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missluthorwillseeyounow · 1 year ago

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What do you do when someone you love is a psychopath and a serial killer? How do you pick up your life and move on from it?

If you're Lionel Luthor, you don't. Your son betrays you and the legacy you built for him, and so your heart betrays you too. You sit at your desk with those damn pills your quack of a doctor prescribed and one too many drinks. You feel a warning twinge on your arm before excruciating pain, red and angry, blooms in your chest, and you never see the morning.

The only good thing about this is that you never see your son go to trial for killing 47 people over a span of 6 years. People whisper that you are one of Lex Luthor’s victims.

If you’re Lillian Luthor, you don’t either. You clean the damned mess these Luthor men left you. You take over the company that your husband had the gall to leave you, just as he left you with your only daughter. You clean up the tatters of your family’s reputation and legacy that your son left behind.

In the eyes of the world, you move on. You rise, finally able to flex the muscles so long held back by your husband and the rest of the world's expectations. And you bring Luthor Corp with you.

The millstone of the trials and scandal hang heavy on your neck, but all your life you have taught yourself to walk gracefully among lesser beings with your back straight and your head held high, just as you did as a young girl with textbooks on your head. This is no different.

But once a month, you make a pilgrimage to Stryker’s Island. To Lex. To the son you loved the best way you knew how, the only way you knew how - with a firm grip and the relentless, uncompromising push to achieve excellence, the intractable determination to make him grow into his fullest potential. That this potential was realized in murder, malice and manipulation was not your intent, but the world is far too quick and vindictive in their judgement because he is a Luthor. The mightiest always fall the farthest, and those beneath them wait hungrily for the chance to pull them down.

Your daughter leaves you too. The daughter who emerged, not from your body, but from your husband's infidelity. The same one who once looked up at you with eyes full of innocent trust that you vowed you would reciprocate in the best way you knew how. And so you did your best to prepare her, to mold her in your own image - into what a Luthor woman should be in this cruel, savage world that both worships and hates Luthors.

You’ve seen what the world does to Luthors who do or say the smallest wrong thing and you never want her to suffer those whispers and so you tell her yourself. Better she hears it from family than the mouths and forked tongues of strangers.

But she is too hard-headed and too soft-hearted to comply. She rejects your bequest, the ungrateful girl, and tries to escape the Lena Luthor you tried so hard to cultivate all these years.

As if you don't know. As if you could forget that it was her who brought this down upon all of you. Her, and that detestable Clark Kent.

And if you are Lena Luthor, you cannot move on. You cannot escape it. No matter how far you stray from your family. No matter how many reparations you make, no matter how hard you strive to separate yourself from the curse it brings -- it always finds you.

It finds you in the dark hours when you’re by yourself without the touch of another woman or the burn of alcohol to distract you - and suddenly you’re a scared little girl again, walking into an ominous house made of grim oak, unforgiving marble and dark shadows. And the only warmth you receive is not from a largely absent and formidable father nor from a condescending and controlling mother, but from a charismatic and mercurial brother who taught you how to play chess and promised you the world.

But it turns out his shadow was the darkest of all, and you didn't see until it was too late.

How could you not see it?

You were just a girl at that time, Agent J'onzz once tried to comfort you with that fact. Back when Lex was arrested.

Just a schoolgirl home for the holidays -- shoes polished as bright as the naivete in your eyes, uniform pressed to Lillian's exact standards, picture perfect but always with just one tiny detail you forgot that was enough to attract notice and invite criticism. This time it was the glasses sitting slightly crooked on your face.

You were more concerned with weathering the scorching disapproval just long enough until you got back to boarding school that you failed to notice Lex's distance. You failed to recognize the signs. You failed to decode his lies.

You failed.

By the time you got back to boarding school, he would have killed 2 more people.

By the time you caught on, he'd already killed 31. Those lives are all on you, because you were so absorbed by yourself, you didn't see what was happening under your nose. And those 3 agents Lex killed because he refused to come quietly? The judge and jury he poisoned at the trial? That's on you too.

Forty-seven lives taken. Forty seven more than there should have been if you hadn't been so blind.

If only you hadn't been comforted by the gentle hand holding yours under the table throughout Lillian's litanies of your shortcomings everytime you were home from school. If only you hadn't fallen for the "adventures" he had tricked you into that always ended with you in disgrace or punished, like that time you stole Lionel's prized pen from the King of Jordan, just for him.

If only you hadn't believed the fairy-tale dream of the two of you escaping to the snow-covered mountain peak, of finally being free of the Luthors’ oppressive presence.

And now he's serving 20 consecutive life sentences, and you've devoted your life to studying and stopping people like him.

Now you have 10 years of experience as a profiler and an undercover operative for both the Interpol and the FBI. Your work has taken you from Toran, to Kaznia, to Corto Maltese, to Metropolis, and now to National City.

You have seen the worst humanity has to offer, from terrorists to human traffickers to serial killers. But you keep looking into the abyss.

Because you looked into it once, you stared it in the face, and you didn't recognize it for what it was.

_________

Or, a Supercorp Criminal Minds AU

There's actually 3 major plots in this, and they all intersect in varying ways

The first is Lex as a serial killer

The second is about Sam and Reign

The third is the most vague one, which includes Lena’s birth mother and Leviathan

It starts (as the intro says) with Lex being a serial killer who killed 47 people. In one version of this story, Clark is a reporter who, like Lena, made the connection between Lex and the murders. One night after dinner with the Luthors, Clark sneaks into Lex’s study to find evidence he can use for his story.

He’s rummaging in a desk when he hears a voice from the doorway.

“You won’t find anything there.” Clark whips around to find Lena standing there, silhouetted against the light coming from the hall. He tenses, thinking she’s about to tell her brother what Clark was doing.

“If Lex really is behind these murders, and I know you think he is, you won’t find anything there. He’s not foolish enough to hide evidence here."

Clark doesn’t say anything, he just stares at her. Lena pauses, looking away. "I… I didn’t want to believe it. Not Lex… He wouldn’t…” Steel injects itself into her green gaze. “But the more time I spend with him, the more clearly I see the truth. You see it too, don’t you?"

Clark straightens up and nods gravely. “Yes.”

The FBI eventually becomes involved in the investigation, and the team includes a certain agent on the fast track to becoming the unit chief, J’onn J’onzz.

J’onn meets Lena only briefly, but he’s struck by the young girl’s keen intelligence and remarkable calm. (Eventually, he becomes the one who suggests that Lena consider a career in profiling and criminal psychology).

Fast forward a couple of decades later, Lena is working with the BAU. The other members of the team here are J'onn, Alex, James, Brainy and Winn. Lena is a transfer from Interpol, and she's had years of experience in profiling, suspect and victim identification, as well as infiltration, under her belt (I also hc that she worked briefly with the CIA and the MI6, mostly in intel, profiling and undercover work).

For the sake of her anonymity (and also because it was necessary for her undercover work), she's erased all connections to Lex and the Luthors (including old photographs and newspaper articles until the name Lena Luthor is but a footnote in the Luthor history with nothing to tie her to who she is now). She's also changed her last name. (I'm torn because I just don't know if I can use the name Walsh for Lena, it doesn't sound.. right? Idk So for now, she's Agent Kieran).

Lena is very professional, almost intimidating. She’s revered by the younger agents in the Bureau, well-respected by her colleagues and highly praised by her superiors. But she's very guarded and keeps everyone at arm's length, doesn't go out for after-work drinks with the others, practically sleeps with one eye open — years of working undercover and living with a serial killer will do that to you.

Until a certain promising young recruit comes along.

Kara is new in town — the adopted sister of Alex Danvers, the cousin of one of J'onn's old friends (I don't think teaming family members up is actually allowed in the FBI, so some suspension of disbelief is required here). Lena is assigned to oversee her training and transition into the team herself.

Kara's sunny demeanor couldn't clash more with Lena's icy, professional facade. Lena approaches the task with thinly-veiled impatience and something remarkably close to disdain.

However, Kara quickly proves to be more than a perky attitude and a pretty smile. She squirms at blood, which Lena is quick to exploit at first (What FBI profiler can't stand the sight of a corpse? "We profile serial killers here, not celebrities in high-waisted jeans.").

