#anyways thx 4 reading ♡ :)

[clowningaroundmars]

heeyyy yaaalllll

so i was thinking to myself, i love punkflower. i really do.

what if there was a hobie in miles' universe and he didnt have to do the whole long distance relationship across dimensions thing, though? just keep his lil secret crush on spiderpunk a secret and keep it pushing, only to literally bump into his own hobie brown in 1610 one day?

wouldnt that be cool, guys?

wouldnt it? :)

wouldnt :) it :) be :) so :) cool? :) and so cute too?

:)

update: >part 2 here<

Miles was late.

It was his first day back, the very beginning of his junior year at Visions Academy and he was late. God damn.

His parents were really gonna kill him this time, no doubt about it. There weren't even any good Spiderman excuses he could use to weasel his way out of getting into trouble this time! He'd just have to cross his fingers and pray that his chemistry teacher for this year wasn't a total hardass like last year's English teacher.

Maybe he could make up some dumb excuse this time, try to wriggle his way into the professor's good graces with some blatant lie. Anyways, whose dumb idea was it to put him in a class so damn far from the entrance doors so early in the mor--

BRRRRRRING!

Miles tore around a corner just as the final bell rang throughout the mostly-empty hallways, inciting panic in his chest and making him nearly launch himself down another hallway just to get to his class.

In his haste, he nearly knocked over a very tall and very... familiar looking person that happened to be in Miles' trajectory. Luckily, bodies didn't end up colliding but the shock of having a person fly so quickly into their line of sight shocked the both of them into skidding to a sudden stop.

The tall person ended up dropping a textbook and what seemed like an enormous packet of papers, because sheets scattered absolutely everywhere, almost like snow.

Ugh. Of course.

They both stared down at the mess in the middle of the hallway floor for a beat.

Then, Miles exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

"Aw man, I-I'm sorry! I just uh... here, lemme just--"

They both bent down to quickly scoop up the papers as Miles stuttered and spoke a hundred miles a minute, trying to apologize for the heart-stopping scare he caused. Just as Miles shuffled the papers together in his hands, he finally looked up at the unlucky student he almost football-tackled first thing in the morning... and nearly dropped the papers onto the floor again.

Kneeled right in front of him with papers and a textbook tucked under a skinny arm, long fingers nervously plucking up what was left of the rest of the packet, was none other than... Hobie Brown.

Oh. God.

This Hobie didn't seem to be Miles' Hobie, though.

(Miles' temperature rose a bit as he quickly thought: wait, my Hobie? That's not right, either.)

Instead of large freeform locs that tapered off like wicks, he was sporting long uniform locs that were piled up high in a loose ponytail on his head, most likely due to the school policy that stated boys needed to have hair above the nape of their neck. Miles kinda wondered about that policy, if he ever decided to grow out his hair; would pulling his hair up be enough? Or would they police his hair length and force him to cut it all off?

Well, turns out the answer was literally right in front of him. Another shock to the system right after the first one.

That was Miles' excuse, really. It was just so dang early in the morning and he really really wasn't thinking when he opened his mouth and basically shouted "Hobie?!"

It honest to god sounded like it echoed in the hallway.

He slapped a hand over his mouth, immediately chastising himself for the stupid mistake he made, mentally kicking himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!! He wasn't supposed to know this guy obviously, they hadn't even met in their dimension yet!

Hobie, for his part, didn't seem perturbed by this at all though. He took the papers from Miles' hands and straightened himself back up to his full height, offering a hand so that Miles could stand up too.

He shrugged shyly and hid behind a couple locs that happened to fall back into his face, holding the books and papers closer to his chest.

"Uhmmn yeah, sorry. I-I'm runnin' late to my first class so I can't really give any autographs right now. Maybe later... if we see each other, ok?"

Miles blinked owlishly. Did he just say... autographs?

And wait a minute... was this Hobie... American?

Miles' poor little sleep-deprived mind was being blown again and again. He really didn't know if he was ever going to recover from this.

Hobie started to back up and walk away so Miles held his hands up to stop him. "Wait wait wait, autographs? I'm not uh-- sorry, this is weird," he laughed, rubbing his neck. "Nah, man. That's cool. I don't really want any autographs. Are you uh-- are you famous, actually?"

It was this Hobie's turn to blink owlishly now, hesitating a bit. A non-pierced eyebrow was raised as he said, "I... I kinda am...?"

He turned and pointed out the giant window of the hallway that they happened to be standing by, and Miles craned his neck to peer outside.

It smacked him right in the face once his eyes landed on it: a giant billboard fixed atop a neighboring building that depicted Hobie Brown in a luxurious-looking perfume ad. He sported the same locs as he did in real life, wearing shiny-looking makeup and giving the viewer the fiercest, smokiest look Miles has ever seen from a model in a hot minute. He was clutching deep purple satin, wrapped in it, basking in it. A single perfume bottle with a deep purple bow on the neck was photoshopped next to him, matching the overall vibe of the ad.

Miles was rooted to the spot, absolutely gobsmacked. How in the world did he miss that?!

Distantly, a small echo of a conversation he had in what seemed like a lifetime ago floated up from a memory. "I was briefly a runway model" pulsed in his neural pathways for a quick second.

Slowly, the gears started turning in his head. Slowly, he turned back to his dimension's Hobie Brown, who was giving him a strange sort of look.

Miles awkwardly tried to gather himself up, waving his hands around as he struggled for a non-weird explanation to his very weird behavior.

"I-I mean-- ahahaha! Yeah I mean, obviously you're famous! I was just y'know-- playin' with you. Pulling your leg and all that, I guess... heh."

The strange dubious look on Hobie's face didn't budge. "...Right."

Miles coughed conspicuously, trying to change the subject. "But uh yeah, haven't seen you around this school much then! Are you... you in a different grade than me or...?"

The corner of Hobie's mouth twitched suddenly, and for a split second Miles wondered if he said something wrong.

But then Hobie chuckled a bit. "No, I don't think so? This is my first day here. Like... ever. So I'm not really surprised you haven't seen me before. I just transferred over."

Miles practically sighed in relief and nodded, hands in his pockets. "Right! Right, very cool. Welcome to Visions then, I guess. Uh... I'm Miles! Miles Morales. Nice to meet ya!"

He goofily stuck a hand out, which Hobie actually accepted. They shook hands for a second, and then Miles was suddenly taken aback by how cold his hand was against his own skin. It was a definite contrast to the warm and lanky body he remembered practically draped across his own, back in Mumbattan.

He forced those particular memories away for now.

This Hobie was smiling down at him, sad eyes set inside a seemingly genuine expression of fondness. "Cool. I'm Hobie. But, uh, it seems like you already knew that, so."

"Aha, yeah yeah! It just-- honestly it's just the shock of, uh, running into a major celeb in the middle of my school that really got to me, I think. Sorry. I probably look like a total weirdo right now!"

Hobie shook his head, and Miles took the opportunity to really study this guy now that the shock was over and the vibe was more chill. This Hobie was just as long and lanky as the punk anarchist Miles was already well acquainted with, but he held himself completely differently. Where Spider-Hobie was all confident strut and careless swagger, this Hobie seemed to be all reserved grace and... sadness? He definitely reminded Miles of a willow tree drooping down into a lake, beautiful but tragic at the same time.

Okay Miles, get it together, he thought, stop thinking this guy is beautiful. I mean, he is beautiful yeah... but c'mon man, focus!

Hobie's non-pierced lips were moving now, finishing a sentence that Miles most definitely did not catch.

Then, Hobie looked at him expectantly.

Oh shit. He just asked a question didn't he? Fuck.

"Uh, sorry... one more time?" Miles grinned as wide as he could, apologetic. Nice going, Morales, the humorless voice in his head chimed in. Definitely not convincing this guy you're an alien from outer space or anything!

Hobie huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. "Sorry, my fault. Sometimes I mumble and... yeah. Mom says I need to work on that," he sighed, then continued, "I was just wondering if you knew where room 301 was?"

Miles nearly jumped with the force of the realization that just hit him.

"301? Mr. Moriarty's class?"

