Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When you experience a connection of deep affinity with someone, your world changes. That connection is always about love. Such sentiment can take different forms, because there's no single way to love. No matter what such connection looks like, the perpetual truth is this: people who have that bond are meant to be soulmates.

Well, that’s what the lore said, anyway.

For Hobie, all that sounded like a double-edged sword, so he convinced himself that by not expecting anything from anyone, he would never experience disappointment. However, deep down, he wanted to feel he belonged, not just to kin but to someone. But he kept that to himself. Nobody needed to know.

Over time, he decided it was a stupid desire. An overly romantic notion of connection and understanding that might not even be possible, and he was an idiot for longing for something like that. Especially when his yearning measured equal to his dread over such a bond being possible.

Yeah, he was contrarian even to himself.

There was something conflicting yet poetic about the concept of soulmates. The idea that the universe will guide you to someone that might be your perfect match in some way, shape, or form was intriguing and, if he thought too hard about it, a little disturbing as well. Hence the yearning and dreading. These connections, more often than not, had a romantic intention, but platonic relationships were not unheard of. There's no single way to love and all that jazz.

A soul connection was a chance, an opportunity. Perhaps that's the reason Hobie was intrigued with the whole concept because, despite what some may think, a soul connection didn't impose itself. There was a choice in all that scenario. What the universe was giving was merely initial guidance. The rest was up to you.

There was a song composed by the universe for you to share, the most beautiful song you will ever hear if you know how to listen. With that song came the chance to create something special. Once you received your song, it was up to you to make a connection happen.

The first time Hobie heard his song, he was in the middle of Tower Bridge, getting his ass handed to him.

“Don’t you want to give it a rest, mate?” He complained and jumped backwards to avoid another direct hit.

It was hard to concentrate with his head hurting like it was about to split open. The guy he was fighting resembled a mutated, angry walrus, and he could pack a punch, too. The fight seemed pretty even until the guy got him by the ankle and slammed him to the ground head first.

With a groan, Hobie rolled over and scrambled away before the guy could land a punch on his back. He cursed, feeling his head pulse. The spikes along his mask made the whole thing worse because his head was hit at an awkward angle, giving his neck a nasty twist. He was feeling dizzy, yet moved as fast as he could, vaguely aware of the way the ground felt like it was vibrating. With the walrus guy fixated on the idea of decorating the tarmac with him, Hobie had little choice but to stand his ground.

He pulled himself up in the air by shooting a web towards one tower of the bridge, nearly missing his landing because the entire structure was shaking, or at least that's what he first thought. It took a moment for Hobie to make a proper assessment and conclude that he was not seeing things, despite the pounding in his head. The bridge was not shaking; it was glitching.

“What the—”

Above him, the sky appeared as if someone had ripped it open. The horizon, made up of newspaper and magazine cutouts, looked like it had been torn and hastily smashed together, forcing two parts of space and time that should have never touched.

The glitches were violent, and they were pulling on the very fabric of reality. The glitches affected the surroundings, causing textures to change and making cars and parts of buildings disappear or break as they came into contact with them. Around him, the bridge looked like it was collapsing on itself one moment, but the very next second, it was expanding around him again. Its appearance was different, though. The towers and the structure had changed because of the glitching. The effect gave the impression that the glitching was pulling and pushing at the same time, as if the cracks in the sky had more gravity than the earth itself and wanted to force the world towards them. Chaos unraveled around him. The city was in panic, and yet Hobie stood still and could do nothing more than stand there and stare at the open sky.

A song. He could hear a song. His song.

The world was tearing itself apart, but there was something mesmerizing behind those cracks. Dots that glowed like stars and connected like a spiderweb. It felt familiar even though Hobie had never seen something like this before. He felt enthralled. His song was coming from somewhere out there, in between those cracks.

Tower Bridge was glitching frantically, and Hobie remained rooted to the spot, looking at the worlds beyond his own, listening. While the song was distorted, like static on the radio, he could hear it as if it were next to him, but most importantly, he could feel it. Hobie wanted to reach out. He wanted to listen to the whole thing; he wanted to know what kind of song he was given, what kind of tune he was meant to share with someone else.

