Miles stretched as he made his way through the corridors of Spider HQ, twisting his back and cracking his fingers as he walked.
Mysterio had been tiring to deal with. It was like he had no goal except to exhaust Miles and to waste his time. He had managed to get back in time for his last class of the day, but ten minutes late because he had ducked into the bathroom to deal with his injuries.
He had still missed two classes, though. Luckily, his Math and Biology teachers had the work ready for him to catch up on after school. All his teachers were used to him missing class, though his English teacher, Mrs Hughet, always made some kind of remark while he picked up his make-up work.
Miles hadn't even bothered to change out of his suit when he got back to class, nor when he had sat in the library making up for the time he had lost. His dried sweat itched at him, but he hadn't bothered to do anything about it before coming to HQ. There wasn't enough time to do anything.
When he walked into Peter's room, leaving the door ajar behind him, it was like nothing had changed at all since the last time he had seen him. His face had gone lax in sleep, chest slowly rising and falling, heart beating a steady forty beats per minute.
Miles pulled up a chair from the corner of the room, slumping down into it.
He had a half-cobbled script in his head for what to tell Peter. But his gut told him that the conversation wouldn't be something he could ever prepare for. The anticipation of it was what kept on itching at him - a stone in the pit of his stomach weighing him down and making him nauseous.
Between one blink and the next, he woke up with his head cushioned on his arm, half lying on Peter's bed.
Sleep crusted the edge of his eyes, making him dread checking his phone. He had probably already missed most of his patrol-
The door creaked, and Miles's head snapped up, thwipping a web out of reflex. The person at the door neatly sidestepped it.
Miles stared at Miguel for a long moment, swallowed, and turned his back to him. Stared at Peter's face instead. Nothing had changed.
"You have an update?" Miles asked, the hooks of sleep slurring his words.
He heard Miguel step further in, followed by another pair of footsteps following him. Miles resisted the urge to check who the second person was. "Physically, he's okay. We predict he'll wake up within the next twelve hours."
Miles leaned back in the chair, folding his arms. "What happens then?"
Miguel stopped opposite Miles on the other side of the bed. "His mental state will need to be evaluated. We need to ensure his mind was not altered and check how much he remembers."
Miles's eyes flicked over to the person who had followed Miguel in. Peter B was looking at his counterpart with an expression Miles couldn't quite read, somewhere between pity and envy.
"I want to be there," Miles said to Miguel.
Miguel put his hand up. "No. And Peter, you aren't allowed either."
Peter B threw his hands up. "Sue me for wanting to meet the perfect version of myself."
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's not perfect. He's just… younger." His voice trailed off, cheeks heating up. Why did he say that? He was too tired for this conversation.
"Plus, he's blond!" Peter B argued, gesturing over at Peter. He gave Miles a pointed look, mischief in his eyes. "Mr. Model over there will fit right into your funky little world, Mr. Celebrity."
That was all that Miles was to Peter B. Not Miles, but the caricature of the one he knew living in a weird world where he didn't have a secret identity. Where he was a celebrity, reaping all the benefits of that.
But he never visited. He never saw how stressed he was, how exhausted he was, how he constantly had to protect his family against foes that would have been difficult to deal with made worse with Miles's biggest vulnerability known.
"Quit it, Peter," Miles snapped, glaring at him, all feelings of goodwill sapped. This conversation would have been hard enough if it had just been between him and Miguel. "I know 'original timeline' is around here somewhere. Go bother him."
Peter B's hands went up placatingly. "Okay, grouchy. I get it. You're stressed."
Miles barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. What an understatement. He went to say as much, but Miguel cut in.
"Stop talking, both of you. You're giving me a headache." Miles already had one, and his dry mouth clued him in that it was probably from dehydration. "He won't know me. I will evaluate his mental state when he wakes up."
Miles nodded once, taking a slow breath to ease the tension in his chest. It only made way for a bundle of nerves to grow in his stomach. He had questions to ask, and allowing himself to get off-topic wouldn't help him.
"When can May come and see him?"
Peter B grimaced, and Miguel put his hands on his hips. "She will have to wait until Peter can return to your world. HQ is not safe for non-Spiders."
"And when can he go home?"