"Y-yeah, that's the one," Hobie smiled, twirling a loc on one finger and tugging it a bit. Then he tucked it back behind his ear. "I'm actually so lost it's not even funny, I'm godawful at directions and like, navigating. I've been looking for it for like 20 minutes now--"

"That's where my first class is too! AP chem!"

Hobie seemed to brighten up a bit at that, straightening his posture up from his own self-conscious hunch. "Oh cool! We should probably get going then, if we don't wanna be more late than we already are."

Without thinking, Miles places a hand on Hobie's shoulder and steers them both towards a classroom right at the end of the hallway they were in.

"Of course, right this way! Pretty lucky you ran into me, huh? I can help you find your other classes later on if you want, too."

For the first time since nearly crashing into him, Miles looked up at Hobie and saw genuine happiness in his eyes as they grinned at each other and walked down the hall together.

"...Yeah," Hobie said, nodding slowly. "Yeah that'd be pretty cool. Thanks!"

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Their chemistry teacher ended up not being a total hardass after all! Especially when Miles rolled up with none other than Famous Model Hobie in tow, immediately causing a ripple of whispers amongst the students sat at their desks.

Mr. Moriarty was a short and stumpy old man with a kind face and a severely receding hairline. He took one look at Hobie after squinting at his attendance sheet, accepted Miles' quick explanation that they were late because Hobie's minty fresh enrollment got him all lost in these maze-like hallways, and excused their tardiness with a wave of a hand.

"It's the first day and you were very kind to help a new student out, Mr. Morales. You're both excused for today, but try not to make a habit of it, alright?"

Miles bobbed his head as he picked his way past rows of desks. "Absolutely, sir. No problem at all. Thanks a bunch!"

Hobie stuck close to him, and smiled a bit as the only two desks left empty in the whole room happened to be right next to each other, right up in the back of the class. Nice.

They took their seats and exchanged a couple of glances as they pulled out their notebooks, barely listening to their professor's quick introduction and class syllabus. Well, Miles was barely listening, anyways. He was too caught up in the euphoria of running into a dimensional variant of one of his friends, in Visions Academy no less! His mind started to wander a bit. Did a 1610 Gwen exist too? a 1610 Pavitr? Were they also here at Visions? And what was with these random stares he and Hobie were getting from their fellow classmates right now?

Every now and then a student's head would swivel back to glance in their direction, awestruck looks evident on their faces.

How famous was Hobie anyway?

Of course, there was that giant billboard conveniently placed within view of the school's back hallways near a busy intersection, but Miles really started to think. He sneakily pulled out his phone and swiped down to the lowest brightness he could in case the classroom's fluorescent lighting wasn't enough to hide the phone screen's own light.

He kept his face straight forward, eyes flicking to and from his typing that he was trying to conceal behind the student sitting in front of him. He typed Hobie Brown model, Hobie Brown perfume ad, Hobie Brown supermodel, getting absolutely nothing every single time. Well, nothing that looked like the Hobie Brown sitting next to him, who happened to be dutifully scribbling down some notes in his notebook. Miles looked down at his own empty sheet of paper and quickly copied his new friend, whipping out a pencil and hurrying to catch up with the lecture on the whiteboard before the professor moved on.

Groan. What gives? Was Hobie this super accomplished, totally famous supermodel or not? Maybe he wasn't on social media, oddly enough. Maybe he just started an illustrious career and happened to be famous only in Brooklyn right now? No, that didn't make sense. If he was some small-time influencer or whatever, people would not be asking for autographs so often that Hobie would just automatically assume anyone who recognized him wanted one. And the looks on these other kids' faces convinced Miles that... maybe something was missing. Maybe he's just not searching up the right terms?

Agh, if only Spiderman business didn't keep him totally detached from reality sometimes. He really felt like he and the rest of the world were on totally different planets. If he had any friends besides Ganke, he probably would've heard about Hobie by now.

He bit his lip in concentration, trying to multitask between forming theories and keeping up with the lesson in the front of the classroom.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of eyes staring straight at him that didn't belong to the other classmates he barely even knew. He glanced over at Hobie, who quickly looked away.

Was that... an embarrassed look on his face just now? Miles scratched at his jaw a bit, more confused than before.

That was weird. Whatever. Anyways...

Before long, class was over and the bell rang. Miles and Hobie both meandered slowly up to the door and hung around the outside, leaning against the wall as they compared schedules before they had to make their way to their next class.

"Dang," Miles lamented, clutching his own schedule and moving to slot it into the cover of his binder. "Looks like we don't share any more classes besides 1st period..."

Hobie stopped his hand and squinted at the sheet again, glancing back at his own. "Uhmm... nah, actually. I think we might have 6th period together? Right after lunch."

"Do we share a lunch period too, actually?" Miles asked excitedly.

Hobie made a small noise of triumph, a smile playing over his lips. "Yeah! 1st, lunch and then 6th. Okay. Better than nothing, right?"

Miles chuckled, shoving his schedule into the plastic and tucking it under his arm. "Definitely. We can eat together at the cafeteria if you want! I'll walk you to your next class though, since it's basically right around the corner."

Hobie shrugged his own backpack back onto his shoulder and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes were cast downwards as he grinned at the floor and said, "yeah, if you don't mind... that'd be pretty cool."

This guy sure does like the word cool, Miles thought, and away to Hobie's next class they both went. They both ignored the various whispers and stares in their direction. Miles was already used to it by now.

They walked together amiably, in near lockstep for a little while before Hobie finally spoke up again.

"... So... if you don't mind me asking... why are you so nice to me if you didn't know I was famous, then?"

It was an innocent enough question, but it kinda caught Miles off guard nonetheless.

He laughed nervously. "Uhh ahaha, whaddya mean? I did know you were famous! I just... y'know my brain doesn't work the best real early in the morning. I'm, uh. Sometimes I can be pretty weird, if you haven't noticed by now."

Hobie nodded slowly, digesting this information for a bit. "Yeah, you did recognize me in the first place, I guess. It's just weird, you're like... the first person I met that doesn't look at me like I'm made out of solid gold, though. That's all..."

They exchanged glances again, and Miles' brain was working into overdrive, thinking of an appropriate response.

Before he could open his mouth, they finally reached their destination and Hobie bumped Miles' shoulder with his arm, smiling.

"So, thanks. For, uh... this. All this."

Miles raised a brow at him. "Oh yeah, this is nothing. I just walked you over to your next class, no biggie. My class is right over here anyways, so--"

Hobie laughed and shook his head, the expression lighting up his facial features unlike anything Miles has seen on that face yet.

"No, Miles. Not just this. I mean, like..." Hobie dipped his head, a bashful sort of move. "I mean, like, being nice to me. Like forreal. I really appreciate this."

They looked at each other for a moment, something real warm growing in Miles' chest all of a sudden, something... familiar.

He was just about to casually brush the gratitude off a second time with a dorky quip, before some girl's screechy voice interrupted their private little moment out of nowhere. It honestly startled them both, and the nice warm atmosphere dissipated immediately.

"Oh. My. GOD!! Is that Hobie Jones? Like actually?!"

She giggled and bounded up to them, blatantly ignoring Miles to insert herself between them and crowd into Hobie's space. She coquettishly asked for a selfie with him, promising to tag him on social media. The sudden commotion unfortunately attracted some other students who then took their cue to also bother Hobie for autographs, selfies, throwing compliments left and right.

Miles backed up out of the crowd, eyes still on Hobie as he watched the poor guy metaphorically slip on a mask, the very same that Miles saw when they first met not 2 hours ago. It was a sad, detached sort of look, and Hobie was forced to hunch in on himself to meet his fellow students' heights as they snapped selfie after selfie. His lips formed a smile all the while. His eyes did not.

A pang of sympathy hit Miles as he slowly turned away and made his way down to his own classroom without so much as a goodbye. He shrugged to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, he knew how that felt, just trying to mind your own business and live your life, do what you have to do-- and being stopped by nearly every living being within a 50 ft radius wanting their photo ops and their babies kissed.

