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He doesn't see the appeal when they first meet.
To be honest, he was confused, mad, and hurt that Gwen had lied to him, that after so many time apart, she said it was a mistake to have come seen him. What he's trying to say is that he wasn't exactly keen on hearing a complete stranger that's apparently been housing Gwen talk about it when he's right there.
(Logically, that automatically means he can't dislike him. As bad as he felt about being left in the dark, Miles appreciates that there was someone watching out for Gwen when she needed it.)
His brain is brutally honest when it wants to be, but on situations like this one, it's kind enough to let Miles ignore the way he actually feels in favor of hiding everything under the rug and calling it a day.
At the end of the day, he can't bring himself to outright say he hates him or that he finds him annoying, just that he doesn't like him. And that's it.
It's his right, anyway. He doesn't actually know the guy apart from very vague information.
Now, he might not like Hobie, but (and thank God he hasn't met a spider-person that can hear his thoughts or something, it'd be really embarrassing if someone as nosy as Pavitr knew about this) he's someone that's objectively, really attractive, striking, and apart from the fact he changes textures and colors constantly, he's loud and funny and-
And Miles is most certainly not lying to himself when he says he's not jealous. He repeats it: he doesn't like Hobie, and he's not jealous of him.
As simple as that.
He's weird, too, in the way all spider-people seem to be. He keeps talking to him as if they've been friends for years and not strangers that met hours ago and fought a dude that willingly decided to name himself 'The Spot'.
"I do not understand what I'm seeing."
"It's fish and chips!" Hobie laughs, and Miles watches how he swipes left on his phone to show Pavitr another photo. "Look, look-"
"Why do the beans look like that?!" Pavitr shouts, sounding genuinely terrified. "They should not look like that! And why does everything else look so bland? Bro, take this, I will go wash my eyes, I do not need those images tormenting me for the rest of my life."
"Mate, this ain't even the worst thing I could show you!"
Rightfully so, Pavitr runs off, Hobie following close behind. No one is watching him, so Miles lets himself smile as he observes them both fight like little kids, shrieking and laughing.
"Opinions?"
Gwen says, sitting next to him and handing him a water bottle, Miles takes it, nodding his head as a 'thank you'.
"On british food?" Miles snorts. "That gracias a Dios my mom is puerto rican. You'd have to kill her before even trying to convince her of not spicing something up. She pretty much loves every seasoning that's ever existed."
She laughs, rolling her eyes as she points towards the other two. "About them, moron. I know they can be a little annoying at first, but..." she pauses, "well, they never stop being annoying, but you get used to it."
Uncorking his bottle, Miles shakes his head softly as he looks down at the ground. "They're fine. I can see why you're friends with them."
"They could be your friends too." Gwen says, her tone apologetic in a subtle way that doesn't get lost on Miles. "They want to be your friends, too."
Something about the way Hobie laughs, with his fist ruffling Pavitr's hair, there's something inside himself that wants to believe that's true. "Okay." Miles says, smiling and bumping his shoulder into Gwen's.
...
Turns out, when you give someone the time to process new information and to actually reason their own feelings, you get someone like Miles Morales who now spends the afternoons with his newfounds friends in whatever dimension they want to stay in that day.
Obviously, they end up being great- great heroes, great persons. Really, the whole package, and Miles ends up feeling a little bad when he remembers that in the beggining he wasn't exactly happy to be the "new guy" but it doesn't matter, not now when he gets to enjoy having friendships that understand him in a way no one else does.
Don't get him wrong, Ganke is great and he's an incredible friend, but apart from him, Miles doesn't know many other people, especially now that his life pretty much revolves around balancing school and being spider-man, and much less people who know the responsibility he carries, who understand its advantages and disadvantages alike.
They're together now. Hobie and Gwen wanted to practice, and since Pavitr wanted to tag alone, Miles had to, too. They've been discussing what song to play, and after not deciding on anything concrete, they're now just sitting on the floor.