Miguel paused. "If his mind is not altered, he can leave as soon as the sedatives have left his system."
It was better than nothing. May deserved to see Peter. She should be the one accidentally falling asleep beside him. Not him. But it wasn't worth the fight.
"Okay. Okay, well, please tell me how your assessment goes," Miles said, his eyes straying over to Peter's face again. Had his head tilted towards him…?
Miguel's watch pinged with a notification. He checked it and started walking towards the door. "I will send you a message when I have assessed him."
And then there were two.
Miles shifted, caught between checking the time or staying with Peter.
Peter B pulled a chair beside Miles, sitting with an exaggerated sigh.
"I thought you were going to go find Miles," Miles mumbled.
Peter B shrugged. "You're still a Miles, kid. You're all my favorites."
"Mayday's your favorite. She's your kid."
Peter B chuckled, putting his elbow over the back of his chair so he could look at Miles better. "Well, I can't argue with that. How are you doing?"
Miles frowned. "What? I mean, tired, I guess. I had a fight with Mysterio today, but that was- I didn't really get hurt."
"I'm sure you taught him a lesson," Peter B joked.
"Sure. I guess."
"I mean, how are you doing with your Peter returning? It would be a lot for anyone." Peter B paused and tilted his head ever so slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Miles looked at Peter B for a long moment. It seemed sincere. Instead of meeting his eyes, he glanced down at his watch - the green and yellow sticking out like a sore thumb. "Fine." The silence stretched for a long moment. Miles gave in with a shrug, admitting, "Nervous. Don't know if he'll like me."
"What's not to like?"
Miles smiled, but it was small and forced, strained at the edges. He knew he could fake a smile better than this, but the effort for that felt too tiring to attempt. "Thanks. I should- I need to go on patrol."
He got up, and Peter B followed suit. "Do you want some company for it?"
It was tempting. Really tempting. Patrols could be lonely. But - "New York is already going to have to get used to him," he gestured vaguely in Peter's direction, "being alive. I don't think it's a good idea. Thank you, though."
Miles dragged his chair back in place and then stretched his arms, eyes lingering on Peter. Still unconscious. Still unaware of how his life had changed irreparably. And he would have to be the one to tell him, to rip that bandaid off.
Peter B put a hand on his shoulder, and Miles would forever deny how it made him jolt. "If you need help, I'm always here. All you need to do is message me, okay?"
Miles shrugged, the hand falling away. It left a cold spot that made his chest ache. There wasn't much point in dragging other Spiders into this. They wouldn't be able to help him. He wasn't close enough with anyone in HQ to feel comfortable telling them about his problems, either.
Even Peter B. They had hardly said a word to each other in months, this conversation being the longest they had shared.
Peter B knew the other Miles, the Miles that went against all of HQ to save his Dad.
He didn't know him, the Miles that had lost his secret identity - and had almost lost his entire family in the process.
"I know," he lied.
Miles softly landed on the balcony, letting his invisibility melt away. He knocked on the door and waited, folding his arms and nervously glancing around.
His eyes caught on the billboard on the building opposite them. At him, dressed up in his Spider-Man outfit, advertising for a shoe brand. He had worn those shoes for two weeks as part of the deal until they had inevitably worn through.
It still made him cringe, looking at himself blown up to three times his size trying to sell a shoe that couldn't even survive being Spider-Man's. Setting aside money to eventually own his place in the heart of Manhattan was the only thing that eased his conscience.
He turned his back to it, swallowed, and straightened up as he sensed someone approaching.
May opened the door, her hair frizzed, and a heavy air of grief weighed her down. It made sense, but it still hurt to see.
Desperately, he wished that he could lighten that load. Even something as small as holding her bags for her or helping her book the hotel room, anything. But it would have only hindered them if he had met her at the airport. He was too recognizable to do small favors like that anymore.
"Hello, Miles," May greeted, a cup of hotel tea in her hand. It was clasped between both palms, warming them up.
"May, um, how are you?" Miles ducked away at her raised eyebrow. "Right, dumb question."
"It's a nice day," May said as she gestured behind him. "Shall we talk outside?"
Realizing he was blocking the way, his cheeks warm, he stepped back until his back bumped the railing. "No, yeah, of course. Whatever you want."