Hobie took one step, and an explosion of light blinded him, far beyond the cracks. By the time he could see again, the tears in the sky had closed, and the world stopped glitching. The damage around the city, especially on the bridge, was evidence that what he just saw really happened. The strange tear in the fabric of reality not only affected the city, but also left Hobie deeply shaken. His conflict was far more personal, though.

He had a song. It felt unreal, but he had a soul song.

The tune had permanently seared itself in his mind. It was part of him. He could feel it, like it had ripped his chest wide open and wrapped itself around his heart. It was warm and soothing. It felt like a promise. He had never felt like this before, and it was as exciting as it was unsettling. He couldn’t explain. He couldn’t tell if he even liked it.

As the chaos died down, and the world around him returned to normal, he kept staring at the sky as if the cracks would return and let him hear the fragmented tune again if he stared hard enough. He shook his head and slowly his attention returned to the city he looked after, the place where he found his purpose.

There was so much more out there, but here is where he began. Hobie couldn't claim much as his own, and the knowledge that there was someone out there meant for him to cross paths which threw him for a loop. Despite feeling overwhelmed, he couldn't deny his yearning for that connection, even though part of him wanted to resist.

He had his song, alright. But no idea what to expect, and no way of knowing if he would ever hear it again.

Old York was buzzing with the aftermath of whatever teared the sky open. While most of the damage had focused on Tower Bridge, there were parts of the city that were caught in the chain reaction, and the residual effects were on display. People were in need, and Spider-Man made it his business to help them.

It wasn't the only thing on his mind.

Hobie couldn’t stop thinking about the song as the weeks passed. He had written the notes he remembered, and left the blanks in between for the missing notes, not wanting to meddle with the rhythm in case he got it wrong. Once he had it noted, he felt the scattered notes were all over the place; the fragments were in disarray, but still meant to be in the same song. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear it again so badly it made him angry.

Weeks of silence didn’t deter him. He simply kept the thought in the back of his mind while the world kept on turning. In between fights, gigs, and protests, Hobie would hum the notes to himself, assembling the melody. He stopped himself from humming it when in company. His friends were his family, but this song was too personal.

His curiosity about other worlds drove him to immerse himself in the subject. He couldn't just wait for the sky to tear itself open again, he didn't have the patience. Alchemax’s shady practices made more sense when he had enough context to read the files he got from their servers. It seemed another infiltration operation was in his future. Stealth wasn’t his strongest asset, but he had personal motivations on the line, so he made it work.

Kind of.

The first portal was definitely an accident, and so was dragging the Sandman by opening it. Well, a Sandman. Fighting the guy was never pleasant or fun, but this one took the cake. It was Sandman, alright, just not the one he knew. The look was all wrong, as if someone had made him out of wool, if that was even possible. It clashed horribly with the surrounding space. The glitches were making the guy more aggressive. At least, that’s what Hobie thought. They looked painful. Hobie felt a little bad for the guy, but not enough to stop the fight. He didn’t feel like getting buried under a torrent of sand, even if said sand felt more like yarn than sand.

“Mate, if you don’t knock that off, imma light you on fire,” Hobie grumbled, and swung his guitar to connect it with the guy’s head, making strings of crochet sand splattered everywhere. “HA!”

“Are you always this annoying?” Sandman complained while reforming himself.

“You caught me in a good mood!” Hobie chuckled. “I had a successful failure goin’ on ‘ere.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Shuddap.”

Regardless of Sandman looking more like Woolman, water still did the trick. Dropping the guy in the closest canal before he could pull Hobie with him felt very satisfying. Pulling the guy out of the water so he wouldn’t drown wasn’t as amusing, but it had to be done, but only after he used most of his webs to immobilize him.

“Do you happen to know how to get home? Unless you wanna stay in Alchemax and be a lab rat,” He asked the half-drowned man, who just made an incoherent noise. “Aces.”

Perhaps Hobie should have been more surprised when a portal tore the very fabric of reality open, conveniently a few meters from where he was sitting. He wasn’t expecting a woman riding a motorcycle to come out of the portal, but he had not been expecting the Sandman either, so.

His spider sense chirped, something it had not done before. The echo bounced in his head like a pinball and made him wince. The woman had a slight look of discomfort in her face, most likely feeling the same as Hobie, but she didn’t look surprised to see him.