Miles smiled to himself as he shouldered his way past other students and sauntered into his class, right on time. The bell rang as he reached his desk, and he pulled out another notebook out of his bag before the realization finally hit him with the force of a truck.

Wait... Hobie JONES?!

Miles quickly glanced around at his surroundings and mentally kicked himself yet again for choosing a seat so close to the teacher's desk, almost right up at the front. Damnit!

But the teacher wasn't in the classroom just yet, most likely making a quick run down to the printer down the hall to make copies of the class syllabus or something.

Okay, Morales. Gotta be quick.

He hastily pulled out his phone yet again, one eye on the door. He quickly typed in Hobie Jones model in his browser's search box, letting out a breath as search results loaded up and gave him exactly what he was looking for this entire time.

Bingo.

Hobie's face popped up in the image search previews, all sorts of cool and striking photoshoots lit up in all kinds of different ways. And the very first link at the top of the page? Hobie's own Flickstagram.

With a shaky hand, Miles tapped the link and impatiently waited for it to load, for his phone to get with the program and just open the damn app already. He kept glancing every so often at the door yet again, praying that the printer or copier-- or whatever-the-hell that was keeping the professor away from the class-- would keep them away for just a second longer.

He finally cast his gaze back down onto his own Flickstagram app and his heart nearly dropped out of his chest.

At the top, right next to Hobie's own smoldering profile picture was his username: hobiemjones

hobiemjones... hobie m jones. Hobie M. Jones.

M.J.

Miles exhaled again and tucked his phone away in shock just as the classroom door opened yet again and all the students quieted down. This class's teacher made their way over to their desk, piles of papers in hand. They started to pass them out to the students in the front row, introducing themself and then going over the usual attendance policies.

Miles accepted the syllabus sheets with trembling hands, turning to pass them over his shoulder once he got his own, his mind running a hundred miles a minute.

Peter talked nonstop about his wife, whenever he managed to stop talking about his baby, that is. It was always MJ this, MJ that. Flashes of a middle-aged man staring forlornly at a picture of his then-ex wife-- grieving the one who got away-- raced across his mind's eye. His universe's own MJ standing at a podium, strong but deeply hurt as she addressed all of Brooklyn after Spiderman's funeral.

"She wanted kids and I... just wasn't ready," echoed over and over in Miles' mind. Of course, they're together now. But the way Peter talked about his divorce... oh god.

Wait... was Miles ready for kids? Were he and Hobie going to have a messy on-and-off again relationship that ended up with them having to care for a spider-baby just like Mayday?! Maybe even multiple spider-babies?!?!?

Miles loosened his tie a bit, sweating profusely.

The fact that neither Hobie nor Miles were equipped with the parts to make a baby together flew right over his head. No... instead, his mind skipped straight to marriage, messy emotional fights and inevitable breakups. How was he gonna juggle school, work, Spiderman stuff and a relationship all at once?!

Without realizing, Miles started hyperventilating.

No no no no no, cool it Miles. COOL IT. Don't be weird. Miles mentally slapped himself and tried to even out his breathing as he leaned back in his seat and wiped some sweat off his brow.

He just proved to Miguel O' Hara and the entire multiverse this past spring that he can do his own thing, canon events be damned. Miles Morales was no victim to fate. Maybe all of the other spider-people had their own MJs. But maybe in this universe, MJ and Spiderman were... just friends. Good friends! ...Yeah, yeah, just friends...

The idea floated around in Miles' head throughout the entire rest of the class, but it didn't really make the tightness in his chest loosen up any at all.

Once the bell rang again and everyone started packing their things up, Miles dawdled a bit by the door, fumbling with his phone as his classmates filed out of the room. If he was late enough, maybe he'd completely miss Hobie in the hallways and not have to see him at all. Miles double-checked, triple-checked his schedule again and again, mapping out an eventual escape route through the halls in case Hobie's path did intercept Miles'.

God, Miles thought ruefully, checking the hour on his phone for the 15th time in a row and smiling awkwardly at his teacher's questioning glance. You're being so fucking weird about this right now!

The rational part of his brain kicked in and presented a quick slideshow of other calmer, more reasonable explanations as to why he really shouldn't be avoiding his new friend like the plague all of a sudden.

1. Hobie probably doesn't and won't like me, it stated. There is literally no proof that Hobie Jones is even into guys. Or me, Miles Morales.

2. Even if Hobie Jones is into guys-- or me, Miles Morales-- that does not mean the endgame is automatically marriage. No sir, no proof of that at all!

3. Canon events were officially disproven. Kinda. Mostly. Sort of?

C'mon, bro. Just man up and get out there. You're gonna be late for the next class soon anyways.

Right. He inhaled deeply and steeled himself.

"Okay well, uh. Have a nice day Mx. Gonzalez! See ya... tomorrow." Miles cringed inwardly at how lame that sounded, but his teacher didn't seem to notice as they bid him a nice day as well.

With his heart in his stomach, Miles slowly made his way into the hallway and started walking at a brisk pace, keeping his eyeline straight in front of him, trying to reach his next class on the floor below quickly but manageably. It was when he reached the stairs that his heart sank even lower.

Hobie was standing right next to the stairwell, glaring at the school map placed on the wall off to the left, fingertips on his chin as he mumbled to himself. He was glancing up and down between the map and his schedule in his hand, clearly befuddled.

Damn, he really is bad at navigating, Miles mused, once he recovered.

But as luck would have it, tragedy struck right then. Miles being pretty much the only other kid in the hallway attracted Hobie's attention, and even though Miles' feet kept him moving, he almost tripped on air once Hobie perked up upon seeing him.

"Miles!" Hobie grinned and waved him over, clearly happy to see him.

Oh noooo. Miles was not as happy to see him.

Without thinking, he launched himself down the flight of stairs, hopping over the railing and landing loudly on the 1st floor. Once steady, he basically sprinted over to his 3rd period class, completely missing the way Hobie's sunny grin slowly disappeared and his hand lowered back down to his side.

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Lunchtime came and went. Miles ate his packed lunch at his usual perch on top of the school building, where he always hid while trying to avoid the rest of the student body. He managed to pick a good spot away from prying eyes, and it never failed him.

Hobie ate alone, at a table tucked into the corner of the cafeteria despite being invited to several other tables. He sat and chewed sadly, locs back in front of his eyes, posture hunched over and defeated.

6th period came and went. Miles purposefully kept his gaze averted as Hobie walked in 5 minutes late. They sat at opposite ends of the room, never acknowledging each other's existence.

The school day ended and Miles made his way back to the dorms, sighing with relief once he glanced out the window and saw giant rainclouds rolling in over the horizon. Man, was he glad he got to bunk up on campus with his best friend! He greeted Ganke, kicked off his shoes and climbed up onto his bunkbed, laying back with a sigh. Maybe tomorrow he'd confront Hobie about his erratic behavior and apologize. Maybe.

But that was a problem for future Miles...

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Outside, the rain started falling fast and hard.

Outside, Hobie M. Jones waited miserably by the curb with an umbrella in hand, getting drenched by the water nonetheless. He checked his phone for the 15th time and sniffled angrily, pocketing it and gripping onto his umbrella handle.

Late. Again.

His mother was late to pick him up, as usual.

He swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek and finally loosened his ponytail, letting his locs fall all around his face.

Once she arrived, his mother was going to inevitably ask him how his day was, look only slightly concerned about his angry tears and ask if he made any new friends anyways, despite knowing the answer.

No, mom, Hobie would say as he kept his eyes glued to the car window.

No. I didn't make any friends.

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins vigilantes: getting found out pt 2

okayyyy this part's a slight bit longer but hopefully, uh, worth it lol

kinda made myself tear up a lil at the end ahahaha

also pls don't ask when this takes place, like either in between istv and atsv or atsv and btsv.... idk bro LMFAO this is technically a whole other au in and of itself soooo yuh

disclaimer: i'm a whole ass anarchist, however miles and milo are two teenage boys who've grown up with a cop dad and they play a lil lip service to the police force during their big speech so... yeah i don't support the existence of the police force, but it is what it is. characters don't reflect author's beliefs and all that

>1st part here<

Jeff happened to be lucky enough to be pardoned for the rest of the night, and he also opted to use some PTO on this very very important occasion, so he sped off in the squad car with his sons in the back immediately after visiting the police department and signing off on some papers. He did not utter a word until they all got back home safely.