May's eyes searched his for a long moment, and Miles couldn't meet hers. His hand drifted to the watch on his wrist, absently twisting at it. "How is Peter?"
"He's… coherent. I haven't seen him awake yet, but Miguel told me how it went. When he talked to him, I mean, assessed him," Miles started.
"Take a deep breath, Miles," May kindly told him, and Miles stiffly nodded. He counted himself through a breathing exercise before meeting her eyes.
"His long-term memory seems intact; he mentioned something he had overheard. That's promising. But Miguel wasn't able to ask about what happened the last two years before he passed out again." Miles folded his arms. "Miguel thinks that he should be able to return to our universe tomorrow and finish healing here. He'll possibly still be drowsy for a few more days, but he might be fine, too. Spider metabolism is weird sometimes."
May nodded, her eyes distant.
Miles shrugged, glancing down at his shoes. "I… I asked if you could see him sooner. Miguel said no. I'm sorry."
She had a long sip of her tea before she spoke. "Thank you for asking. I appreciate it."
"Least I could do. Do you need help setting up Peter's room? I could- um, I could make a gift basket or something? Get some… towels? No, the hotel would have that. What's his favorite snack? I could get him-"
"Miles," May cut him off, placing a frail hand on his arm. "I have it handled. This old duck can sort that out. You have enough to worry about."
He wanted to protest, but deflated. "Okay. Thank you."
"MJ is still organizing time off from her work, and she will be staying in her own hotel for the duration of her stay, before you ask," May explained, and then she sipped her tea.
"Are you sure I can't cover the costs of-" May leveled him with a look, and he laughed once, scratching at the back of his neck. "Okay, I get it. You have it sorted."
"I do. You can't juggle everything; sometimes, you have to delegate tasks. These things I can juggle," she said, and Miles hummed noncommittally.
Miles let the silence stretch, absorbing the sounds of the constant hustle of New York. Construction, pedestrians, cars. People living their lives.
"I'm sorry," Miles whispered, and May glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "That I didn't save him sooner."
Peter had been etched into his soul for the longest time as someone he hadn't saved. Someone he had caused the death of. Uncle Aaron, Owl, the man from the facility, and Peter. All the people he had failed.
It felt surreal to be able to wipe Peter off his slate, but he let the stain remain. He had still failed to save him from a nightmare - one of being captured by Owl and losing two years of his life.
"It was never your fault he died," May said simply. Miles shrugged, and May's look hardened. "It wasn't. Peter told you he was okay, didn't he? That day?"
"...Yeah."
"He instructed you to go and destroy the collider, too."
"Yeah, but-"
"You were only fourteen. No one blames you for his death."
Miles huffed. "Well, you haven't seen what they say online."
"You could only find that if you searched for it." May shook her head. "It's not your fault that Fisk hurt him, nor that Owl did. It's no one's fault, but theirs."
"I- I should have figured out that he was alive sooner. I mean - how else did they have exactly the right ingredients for that bug spray stuff? Like, how did they know it would work on me? I had seen some irregularities in the evidence I got from the OWL facilities-"
"A lot of things could have explained that. We had a body. I ID'ed him myself. By your logic, this should be blamed on me," May interrupted, her tone firm but kind, then had another sip of her tea. "No one is to blame."
Miles absently scuffed at the tiled ground. "I shouldn't have waited so long to take on that OWL facility."
"A few more days made little difference. Your studies are still important." May met his gaze before she said, "You did everything you could. I don't blame you. I'm grateful that you brought my boy back to me."
Miles shrugged. "It's my job. I just- I guess I worry about what Peter will think."
May smiled. "If he blames you, I will tell him off myself."
May's lectures were nothing to scoff at. Miles ducked his head, unable to hide a grin. "Thank you."
A distant rumbling, followed by an explosion, interrupted the moment.
Miles froze up, sucked in a breath, and exhaled before meeting May's concerned look. "It's been relentless these past few weeks."
"You fought Mysterio yesterday, didn't you?" May asked.
He nodded and then shrugged. "It's fine. I didn't really get hurt fighting him. I just- I feel like I can't catch a break."
