully. "I appreciate this. I think I'll try reading for a little while, then try getting back to sleep."
"Feel better, kiddo," Peter said. "Seriously, call me any time, day or night, if you need anything."
"Will do," Miles answered before hanging up.
A week later, Peter got another call from Miles, this time during the afternoon.
"Hey man, been doing better?" he asked.
"Yeah," Miles said. "I think...I think I want to start training again. Take it slow, for sure, but I'd like to try."
Peter hesitated as he came to a stop while walking along the street. He knew Miles had been doing better, but he wasn't sure if HE was ready for this again.
"Are you sure?" Peter asked.
"No, not really," Miles admitted. "But I've been thinking a lot about what my dad used to say: 'a hero is just a guy who doesn't give up.' It still scares me when I think about what happened, but I can't give up because of it. I'm ready."
Peter let out a sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, Jeff was right. A hero doesn't give up, and he would be wrong to try and discourage Miles from living up to the responsibility his powers came with, even if he really didn't want to risk putting the kid in the line of fire down the road. He knew the decision needed to be Miles's, not his.
"Alright," Peter said. "Meet in a couple hours at the usual rooftop?"
"Sounds good," Miles said. "And Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks man," Miles replied. "For everything."
"No problem," Peter replied. "I'll see you soon.
Hope you enjoyed it!
Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!
"I am forgotten as though I were dead..." Psalm 31:12-15