He kind of disconnected a while ago, so when Pavitr and him lock glances, he knows the smile that's painted on his face only means that he's about to be bombed with something that's one hundred percent meant to embarrass him.
"And what about you, Miles? Was your first kiss good?"
Really, that's what they were talking about?
He laughs nervously. "Uh."
"Spider got your tongue?" Gwen says, raising an eyebrow. Miles just huffs.
He's about to respond with a half truth when Hobie takes him by the shoulders, Miles feels his soft puffs of breath against his neck. It feels almost like he's doing it on purpose.
But as he tends to do when it's Hobie who invades his personal space, he lets it happen.
"Leave him be, bruv." The words come out a little taunting and Miles has the impression they're all doing this on purpose. "Man's deserves to have his privacy."
"You three are the worst."
"I ain't doing nothing but helping you, mate." Hobie replies, Miles doesn't need to see him to know he's fucking smirking.
"Come on!" Pavitr whines. "It can not be worse than Gwen's."
As she's now the target of Pav's jokes, her playful demeanor quickly changes to something more defensive, huffing indignantly.
"Mine wasn't bad, per se."
"You said it was." Pavitr says. "Not even ten minutes ago."
"Okay, okay! Fine, it was bad but just because neither Peter or me wanted to actually kiss each other." Gwen mumbles. "Sue us for being curious and wanting to brag about it to our friends."
"Incredible how you let yourself be carried away by social pressure." Hobie says, shaking his head. "Your first kiss? One more victory for the status quo."
"We were eleven." Gwen deadpans.
"Mine was absolutely awesome." Pavitr intervenes, smiling as he sighs dreamily. "Picture this- me and Gayatri were right outside her house, time was not on our side, her father was about to arrive and we were both so focused on each other that-"
The rest of the story falls on deaf ears when Miles feels Hobie settle so that instead of leaning against him, they're just sitting side by side. It's dumb, that he feels like the only thing he can concentrate at that moment is how the other keeps so close to him, even now that he has more people he could pay attention to.
He tries to pay attention to Pavitr again but then, a sudden voice in his ear steals him from the moment once again.
"Ya seem distracted, Morales." Hobie whispers, thick accent making Miles' brain short circuit. "Everythin' okay?"
Jesus fucking Christ. "Yeah, of course, why would I not be?"
Hobie hums, seemingly satisfied with his response.
For reasons he doesn't want to dwell in the moment, when he's in a dimension and house that's not even his, Miles Morales tries his best to ignore the curiosity he feels when he thinks about the words 'kiss' and 'Hobie' in the same sentence.
Just as his brain finally seems to reset, Miles realizes that Gwen and Pavitr's gazes are now focused on him.
"What?" And as if that was what they needed, they both burst out laughing. "What?! What happened?" Miles asks again, even more confused when he sees Hobie laugh softly, his gaze averting from Miles'.
Miles' not entirely sure what changes after that day or why does it feel like he's the butt of some inside joke between Gwen and Pavitr, but another thing changes after that day, a change that he's not complaining about but that it took him a little by surprise when he noticed.
More often than not, Hobie and him find themselves staying behind, most of the time because the other teen claims to be too tired to go back to his own dimension, even if going back home takes no effort out of him at all. Miles doesn't really try to disclose the real reason of why he always chooses to stay.
In all honesty, this was an opportunity he'd been looking for ever since he'd finally put aside his jealousy and given himself the chance to get to know Hobie.
He's someone so extraordinary, in a way that Miles had never seen before. Spending time with him, listening to him practice on his guitar or telling stories about his adventures in his own dimension makes Miles feel good, good that Hobie seems to trust him so much despite everything and in so little time of being friends.
(And now his new mantra is: He likes Hobie, as a friend, and whatever feelings he has for him are only platonic.
It's not easy to convince himself ot this, but Miles makes it work by not thinking too hard about it.)
Everything has been pretty quiet for a while, in all honesty, it sometimes surprises Miles how of an everyday occurence all this multiverse and its different variants thing feels like.