May hummed, had a small sip of her tea, and asked, "Is there a larger conspiracy at play?"
"I don't… think so. Maybe. They've just been robbing banks, that sort of stuff. Property damage," Miles mused. He pulled his mask on. "If there is, I'll figure it out eventually."
"I'm sure you will. Good luck and stay safe," May said, and Miles gave her a small salute as he fell backward off the balcony.
Miles slowly limped into HQ, nursing an aching shoulder he had wrenched fighting Vulture.
Vulture had been a night-long headache. It had initially been a bank robbery - because of course it was. Normally, Vulture, or Adrian Toomes, was trying to one-up a scientist rival, maybe steal their tech, but this time, it had been a straight-up robbery attempt.
When Miles had turned up, Vulture had fled with a bag full of gold. It hadn't been hard to make him drop it.
Miles had expected it to turn into a proper fight then.
Vulture had instead taken a hostage, flying off with them while Miles gave chase.
The pattern repeated for several hours, lagging long into the night. Miles would rescue one person, briefly scuffle with Vulture, and then he would soar into the city with someone else.
It didn't seem to matter who it was. At first, it was pedestrians. A businessman. A teenager. But then, as orders to stay inside were spread, it became EMTs and police officers.
Only a lucky break gave him the chance to take Vulture down. They had clipped their wings on a sign while trying to outrun Miles - who had been lagging behind with burning arms and a wrenched shoulder. A well-placed web and Miles had smashed his energy pack with vicious satisfaction.
Vulture was hauled off in a police car, a smirk on his face like he had gotten exactly what he had wanted, and Miles had slunk onto a rooftop and passed out.
His beeping watch had awoken him as the sun had peaked over the horizon - a reminder from Lyla to drop by that afternoon to pick up Peter.
It would have been too much effort to find one of his medical stashes in the middle of Manhattan, especially with how his vision was fuzzed around the edges, so he had decided to go to HQ's med bay for once. Any other way would take too long - he still had school in an hour.
If only privately, he was happy he had walked away from the Vulture fight with only some minor scrapes and mildly serious cuts along his left forearm. Everything else was muscular and would heal with time and a good sleep.
Miles took a moment to squint at the labels on the cabinets, the letters swirling around before they stabilized into something resembling words. He didn't even notice the other Spider until they spoke.
"For someone who's me, I don't see you in HQ very often."
Miles's head whipped around, and he sorely regretted it as his vision spun. He closed his eyes, rubbing at them as he said, "Don't need to be here. No- ugh, no spider-missions."
Other Miles audibly scoffed, "Yeah, I know. Do you know who they call on first for any missions involving electricity? Me. You've got it light. But seriously, are you okay?"
Miles shrugged and then hissed in pain as it jarred his shoulder. "Vulture," he said in lieu of an explanation.
With his vision cleared, he finally got a better look at his counterpart. They had perched themselves on one of the benches, one leg curled up on it, and their suit rolled up so they could wrap their injured foot. They had a stab wound through the arch of his foot.
"What happened?" Miles asked, finding the right cabinet that had basic wound care supplies.
As he sat on one of the benches, gingerly taking the top of his suit off to treat his arm, Other Miles explained, "Some guy called Kraven. Said I was the 'perfect prey' for his hunt. I got away, but, well. Skewered me as I fled."
"Ouch. Yeah, Kraven is a pain to deal with." Miles bit his lip as the disinfectant made the cuts sting. "But don't believe him. Our worlds are practically identical - and he was only in my New York to distract me from Owl."
Other Miles paused for a moment, frowning. "It was… Kraven in your world who unmasked you, right? Because that's where our timelines diverged?"
"Well, sort of." The cuts wouldn't need stitches now that he could see them without the grime. Some wrapping would be enough. "Owl and Fisk knew who I was, so Kraven found out, and he wanted me off guard, so. He told the world my name."
"That sucks."
He couldn't help a small laugh, "Yeah. It really did. Be glad you still have a secret identity."
"You're my walking reminder."
Miles cringed at that. He tested his wrappings, satisfied with them, and pulled his suit back on. "Good to know." Checking his watch, he realized he still had enough time to check in on Peter - but not enough to have a power nap before class.