She was like him. Uh, interesting.

“Wocher,” Hobie greeted from where he was, sitting on top of the pile of wet wool that was Sandman.

“Hello there,” she smiled. “Aren’t you efficient? Spider-Woman.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Doncha say? Wow, I'm shocked, completely perplexed. Also, I have absolutely no questions of who you are, what is going on, or why you are waltzing here so casually.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. Real talk then.”

“Pardon me, I left my kettle home.”

“I’ll deal.”

Her name was Jessica Drew, she was a Spider like him, also; she wasn’t the only one.

Finding out there were people like him out there in the multiverse was an odd experience he wasn’t sure how he felt about. For years he carried the weight of being Old York’s one and only Spider-Man, and he still was. He had made some friends along the way. Karl and Riri had his back as much as he had theirs. It was good. But being a Spider was a whole other topic. It was something they couldn’t understand. But now he knew there were others like him out there, words apart and still sharing the experience of being a Spider, and he could meet those people.

And the man that made all that possible was a bloody tosser.

Hobie didn't consider himself lucky, but it was a bit of a blessing that the person who introduced him to The Spider Society was Jessica Drew and not Miguel O’Hara, because the man had no patience and Hobie loved to exploit that. It was free entertainment to watch Miguel prance around like the world owed him a favor one moment, and being turned on his head the next. Hobie was proud of gaining the title of menace by annoying their oh-so-great-leader. It was fun.

Also, it gave him some space; The Society was not what Hobie would have liked. There were far too many familiar things around their system that made Hobie’s skin crawl. The Need To Know Basis policy hit a bit too close to home. Not to mention the ‘canon events’ shit. He didn’t deny these events happened to Spider-Folk. Evidence was clear on that matter. What Hobie couldn’t buy was that those events were supposed to happen because otherwise, the fabric of reality could collapse. The whole idea left a sour taste in his mouth. It felt authoritarian.

The system the Spider Society had in place was very questionable, and he had to bite his tongue several times to not make a big deal out of it because it wasn’t the right time. There were a few things Hobie wanted to do, and the resources he had access by being in the Society would make that easier. Everything would fall into place, all in good time. And he could have a bit of fun along the way.

Jessica's strong focus on the Society justified her position as Miguel's second in command. And among everything she did, she took her role as mentor to heart. It was strange, Hobie never contemplated the idea of learning from someone, considering that he didn’t ask to be mentored by her or anyone else, for that matter. He had been taking on the role of Spider-Man for over two years, completely on his own. Therefore, it felt odd when Jessica noticed him far more than he would have liked.

The older Spider would look after him in and out of missions, regardless of Hobie’s unwillingness. She wasn’t the only one, Peter B. Parker, one of the many, many Parker variants, also liked hovering around him.
This Parker was interesting. The big difference was his home life; the man actually had one, wife and daughter included. Introducing Hobie to them had been awkward, mostly on his part, but neither MJ nor Peter pointed it out. Besides, Hobie liked Mayday. Kid was going to be a rioter, he could feel it.

So Hobie got himself a reputation in the Society, and it was no accident.

If annoying Miguel was fun, Hobie did the same with Jessica and Peter, but considerably toned down. He kind of liked them, they were alright. At least with them, Hobie didn't feel like someone was burning a hole in the back of his head. Miguel wasn’t subtle, and if he was trying to be, then the man wasn’t doing a good job. Hobie knew perfectly well what being watched felt like.

Overall, being part of the Society was a waiting strategy, and Hobie never claimed to be patient, but he was willing to play the long game. It was one of the few wonderful decisions from his past self that ended up feeling worth it, since it brought him to this day.

The portal swiftly opened in HQ for Hobie to walk after a successful mission, dragging the guy behind him, contained inside one of those laser cage like barriers Hobie wasn't fond of. He made his way to the control room where Margo was in charge.

“’ere you go. Another one for the line.”

Hobie leaned against one of Margo’s many consoles, while the guy he had been fighting for the last couple of hours continued to grumble under his breath. Everyone had a gimmick. Hobie was not expecting to fight a zombie panda guy, but wasn’t exactly surprised when that’s what he got. At least it was just a theme and not a real zombie. He could not stand real zombies.