In the car, it was eerily silent as Jeff fumed in the front. Miles practiced what he was going to say over and over in his head, picking at his suit and avoiding his twin brother’s eyes. Milo held what remained of his mask in his hands, gauntlets off and tucked between his feet on the floor of the car. They both hung their heads low, counting down the minutes until they got back home and had to face their inevitable death sentence.

They were in so much trouble. Yikes. This was exactly what Miles dreaded for so damn long now, and it almost felt like a dream the way it happened so quickly.

Back home, both boys were sat down in the dining room area behind the couch, waiting for their mother to come back from her night shift. Milo was given an ice pack for his head and some painkillers, and then they were both sternly ordered to take off their respective suits.

Miles turned inquisitive eyes towards his dad.

“If your mom comes in and sees you two wearing those outfits right after work, that woman will have a heart attack and faint. Take ‘em off,” was Jeff’s sharp explanation.

They were not gonna argue with that. To the bedroom they both went.

“And then you both come right back out the second you change, got it?”

“Yeah dad, got it,” was Miles’ unenthused mumble before closing the door.

Miles turned back around with his mask in his hands, and immediately threw it at Milo.

“What were you thinking?!?!” he hissed, arms flying up into the air, making grabbing motions at his twin brother’s neck. “You absolute idiot, my god, we are so. Freaking. Dead!!”

Milo ducked back, scowling. “Me?!” he hissed back, keeping his voice at a harsh whisper as well. “What did you want me to do, pendejo, just let our dad fry, just like that? I didn’t see you moving to stop the guy!”

They were both snapping at each other, hands flying everywhere as they argued in harsh tones and whispers. They only stopped when they heard a loud knock on the door.

“Don’t take all night, either,” came their father’s booming voice from behind the wood.

Miles hung his head. Milo rolled his eyes and moved towards the closet, ripping his jacket off and kicking off his shoes. “Yes dad,” they both intoned at the same time.

A few glares were exchanged as clothes were tossed onto the floor, and Miles sighed loudly as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants, throwing himself onto his bed to get them up his legs all at once. He glanced at his bedside alarm clock, knowing his mom would be home any minute now. He felt his heart beat in his chest much louder and faster than usual.

Milo pulled on a hoodie over his head, gingerly easing the fabric over his bruised chest.

“Did the blast hit your chest too, man?” Miles asked quietly, eyes playing over the mess of a bruise over slightly-scarred skin, wincing a bit.

Milo exhaled sharply. “Shuddup.”

Miles frowned. “You have to let mom know about that soon. Don’t ‘shuddup’ me.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Miles knew his brother was sulking, but that really looked… bad. If he was responsible for not only dragging his brother into vigilantism, but also putting him in the hospital as well, he had no idea how he was getting out of this one alive. He was probably never going to see the light of day until college. Maybe not even then.

Once ready, both boys stood side-by-side in front of the door, hesitating. They both glanced at each other, then back at the door.

This was it, they both thought. The moment of truth. This was the night where it was all gonna go down, and their painstakingly-kept secret would finally be revealed to their parents. D-day. My god. He didn’t even know if the speech he prepared in the car on the way home was even gonna suffice against their mother’s explosive anger. She was gonna have a cow the second Jeff told her. Damnit.

Guess I can kiss the whole Spider-man thing goodbye, Miles thought, the very idea leaving a very heavy weight in his chest that he just couldn’t ignore. He leaned forward to turn the knob and swing open the door. With one last glance back at his brother, he stepped out. Then his brother followed him slowly, ice pack pressed to the side of his head again.

It was like a funeral procession the way they marched solemnly back to their chairs placed side-by-side by the table. Jeff leaned on the doorway to the hallway with his arms crossed sternly over his chest, still in his police uniform, hat already hung up.

As if on cue, Rio’s keys jangled against the door, and she stepped inside once the lock clicked open. Her slightly tired expression changed in an instant once she hung up her bag and walked into the apartment.

“Hello boys, I’m home!” She announced, a bit surprised. Not only were her husband and two sons all home at the same time, but they were all hanging around to watch her come home after work at such a late hour. Granted, it was summertime and the weekend, but still. Weird.

Jeff had texted her that something important came up and that she needed to be home ASAP, but didn’t elaborate further. She didn’t know what to expect when she got back. She crossed her fingers and hoped that it wasn’t that bad, if her husband texted her instead of calling. If it was an emergency, surely he would’ve called.

Right?

Her eyes widened once she saw the ice pack Milo held against his head, and quickly made her way over to him.

“Qué pasó?” She kneeled next to her boy, checking him over quickly.

Milo winced and tried to dodge his mother’s hands, holding a protective arm over his chest that no one missed. “Ma, stop. I’m fine, seriously. It’s… it’s fine.”

“Is it? What is going on, why is everyone so… so sad right now, and what are you two doing sitting here like this? Jeff…?” She turned to face her husband but he was already making his way back to the boys’ bedroom, scooping up their respective vigilante costumes and heading back out with the incriminating evidence in both hands.

Once he got back to the table, he tossed them onto the surface and crossed his arms again.

For a second, no one moved. The whole world held its breath for one precious moment.

Then, with deadly calm in her tone, Rio slowly stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “...What are those things?”

Both boys braced for impact.

“Well?”

Miles swallowed hard, hands gripped together tightly. “Uhm. They’re. They’re… our outfits. Y’know… for fighting crime.”

Rio gaped at her sons.

“He’s Spider-man, mom. Miles is Spider-man,” Milo clarified solemnly. His chin was at his chest now, avoiding eye contact with his mother.

“...And you’re the Prowler.” Rio finished.

She took a step back and exhaled, running her hands through her hair and rubbing her face. “Oh… oh my god. Dios mió, me voy a morir. I knew it, but still... me voy a morir!” ¹

Finally, Jeff spoke up behind her. “They’re not Halloween costumes, either. Guess where I found ‘em tonight?”

With tears in her eyes, Rio looked back at her husband, a pleading look on her face. “Don’t tell me,” she begged. But Jeff continued anyways.

“I took tonight’s shift on as a bit of extra, and when I was called to take care of an electric freak close to downtown, I found these two at the scene already.”

Finally, Rio exploded. “What?!?”

The twins flinched.

Jeff exhaled and pressed on, licking his lips. “Yeah, and not only that, but Milo here took on a direct blast of electricity to the face. He jumped in front of me and put himself in harm’s way!”

Scandalized, Milo leaped up from his seat, wincing only a little bit. “Wait a minute, I did it to protect you! That’s my job!”

The anger fizzled out immediately once both parents swung their withering glares around back to him, rage hot enough to almost burn two holes into his skull. Miles pulled Milo’s hoodie sleeve and quietly hissed, “stop making it worse!”

Milo clammed up and quickly sat back down, pouting.

“Your job?” Rio shot back incredulously, laughing angrily.

“That is not your job, Milo! That is mine! My job! I wear this badge every single day so that I can protect the people of Brooklyn. You are a kid with homework and chores to do, not fighting dangerous bad guys on the streets like some kinda—” Jeff worked himself up but then stopped, as if he suddenly ran out of steam. He placed his hands over his head, clearly stressed, and exhaled loudly.

“How long?” Rio’s tone was sharp.

They were definitely not getting out of this alive. Damn. Rest in power, Morales twins.

Miles shuffled his feet, hesitating. “Uhm—”

“Speak up, Miles. How long have you two been running around behind our backs and lying to us like this? Huh?”

Miles sighed. “I, uhm. We’ve been doing this… for a while now.”

“A while?”

“…A -a year.”

“A YEAR?!”

“I mean I’unno about Miles, but I’ve only been doin’ this for like a couple months, so…” Milo mumbled half-heartedly beside his brother. That comment earned him another set of glares, including one from Miles.