Other Miles began to get up, too, and Miles's eyes caught on how he had bandaged his foot. "That won't hold," Miles told him, matter of fact.
Raising an eyebrow and sitting back down, Other Miles said, "I've treated my wounds plenty. But sure, what's wrong with it?"
Miles crouched in front of him and swiftly unwrapped the bandages before restarting it. "You've restricted your mobility too much. You'll end up straining against it and snapping the fastens. In our line of work, this will work better."
He stepped back, satisfied. Other Miles tested it and then nodded. "Maybe I should go to you more often. You can be my own DIY doctor."
"I've taken some first aid courses, that's all. You could probably get certified in your own universe," Miles shrugged. "Anyway, I've got to go."
"You're going to check on your Peter, right?" Other Miles guessed, and Miles paused mid-step.
"How many people know?" Miles asked, folding his arms.
Other Miles shrugged. "A couple of people. Peter B told me."
Miles sighed. It was probably hot gossip - he shouldn't have expected his counterpart to be in the dark. "Um, yeah. Sure." Miles checked the time again - and then set an alarm so he wouldn't obsessively check. "There's not much to see right now. He's been asleep the whole time."
As they made their way over, their pace slow with Other Miles limping, Miles asked, "Have you checked your world yet?"
"I may have bribed Lyla into telling me where he was." He shrugged. "There's no OWL in my world, and Alchemax moved overseas. There was only a forest where that warehouse was."
Miles mulled over that. "Butterfly effect?"
"Probably. No OWL, no Peter. It does save me a headache," Other Miles said with a casual shrug, but Miles knew himself. If Miles could save his Peter, he would.
"I guess OWL was good for one thing," Miles conceded.
"Only one?" Other Miles gave him a disbelieving look. "You have spinnerets. That's useful. And now Peter? I wish this had happened in my universe."
Miles bitterly smiled. If he laid the things that he was jealous about his counterpart's life out, it would take too long. "To get this," they had finally arrived at Peter's room, "you first need to become me. A-k-a, no secret identity. It's not a great exchange."
They shrugged. "I don't know, it might be a good switch. You can take my place and get chased around by Spider Society while you try to save our Dad, oh, and get trapped in another universe glitching with an evil counterpart."
They didn't know how good they had it. "Yeah, and instead, be kidnapped and almost starve yourself to death." Miles took a deep breath, shaking off the envy as best as he could. "I thought Prowler Miles helped you out?"
"Yeah, Milzo helped me out in the end. I think he kind of hates me, though," Other Miles said, but did not seem torn up about that in the slightest.
"Might be our whole 'stealing his spider bite' thing," Miles pointed out, and Other Miles smiled knowingly. "Doesn't he hate that nickname? If anything, I'm more your twin, your Mellizo, than he is."
"He hasn't punched me over it yet, so. Until he does, he's Milzo."
Milzo was very prickly, and no doubt Other Miles had cycled through several nicknames before landing on that. From what whispers he had heard through the grapevine, Milzo called Other Miles 'Smiles,' so maybe they had grown close enough for that nickname not to be punch-worthy. "Touché."
"Mileses!" Hobie greeted, slinging an arm over both of their shoulders, barging his way between them. Miles briefly considered elbowing him for the scare, but more importantly-
"Not so loud!" he hissed. "He's still asleep-"
"He ain't," Hobie said definitively. Miles peered into the room and found Peter staring back at him. His stomach dropped as a wave of trepidation washed over him. To him, Hobie said, "I've got to take this one away; you enjoy saying 'ello to that one, yeah?"
If not for the cold spot left by Hobie unslinging his arm with a parting friendly jostle, he wouldn't have noticed them going. Peter was awake and looking at him, and he knew he had to make a good impression and-
"We'll see you around," Hobie said, and Miles's breath hitched.
"Wait-" but they were already leaving. Other Miles gave him a small wave goodbye before turning his attention back to Hobie. Smiling. Laughing at whatever joke he made.
Hobie was a pretty cool guy. In another life- Other Miles's life- they were best friends. Another Spider that was his age and understood the trials they faced.
Ganke was great. He loved Ganke. But sometimes he wished that the watch he wore got messages from other Spiders, that he was invited to missions.