But Kara displays true empathy to the victims and their families, she's sensitive to other people's emotions and knows just what to say to get a reluctant victim or witness talking. She's extremely dedicated to catching the unsubs, and relentless in her investigation. Not to mention, she's extremely handy to have around in a crisis.

Lena finds this last part out when they're on a case, trying to find a missing girl.

The team is headed to the unsub's apartment, but on a hunch, Lena heads to an abandoned warehouse near the apartment, with only Kara as backup. They enter the warehouse, and just as they're clearing the rooms and checking for the missing girl, the unsub attacks Lena and manages to pin her to the ground, choking her. Kara gets there just in time to shoot the unsub in the leg, saving Lena's life.

Later that evening, Kara and the rest of the team go to the bar to celebrate. Lena is absent, as usual.

Just as Kara is getting another round of drinks at the bar, a low, smoky voice interrupts her. "Didn't profile you as a drinker, Danvers.”

Kara squeaks, nearly dropping the drinks, and turns to see Lena smirking behind her. “I wonder what other surprises you're hiding behind those glasses and cardigans."

"Agent Kieran! I didn’t expect to see you here— No, these aren't all for me, I— " Lena's face softens at Kara's babbling, and she takes a few of the shot glasses from Kara's hands.

"You know, I have a rule..." A wry smile lifts one corner of her lipsticked mouth. "Anyone who saves my life gets to call me Lena."

Kara blushes profusely at the other woman’s arched eyebrow. "Well then, if I'm calling you Lena..."

Lena smirks. "Kara it is, then."

For the first time — much to the gaping surprise of the rest of the team she's worked with for years — Lena joins them for a post-case drink.

To everyone's — and no one's — surprise, the pair quickly become the best of friends.

Two days into their friendship, Lena starts jokingly calling Kara Supergirl. Three weeks later, they start grabbing lunch together. Three months in, Kara sends Lena a video of herself petting a St. Bernard on the street only to be bowled over in a mass of furry paws and puppy licks — and the cadets Lena is training are even more bowled over to hear the "Ice Queen" laugh. Of course, they're later treated with a scorching glare and a sharp reprimand, but it's a revelation just to discover that she's actually physically capable of laughing.

By six months, the whole department is in a secret "will they or won't they" betting pool. A year in, and every other department has stakes in the pool (Alex publicly condemns the pool, but secretly bets a hundred bucks that "they will" by winter).

One time while they're eating lunch together, Kara tells Lena why she became a profiler when her career was in journalism.

"It just felt... too late. I'd be covering these stories about these terrible things, people who were already victims, and I thought... it's too late... Don't get me wrong, I loved being a reporter. Journalism was a way to bring truth out there, to give voices to these victims, but.... I wanted - needed - to do something more. I wanted to stop these things from happening. To keep these people from becoming victims."

But despite their growing closeness, Lena has yet to tell Kara about Lex, or about her life before the BAU.

She doesn't tell Kara about the woman she'd loved once, who hates her now because of the lies Lena told her. She doesn't tell her about Reign. She doesn’t tell Kara about the sweet young girl living far, far away, who plays soccer and loves to sing and read. The little girl Lena loves from afar, but knows only through secret updates from James, because it's for her own good.

Because that sweet little girl that Lena hasn't seen since she was a baby deserves to live a life that's whole and good — away from those who love her, but could hurt her. Whether she's thinking about Sam or herself, Lena doesn't know.

There are too many secrets, Lena decides, as she shoves them all one by one into their little boxes, clamping the lid securely shut. Kara is too good to be tainted by any of them.

Kara, who gets squeamish at the sight of blood, but resolutely hunts each killer like an avenging angel. Kara, who somehow, somehow still believes in the good in people.

And when she realizes that there is very little of that to be found in Lena Kieran or Lena Luthor, Kara will hate her as much as Lena hates herself.

But then the day comes when Lena receives a package in the mail.

She reaches in and pulls out two things: one, a chess piece — the white knight — and the other, a surveillance photo of Kara and Lena having lunch together.

On the back of the photograph are three cryptic little words that fill her with dread: “See you soon, sis.”

Panic overrides logic and years of training, and Lena stashes the package and its cursed contents into her safe. Heart racing, she calls the warden at Strykers. It takes several favors, but she manages to procure video footage confirming that her brother is still incarcerated. Despite the visual confirmation, she doesn’t sleep a wink that night, nor the night after.

Everything is quiet after that, so quiet that Lena is almost lulled, if not into a sense of complacency, then at least a state of less vigilance. Everyone needs a breather, a reprieve from paranoia at some point, and that is exactly what Lex is counting on.

A string of seemingly-unrelated murders heralds Lex's return, luring the BAU — and Lena — closer and closer. Lena knows she should leave, and leave soon. The closer the team gets to figuring out it's Lex, the more danger they're in — not just Kara, but the rest of the team that Lena has now come to care for.

But Kara, being Kara, holds onto Lena and keeps her from leaving.

Kara knows her too well now. She knows that something is wrong. She pushes without pushing, in that earnest yet respectful way, relentless in her concern for the people she cares about, yet still mindful and considerate in her efforts. It's one of the things Lena loves about her.

And then, after coming home from a case one night — Kara is shot by an intruder in her apartment.

The whole team is thrown into chaos trying to find Kara’s assailant. They all agree that the attack cannot be random, but there’s a frustrating lack of evidence anywhere.

But Lena knows.

The lack of clues is a glaring clue in and of itself. She knows this is Lex’s handiwork. Her brother’s way of getting back at her for “telling on him”, just like he used to when they were children. Except the stakes are infinitely higher this time, and he has gone too far.

And Lena — who should've known — didn't prevent it. She was too selfish, too greedy, wanting more time — more time with Kara, more time with her team, her family — and now this is the result.

Lena knows that Lex will go after everything and everyone she loves, because he wants to hurt her. Luthors are not raised on half-measures. Win the game, or burn the board. He will not stop, Lena knows this. Not until either of them is dead.

While half the team is waiting at Kara’s bedside, and the other half is delving into Kara’s case — two people are noticeably missing.

Alex can’t bear to see her sister looking so weak and vulnerable in that hospital bed.

Instead, she goes to Kara's apartment to clean her sister’s blood off the wall before Kara gets home from the hospital.

She's just getting a bucket full of soapy water when she hears movement at the door. Alert, Alex already has her gun out and trained at the door.

When the door opens, all Alex sees is a flash of black hair and wide green eyes before she gets a gun aimed at her too.

"Lena?? What the fuck?! What are you doing here??"

Alex puts her gun down slowly, her heart still hammering. Lena cautiously does the same, her hands held out to her sides.

Alex gestures at the door "How did you—?"

"Kara gave me the key three months ago." Lena's eyes haven't lost their wary edge, but she has the decency to look a bit abashed. "She said I could come over anytime."

"Yeah, but Kara's still in the hospital. What are you doing here?"

"I know that," Lena slants her a light glare as she looks around Kara's apartment. "I just — I wanted to make sure the place is secure, and... well... I didn't want Kara to come home to that."

She gestures at the blood-spattered wall, but looks away quickly. As if she, like Alex, can't bear to stand the sight of Kara's blood.

It's funny. They're both seasoned agents, they deal with horrific things on an almost daily basis. The sight of blood rarely fazes either of them anymore. Except this is Kara's blood.

It seems impossible that Lena could get any paler, but here she is, as white as a ghost and looking just as sick as Alex feels. And yet, she's still here. Out of everyone in Kara's circle of friends and family, only Alex and Lena are here, performing a task that somehow seems more terrible than anything either of them have encountered.

It's in this moment that it begins to dawn on Alex just how special Lena is. How special she may still become.

Alex bends down and drags the bucket of soapy water to the wall. She doesn't look at Lena, and instead focuses on the wall and swallows down bile at the sight of her sister's blood. Over her shoulder, she mutters "Grab a sponge."

"That's not gonna be enough. We, um—" Lena clears her throat and chokes out. "— need bleach."

Alex nods curtly. "Under the kitchen sink."

Lena gets the bleach, and the two of them silently begin scrubbing Kara's blood off her walls, and that's that. Once they're done, Alex gets a couple of beers that Kara keeps especially for Alex in her fridge and offers one to Lena.

Then Alex gives her a mild version of a shovel talk lol

And then, two days before Kara is released from the hospital, the news breaks. Lex Luthor, convicted serial killer, has escaped from prison.