“A year. A year! A year, that’s how long you’ve been lying to us?” Jeff was pacing now, clearly stressed out. He was mumbling things under his breath that both boys would rather not know anything about.

Miles jumped up from his seat, seizing the opportunity when he could. “Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait, guys. Mom, dad. Listen to me, please,” he begged, hands splayed out in front of him.

He took a breath. He opened his mouth.

“Until college.” Rio interrupted, holding a finger up. “Both of you. Grounded! Until college! You will both be adults before you ever go out without my permission ever again!”

Miles deflated. “O-kay but mom, please! Hear me out first!”

Rio held a hand up. “I don’t wanna hear it! I cannot believe that both of my sons would lie to me like this! For an entire year, no less! Dios, dame paciencia, coño!” ² She shook her head as she held her face in her hands. “Do you two know what you’re doing to me? Look at me, I’m getting grey hairs as we speak!”

Jeff immediately took her side. “Do you realize what you’re doing to your mother? You’re killing her! And you--” he rounded on Milo all of a sudden, jolting the poor boy into sitting up straight. “You are killing me! You’re going around wearing those godforsaken gloves around, punching bad guys just cuz you wanna feel like a big man, huh? Do you know what that does to me?!”

Milo visibly prickled up, hunching in on himself. “I’m not doing it for me,” he bit out angrily.

“Then for who, huh?”

“I wanted to save the little guys on the street... when the cops couldn’t. I wanted to help Miles.” Milo sounded tired, and for a split second he looked much older beyond his years. Both of his parents softened for only a fraction of a second before Jeff rubbed his eyes and turned back to Miles.

"And who made you Spider-man all of a sudden? What happened a year ago? Tell me the truth. I don't want any detail left out!"

Ah, interrogation mode already, Miles thought humorlessly.

He sighed and dutifully got started on the whole backstory, careful to leave out the fact that he was with Aaron the moment he got shot, skipping to the part where he "found" his uncle's nearly lifeless body in that alleyway that fateful day. It was a harmless enough lie… Miles presumed. Right?

"Did you… then... h-how did you see who shot Aaron, Miles? Were you there?" Jeff asked quietly, also looking as tired as Milo did. Miles paused, not expecting the question.

Rio shot him a look. "Jeff, mi amor, please. Now is really not the time." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Right now, we have to talk about this... this... situation we have going on here. What's next?"

Miles shrugged, palms facing forward as if to say and the rest is history. "I'm... pretty sure you guys know the rest. Dad... you were uh, there. At the collider. I stopped Kingpin and then I just. Well, yeah. Y'all have already watched all of the news stories and the videos. So," he finished lamely.

Then, a surge of confidence as he looked at the concerned expressions dawning on his parents' faces. It's now or never.

"...B-but I love being Spider-man! Dad, you've seen me out there, the way I fight, the fact that you guys have less to deal with cuz I'm out there kicking ass!"

Oops. Wrong words.

Miles' confidence deflated as soon as those concerned and sympathetic looks turned into ones of anger.

"Kicking ass?! More like getting your ass kicked, little boy! How many NewTube videos are out there of you getting crushed by cars," Jeff started to count off of his fingers, "hit by buses, tossed in the air, punched and flung halfway across the block--"

"Jeff, please!" Rio cried, wobbling a bit. She pulled out the chair closest to her from the table and slumped down into it, rubbing at her temples.

"S-sorry, hon..." Jeff placed an apologetic hand on his wife's shoulder.

Rio sighed deeply.

"I get it. I know. But dad..." Miles steeled himself this time. "When you put on that badge every single day and you go out into those streets to protect the city, you think you're never gonna get shot at? Jumped? It is literally your responsibility to put yourself in the way of danger so no one else has to." He turns to the table and grabs his mask.

"For me," Miles continues, "this is my badge. Okay? I put this on every single day and swing out into the streets so people can shoot at me, or ask me for directions, or wait for me to get weird guys in stupid costumes away from the train tracks. I do this every single day, because if I don't, who will? Peter is dead--" ...wow, that feels weird to say.

"Miles..." Rio's big brown eyes gaze sadly at her boy, standing tall with this awful mask in his hand. A mask that she desperately wished wasn't his.

"Mom. Peter is dead. He is. Okay? If I don't step up and take his place, knowing what I can do? Then I might as well not even be alive at all." He tosses his mask dramatically back onto the table to punctuate his point. "I can shoot webs from my wrists and I have strength like y'all wouldn't believe. I can stick to walls and do everything that Peter Parker was able to do before he passed away. If I just sit here doing nothing with these abilities while everyone struggles to live their lives every single day, letting bad guys with superpowers do whatever they want, then what's the point of anything? The exact same reason why I put on this suit to go fight crime is the exact same reason why you do, dad." Miles turns to his father now. "You have your suit, I have mine."

Milo jumps in, enthused. "And the reason why I put on my mask is because of him. And the civilians, too... of course. But it's not because I 'wanna feel like a big man', dad. It's because it drives me crazy seeing my own brother taking on all of this responsibility on his shoulders all by himself. Miles is gonna do crazy things now that he got bit by a super-spider, right? We literally cannot stop him, even if we tried. Trust me. Might as well go along with him and support him so he doesn't get himself killed out there. That's why I do this. Every single day."

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but is then cut off by Rio's own small, sad voice. "... Why does it have to be you two?" She asks quietly.

She looks so small sitting there on their wooden dining room chair, and a million times more tired than when she came in through the door. She wasn't even out of her own nurse's uniform yet, either. Miles felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Miles... did not know the answer to her question either. He really didn't. Why was it him-- out of all of the people in Brooklyn-- that got bit by that spider? Clearly, the universe had a grand, elaborate joke planned for him. That was really probably the only explanation for it all. But, no. No, there had to be something else in the cards for Miles. After all, he was bitten by the spider while out with his uncle who was secretly the Prowler, and he was present for not only Peter Parker's death, but that same uncle as well.

He squared his shoulders. And then told the truth.

"I... don't know," he admitted. "But... I do know this. Growing up, I always knew Spider-man was there to answer the call no matter what. He didn't pick this life of battling bad guys that wanna tear the city up all the time, a spider bit him, too. But he made me promise something before he died, and I have to live up to that promise. What else am I gonna do when I'm able to pick up cars with my bare hands?"

Granted, it was only a promise to stop the collider from opening a black hole inside of the city they lived in, but. Details. Anyways...

Rio hid her face in her hands again.

Miles softened his tone, sitting down. "This is something I worked really, really hard for and it's important to me. Milo... is kinda right. You can ground me. Until college. Or whenever. But as long as I've got these powers," he held his hands open, propping his elbows on his knees and meeting his mom's eyes, "and there's people out there that need saving? I gotta do what I gotta do, mami."

Milo leaned forward, too. "Yeah. Same here. He's not alone. The same reason we do this stuff is cuz... ever since we were little, we also watched you guys answer the call, no matter what. I never met Spider-man, before... y'know, but it doesn't matter. We do this for New York City."

Neither of their parents spoke for a bit, digesting all of this information in solemn silence. The anger from earlier all but melted away as they ruminated over all of this. All this time, their little boy was running around in a spandex costume, swinging around, punching bad guys and lifting fallen buildings off of people. There was... a hint of pride underneath all of the fear and anger and betrayal and anxiety, even Rio couldn't lie.

But god, how would things ever be the same again after knowing that the very hero who swung from building to building and knocked villains down before webbing them up was the very same boy with the brightest brown eyes they've ever seen; the boy who brought home A's on his test like he won a medal, the same boy who sang horribly off-key while doodling all over his sketchbook, who refused to tie his shoelaces and drove Jeff up the wall when he found graffiti and stickers all around the city in Miles' name? It was impossible... Rio's heart broke into two pieces.

And Milo... a tougher counterpart to her little ray of sunshine, but just as sweet. The same boy who would feed stray cats on the block, beam like a ray of light after winning a boxing match against a tough opponent, who would hide behind Rio at parties and join her happily to watch the latest episode of the new telenovela they both got hooked on... that same boy was wearing those gloves, swinging around the city looking like a bad guy himself. Rio's shattered heart gained another huge crack before finally breaking into three pieces.