His classes are finished for the day and as he's now back at his room, Miles lets himself forget about homework and saving the city in favor of doing something he's left in the back of his mind for a while.
Miles finds himself grabbing his sketchbook, a motion that's been done so many times that it's practically engraved on his entire being, reach, grab, put and open. Flowing with nothing but the desire to relax for a moment, Miles takes his pencil, humming softly when one of his favorite songs starts playing through his headphones.
The times when it all feels like too much, like the weight on his shoulders threatens to crush him once and for all, Miles draws. Anything, really, from silly and goofy designs to more complex and detailed drawings, of people or objects, graffiti designs he will do and others that just stick as designs that felt right at the moment but wouldn't look quite right on a wall or print.
He's not sure how much time has gone by since he began this exact drawing, just that he spent most of it trying to get the details of Hobie's jacket right and-
He blinks.
Once, twice and by the time he's one hundred percent that he actually drew that, he feels dizzy, his eyes burning.
Is that...?
Almost mockingly, the sketch stares back at him.
Almost without thinking, Miles pricks himself. "Shit." He complains, hurt but mostly disappointed that apparently, this isn't a dream.
Now that he's made sure this isn't a dream and that he's in fact, very awake, Miles rips off the page and crumples it, making a small ball of it so he can toss it across the room.
He lets a few seconds pass before getting up on shaky legs to go for it.
The drawing it's actually really good, carefully, Miles looks over the details he managed to finish, like the jacket and Hobie's platforms, the rest are still lines waiting to be finished, his face a sketch more than anything.
(Miles remembers the last time they saw each other.
He and Hobie had spent the whole afternoon watching movies and at some point, he ended up falling asleep, when he woke up, Hobie had moved enough so that Miles was laying with his head on his lap, and was playing with his hair, with slow, soothing motions.
They were still on Miles' couch, and if the darkness on the living room was something to go by, then it had been a long time ago since the last movie had ended.)
Not a lot of his drawings have this much attention to detail, and not many can convey this much care about the subject of it.
Instead of crumpling it up again, Miles decides to hide it back in his notebook, deciding to use his usual strategy when it comes to complicated feelings.
Everything goes under the rug. What he can't see, doesn't exist, right?
I'm soooo dumb.
It continues, even when he tries hard enough to not think about him, about soft pink and piercings and black hair, many sketches and drawings find themselves home in Miles' notebook.
When Ganke finds one and starts interrogating him about it is when Miles gives up.
He can't keep calling this platonic when he knows he's been staring more, drawing him any time he can, using every palette of colors he's seen him in, jumping at every opportunity to hang out with him.
Of course he likes Hobie Brown. The guy he was so keen on hating that he ended up as his friend.
"Are you okay?" Gwen asks one day, worried.
Miles appreciates it, he really does, since he has to admit he's been maybe a little too obvious about his suffering, but he knows that when he tells her why he's acting like this, he's never going to hear the end of it.
"I'm fucked." Miles replies, covering his eyes with his hands. "Might as well let Miguel kill me, it would probably be better than this."
"I heard 'killing' and 'Miguel' in the same sentence." Peter B. says appearing of out of nowhere as if sensing Miles' distress. "So let me tell you this, I'll cover up for you but in no way I'm the one telling Lego Peter about it."
(While he ends up enduring jokes made at his expense and a speech from Peter about how 'they grow up too fast', at least they end up making him feel better about it.
"It doesn't matter, though." Miles says. "I don't think I have a chance so I was just thinking to let die, slowly, feels like the best option."
"Why wouldn't you have a chance?" Peter asks, offended on his behalf. "You're awesome!"
"Well, I think his type is more like-" He says, subtly pointing at Gwen.
"What?" Gwen snorts. "That's not true."
Miles blinks, surprised. "Wait, really?"
"He's interested in someone else, actually. And believe me, I'm not his type at all.")
But hoping isn't exactly what Miles wants from this. He knows how he gets, so even if it doesn't feel like it, this might go away on its own, ignoring it is his way to go, anyway, so he can do this.