All eyes are focused on the BAU screen, except J’onn’s. He turns to his left. Lena Kieran watches the television without batting an eye.

Lena waits only until after Kara has come back home, to make sure that she's safe, that Alex is staying with her for now.

Looking at the blonde tucked into blankets on the couch, soft and vulnerable, Lena can't bring herself to say goodbye, so instead, she just leans over to kiss Kara on the forehead and says good night.

Then without a word, without even packing a bag, Lena Luthor leaves National City to lure her brother out of the shadows.

Lena makes her exit just as the team is on the cusp of finding out that Lena Kieran is Lena Luthor.

She leaves her apartment intact, knowing that Kara and the rest of the team will eventually search it. She sticks the surveillance photo of her and Kara on the bedroom mirror and writes on the glass in red lipstick: "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make this right."

J'onn is the only one who knows the truth of who Lena really is, and in the end, he's the one who tells them.

With Lena gone, it's clear to J'onn that she's about to do something monumentally stupid, like sacrifice herself for the team. He gathers everyone, and tells them the truth.

The group is gathered around the conference table, staring at pictures of young Lena on the screen.

Tiny Lena, not even 5 years old, just after she was adopted by the Luthors, her wide green eyes sad and confused, her little hands clutching a worn, well-loved teddy bear.

Six year old Lena and a teenaged Lex Luthor standing together in front of Lena's new school. The little girl in her neat uniform, holding onto the older boy's hand, looking at her big brother with an adoring smile.

Fifteen year old Lena on summer vacation, and a now-adult Lex, the young girl perched on the hood of a restored vintage car with Lex's hand on her shoulder. Lena is thinner, more gaunt, and her smile less bright, but Lex is different. He's grinning at the camera, looking every inch the charismatic billionaire playboy. You would never know from Lex Luthor's easy smile that he had already been killing for 5 years at this point.

Finally, the last Luthor family portrait, taken the year Lex was arrested. They're a beautiful family, there's no denying that. Each person in the photograph is regal and proud — but in each set face, there's a private war being waged. Lena looks far older than her sixteen years. Her face shows no emotion in each cut line, but her eyes betray all: a somber intensity that's impossible to look away from. Lex is the exact opposite. His smile is charming and draws the viewer's gaze, but his eyes are cold and dead. Within 8 months, Lex would be in prison, Lionel would be dead, Lillian would be running the company, and Lena would no longer be a Luthor.

Kara feels... she doesn't know how she feels.

There's anger, shock, confusion and... hurt. A lot of hurt, a heavy ball of it resting on the base of her spine, mixed with the ache of a longing she doesn't understand, something broken that only confuses her more. So she decides to settle on the anger.

Yes, anger is good. It gives her a sense of purpose and clarity, and it doesn't threaten to make her curl up into a tiny ball. She's angry that her best friend — one of the most important people in her life, second only to Alex — has been hiding all of this from her for years. She's angry that Lena, who has taught her so many things — not just about being a profiler, but about life and love and friendship — didn't trust her enough to tell her about any of this.

Anger is good, because it keeps the tears stinging the back of her eyes from falling, because... because Kara's always thought she knows Lena better than anyone. Had believed that out of everyone, Lena had trusted her, Kara Danvers, enough to get to know her. But now, it seems she doesn't really know Lena at all.

The screen flickers.

Everyone blinks up at the screen in confusion as it begins to glitch. Suddenly, the photos of Lena disappear from the monitors. It’s replaced by what looks like a grainy video feed. Kara turns to J’onn, who shakes his head, frowning. This was not his doing.

“What the hell?” Alex frowns up at the monitor and nudges Winn, who immediately squints into his computer screen. “Who’s doing that?”

“I have no idea...” Winn mutters. “Gimme a second...”

It looks like feed from a surveillance video, except it’s showing what looks like a cabin. Even from the pixelated image, it looks well-decorated, expensive, like something from a country home magazine. Outside the far window, Kara can see a view of snow-capped mountains. Outlined in the middle is a dark shadow of a man.

“They live soft, luxurious lives, don’t they? Your so-called friends. Oblivious, unencumbered by knowledge, and so pathetically... mortal. Fragile.” A smooth baritone voice cuts through the static, and Kara’s blood chills. That voice is familiar. “You and I, we have been trained in the hard school of danger and war. Haven’t we, sister mine?”

Another figure steps out of the shadows and into view, and Kara gasps. Even in the grainy image, Lena’s smile is sharp and icy. “Comparing yourself to Alexander the Great now, are you? But then again, you always were trying too hard, Lex.”

I don't know exactly how happens, I haven't figured it out yet, but Lena confronts Lex with the intention of killing him, except she's the one who's "killed".

And Lex, being the sadistic ass that he is, had the whole thing captured on a hidden camera and it's being broadcast on every BAU monitor, for Lena's family to see.

The whole team watches Lena "die".

But Lena had a failsafe. She told someone of her location, maybe Andrea or Jack or Jess idk, and had them standby to help her in case something happened.

The whole time Lex streams their confrontation, Kara is frantic. The table suffers under her fury, splintering with the force of her desperate grip.

Every time they get nowhere trying to track Lena and Lex, Kara punches the walls, and Alex has to hold her sister back, afraid of how Kara is losing control.

When the feed broadcasts Lena's death, it seems almost unremarkable. One second, Lena is standing, the next she's on the floor, lifeless and unmoving.

A deadly silence grips the BAU conference room. No one is moving, not even breathing. It's as if when Lena dropped dead on the feed, so did they. They wait. And wait.. and wait.

Lena doesn't move.

On the screen, Lex checks his sister's vitals and satisfied, steps over his sister's body and out of sight. The camera blacks out.

They all stare dumbly at the screen for a long moment, afraid to move, as if moving from their frozen spots would make it true.

It's Alex who stirs first. She jumps into action, frantic, ordering Winn to get the feed back, but it's impossible. The room erupts in a blaze of action, but Kara... Kara's the only one left staring at the screen, frozen in shock and disbelief, as if she can't believe it's real.

It’s not. It’s not.

In the interim between Lena's death and the reveal that she’s alive, Kara spends every waking moment hunting down Lex or secretly looking into Leviathan (which she also uncovers when she digs deeper into Lena’s life before the Luthors and learns more about Lena’s mother).

Kara goes down so deep into the rabbit hole, that Alex is genuinely afraid for her sister. She almost prays that they don't find Lex Luthor. Not because she doesn't want that man brought to justice, but because she's afraid of what Kara can and will do once she sees him.

Kara hasn't mentioned Lena's name in months. But then again, most of their team hasn't.

In the months since Lena’s death, two new members have been brought int the BAU team, William Dey and Nia Nal.

William and Nia know very little about Lena from the team itself, because her name is hardly mentioned. Nia only knows Lena through her reputation, and through what Alex and the other agents outside of their team have told her.

Alex is the only one in the team who says Lena's name because she hates that everyone tiptoes around it.

Lena was their friend. Her friend, and it's not right that everyone flinches at her name, that they can't look at the plaque of her on the memorial wall. She knows how hard it is to look at Lena's picture there, just as hard as it was to look at Kara's blood on the walls.

But Alex is not gonna be the one to look away. Lena didn't look away when they cleaned Kara's blood off the walls, and Alex will not look away from her either. She's gonna hunt Lex Luthor down like the animal that he is and make him pay for taking Lena from their family.

But Alex is getting worried about Kara.

Her sister doesn’t sleep anymore. Barely eats. Kara doesn't stop — she pores over old files of Lex's murders, goes over the old profile, possible places he might be. Alex is worried about her fixation with Lex. It's not healthy. Kara's grief — or her refusal to grieve — is gonna drive her to the ground.

So she confronts Kara about it.

They're in the BAU conference room when Alex finally speaks up, but Kara meets her gaze head on. With one hand, she points to the empty seat Lena used to favor, right across Kara's. "Lena's chair, Alex. What do you see when you look at it?... Nothing, right? We've left it empty all this time. No one can bear to sit it in. Tell me, what do you see, right now?"

Alex glances over at the chair, then back at her sister "Kara..."

"Tell me what you see, Alex."

Alex sighs. "Nothing."

