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The cramps in his legs were killing him, it wasn’t easy being spider-man and fighting crime with the cold of the night hitting your skin and your insides rolling around like they hated you, but Miles believed he could deal with it.
It was the weekend and his parents had taken pity on him by letting him rest at home while his father on one of his few days off went to dinner with his wife at a nice restaurant. Miles, usually restless and energetic, preferred to stay as still as possible when colic immobilized him a few days a month and his legs went numb worse than before any day of patrolling and swinging around Brooklyn, but the villain of the week robbing a jewelry store would force him to fulfill his spider-man responsibilities over the pain.
He had tried to be as quick as possible, a little invisibility, destabilize the bad guy with an electric shock, immobilize him with some netting and leave him where the authorities could find him along with a little note in good arachnid style “from your good neighbor spider-man” although anyone who saw his handwriting at that instant would say he was shaking but holding back the urge to rip out his internal organs right there.
It couldn’t have taken him more than 40 minutes to take charge and try to catch a glimpse of the nearby streets when he was already swinging back home, by the time he could get in through his bedroom window he was hunching in on himself, trying to regulate his breathing in a futile attempt to ride out the surge of pain.
“There must be some ibuprofen in the kitchen” he thought aloud, took one, two breaths and forced himself first to take off his suit and put on the loosest and softest clothes possible, and second to rummage through the kitchen drawers for some pill that would alleviate his suffering but found little relief in more than a couple of tea bags. With resignation he remembered the advice he had received from his mother some years ago, according to her chamomile was a good painkiller for this kind of situations although Miles was not the biggest fan of that kind of tea.
He put some water on to heat as he tried to concentrate on anything but the pressure he felt from his abdominal part and spilling down to his thighs, being alone in the large apartment he suddenly felt too self conscious and the sound of the stove and water almost on point. The absence of voices, his music or even the television gave him some time to think about himself, after the great chaos in the spider-verse things hadn’t turned out so bad, he now had more arachnid friends that he visited from time to time even if he was still under strict surveillance from Miguel because of the anomaly-thing, but most of all he had found more people like him, in every possible way and that was the bit of comfort he needed just now.
As he poured the hot water into a cup after nearly burning his fingers he was distracted by the golden glow coming from his room, he figured it could be Gwen or Pavitr, they visited him quite often for sleepovers or just resting a while in company, there was something about their spidery bond that simply made them feel more at ease when they rested together. To his surprise, who peeked his head out was none other than Hobie.
He liked Hobie, he’d had a little panic thinking about how cool he was when he met him at the barracks and he’d definitely outgrown the guy who was pure anarchy in person, piercings and guitar (he definitely hadn’t gotten over his feelings, nope). However he sensed this was the worst time he could show up, feeling all awkward and with the pain returning to his consciousness all he really wanted was to drink his blissful tea and have the sheets soothe him.
“Miles, there you are man, what are you doing?” with glances around the apartment he finally approached Miles in the kitchen who was taking a sip of his only hope and it tasted pretty much like microwave water if he wanted to be honest.
“Hobie, hi, I, I’m- trying to make myself some tea?” he grimaced as a wave of pain a little stronger than before hunched him over “but it tastes more like still water” his words were losing volume and he couldn’t hold eye contact much as he went back to trying to concentrate on his breathing and holding onto the counter.
It didn’t take Hobie more than a second to be beside him, holding him and asking what was going on and how he could help his friend. Even though he seemed totally calm and irreverent in most situations, watching his little buddy writhe in pain was not something that being expressionless was the best thing to do. “You should add some sugar to that water of yours if you want to be able to even drink it” he added after Miles took a minute to even say anything, simply breathing and pressing against Hobie’s touch.
Back in Miles’ head, he was a little embarrassed to admit this in front of Hobie, he was all cool and controlled and he at 15 years old there were days when he didn’t even feel like he owned his body or worthy of his powers so he just mumbled “can you- help me get to my bed, please”.
With all his stoicism and geniality (in Miles’ eyes), Hobie helped him get to his room to lie down on his bed as if he had waited hours for it, let out a sigh he didn’t know what it contained and covered his face with his arms.
As much as she pretended Hobie had disappeared from the face of his discomfort, his accented voice echoed back to remind his that he was still there “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or should I start guessing? Because if you need help you know I’m still on your side.”
It was barely another sigh “just some cramps that are killing me” but the piercing filled ear certainly heard him.
“Pills?”
“I wouldn’t have tried the standing water if I had them on hand.”
“Sure…”
Miles still wouldn’t look at him, the precarious lighting of the moment ensuring he wouldn’t see his face flush or his brow furrow in pain, his room only softly illuminated by the warm light filtering in from the kitchen and the reflection of the street lighting in his window. He could only hear a very quick “I’ll be right back” along with the sound of the other spidery teenager leaving his window before he had time to actually see him leave.
Knowing Hobie he would be back, though he didn’t quite understand why he had left in the first instance, he hoped he hadn’t made him uncomfortable but the other spider-man didn’t usually get uncomfortable about anything, rather he loved discomfort but he would be a little grateful to be able to stop feeling uncomfortable with the presence of his friend-who-liked-a-little-too-much and be able to feel uncomfortable alone among the blankets and sheets, he still felt his feet cold from the brooklyn wind.
He could have sworn it was less than 5 minutes before he reappeared at his window, with the particular clatter of his pins, dangles and the heavy tread of his mended boots and the sound of a bag straining in the harmony he caused as he walked. Miles had turned his back to the door, covered up to his neck and in a fetal position trying to squeeze his insides so they would stop self-destructing.
Miles wasn’t so focused on him and his cramps that he noticed Hobie walk straight into his kitchen and come back to him with a glass of water and a plastic packet rattling in his hands, only when he was lightly shaken by the shoulder did he turn around and understand why he had left in such a hurry.
He barely lifted himself up a little on his elbows to take his true salvation in a pill and promptly took the glass from Hobie’s hand, where the light touch made him feel the electric shocks he himself caused the others.
“Thanks for that dude” he mumbled through his teeth, he had to start accepting that awkwardness would always be a part of the anarchistic spider-man, maybe that was what made him so cool too.
“Ah, don’t worry about it mate, better now?” He gave him a comforting smile, different from the arrogant or annoying smiles he could give to whatever shitty polluting capitalist he was fighting, it was something softer in his hard features, it was softness in his eyes that contrasted with all the metal he had glued to his head. He was already half sitting up in his bed but he removed the guitar from his back and set it against the wall and the bed, leaning back a little next to a Miles he couldn’t care less about.
They lay in silence for minutes, with the pain actually subsiding for once all night and with the warmth of their bodies just inches away, it was actually comforting to Miles and now the pain barrier was finally dropping to give way to the tiredness and sleep that was consuming him. He touched his arm to get his attention and murmured another thank you, this time not so embarrassed and more like really grateful that someone like Hobie had shown up at exactly the right time.
Hobie was silent for a moment, watching him fall into a deep sleep with that fond smile rarely seen on his face and finally saying “Always for you, Miles, good night.”