Finally, she sighed again.

"You have superpowers?" She asked, hesitantly.

"... I... yeah, I do." Miles answered, fearing that this was a trick question.

Rio nodded sadly. "Of course. Of course..."

Jeff spoke up, now kneeling beside his wife, caressing her hand clasped in between both of his. "Just because you have superpowers, doesn't mean you're invincible. Miles, we do this because we care about you. Maybe we won't be able to stop either of you from putting yourself in harm's way... I mean, hell, nobody can stop me. But... god, isn't there any other way?"

Miles raised a brow. "Any other way to...?"

Jeff blew out a breath. "I-I dunno, can't you use your super strength to... well, maybe help the transportation department move some tracks around, build some new stations... that'd help the city. Swing around and deliver medicine to people for free? God, I don't know. I just don't want either of you to jump in front of bullets for other people... man..." he shook his head.

Miles and Milo exchanged glances. "I... I know it's tough to accept this," Miles started, unsure of what to say. "Maybe I can scale back the dangerous stuff some but... I... can't just stand around directing traffic when someone's getting mugged. Or a bank is getting robbed. Dad, I just can't. Maybe you guys will hate it every time I put the suit on and swing outside but... I can't give this up now. I'm sorry." He dipped his head apologetically.

Another long stretch of silence.

A clock ticks on the wall in the kitchen, and the ice maker in the fridge starts humming again. It's all so painfully domestic, painfully ordinary, it's almost an insult to the people living in this apartment facing these serious revelations all at the same time. It sure is a sharp contrast to the solemn mood settling all over everyone right now.

Rio looks deeply into Miles' eyes, then Milo's. After a while, she turns to face Jeff. "Jeff. You will not like what I'm about to say."

Jeff returns her look with one of confusion. "Honey..."

Rio shrugs, a small gesture but one that makes Miles and Milo's hearts skip a beat. "Mi vida, these are our boys. They have... this big responsibility now, to the people here in this city. Just like you. Just like me," she swallows and continues. "You and me? We've seen what Miles is capable of. Well, the both of them. And as much as it hurts, it would probably hurt even more if we kept them both back from being the heroes they need to be. What we need to do now is... we need to support them. We love them. They need us. We need them! Qué más puedo decir?" ³

Jeff looked deeply into his wife's eyes and then inhaled deeply. Not quite a sigh. That was maybe a good sign?

He stands up.

"...Boys."

The twins took their cue. They both stood up, too. Milo quickly discards his ice pack on his chair. Rio joins them, leaning on Jeff for support.

"When police officers get sworn in, they usually just have to do paperwork nowadays. Not too much of the whole bells and whistles due to high turnover rates, but tonight... if either of you want to continue to fight crime in this city, you both have to put your right hand up. Right now."

Miles could cry. Milo bit his lip to try and hide his grin, and they both dutifully raised their right hands at the same time. Jeff does the same, and reaches his left hand out to take Miles'. Rio takes Milo's.

"Pretend we are the Bible. Not paperwork. The Bible."

Both boys nod with all the seriousness they could manage, looking their father in the eyes.

"Do you solemnly swear on your mother and father's life that you will uphold the law and do right by the citizens of Brooklyn, New York, so help you God?"

"I mean... the law law? Cuz sometimes we--" Milo started, immediately earning an elbow to the side. He shut up.

"Yes, the law. I will not be having the DA of New York City up in my home lookin' for you two in case anyone gets badly hurt. I don't want him in my office, either." Jeff gives them both a look.

Miles pipes up. "Yes, we swear, so help us God."

"Milo?"

Milo nods emphatically. "Yes, I swear, so help me God."

Jeff nods once.

"Mijos. You will both be allowed to go and fight crime outside, con mi bendiciones. But. But... you will both also do it under two conditions. If either of you break my rules, you will have wished that spider never bit you," Rio glared at Miles. Then to Milo, "and you will have wished you never stole your uncle's gloves from his apartment. Got it?"

Both boys nodded, still holding onto their parents' hands.

"So, my two rules are this. Only two. Easy to remember, okay? Number one. Milo, you will take care of your brother as best as you can. Miles, you will take care of Milo as best as you can. Both of you will always be seen together when going out and doing hero things, do you understand?"

"Yes, mamí" the boys say simultaneously.

"Never, ever go out alone, ever. Neither of you will be alone for even a second, especially during the nighttime. Promise me this."

Miles puts his right hand down to take his mother's other hand in his. "Yes, mom. I promise. We both promise."

Rio bows her head. "...And as for my second rule."

"Do we have to have a curfew?" Milo asks quietly. Everyone shoots him a look again.

"No, no curfew." Before the boys could get excited, she quickly adds, "except for on school nights." They both calm back down.

"Your education is always, always more important. Don't forget this," she lets go of their hands to hold up a finger. "But as for my second rule? No more secrets between us. All of us. Okay? You tell me exactly when it is you leave to go and do what you need to do, and exactly when you come back. Promise me this, too."

This time, it was Miles' turn to start saying something dumb. "I meaann, like every single time? Cuz sometimes it's not really a one-and-done kinda thing, like a shift or--"

Everyone glares at Miles. Miles promptly shuts up.

"...Sí, mamí. Te prometemos todo eso." ⁴ Milo answers seriously.

Rio sucks in a breath. "Okay. Okay..."

She looks as if she's about to burst into tears, so everyone draws in tightly for a group hug. Rio sniffles against Milo's shoulder and Jeff leans his chin on Mile's head. Miles laughs wetly.

"Geez, y'all are crying? Man, for what? Ain't nobody dying or anything..." Milo interjects suddenly, causing the whole mood to dissipate all at once. Everyone laughs incredulously.

"Boy, if you don't know how to read a room..." Jeff starts, a warning tone laced into his playful grin.

"Man, I was just trying to lighten the mood! Damn, I mean shouldn't we be celebrating? Miles literally has super strength, you guys. Like c'mon, right? That is literally the coolest thing in the whole world!"

Rio groans, tossing her head back. "Mira esté, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... déjame agarrarte, maldito cabron..." ⁵ she mutters sarcastically, moving to grab at Milo's neck in the exact same way Miles did not even an hour earlier. He playfully dodged out of the way, putting his arms up to block, out of habit.

"Cabron?! Mom, you're so mean!" Milo complained.

"C'mere!"

Jeff leans in and interrupts their banter. "Milo. Son. You have to sit with me on the couch now, cuz we have to have a little chat about how you got your hands on those gloves, actually..." He grabs at one of Milo's arms, his smile just a tad bit too wide. Milo gulps.

Jeff continues, steering them both away from Miles and Rio. "And we also have to talk a bit about the history behind those things, too..."

Rio turns to Miles and cups his cheeks in her hands, looking into his eyes. "Do you actually, actually swear to me that you will try your hardest to stay safe?"

"Yes, mom, I do! We said it like a hundred times."

"Your father was right. Just because you have super strength now--"

"And super-healing."

Rio stares at him for a beat.

Miles squirms nervously. "...What? I do!"

"Super-healing, sure. Uh huh. If I catch you with bullet holes inside of you, I am not taking you to the ER then, Mr. Invincible."

"Ouch. Harsh."

"I warned you! I'm smiling like I'm joking but I'm really not!"

"Okay, okay, geez. C'mon, ma. It's really not that big of a deal. I don't get shot at as much as you'd think! Seriously! I'm fast. And... and I've been doing this for a while now. You have to trust me, okay?"

Rio sobered up. "I know. I know. I just... mi amor, I am your mother. I worry about you. You know... I've been taking care of my two little boys for so many years now. I just... I care about the both of you even when you two drive me completamente loca! I trust that you can both handle yourselves, I really do. It's just hard. It is. I-it'll... take some time to get used to."

Miles nodded. "Growing up is tough. I get it."

Rio smacked him on the shoulder.

"Ow! What, it's true! We're all growing up right now, I'm not a little kid anymore and... and you're not the mom of two little kids now. It's just... it's a transitional period! Life's tough!" Miles shrugs, smiling warmly.