"Exactly. Nothing." Kara nods, her eyes hard. "Do you wanna know what I see? I see her, Alex. I see Lena sitting across from me, just as clearly as I can see you now.”

Alex swallows at the intensity burning in her sister’s eyes.

“I see her everywhere, Alex. All the time. I see her smile, her eyes, and I—" Kara's voice cuts off with a sob. The agony in her eyes is almost too much for Alex to take. It takes a long moment before Kara can speak again.

"I can't stop, Alex. Whenever I stop and I look at her, I — I know she's - she's gone, but she looks so alive, and I— I know the only way I can get any kind of peace about it is knowing that Lex Luthor has been wiped off the face of the earth."

A frisson of fear shivers down Alex's spine. "Killing Lex won't bring Lena back, Kara."

"I know that, Alex." Kara's eyes are dark as flint. "Believe me. I know."

Sometime after Lena’s “death”, the BAU receives an unannounced visitor.

Lillian Luthor strides into the BAU bullpen, tall and imperial in her furs, her icy glare making everyone it lands on feel small and insignificant.

She strides past the bullpen, past Kara, and comes face to face with J’onn. Her cold blue eyes render everyone in the room silent. She scoffs her hatred into his face.

"Taking my son away from me wasn't enough for you people, was it? You had to take my daughter away from me too. I warned her. I warned her this would be her undoing, and I was right. And now she's dead."

They end up having to work with Lillian to find Lex, because as Lillian says "It takes a Luthor to find a Luthor." [And there's gonna be an interrogation lol. I just have this vague idea of Lillian talking about Lex and Lena.]

"The truth is, I lost Lena long before now.” Kara suspects that this is the closest anyone has come to hearing regret in Lillian Luthor’s voice.

“I was.... harsh on her, in a way I never was with Lex. Lex always had a sharp edge to him, but Lena — Lena was too soft, too vulnerable. A Luthor cannot be soft. Not when the world is watching, waiting for you to make the smallest mistake."

It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. Kara slams her hands on the table, unable to believe the nerve of this woman. J'onn grips her arm in warning, but Kara ignores him, snarling at Lillian, her anger plain on her face. "You abused her! You made her feel unworthy of love, unable to trust anyone—"

Lillian lifts her chin. "I made sure my daughter could face a world that's hungry for Luthor blood. I made her a Luthor."

"She was just a little girl when she came to you!" Kara shouts, her fury growing by the second. "A little girl whose mother just died, who was looking for love, and instead she found you. She trusted you—"

Lillian's voice rises, a flash of heat scorching the cool, detached dignified tones. "I made her strong!"

"She didn't need to be strong!" Kara yells, surging up to her feet, her face inches away from Lillian. J'onn grabs her shoulder, restraining, but Kara presses forward. "She needed someone to love her! And you answered that with nothing but condescension and neglect! The only one in your family who made her feel loved was a psychopath who betrayed her!"

Lillian is struck silent, her eyes wide and her face strained as she stares at Kara. Kara meets the older woman's eyes, staring her down without the fear that a younger Lena must have shown Lillian all those years ago.

Kara wishes she could've been there to hold that young Lena in her arms, wishes she could've taken her away from the family that broke her.

"The Luthor name didn't deserve Lena. You never deserved her."

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #me trying to write #I guess it could also fit with any crime drama not just CM #tbh I haven’t watched the show in I don’t even know how long. I was just watching a crime drama show and I had these in my drafts so #enjoy I guess? or not there’s a truck full of angst in this thing #p.s. this is like my FAVORITE characterization of Lillian. i tried my best 👉👈 please be kind #this is version 2.0 of my Criminal Minds AU cos i had to rework that one. and honestly i think this one is better #more fully realized i guess? idk it's 2am #sorry for the long post 😅

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clowningaroundmars · 1 month ago

Text

Hobie1610 pt. 4

after so many months of waiting, the wait... is finally over.

here is the fourth and final part of this little au idea i had brewing in my head for some time now. i hope you guys enjoy?

and thanks so much to everyone leaving encouraging and kind comments on the previous parts as well! really appreciate y'all :)

hope this ending is a satisfying one :)

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 3 here<

MJ: We’re going to hang tomorrow after my shoot, right?

It was a text that Miles looked at and looked at and looked at all day ever since it arrived into his messages that very morning. It literally came out of nowhere.

But how long ago was it that he and Hobie Jones ran into each other at Central Park? It had to have been like a week ago, he was pretty sure...

He thinks.

“Maybe the guy’s pushy or somethin’, he just really likes you for some reason,” Ganke had offered by way of explanation as they sat together at lunch for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Miles wasn’t entirely sure when he and Ganke ever got to chill like this together in the cafeteria area... but as luck would have had it, Ganke’s mom forgot to send over some money for the week, forcing him to buy from the cheaper menu that the school had to offer rather than ordering off of the many food delivery apps he had on lock in his phone.

They sat a ways away from the hustle and bustle of the main area, near a big window that looked outwards into the typical scene of the congested New York City streets, and Miles would have been perfectly content with this arrangement had it not been for The Text.

He jiggled his leg and rubbed at his jaw in between bites of his own cheap meal-- something he got even though he didn’t really want it, but what was he gonna do, let Ganke wait in line by himself?-- gazing at his cell phone sitting right by his elbow. The text message was gazing right back at him.

“I… dunno. I-- man, I wish I told you more about my patrols so you can remind me how long ago Central Park was. I swear it was only like… last week? Right?”

Ganke chomped on his own slice of pepperoni pizza and shrugged. “I think that was a while ago. Either way, he wants to go on this date with you. So you might as well.”`

Miles groaned. “It’s not a date, Ganks. We’re just… chillin’, hangin’ out a little,” he gestured with his hands, which was not convincing Ganke at all. “Y’know?”

Ganke leaned forward a little bit, glasses slipping down his nose as he grinned mischievously. “Did he figure out it was you, Mi? Is that why you’re so nervous about it?”

“Whaaat are you talking about? No… no, he didn’t! I just. Uh, I saved him from those scary gang members and then I swung him home and that was that. No one else knows but you and my parents, Ganke, promise.” Miles’ smile was even less convincing.

“Miles,” Ganke deadpanned, “have you ever thought about what would happen if some Flickstagram-famous model learns about your thing you got goin’ on? He could be pushing this because he knows already, dude. Or at least he thinks he does. You’re a weird kid after all, and it wouldn't take too long to put two and two together... no offense.”

Miles shoved a fist under his chin and chewed a french fry pensively, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't give him away.

The thing is, Hobie did know.

Miles still couldn’t shake off the memories of his warm fingertips hooking under his mask and slowly lifting it off of his face, the way his entire visage seemed so positively radiant with that dazzling smile once they met eyes. He remembered Hobie’s wiry arms clutching onto him for dear life as they flew across the stadium towards the exit, the easy banter they had going back and forth after the action finally died down and they were safely heading back to the outer gates of the park.

So Hobie definitely knew. That wasn’t really the problem... although, Ganke might be right. It could be in the future, if Miles didn’t play his cards right.

Hobie is a solid guy no matter what dimension Miles found him in. Even as the Prowler on earth-616, that Hobie Brown was as an upstanding citizen as any crook could be. But flashes of earth-42 kept sparking up right behind his eyes every time doubt popped up about a new player in his life here on earth-1610, and one can never just assume anyways.

And now Miles is sitting at his lunch table with his best friend— who, until now was the only living person on this planet who knew about his secret identity— ruminating on whether or not Ganke might end up being a damn seer after all. Ganke doesn’t know that Hobie knows, but he really just might be right anyhow. That would really be Miles' luck.

Goddamnit.

Is Hobie planning on blackmailing him somehow? His involvement with those thugs stealing a prominent museum’s precious security info seemed a bit off to him, the more he thought about it.

They joked about it many a time over text, but Miles would be lying if he said he hadn’t turned a couple of facts over and over on more than one sleepless night. Hobie mentioned having connections, a camera, and seemed almost too recklessly opportunistic when it came to the chance at nabbing that flash drive...

Doubt was sinking back in. Miles drummed his fingers on the table and shot Ganke a look. “... Whaddya think I should do if he does, then?”

“What, if he finds out?”

“Yeah.”

Ganke shrugs again, popping a pepperoni slice into his mouth and thinking while he chewed. “Web him up to a lamppost,” he said after a bit.