But that wasn't his life. This was.
Where his Peter was watching him, still not having said a word.
Miles forced himself to take a deep breath and joined Peter in the room. He sat down on one of the chairs without shifting it closer. "Hi, Peter," he swallowed, his mouth dry. "Do you… do you remember me?"
Peter looked at him for a long moment, studying him. Slowly, he saw recognition flood his eyes. "You… you have spider-powers. You were at the collider." He had forgotten what his voice sounded like, how it was different from Peter B's.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's me. My name is Miles Morales."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "And you stopped the collider?"
"Yeah, I did - with a bit of help," Miles conceded. "Kingpin's plan was stopped and- and he was put in jail. He was out for a bit, but now he's back in. New York is safe."
Peter visibly relaxed. It had been his dying wish for Miles to stop it, though it had taken a few days to do it. "Good, good. That's good."
Miles hated what he had to say next. But time wouldn't make this conversation easier. Miguel had left the life-changing news for him to tell, the asshole. "You've been gone awhile," Miles started, forcing himself to look Peter in the eyes. To show he wasn't lying. "I've been Spider-Man for two years. You've been… presumed dead for two years."
He watched Peter short circuit, the news taking several long seconds to process. Miles itched to look away but remained steadfast. "Everyone thinks I'm dead?"
The shock in his voice made Miles's chest squeeze. "Yeah. Yeah, I, um. I thought you were a clone," he admitted with a shrug. "I watched Kingpin kill you. There was a body and everything. It would have- It would make things easier if you were a clone. But you're my world- our world's Peter Parker."
He shouldn't have said all that. It made him sound like he regretted finding him, and he didn't. Not at all. It was a good thing he was alive. Too late to change it now.
"Aunt May? MJ?" Peter whispered.
"They- they thought you were dead, too." Miles swallowed. "I've told them you're back. May is back in New York, but MJ is having trouble organizing flights. May said she was in the middle of a film shoot, and it's been hard for her to pull the strings she needs to."
Miles watched Peter turn his face away and look at the ceiling, struggling to contain how upset he was. He looked down at his hands to give him some semblance of privacy.
"Everyone thought Spider-Man was dead."
Miles winced. "They thought that… Peter Parker was dead."
He heard Peter struggle to take a slow breath in. "The world knows who I am?"
"Yeah, they do." Miles looked up again. "That's- it's okay though. The world knows my identity, too."
"What?" Peter's eyes narrowed on him, a rage that had his stomach dropping in dread. "I told you to hide your face!"
"I did!" Miles's hands were up placatingly. Desperately, he wished he could hit replay on this conversation. To start over so Peter wouldn't be looking at him like this. "It's complicated. I'll-" He didn't want to tell Peter what had happened last year. He didn't want to tell him about Fisk. But he would have to. Just not today. "I promise I'll explain it later."
Peter pinched his nose, frustration ebbing off of him.
This was what he had been scared of. Making a bad first impression.
He swallowed and looked away, hugging his arms to his chest. "Miguel says you can leave soon and- and you'll see May then. We can sort everything else out later."
His watch beeped at him, the alarm to get to school interrupting them.
There wasn't time to fix this encounter. He had promised Dad that Peter wouldn't cause him to miss any school. There was already enough disappointment in him going around - he didn't want to make it worse.
"I want to stay and explain," Miles said, hoping Peter could tell how sincere he was. But he couldn't look at his face, dreading what he would find. "I guess- I probably have told you a lot already. It's a lot to take in. I have a class to get to, so I'll see you later."
Miles got up, taking a step towards the door. He glanced up, finally meeting Peter's eyes. His expression had become unreadable - but whatever he was feeling, it wasn't good.
"I'm glad you're alive, though." Miles swallowed, folding his arms. "And, uh, for what it's worth? I'm sorry I didn't save you sooner."
Miles took one step, two, out of the room, then jogged away. He had set the alarm for as late as he could, and he regretted that now.
"It's left your system now, but you'll want to take it easy for the next few days. If you feel tired, get some rest, and then after a week, try to get onto a normal sleep schedule," he heard Lyla's voice through the thin walls.
Miles paused outside the door, a wave of nerves keeping his feet frozen to the floor.