Rio smirked, crossing her arms. "Uh huh. It sure is."

Then, she opened her arms for another hug from Miles, which he happily returned.

"I mean it, Miles. Whatever happens, I want you to keep yourselves safe. And ask for help. Papí, your father is a police officer. And whatever you need, whatever you need... I'm here, too."

Miles beamed at his mother with tears in his eyes.

"I know, mom. Thank you."

☆ translations:

¹ "my god, i'm going to die."

² "god, grant me patience, fuck!"

³ "what more can i say?"

⁴ "yes, mom. we promise you all of that."

⁵ "Lookit this guy, 'coolest thing in the whole world'... lemme get my hands on you, fucking bastard..."

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins vigilantes: getting found out pt 1

hey yall im in my fic writing era. but i am BAD at writing LMFAO i'm really not sure i'll ever write a proper fic with a plot or anything

either way, i hope yall like this lil drabble my brain came up with on a whim of the morales twins!

it's how i imagine the way their secret would be revealed after doing the whole vigilante thing together for a lil bit. it's kind of based on the hcs i had of the twins which is here, kind of a continuation of the last bullet point there actually

miles1610 is miles and miles42 is milo bc i read a couple fics with that name given to him and now it is stuck in my heart u_u

>2nd part here<

well. uh. hope u enjoy! :)

It was a fight that went slightly awry that really did them in.

No blood, no fireworks, no loud banging or explosions or anything. No one was even so badly hurt that they almost died, either.

It was simply just… a broken mask and their father unexpectedly being on patrol that fateful night that finally brought their secret out to light.

The Morales twins had been doing their vigilante thing together for only a few months now. Miles had been Spider-man for well over a year, of course, but it was after a particularly bad fight with a rhinoceros guy (what a freak…) that went semi-viral on social media that his brother Milo finally put his foot down and pulled those Prowler gloves from under his bed. He worked hard to modify the technology to better suit him, and had all of the armor and rope he needed in order to keep up with his brother all set in as little as 2 weeks.

Miles hemmed and hawed about bringing his not-super-powered brother around for the nasty fights he usually tackled alone. But he would be lying if he said that Milo’s concern didn’t put a small smile on his face in the end. Plus, it really helped out a lot when Miles needed to be somewhere quickly but still had a criminal left to take on and web up. Milo being just one text away from springing into action took a real big load off of his shoulders in ways he couldn’t even imagine.

That was about 3 months ago.

It was relatively smooth sailing until one Jefferson Davis took a night patrol under his belt without even warning the boys.

Well, Miles thought to himself in retrospect, we weren’t really around the house to catch if he did tell anyone, so.

Miles ran along a side of a building to catch up with the villain of the week. He was desperately trying to keep this super-powered baddie off of his not-so-super-powered brother, and not quite succeeding. Miles told Milo time and again not to tease any bad guys during a fight. Keep the attention off of you, bro. You do not have superpowers. I do! Is that not what Miles said? God, it’s like in one ear and out the other with this guy. Ugh.

Currently, Milo is parrying and deflecting attacks from this shocker-looking guy, a real piece of work. He still had his hi-vis vest on-- and Miles swore he even saw a name tag on it somewhere which was just hilarious, really-- but aside from his normal-looking work outfit, everything else about this dude was definitely not normal. Like the bright electricity fizzing all over his skull that just barely concealed this man’s real face, and the giant lightning bolts shooting out from his hands as he tried to fry Milo. It was a good thing Milo had enough sense to install energy-absorbing tech into those giant claws of his, or else Miles would be in real big trouble at the ER.

Miles ripped a chunk of some abandoned demolition project that never got done and swung it with all of his might in the direction of their fight, using his webs for maximum distance. It didn’t hit electro-dude but it almost hit his brother. Oops.

“Ayo, watch it!” Prowler growled, his mask distorting his voice the same way it distorted Uncle Aaron’s back when he held the mantle. He gracefully flipped out of the way and shot a grappling hook somewhere off into some scaffolding, pulling himself away from the action to let his bro fly in and give the temporarily-distracted electric-man some work.

Miles would snap back with a retort if he weren’t so busy pummeling this villain with all that he’s got. Both boys’ curfews were about an hour ago and they just knew their mom would be fuming once she got back and found out. But this needed taking care of, and neither Morales boys were willing to leave some freak of nature to take over Brooklyn and shut down all the power lines over a bedtime. Hell no.

But this needed to end now, or else good ol’ Spidey won’t be seeing the light of day for another 2 months. And by the looks of it, neither will the Prowler. Before Miles could even think to land the finishing blow on old lightning-head here though, tragedy struck.

An all-too familiar voice hollers out those dreaded words both boys hate hearing, especially in the middle of a fight.

“PDNY! Freeze! Put your hands up where we can see ‘em!”

Everyone did freeze, Milo looking particularly shocked as his head swivels around to the sight of waving flashlights and 3 burly but familiar silhouettes making their way past the far gates and advancing quickly into the fray.

Jefferson Davis’ gun appears to almost materialize out of the shadows, his face lit up in the harsh lights of his flashlight beam, sporting an intimidating, professional look. Cop mode, is what Miles and Milo called it jokingly one day as they lounged in their room, passing a bag of chips between them and having a laugh at their dad’s expense. That was before Milo took on the mantle of the Prowler. That was before this.

Miles panics slightly as he feels the man jump up underneath him, thrusting an arm into the police’s direction, ready to fire off a bolt--

Right after Milo lunges in front of the officers, ready to take the blast.

It happens in a fraction of a second. Miles didn’t even think he had enough time to open his mouth, let alone warn Jeff of the incoming danger. He figures that’s what Milo must’ve thought, too, otherwise there really was no other explanation for this stupid decision he just made.

Sparks flew, and then the thud of a body hitting the floor seemed to echo throughout the demolition site.

Shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit, was Miles’ inner monologue as he finally landed the blow to the side of the baddie’s head, knocking him out successfully. He quickly webbed the man up to the floor, restraining him fully. The way I shoulda done in the first place, damnit, Miles lamented, freezing in place after the deed was done. His brain was working into overdrive to try and think of ways he could extract his now-nearly unconscious brother from this place without raising their dad’s suspicions.

Ever since Prowler joined in on Spider-man’s “adventures”, the media became even more fascinated with capturing every single moment it could of Spidey now that he had a sidekick in tow.

Headlines splashed on magazines, articles and news feeds read: “Batman and Robin! Spider-man and… the Prowler?” and “Webbed Menace Recruits Purple Sidekick, Even More of a Menace”. They haunted Miles’ every step. Milo, for his part, was mostly amused. But every now and then he would complain about being known as his brother’s sidekick, as if that was the most egregious part of having his every move recorded and uploaded for millions to see online.

Their mother became even more suspicious of her twin sons after she watched a video of the two vigilantes stopping a runaway bus in downtown Brooklyn. They looked eerily similar in size to her own teenage boys, and even seemed to banter the same way after all of the civilians were saved and back on solid ground. The way Spider-man clapped Prowler on the shoulder… hmmm.

To say that she shared her suspicions with her husband would be an understatement. Milo and Miles somehow always managed to catch a familiar cop car slowly rolling around corners and down streets, keeping pace just behind them, watching them. Miles would always roll his eyes, knowing it was their father. Milo would be annoyed but managed to shrug and keep minding his own business, since it was very obviously their father. When confronted, Jeff would try-- and fail-- to casually brush it off as simply doing Concerned Dad things.

“Listen, you two.” Jeff started one evening after dinner. He managed to get both boys down in their room one weekend, just for “a quick talk”. His excuse was that Brooklyn was getting too dangerous lately, especially at night, and that he was “gonna keep an eye on them” as a precaution.

But neither boy missed that slight nervous shift in his stance as he delivered the news, and once their dad bade them a good night and left, they gave each other a silent look that conveyed the exact same thought they were both thinking.

They’re onto us.

Well, their parents’ fears and suspicions were definitely going to be confirmed whether the twins liked it or not.