Miles snorted with laughter. “Ganke, be for real right now. You’ve got great coding and social media knowledge, dude. Could you hack his tech if asked you to? Like, just in case?”

Ganke waggled his head, making a show of really, really thinking it through. “Mmmmn, yeah maybe.”

Miles sighs. “What do I have to do?” He asks because he knows his best friend by now.

“Fifty bucks and you also have to do my laundry for a week. What?” Ganke exclaims upon suddenly being on the receiving end of Miles’ glare, “If I get caught, it could mean like federal level charges on my head, dude. Take it up with the law, not me!”

Miles sighs and returns back to his plate of cold fries. “Yeah, yeah. You got a point,”

“But you gotta meet up with him first, figure out what we're dealing with. Just stop putting it off, bro. Avoiding him'll make you look more suspicious. Might as well get it done and over with,”

Miles swallows his fries along with his anxiety, picks up his phone, and starts drafting his answer to Hobie’s sudden proposal.

He doesn't know why there's a pit of dread in his stomach, but he opts to ignore it this time.

He hopes Ganke is wrong.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

The next day, MJ's cell phone vibrates on the portable vanity set up at the studio where his current shoot is taking place.

He’s busy, trying not to get too lost in the flurry of hands prepping him, the flashing of the cameras, the shouts of directions from the camera guy as he hits pose after pose with the props on set.

It’s when he’s changing into his last outfit for the shoot that he finally has some time to sip his water bottle and mindlessly scroll through dozens of notifications, finally coming across the one notif he waited to get the entire day: Miles. His name appeared at the very bottom.

... Meaning he received the message hours ago. Shit.

With his shoot almost over, MJ punched in a quick message and hit send, excitedly returning back to the set and finishing his work day up as quickly as humanly possible.

MJ's absentmindedly agreeing that every picture the director shows him is truly amazing, yes, amazing indeed, all while trying not to vibrate out of his mind-numbingly expensive designer outfit he’s been forced into. The only person he can think about as he dumbly nods along to whatever the crew is saying to him is Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles.

Miles has agreed to finally-- finally, after all of these weeks-- meet up with him and make good on his promise. Of course, MJ's slightly miffed that it had to be him to initiate the lunch date in the end, but whatever.

Closed mouths don’t get fed, after all. And Miles was technically not breaking his promise.

So now MJ is floating back down the hallway to the makeup room, gently pushing past all of the other models and swatting away at his mother’s hands while he makes his way over to his duffle bag.

“MJ, darling. Look at me,” his mother says as she hooks a finger under his chin and examines his makeup. “Do you wanna be wearing this when you go hang out with your little friend today?”

Your little friend, MJ almost scoffs out loud, but manages to school his expression into one of pure professionalism. “Yes, mom. Nothin' wrong with it,” he answers breezily.

She hovers. "I mean, it might make your friend think that... uhm, well. You know, it might give the wrong impression. He'll think you two are on a date! You're not allowed to date."

"Sure, mom. Except he knows I'm a model. The whole city does at this point." His tone drips with teenage attitude.

She lets him go.

Then, he’s unbuttoning his shirt and untying a sparkly scarf doubling as a belt to hold up the comically baggy jeans he was assigned to wear today, impatient to shrug himself out of those clothes and jump into his own so he can finally, finally, finally run down to the little cafe he told Miles to meet him at.

His mother was busy on a tablet typing away at something, chatting with MJ's agent once he found his way over to them, and even when neither of them noticed much about MJ on any other day, it seemed they were paying special attention to the way he was throwing his clothes back on with obvious glee now.

MJ had never smiled this much around them, and they sure took note of it now.

“Heard you’re getting ready to meet with a friend, MJ,” his agent told him once he turned his attention back to his client.

“Yyyep,” MJ answered noncommittally. He threw on a coat and started to reach for his messenger bag, stopping when a hand grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’re gonna keep in touch with the team, and keep updating you on the status of the shoot, but we gotta make sure you’ve got your phone on, right?” His agent looked him directly in the eye. “It’s great that you’re making friends again, Em, but you have to keep your head in the game.”

Yeah, of course. “Don’t let anything distract you from helping me make money” is what you mean, MJ thought ruefully, blinking back innocently.

He nodded and offered his agent a casual smile. “I mean yeah. He’s just a friend, I’m not gonna let that get in the way of my job. Don’t worry,” he adds, “I got my phone on. Hit me up when something cool happens.”

His agent and his mother exchange glances, but agree to release him anyways.

“I mean, he’s still a kid,” he hears his mother say as he quickly exits the room and finds his way towards the elevators. “I let him have a little fun every once in a while! The real work doesn’t start until he’s older right? Might as well let him have this for now..."

MJ rubs his thumb up and down along the edge of his phone case, feeling the bumps of the volume keys over and over.

He steps into the elevator when the doors slide open. He punches the button for the main lobby and stares down at his messages with Miles.

Yes, he thinks a bit vindictively, the real work doesn’t start until he’s older.

She definitely isn’t wrong about that.

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"You ever think about running away at all?" Hobie asked Miles rather suddenly after they got their usual greetings done and over with.

The cafe Hobie picked was cute, quaint, and very small. A nice little reprieve from the noisy halls of their school and the bustling city streets, since the business didn't seem to have any other patrons at this hour aside from the two boys.

They picked their seats right next to the window and opted to people-watch for a bit as they scrolled through the cafe's stylized menu on their phones. The lighting of the late-afternoon day illuminated Hobie in such gorgeous warm light that Miles was almost suspicious; did he pick this place specifically because the late sun's rays would bounce off of nearby skyscrapers and cast them both in the best mood lighting New York City had to offer? It sure seemed like it.

Hobie leaned back in his seat and gave Miles the most charming smile he's seen on a guy yet, erasing his suspicions from his brain entirely. And... well, anything else as well.

"Uhhh," Miles offered intelligently.

Hobie huffed a laugh in response. "It's okay, I know it's a weird question. Forget I said it."

Miles shook his head. "Wait, no. Sorry, what'd you say again? I'm, uhm. Sorry, I think I'm just a little tired. Kind of out of it,"

Hobie nodded sagely, setting his phone aside for the time being. "Hmm, late night homework, right? Essays maybe?"

They chuckled and grinned at each other cheesily, the knowledge that they shared a big secret between them settling comfortably and cozily like a fat cat curling up near a fireplace. It was nice, kinda. To be in on something that not many other people were, like an inside joke or a long-running bit between old friends.

But then Miles' earlier conversation with Ganke at the school cafeteria floated back up in his mind again and he had to bite his lip to keep from frowning suddenly. He looked down, a bit ashamed.

"Hobie--" he started.

"MJ," Hobie interrupted, chin in his hand now.

Miles looked up. "MJ. Oh, yeah. Right, sorry."

"I don't really like my given name, so no one calls me that. Just call me MJ. Or Em, even. That's what my agent calls me."

"Agent. Geez. So you didn't really answer my question earlier, back when we first met," here, Miles folded his arms on the table in front of him. "How famous are you, really?"

MJ grinned like a mischievous cat, chin still in one hand. "You've been on my Flicksta page this entire time since you found it. How famous do you think I am? Not that hard to do research nowadays, right?"

Miles felt his face heating up. "H-how'd you know about that?"

"You liked a post of mine that I made like... last year, dude. I saw."

Miles silently cursed himself out as he shut his eyes in embarrassment and winced. "Yikes. Alright, I guess you caught me. That was my bad for sure!"

MJ's grin was crooked. "Yeah, I'm... pretty well-known. Not supermodel status yet obviously, but I've been on a couple billboards. Posters, some ads. I'm training to walk some shows. Whatever." He leaned back in his seat again and messed with his sweater's sleeves a little as he spoke. Distantly, Miles noticed how expensive MJ's clothing really looked, how plush the knit of his sweater was, and the tailoring of his coat.

"Whatever," Miles echoed inquisitively. "Do you hate it? Is that why you wanna run away?"

They met eyes.

"I thought I told you to forget that question, Morales," MJ replies coolly. "It was a weird one. I dunno why I even said it,"

Miles, sensing something in the air between them, wondered if he should have changed the subject. Too bad his mouth had a less-than-stellar track record of listening to his brain.