...
He can't do this, like, at all.
Now that's he's more conscious about his feelings for Hobie, it's a pain in the ass to try not to be there with him since the normal now is that they spend every now and then together.
It doesn't help that Hobie keeps invading his personal space, what before hadn't bothered him even one bit, now hugs and light touches makes him feel like he's about to combust.
At least now, they're all alone, but Hobie's at a reasonable distance from him, silently, Miles thanks God for it.
"It's a pretty view from up here, innit?" Hobie says, changing from a soft purple to gray.
Miles hums. "Apart from the powers and all that, I gotta say I really like being able to get up in places like these, it's liberating, somehow."
"Yeah, I get it."
A beat, and then he shuffles a little.
"Ya know, there's somethin' about your dimension that I really like." Hobie says, staring at the vastness of Brooklyn. "A somethin' that keeps me coming back over and over again."
Miles excitedly looks at him, he loves Brooklyn and as far as he knows, his dimension is pretty cool, so to hear Hobie Brown says he likes it? He has to know why. "Really? Damn, we have something pretty amazing if you keep coming back because of it."
He glances at him, gray turns into a combination of green and blue. "Ye, you have no idea."
Miles frowns. "Then tell me, what's so awesome that the great Hobie Brown likes it so much?"
Tsking, he looks away. "Sorry, mate, a spider never kisses and tells."
It's really not use fighting him on this, when the boy decides on something, he might not care anymore about it at some point but out of spite, he'd continue until the other person drops it.
So Miles huffs, knocking his shoulder against Hobie's. "Whatever, man. Keep your secrets." And mostly just to tease him with something that's now a constant between them, he says. "It's probably something only Gwen knows about, anyway, so I might as well just ask her about it."
That earns a few seconds of silence, and when Miles considers it's been too long without a smart-ass replies, Hobie talks.
"Ya know, Me and Gwen." Hobie says, scratching his chin absently. "We ain't like that."
Miles frowns. A little confused as to why the sudden confession. “Uh, okay?”
He shrugs, looking ever so slightly sheepish. "Thought you should know, 's all."
There's something about this that makes Miles remembers his conversation with Gwen.
"He's interested in someone else, actually. And believe me, I'm not his type at all."
Maybe... Maybe- "Not like you could bag someone like Gwen, anyway."
"Wow, what?" In an instant, he regains his usual self, tsking, he throws his plectrum at him, Miles doesn't catch just to be a jerk on purpose. "First of all, I ain't hearing that from someone who's suit looks like it's bleeding from the armpits."
"Come on! When are going to stop mentioning that?" Miles laughs. "Get new material, Mr. I don't believe in consistency."
"And second of all-" And there it is, that fucking smirk, full of confidence and the knowing feeling of always having the upper hand when it comes to teasing. "I could bag anyone, mate."
The worst part of all? He belives him. "If you say so."
"Nah." He says, winking. "I know so."
And then he's staring at him, unmoving, smiling like he's got him all figured out.
Miles wants to show them all to him, he realizes, he wants Hobie to know how many time he's spent perfecting his drawings, the details that he has learned to improve after a lot of practice, he wants him to know about the inspiration that left him months ago and that was reborn when he started practicing the shape of his piercings, the texture of his hair, the curve of his nose.
He wants him to know how he could be here, with him, anytime and anywhere and he would be content, it would be enough, if Hobie continues stealing these moments with him, Miles could die a happy man.
But with that comes the uncertainty of everything.
What would he think about it? He knows Hobie wouldn't hate him, but he will definitely find it weird, then he might distance himself because he would have the right, that's the thing.
Miles would respect it, of course he would! But it'd hurt like hell and back to ruin a friendship so valuable like the one he has with Hobie.
It was one thing to know about his own feelings, but wanting to tell Hobie about them? That's a whole different thing.
"I think I should get going." Miles says, gulping and trying his best not to hesitate when he stands up. "We're having empanadas tonight and my mom would definitely kill me if I'm not there to help set the table up."