Milo groaned on the ground, the Prowler gauntlets having taken the majority of the blast sent his way, but the mask was halfway blown off, revealing a good portion of the boy’s face underneath. He rocked in place for a moment, blinking stars and dancing lights out of his eyes for just that one moment.

“Prowler!!” Miles shouted. In his panic, he forgot to lower his voice and conceal his identity, but his feet just wouldn’t move! What the hell, Morales… get it together! His brother was just badly injured and here he was, frozen in place like a deer.

Jeff, for his part, was barking orders to his coworkers and directing them to make a sweep of the place in case any other suspects tried to make a run for it.

They both left. He finally jolted his bright beam of light onto Spider-man, simply standing there a little ways away and staring back with those unnervingly gigantic bug-eyes of his. If Jeff wasn’t in work-mode right now, he’d explode on this guy and ask about what the hell was going on here, but Officer Davis was nothing if not a consummate professional.

Plus, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

There was what seemed like a teenage boy on the ground, wearing those goddamned gauntlets that Jeff could’ve sworn he shipped off to the junkyard after Aaron’s funeral. Damnit, if this punk was running around wearing his brother’s mantle and tagging along with Spider-man just to double-cross him in the end, there was gonna be hell to pay.

Jeff didn’t know why, but he felt slightly protective of the bug-themed hero, damnit. Sue him. And those claws brought nothing but terrible memories of screaming women, dead brothers and heightened stress. He did not need this right now, fuck.

Once the boy on the ground stirred, Jeff quickly pointed his gun and flashlight beam directly onto him. “Those orders were for you, too, punk. Do not try me tonight. Freeze. Put your hands out where I can see ‘em!”

Milo froze on the ground, and then tried to twist his face away from his looming father who was only a foot or two away with the world’s brightest flashlight in his face, fuuuuck. He just knew he was gonna be feeling this headache for the next 3 days…

Tentatively, he also raised his claws in front of his face as slowly as he could, trying to cover his face even more. He propped himself up on his elbows and tried to regulate his breathing.

Having a cop for a dad was not always peachy, but it helped a lot to know exactly how an officer would react if any sudden movements were made while having a gun out, and Milo was not trying to get a bullet to the chest on top of the mother of all electric shocks as well. No thank you.

It was in this moment that Miles’ brain started working again, and he unstuck himself from the pavement to reach out to his dad.

“Offi-- ahem, ahem. Officer Davis,” he remembered to lower his tone and conceal his voice a bit as well, and continued, “what a surprise to see you here. On this, uh. This very beautiful night!”

Groan. Oh my god. Even Milo rolled his eyes a bit, trying to shuffle back.

“I said FREEZE!” Jeff roared, attention still trained on Milo.

Without glancing up, he added, “And you Spider-man. Oh, buddy you are gonna get it after I’m done with this little asshole, runnin’ around with my brother’s-- man, y’know what-- nevermind! Just stay back, okay? I got this handled.”

“But wait! Th-that’s uh. He’s not an asshole, officer, he’s my-- my sidekick! He’s the good guy!! He helped me take this guy down! And he even saved you just now!” Miles waved his hands around frantically, agitating Jeff.

Stop doing that, stupid! Milo thought to himself in a daze, still recovering from the electric blast.

“Stay back, Spider-man. I’m warning you.” Jeff growled.

Miles picked up the hint and halted his movements, giant white eyes flicking back up and down from his dad to his brother and back. He had to think of something, or else Milo would be dragged back to a holding cell and both of their identities would be out. He just couldn’t let that happen.

Biting his lip, Miles gathered some resolve and stepped forward again. “Officer Davis—”

“Not another word outta you!” Jeff swung the flashlight right back onto Miles threateningly, and then trained it back onto Milo again. “I am serious right now, Spidey. One more word outta you and I’m slappin’ the cuffs on you too, I swear to god! I got more than enough room in the back of the squad car for two freaks!”

Miles recoiled. “Freaks. Geez, is that what you think of us?”

But Jeff didn’t answer, because he was all of a sudden deathly silent.

Both of the other officers just finished their sweep of the area, and were making their way back to Jeff when he all of a sudden kneeled down, still training that gun on Prowler’s face. But his movements were slow and hesitant, as if he were performing them in a daze.

Miles’ spider senses should’ve been tingling by now, at the very least a little. Still, he stayed glued to his spot as he watched Officer Davis-- as if in slow motion-- shifting his flashlight and gun into one hand, lowering both slightly and away from Prowler’s shattered mask.

As his other hand reached out, Milo flinched, but he didn’t need to. Jeff simply carded his calloused fingers over his hair, his braid on the one side of his head, in reverence. Milo couldn’t breathe. He was too scared to speak.

And then everyone’s blood ran cold at the same time.

Jeff saw the beads of Milo’s favorite basketball team colors, ones that he was excited to get again at the barber shop last weekend, simply hanging there tied to the ends of the Prowler’s braid, sitting limply in his hand. Milo’s blood ran cold once he realized exactly what it was that his own father was looking at. He didn’t need to reveal his face whatsoever when his now-exposed hair told the whole story anyways.

Miles’ spider senses finally kicked up once Jeff looked up slowly, an absolutely ruined expression rippling across his worn-out features as he really gave Spider-man a good, hard look, eyes playing over what little he could see of the vigilante in the darkness of night.

For a split second, no one said anything.

Even electro-head seemed to be silent as he came to and tried to sneakily rip the webs off of him. No dice. He finally turned his attention to the trio not too far away and opened his mouth.

“Hey, what the hell is this, some family reunion or something? Let me outta here, man! Goddamn, what a fuckin’ punch, man… shit…”

Everyone startled at the same time, turning their attention to the villain. Damn, almost forgot about him.

The other officers finally arrived to surround the other angles behind Spider-man, one of them even kneeling down beside electric-- whatever, the villain of the week-- and started cutting him out of the sticky ropes to put him in cuffs.

“Don’t even think about it,” one of them grunted once they got to his hands and saw a tingle of electricity surging through fingertips. “We got dampeners in my squad car if you try anything cute, got it?”

Jeff slowly holstered his gun, keeping the flashlight trained on the Prowler, unable to tear his eyes from this boy lying on the ground at his feet.

“Davis…? You good?” This was the officer who wasn’t busy wrangling sticky webs off of the baddie. He had his flashlight and gun trained on said baddie of course, but his head was swiveled to look at his captain.

Jeff swallowed hard and nodded slowly, a weirdly mechanical kind of movement.

“…Okay. Hey, Spidey. Thanks for this, I guess,” said the officer, keeping his concerned gaze trained on Jeff, shrugging a shoulder. “Too bad about your friend though. Hope he’ll be fine.”

It took Miles a second to recognize that iconic mustache, and then it dawned on him that it was his dad’s faithful friend and his own sidekick, Officer Gutierrez. How ironic, Miles thought ruefully.

He turned back to his dad, who was now helping Prowler up from the ground and steadying him against his side.

“What’re we doing with these two?” Gutierrez asks, because someone has to.

Jeff startles, as if he was just asleep and happened to wake up. “Uhh, about...?”

Gutierrez gave him a look. “The mask guy under your arm. And, uh. This guy,” he points his chin towards VOTW (villain of the week) as he’s being hauled up forcibly by the other officer, now in giant sturdy cuffs binding his arms together.

“The… that guy. Electric man. Just… just put those dampeners on his hands and take him down to HQ. They’ll probably just ship him off to the Raft. Let me know when you guys get there, of course. I’ll uhm. I think I’m gonna be taking my break right now.”

“You taking the mask-man all by yourself, then, captain?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. It’s… something personal to me, to be seeing these claws on this boy. I’m sorry. I think I might explain later but right now, we gotta get that guy behind some kinda bars. Please, Gutierrez.”

Gutierrez gives him an unreadable expression, and Jeff shoots an apologetic look back.

Finally, his partner gives a small nod and turns back to the task at hand. Miles breathes out a sigh of relief.

But it was a breath too soon.

“Spider-man. Prowler. The both of you. My car. Now.”