Instead, he opened it and quietly said: "If we're gonna be friends, and if you want me to not web you up to a pole somewhere in Manhattan, I gotta know your deal."

"Mn, my deal," MJ repeated warily.

"Yeah," Miles sighed, already resigning himself to just getting this over and done with already. No time like the present, right? "You mentioned... you mentioned having a camera and connections. And you're just... weird, man. Like, no offense but you being in Central Park when you were that one time? Running away from those gang members who looked like they were gonna strangle you for takin' their flash drive away from 'em? That was super risky. Something's up."

MJ nodded, still looking apprehensive but also like he wanted to give in. "Right, I've got your big secret. Now you wanna have one of mine. Fair, I guess."

Miles shrugged helplessly. "If we're gonna be friends... I mean, it is fair, right?"

MJ glanced around at the empty seats around them, grateful that even the cashier seems to have gone to the back so that they were both totally alone together. Good spot to pick after all, he thought to himself. He kept his voice down just in case anyways.

He licked his lips and leaned his elbows on the table. "Yeah. I get it. It's a big thing you're doing for the city, y'know... doin' what you do. So here it is: I hate being a model."

Miles blinked at him, waiting for more. MJ didn't immediately being speaking again so he made a go on kind of motion with a hand.

MJ laughed a bit, shaking his head. "This is gonna be stupid. It's gonna sound so stupid! God," he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle and looked outside at a small stream of people walking past, all in a hurry to get on with whatever it was that occupied their lives.

"... About as stupid as some kid from Brooklyn putting on a costume to go out and fight crime?" Miles smiled patiently.

"Well, kinda. It was because of some punk kid from Brooklyn putting on that costume to go fight crime that I finally had the courage to like, go out there and get into my little hobby of breaking and entering, snooping around places I shouldn't, trying to help people..." MJ stopped when he saw the look on his friend's face.

"You...?" Miles started, his lips forming the shape of the words he wanted to say but not quite letting them out into the open just yet.

Did he hear that right?

As if reading his thoughts, MJ nodded. "When you took up the mantle of Spiderman after our first guy died, I took it as a sign. To like... finally just do it, right? I guess all that was left was just taking the leap, y'know what I mean?"

Miles suppressed a shudder as he nodded along, pushing Peter B's lectures out of his mind for the moment.

"I hate being a model," MJ continued, a single loc falling into his determined face, "because I wanna be a journalist. Like... an investigative journalist. But I also like science stuff as well. I guess I dunno what I really wanna be when I'm older. All I know is... I have got to get away from my overbearing mom."

"Or else," Miles finishes for him, tilting his head as if to say remember our conversation at the park?

MJ grimly confirmed it. "Or else," he replied.

Miles blew out a breath and leaned all the way back in his own seat, folding his arms over his chest. "Wow."

"Yeah, heavy stuff. I know," MJ tossed his locs back over his shoulders and glanced up at the posted menu hanging high above the register. The cashier returned from the back, placing several different pastries from a baking tray into the cafe's clean little glass display at the counter.

"Wanna...?" MJ pointed his chin at them, already pushing his chair out to get up.

"Oh, yeah. Food! Duh," Miles answered and got up to follow suit. How could he possibly forget?

The rest of their hangout goes over wonderfully after the grim conversation, all things considered. They opt to chat amicably about surface-level stuff mostly; family dynamics, friends, schoolwork and more about MJ's day job as a model.

"My mom acts like she's my agent most days, too." MJ is recounting this in between sips of his black coffee, long fingers nursing the ceramic cup he was given. "She's the one who got me into these modeling gigs in the first place. She said I had 'the look'... whatever that means. I like bein' behind the camera, though. Not in front of it," he lamented.

Miles spears some lettuce that fell out of his sandwich with the toothpick his side of pickle came with, waving it around as he talks. "Your mom sounds like the type of parent that pushes their kids around a lot. I guess I would know what that's like,"

Sensing a chance to commiserate in their shared dilemma, MJ leans forward a bit and smiles. "Your folks sounded nice when you described them. What's up?"

"I love them, and they sure do love me, but," Miles shakes his head and picks the lettuce off of his toothpick. "I dunno. They want the best for me and... sometimes it feels like nothing else matters but that."

MJ has the lower half of his face carefully hidden behind his mug when he asks: "Have you told them?"

Miles sighed, long and loud. "Yep. Yeah. They know. They do. That was... a very long story but. Anyways, yeah, after all the stuff that went down this spring, I finally had to fess up. No one else knows but you guys, though, I swear."

Miles silently patted himself on the back for managing to completely omit Ganke from the conversation. Can't give up his ace up his sleeve so soon, now can he?

MJ nods sympathetically. "I wasn't kidding, you know. Back when I told you that your secret was safe with me. You've got one of mine, so. No one else but us,"

Miles raises a pinkie over their plates and makes eye contact with him. "Pinkie promise?"

MJ's eyes flash at him.

"Duh. I never break promises," he replies, hooking pinkies together and smiling. "I'm not really in the business of ruining the life of a pretty great hero right now."

"Until it benefits you, you mean," Miles says, really only half-joking.

MJ doesn't take the bait. Instead, he deflects the best way he knows how. "Oh yeah, absolutely. If someone's out there putting a billion-dollar bounty on your head someday, you already know I'm goin' for it. What? It's a billion dollars, dude!"

They laugh together as Miles throws a piece of tomato in his direction and MJ threatens to pour the rest of his coffee onto his lap.

It felt good, felt natural. Their banter was smooth and seamless which Miles thought was a relief because very few people he encountered in life wanted to keep up with his constant sarcasm and nerdy jokes. No one else seemed to share his sense of humor except for MJ, and it made him feel a bit of warmth in his chest.

Even if they only stayed friends, he seemed to be a great companion to have nonetheless. And Miles had Ganke as backup in case anything went wrong between them. It was a daunting thing to come to terms with, the fact that such a cool guy like Hobie M. Jones had the ability to stab him behind his back at any moment's notice, or accidentally let Miles' secret double life as the crime-fighting webslinger out at the most inopportune time.

But... it wouldn't be the first time a friend has double-crossed him.

Miles wasn't stupid. He knew that letting more and more people in on his secret identity was a huge gamble, especially when it came to keeping a secret as big as this was. The risk was too high, the rewards might not even be worth it.

Worst of all, his friends could be legit and then get hurt if they ever found themselves somehow caught in the crosshairs of his other life.

... But Miles didn't want to think about that right now. That was a problem for future him. Right now, they were both too busy being what neither of their own families seemed to want them to be: a pair of carefree kids.

In this moment, MJ didn't have to worry about stifling and busy schedules arranged for him without his consent. He didn't have to worry about itchy fabrics or ill-fitting designer clothes or loud and bright cameras capturing his every move. With Miles, he could finally let loose.

And in this moment, Miles didn't have to worry about crime-fighting (for now), juggling mountains of schoolwork to please his parents, or keeping up appearances so he didn't arouse suspicions as to where he always was when he managed to slip away. With MJ, he could relax a little and enjoy the small things that always escaped his notice as he rushed this way and that, desperately trying to keep up with the chaos of his everyday life. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously when they were together.

They finished up their meal and exited the cafe, thanking the cashier and pulling on their coats to hopefully battle the frigid winter air of the city. They made their way up and down blocks, past shops and restaurants, weaving in and out of passing crowds on the sidewalk.

As they wandered aimlessly, unable to escape each other's gravitational pull for even one second, they talked some more.

They talked about Miles' art, MJ's secret science experiments in his room and how he fought his mom to get into Visions in the first place, about Miles' parents and his daily workload he usually juggles. They tried talking about Miles' start as Spiderman, but they didn't get too far along that topic before realizing there were only so many code words they could use to say what they wanted to say out loud before devolving into a fit of giggles.

They chatted about their plans after they graduate, how Miles still wants to go to Princeton and how MJ is planning on funding his own college education once he saves up enough money to leave his station in life and go wherever the wind takes him.

Miles seemed a bit sad at the thought that their friendship looked to have an eventual expiration date in the future, but there didn't seem to be anything changing MJ's mind anytime soon. After all, he didn't even know if he was going to keep in touch with Ganke once they stopped being roommates. And they ended up being pretty tight, against all odds.