"While I'm all for breaking the rules, I ain't trying to get on Ms. Morales bad side." Hobie says. "Get home safe, mate."
Pining really sucks, and as he goes home, he debates wether he's doing the right thing or not.
...
There are days where falling asleep is almost impossible, no matter how tired Miles really feels, it doesn't matter how he adjusts himself or how hard he closes his eyes, he always stays awake.
What he usually does is draw to at least clear his mind a bit, tonight that Ganke went out with the girl from a higher grade he's been dating, Miles has the room to himself, so he decides to turn on the light now that it won't annoy anyone with its brilliance.
He grabs his notebook and puts on his headphones.
After thirty minutes of unsuccessfully trying to get the shape of a boat right, Miles decides to flip through his previous drawings to find something else he could try drawing.
Several sheets contain drawings of Hobie and Miles has at least some decency to feel a little embarrassed at how infatuated he seems to be thanks to the boy.
Stopping at one particular drawing, Miles remembers the time he did it.
The four of them had been together, Gwen leaning against Miles's back while Pavitr and Hobie played cards in front of them, at some point Hobie had just looked so focused on the game at hand that Miles started drawing him in that pose, legs crossed and one arm resting his head on, the other raising the cards to chest level so he could look at them.
He's about to turn the page when he feels his headphones are taken off.
"Is that me, Morales?"
If he hadn't barely had time to react and close his notebook, Miles probably would have tried something more sneaky than straight up jumping from his seat and holding it behind his back.
Miles frowns at him, trying to act like he's at least a little mad at being surprised like this. "Bro, what the hell? What are you doing here?"
"Evading my question, uh?" Hobie says, removing his guitar from his back, he sets it down by Miles's door. "Proper suspicious, I'd say."
"It's actually astounding how annoying you can be at times."
"Ah, you have conquered the heart of many girls with that attitude, I suppose?" Hobie replies, looking for the notebook that is still in the nervous hands of Miles. "Let's start again, aight? Maybe this time you can be more chuffed 'bout seeing me?"
Miles rolls his eyes. "Hey, Hobie, nice to see you." He points at him with his free hand. "Now, what the hell are you doing here?"
He shrugs. "Nothin' much, I wanted to see you." Before Miles can respond to that, he points at him. "Hey, what's that little thingy ya have behind your back."
"Nothing."
"I could swear I saw somethin' really interesting in there-"
"It's nothing. Really." Miles insists. "Uh, do you want to go out, we could to that place I told you about?"
His mistake is that he moves his hand a little to the left, and before Miles can grab it again, Hobie's web takes the sketchbook right from him.
He starts going through it and Miles is pretty sure he dies for a good ten seconds in that moment.
"Damn, mate." Hobie mutters, looking genuinely taken aback. "This is me."
Quick, say something!
"Uh, not you! exactly, I didn't want to stare at you too much so there are many details that aren't really that accurate."
Ugh, but something that makes you look like less of a creep, not more!
"Fuck, that sounds awful. Let me start again-"
He's ready to start rambling, to say whatever might help his situation at all, maybe if he talks fast enough Hobie will forget what he saw or at least apparent that it was nothing.
But then Hobie's laughing, taking a step towards him.
"You've been watching me a lot, is what I hear." The words roll off nicely from his tongue, as they tend to do when Hobie talks, but now they were close to a purr, teasing, playful. He keeps walking towards him, Miles doesn't know if he'd prefer to be sitting for this, now that he finds himself cornered against his own desk. Hobie's long hands previnting him from getting away. "Got me all memorized and shi', yeah?"
Kind of? "No! No. It's not like that."
Why isn't he mad? Why isn't he leaving?
"Then explain it to me." Hobie says. "If it's not like that, then how is it?"
He's always been awful at lying, specially whe he has to come up with a lie on the spot, and now, under Hobie's careful gaze, he feels like no matter what he says, it won't be enough to get him out of this one.