"Yeah, I can do that," Peter replied with a dismissive air. "Thanks, Doc."
"Anytime."
Miles tipped his head back, counting through some deep breaths. Even if he hadn't made the best first impression, with a twenty-minute power nap under his belt, maybe he could make a better second impression.
He lightly knocked on the door, Peter's head whipping up to look at him. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Hey, hi, uh, how are you doing?"
Lyla zipped from Peter to him, materializing with her hands on her hips. "You're late. School ended almost an hour ago."
So much for making positive impressions. "May wanted me to drop by hers and bring some stuff, and then there was a break in I had to stop. It's not my fault," he explained, his eyes flicking over to Peter.
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Well?"
Miles shrugged off his backpack, hastily unzipping it and handing the contents over. "A change of clothes. For the short journey to the hotel."
Peter held on to them for a beat too long, a fond smile on his face. "She really does think of everything."
"She's pretty great," Miles agreed.
Lyla glanced between them, "I'll leave you two to it. Miguel says hi."
"No he doesn't," Miles scoffed, and Lyla shrugged.
"Metaphorically," she said, then disappeared.
By the time he glanced back to check on Peter, he had already put on the clothes. A soft hoodie with a faded 'Midtown High' logo and the comfiest sweatpants he had ever seen. He didn't miss the nostalgic reverence that Peter looked at them with.
He cleared his throat, looking away. "So, uh, should we get going?"
"Yeah. I'm ready as I'll ever be," Peter agreed and stood up.
Peter was taller than he remembered. Even with Miles's growth spurts, Peter still had two inches, easy, on him. Miles put his arms back through the straps of his backpack. "Well, follow me."
Miles led the way, walking casually so Peter could keep up. By the look Peter threw his way, Peter knew exactly what he was doing.
"So, there's a whole group of Spider-People that you have access to," Peter's voice trailed off, taking in just how many Spiders were around as they entered the main corridor. "I never had that."
Miles shrugged, his hand falling to his watch. "Yeah… I don't spend much time here, but it's good. Saved me a headache when I found you."
But when he glanced back, Peter was frowning, a question brewing in his eyes. "I would have done anything to have this…" They were in the lobby before Miles could even think of what to reply. "How many Spider-People are there?" Peter asked, derailing him.
"Oh," Miles keyed in their universe's code, "Um. Definitely a couple hundred. Miguel would probably know the answer to that."
The portal opened up, and Miles let out a breath. He tossed Peter a pair of webshooters he had managed to make. "Here. They're not my best work, I didn't have much time, but they'll do the job."
Peter turned them over, and was that a hint of disdain…? "Thanks."
"Yeah, no worries. See you on the other side," Miles said before stepping in, falling through the tunnel and landing on the roof of May's hotel.
It was several long seconds, long enough for Miles to wonder if he should go back through to check if the portal had malfunctioned, but Peter joined him with a neat 'superhero' landing.
He stood up, brushing gravel off his knees. "Those portals are not OSHA approved."
"Probably not," Miles agreed with a shrug. "You'll want to take it up with the boss, though. Miguel."
"So, where's my aunt?" Peter asked, his eyes surveying the New York skyline.
"Right this way, just a couple of floors down," Miles said, stepping backward down the building. "She should be out on the balcony."
"Wait, aren't you going to put a mask on?" Peter pointed out.
Miles shrugged again. "No secret identity. I've got it with me, though."
Peter sighed, finally stepping down to walk with him. "Right."
Miles spotted May, who was standing by the balcony door and looking steadfastly forward. He slipped down to greet her, Peter not far behind him. She looked up at the movement.
"Peter," May whispered, her voice breaking on the word.
They rushed to meet in the middle, May's frail hands cupping his cheeks. She smiled, something bittersweet in her eyes as her hand lingered.
"Hey, Aunt May," Peter whispered back, just as broken.
Miles swallowed and looked away. It wasn't his place to see this reunion. He was intruding on it.
Thinking better of saying goodbye, he pulled his mask on and camouflaged. Perching on the railing as quietly as possible, he couldn't help but glance back.
At Peter and May, on the ground, embraced in a hug, sobbing into each others' shoulders.
He forced himself to look away and to fall into his first swing.