So as they kept their casual pace through the city, Miles made a mental note to remember and cherish days like these as much as he could. He checked his phone for the time... this blissful moment of normalcy would have to end soon.

"So," Miles said once their long conversation eventually wound down. Their feet had taken them to a nearby subway station, the gum-covered concrete steps already beckoning them both to bid each other adieu.

"So..." MJ glanced at him, stopping them both by the railing and smiling down at his friend.

The day was drawing to a close, the sun had fully set about half an hour ago and they both needed to get out of the streets and back to their regular everyday lives. For Miles, this meant he had to get at least an hour of patrolling in before swinging back to his dorm room and getting started on his studies for their chem test on Monday.

For MJ, it meant returning back to Manhattan and steeling himself in preparation for the eventual lecture he knew he was going to get, about not staying out so late without supervision and how he didn't respond in time to his agent's texts. The usual.

"I hate to say it, but it's lookin' like we might have to say goodbye for now," Miles shrugged, hanging his head for comical effect.

MJ laughed brightly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound like you don't even wanna leave."

"You might be right about that. Wish me luck tonight, I gotta... y'know," Miles leaned casually as he could manage against the railing, shrugging a shoulder.

"Right. Do your extracurriculars,"

Miles groaned. "Yuck. Let's not call it that, please! You sound like my dad. Let's just call it my weird hobby instead."

"Okay, so I guess I gotta let you go to do your weird hobby instead, then."

"Which just so happens to be graffiti, by the way," Miles' lips quirk up mischievously, giving MJ a look as he slowly slides against the railing and places a foot on the first step. "I like to spray paint around the city every now and then... in case anyone wants to know. In case they ask."

MJ bobs his head in response, following Miles' movements. "Ah, right. Spray painting! Super cool. Anyone asks where you are, I got your back, man."

Miles' smile is as dazzling as it is endearing as he places a hand on the metal railing and lowers himself some more, unable to bring himself to cut the invisible rope anchoring him and MJ together, holding them there in that one space as a constant stream of New Yorkers climb up and down the steps beside them.

Thank you New York City, Miles finds himself thinking.

No one glanced in their direction, they were completely surrounded by people, but still alone. The lights of nearby shop signs and street lamps gave MJ a bit of a halo around his hair, and from the angle he was standing at, Miles looked up at it and believed that it made him just glow.

They gazed deeply into each other's eyes, the usual noise of the city falling easily into the background. It was just the two of them.

"... Yeah." Miles says a bit awkwardly, unable to pull away. "Yeah, that sounds... good. Great. Thanks man! You're a real one,"

MJ smiles knowingly above him. "So you might wanna head on down now. Don't wanna keep you from catching your train."

Miles grins back. "Right. My train."

"Go get 'em, Tiger." MJ responds, offering him a little salute with his fingers and finally turning away to disappear into the thick crowds that flowed up and down the city sidewalks like water.

After a little bit, Miles felt like he could breathe normally again.

He descended down.

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

Miles' life went right back to normal, with a new element added in.

He still rushed through his days of back-breaking homework and tests, still tried to keep up with the crime-fighting and his family back home who kept pestering him with exclamations about how he was always late to events and get-togethers, especially as the holidays rolled around.

(His mother pulled him aside for a quick little chat on how he needs to get better at communicating where he was so that she and Jeff could make up excuses for him ahead of time)

He still gamed mindlessly with Ganke on most weekends after their school break ended and the students all traveled back to their dorms, he still texted his extra-dimensional friends whenever he was free and had a minute to spare.

But now he made some space for another special person in his life: Hobie M. Jones.

They passed notes back and forth in the classes they shared like a pair of friends back in elementary school (to avoid leaving a trail of evidence on their phones, Miles argued when he brought it up to MJ, who just laughed) and walked each other to their classes whenever they could.

But it was risky business keeping someone like MJ so close, especially if it could arouse suspicion when Spiderman happened to swoop in and save him out of the blue. Both Miles and Spiderman hovering around MJ's vicinity day in and day out could be a possible liability to contend with indeed, so Miles still tried keeping his distance whenever possible.

For what it was worth, MJ seemed to understand. He was also occasionally followed by cameras from online fans in the real world or opportunistic reporters looking to try and pry precious info of a new marketing campaign MJ happened to be a part of, so this kind of life wasn't new to him either.

Thankfully, he agreed it was best to only get together in private.

As the months flew by, exams and assignments came and went, but their friendship only flourished.

Miles found himself admitting some surprising things to MJ on late-night text conversations when he couldn't sleep and needed to hop out of his dorm window to burn some energy. He found himself doodling his friend in his sketchbook often, unable to scrub the images of his flawless modeling photos from his brain.

He found himself... doodling their names together on hastily discarded sticky notes and coming up with illegible graffiti so he can mash their names together on stickers and shamelessly slap them up onto signs, onto walls, onto bathroom stalls and stairwells and notebooks and poles and bus stops and--

Miles startled out of a reverie as he was balancing himself on a random window ledge somewhere in the city, fully suited up, sketchbook in hand as he doodled little hearts around a profile study of MJ. Tucked under the page he was working on was an embarrassing amount of stickers with his and MJ's last names on them.

God. The humiliation he would face if MJ ever got his hands on this book. His mind flashes back to the sheer embarrassment he felt back when Gwen suddenly dropped down into his room from a portal and began to leaf through his old sketchbook, finding one too many drawings of her own face in the pages.

The memories snapped him out of his weird love-induced haze and forced him to shamefully fold over the corner of the page and hide those little hearts.

First, you ran away from him after you figured out he was an MJ, now you're obsessed with him. ¿Quién te puedes entender?

The sound of Miles' conscience was taking the harsh shape of his mother's voice. Not good.

He sighed and shut his sketchbook, shoving it into his backpack that was webbed onto the wall right next to him. Crime never slept, but it did have its ebbs and flows that Miles found himself in tune with as the months went by. This hour on a Thursday evening happened to be one of the slower hours for crime fighting, it seemed.

Regardless, he yanked his bag from its sticky confines and brushed the webs off, straightening himself up from his position and mindlessly checking his phone for any pressing updates.

Finding none, and with nothing much else to do... he sent MJ a quick text.

Miles: Busy rn?

He knocked himself on the forehead for it, knowing he might regret what he was about to propose but... he couldn't get the guy out of his head. He was dreaming about MJ on the regular now, which was never a good sign. Might as well see if he was up to doing any crazy last-minute stunts since the heart seemed to want what it wanted.

The reply came almost immediately after.

MJ: Nope, just surrounded by a pile of annoying hw, why do you ask?

Miles grinned as he typed a quick reply, hit send, and shot a web up to climb to the roof of the building.

Miles: I'm thinking I'm like... about a 15 mins walk away from your place. Wanna hang? I can swing by

He can almost taste the eye roll in MJ's replies, which made him smile beneath his mask.

MJ: You're corny as hell and that's exactly why you're my friend

MJ: Just give me a few to get ready

Miles sends back an affirmative, and tucks his phone right into his bag's side pocket which he then throws over a shoulder. He turns towards the general direction that MJ's penthouse apartment is located, right over the Brooklyn Bridge.

On his way there, he rehearses all of the coolest lines he could think of, not quite hoping to impress his friend or anything, but hoping that maybe MJ won't see him for the weird dork everyone else treats him as. And... to also keep him from suspecting anything or whatever.

They've hung out together countless times before, after their initial meetup. And not once did flawless-fashionable-cool-model MJ make him feel like he was ever uncool or off-putting. Maybe that was why Miles was so infatuated with him, when it came down to it. Still a good idea to play it safe, just in case.

It would have served Miles much better if he gave this friendship an even wider berth, retained his mysterious reputation... but there was something so arresting about MJ's eyes, his mannerisms and gentleness that contrasted so sharply with his quick wit, surprising bravery and intelligence.

Miles can shoot off the wittiest lines on the planet, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy with a crush. Alas.

In the time that he vaulted around NYC as Earth-1610's Spiderman, Miles developed a knack for snappy one-liners that MJ seemed to find endearing. Whenever they were together, they often fell into good-natured jabs and quips at each other, and he was so enamoured by it.

And it seemed like they just... naturally fell into the gravity of each other's orbit often anyways. Miles would look up into a crowd anywhere at Visions and immediately be able to find MJ. Like he developed an MJ-sense alongside his own spidery ones.