Sensing his inability to actually respond, Hobie shakes his head, he gives Miles his notebook back. Silently, trying his best to make his damn brain work, he puts it on the desk again.
Then, he glances at Hobie, and then down when he finds his eyes still on him.
“Tell me, love.” Hobie whispers after more seconds full of silence, he's close, really close. The words don't fully register until he's talking again. "Why are there so many drawings of me in there?"
"Um-"
"And tell me the truth, Miles." He says, dead serious. "Because I reckon it's not because you like my style or somethin', or just because you think I'm cool."
Miles gulps, and a chill runs through his body when he sees Hobie follow the movement of his Adam's apple, something like fire on his eyes.
He wants honesty? Then Miles will give it to him. He's tired of running, and if this is how he's going down, then he won't try to win an already lost battle.
Please don't hate me.
"I like you." It comes out soft, but purposefully. "A lot, actually. From the very first moment I saw you, I found you interesting, and maybe I was a little jealous because then the thing with Gwen happened and I tried to hate you, to at least dislike you but for fuck's sake, you made it so difficult."
It gets easier as he goes on and for a tiny moment, Miles allows himself to enjoy how the tightness in his chest begins to ease.
"From the beggining you treated me like we were already friends and you were always on my side even if you didn't know me at all. Then we were friends and I got to know you, and I just fell and fell over and over again and- and now I'm here, telling you that from every thing I've ever drawn, you're definitely in my top ten."
He gulps.
"Even if your piercings are hell to make."
Once Miles finishes speaking, the air is forced from his lungs as a familiar hand cups his chin, forcing him to look at him.
There's Hobie, looking at him like he put the stars in the sky.
"Knock my ass out if you want me to stop or to get away, aight?" He says, it's not until he nods that he gets why he's been given permission to hit him if he wants.
Slowly, with enough time to get away if he wanted to, Hobie gets close enough for their lips to skim against each other, it's not a kiss, and really, if Miles wanted to, he could get away.
He doesn't want to.
It stays simple and sweet. Miles Morales who didn't think he would have his first kiss until he was at least thirty, lets Hobie take control of the situation, only trying to copy him when he feels confident enough that it won't turn out into something awkward.
After what could have been hours or just a few minutes, they separate.
“You're killing me here.”
Miles can hear himself say, a little surprised that he can actually enunciate coherent words, but mostly grateful that his voice didn't crack.
He laughs, softly. "No more than you're killin' me, Morales." His eyes soften, and his entire being changes to that familiar pink that's found itself as Mile's new favorite color. "Remember how you asked what was my reason to keep comin' back? And I said it was a secret?"
Miles nods.
"It's you, dumbass." He mutters. "It ain't a pretty building or some bullshit like that, it's you Miles. Ya have hooked me from the beginning, too." He waves his hand around. "Somethin' something 'bout love at first sight but more like at first fight and talk."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah, love." Hobie says, stepping away a little so Miles isn't cornered anymore. "You know how to throw punches at villains like no one else."
"Not that! About liking me? You like me?"
He raises an eyebrow, confused. "Yes? You're awesome! Who wouldn't like you?"
(Hobie stays the night, they talk about telling the others and waiting to see where they go with this before putting an official title on it. Miles goes to sleep still believing this was a weird dream and that the next day he'll go back to pining after the punk, but when he wakes up, Hobie's still there, his body wrapped around him.
"How was that for a first kiss, by the way?"
"Jesus, shut up, please. I'm still not entirely sure this is real. Let me figure it out."
"Give it a few days, then." Hobie mutters. "Because it is real and as long as you have me, I ain't going anywhere.)
+
"Be honest." Miles says. "Were the drawings too much? I know you said you like them, but I don't know, it's embarrassing that I did them in the first place."
"Embarrassing?" Hobie asks offended. "They're fuckin' amazing! Darlin' I'm not lying when I say that I love 'em!" Then he pauses, scratching his chin in thought. "And they're not as embarrassing as the songs I wrote 'bout you."
Miles hums, focusing on his phone again. "I guess- wait, did you say songs?"