Two twin stars locked in orbit, a binary system forever hurtling through space together.

God, he really needed to get it together. That was super cheesy even for him, and he watched Titanic on his laptop damn near a hundred times at this point.

The thought had him yanking on his webs much harder and flying through the late evening air just to burn off the heat that built up in his gut.

He had to quickly remind himself that regardless of whatever happened between them, he promised that he would forever cherish it all. Miles wasn't an idiot, he knew that being Spiderman put a dampener on a lot of his relationships in life. It was a constant tug-of-war between him and his parents, and Ganke often reminds him of how absent he is at school, even when he's present.

Whatever happens between him and MJ in the future is whatever happens. Miles has already made peace with the inevitability of reality, like he so often needed to in this life. No need to get his hopes up.

Sobering up, Spiderman does several somersaults in the air before attaching a web onto the corner of MJ's swanky high-rise located not too far from the bridge. He sticks to the reflective glass and lets gravity do all the work for him as he drops down a few stories, hoping he was just a quick black blur that could be chalked up to just being a bird of some kind in case anyone happened to glance out their windows.

He hasn't been over to MJ's apartment at all, but knows the building from the outside very well thanks to the two friends' prior escapades. MJ's mom was strict according to him, and after sneaking them both out of the window to go to a mall or hang out at a park, swing around the city a bit and then drop MJ off back home, Spiderman was well acquainted with his bedroom window as a result.

He finds it again effortlessly and hangs upside down by a web, slowly lowering himself into view.

MJ's eyes light up immediately upon seeing him. He perks up, gets up from his computer chair to carefully lock the bedroom door and moves right back to his window.

"Well hello there, Spiderman! Glad you could make it." MJ smiles warmly, keeping his voice down. "Sorry, mom and the team are in the living room and I just told her I'm lockin' myself in here to study as hard as I can. Finals coming up and all... but we don't have too much time."

"Which is why you're only stepping out for a bit of air, right? Real quick, I promise." Spiderman replies good-naturedly. "It'll help clear your head."

MJ huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "Where would I be without you?"

"It's Spiderman's job to help all of the citizens of New York... and you look like you could use it, so,"

MJ slides his window open even wider, already throwing a leg over the sill. "My hero."

Together, they drop down a few stories, just free-falling and enjoying the chill of the late evening for a few seconds, shrouded by the dusk's descent that was already darkening the vast sky above them.

MJ gasps breathlessly when Spiderman shoots out a web and sends them sailing over congested streets filled to the brim with cars and trucks, over tall street lamps and past bright digital billboards advertising all kinds of products.

They zoom past more buildings, arcing gracefully around corners. At one point, MJ dares to loosen a grip on Spiderman's shoulders and splay his fingers out against the wind.

They fly together like birds for a minute more, soaring through the air and then rounding right back on the path they carved into it so Spiderman could deposit his friend right back home.

MJ said they didn't have much time, right? And Miles was satisfied with their short little hangout anyhow. He got his hands on his crush, had him clinging onto his arms and his neck the entire time they were airborne. It was getting late and he had to head back to Visions himself as well.

"Take me up to the roof real quick," MJ pants into his ear. Miles tries very hard not to think too much about that as he wordlessly follows orders and makes a beeline for the roof access.

Together, they land near the edge, overlooking the concrete jungle that was Manhattan, surrounded on all sides by tall buildings that seemed to reach up to heavens, still much taller than MJ's own building.

It was a miracle they weren't seen together, but that might've been because of the glitter and glitz of the city night all around them. New Yorkers never really looked up anyways.

Below them, the traffic and the bustle of the city continued at its usual pace; a constant thrum of vibrations, sounds and lights as they flowed up and down the streets like blood cells traveling through veins.

Both boys leaned their elbows onto the roof's raised edge and peered all around them, enjoying their temporary peace, catching their breath.

"I'm real glad I met you, you know?" MJ says, uncharacteristically sincere. His face was an open door now, but he was still unable to meet Spiderman's eyes.

Miles thought it might be appropriate to keep his mask on for now.

"Man, I only swung us around for like a few minutes. You don't need to confess your love for me, I'll take a thanks as payment. That's all." He joked but still tried to keep the sarcasm light. Didn't want to ruin the moment, after all.

MJ offered a crooked smirk at that, but then sobered up again. "Nah, really, man. I mean it. I'm not sure where I'd be right now if I hadn't transferred over to Visions and literally bumped into you. Crazy how life works like that, huh?"

"Right, especially since you were my biggest fan before that," Miles reminds him. "Serendipity or whatever."

MJ nods slowly. "Serendipity. Yeah... exactly. Sorry. What did you just say?"

Caught off guard, Miles hesitates for a bit. Play dumb, Morales!

"Uhh, what did I just say?"

MJ laughs, punching Miles on the arm before folding his own arms over his chest. "I was a fan of the old Spiderman before you came along. When he died..." he averts his eyes, studying his shoes. "Yeah, that sucked. But then you came along out of the blue... anyways. I just took it as a sign, that's all."

Miles dramatically wilts against the side of the roof. "Daaamnn, bro. I just swung you around the city for a bit! I gave you a free ride, and I don't even get to be your favorite? I see how it is."

MJ bursts out laughing. "Don't worry, Spiderman," he says, holding up his hands placatingly. "You're on your way to replacing him soon enough! Keep giving me those free rides. And uh... thanks," he finishes lamely, raising his hand to shoot his friend a salute. "Yeah. Thanks. For this."

They smile sheepishly at each other for a few seconds and Miles swears he's going to start roasting alive in his suit pretty soon from the way the warmth in his chest was radiating outward towards every limb.

Butterflies were swirling inside of his gut and he swears he can hear the sappy music from a romance movie Miles watched recently playing somewhere near them. Maybe now was the time to... stop avoiding his feelings? Take that leap of faith, right?

He's done it many times before. This time was probably no different than any other time where he's been thrown way out of his comfort zone only to be kinda glad it happened, in retrospect.

He opened his mouth and started to speak at the same time MJ did.

"So, Em--"

"Uh, so--"

They jumped in unison, wide eyes meeting wide lenses. MJ dipped his head.

"Oh, sorry I was--" Miles chuckled, bopping his forehead with a hand. "S-sorry, what were you gonna say?"

He winced at the jarring awkwardness of it all. The sappy music went silent, the mood thoroughly ruined.

"Oh, well, uh--" MJ looked just as flustered as Miles felt. "N-nah, sorry, I was just gonna say that... that it's been a little while now. So I should probably be heading back," he gestured awkwardly over his shoulder towards the side of the building, trailing off.

"Riiiight, right. Yeah, duh. Of course. Just, uh," Miles turns so his back is facing his friend, gesturing at it as if to say hop on. "Lost track of time, I guess. My bad,"

"What were you gonna say?" MJ asks, right next to Miles' ear as always.

Silently, Miles tucks that part of himself away again for later.

He was really 100% willing to risk it all and go for it, just fully display all of that for a measly chance at getting to date the most popular kid at school right now, and one of the coolest people that he's ever met. He would kick himself if he weren't carrying him right there on his back.

What a stupid idea, Miles. Real dumb, even for you.

In a fraction of a second, he stuffs his emotions right back down in him. Time and place. Not the time, not the place, he reasons. They'd just met a few months ago, and they got off on a pretty rocky start. It just wasn't the time to be making such rash decisions. Yeah, that was it.

"Nah, forget it. I think I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me and Ganke to our favorite comic shop this weekend, but that's a dumb question--"

MJ suddenly squeezed his hands tighter around Miles' shoulders. "Duh! It's a dumb question because the answer is obviously yes, of course."

"You like comic books!? Since when?" Miles exclaimed in shock.

"I'm beating you as the top student in chem class right now. You are not nerdier than me. Stop playin' with me." MJ grumbles grumpily. He digs his chin vindictively into Miles' shoulder.

Miles' loud bark of laughter echoed off the rooftop as he takes a running leap towards the ledge, hops on it and promptly sends them plummeting several stories down.

MJ's cry echoed around them even louder.

After about a minute or so, MJ's back inside of his room and they're both trying very hard to suppress laughter so hard that their cheeks hurt and they're crying tears.

Thankfully, outside of the bedroom door, MJ's family never heard a thing.