“Is he covered in paint?” Margo smiled while asking, clearly in good fun. Hobie liked her holographic display. It was neat. “What did you do?”

“Got creative right there. The place was a proper art show,” he smirked. “Panda-monium over there found out landing face first against a building made of paint still knocks you out, eh?”

He saw the flicker of gold before he heard anything.

“Ooooh good one!” The slightly distorted voice of Lyla was familiar now, so he didn’t flinch when she showed up out of nowhere. Miguel’s AI was weird. Hobie wasn’t too sure how he felt about her. One thing though, she was far easier to deal with than Miguel himself.

“What’s up?”

“Lyla, I got this,” Margo said, a slight tremor in her voice. She was still trying to prove herself useful, as if she didn’t do plenty already.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lyla assured with a wave, perhaps unaware of Margo’s turmoil. “I was looking for you, Hobie.”

“Found.”

“Miguel is having a great time with the most recent anomaly. He totally doesn’t need backup.”

Hobie chuckled. “I ain’t his first choice.”

“Why not? You’re a delight to work with. I’m sure Miguel will absolutely love it and not complain even once about it. He never does!” She said, her sarcasm on point. Lyla’s cheeky smile made Hobie shake his head in amusement. Despite frequently annoying Miguel, Hobie was undeniably good at what he did. The best part? Not even Miguel could deny it.

All in the name of playing the long game.

“Are you picking his reactions of somethin’?”

“Like collectible cards,” Lyla said. “But seriously, could you stand by for a bit? Jess is already there, plus the local Spider, buuuut things look messy.”

“Eh,” Hobie looked at his watch like he actually had somewhere else to be. “Sure, brin’ it.”

The halls of the Society were always busy. People brought the place to life. Up and down, left and right, all the time. Hobie walked with his arms up, fingers laced and resting against the back of his head. The grandiose display of it all wasn’t of his liking. Places like this were all about appearances, using flashy distractions to keep people from asking important questions. Perhaps that’s why there weren’t many individuals vocal about the flaws in display. It was frustrating, but here he was.

He felt the slight push of his spider sense before Lyla showed up again.

“Good news!” Lyla announced, and threw virtual confetti around herself. “Anomaly contained! No canon disruptions, and I got a great selfie for my collection.”

He internally scowled at the mention of the canon.

“Uhm, ‘kay.”

Hobie was about to leave when apprehension unexpectedly nested in his chest. He didn’t know where it came from. It felt like it didn’t belong to him. He looked over his shoulder. And there he was, their oh-so-great-leader Miguel O’Hara, dragging the anomaly. The guy was a version of The Vulture that seemed to be made of paper. Hobie could tell something had happened because even with the mask on, Miguel had a sour look on his face, impossible to hide. Jess followed behind him, looking worried, and finally, a smaller silhouette trailed behind her. She was young, probably around his age. The look on her face made Hobie want to break something, and it wasn’t until she looked up and their gaze locked he understood why.

He could hear it again, his song.

It was back, louder than anything in the room. Pieces of the melody echoed like chimes and made his chest vibrate. It felt like those nights he would get lost in the music and played as loud as the amps would go. He could barely breathe. It was her. It had to be her, right?
But she looked away, eyes downcast. No reacting. There was no reaction from her at all.

Hobie stood still, carefully keeping his expression neutral despite the confusion that made him want to scream. It was as if she had not heard the song. Was that possible? Maybe she was ignoring it. Neither option was appealing.

He walked closer, hands inside the pockets of his vest, carrying himself with a practiced showcase of ease. Upon closer inspection, Hobie noted the signs of battle all over her, not to mention the way she held her arms around herself, like she was trying to take as little space as possible, even in the open atrium.

Jessica placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. Part of him wanted to run and step between them, an unreasonable part of him. He leaned against the wall, pretending to watch Miguel deal with the Vulture while Jessica spoke with the newcomer, who had not even noticed him.

“We’re gonna get you sorted out in no time.”

“Thanks…”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, we got you,” Jessica said softly, a kind smile on her face.

It was the smile Jessica used when she was comforting someone. There was something motherly about it. When Hobie was the target of that smile, it made him uncomfortable. But this girl? She looked like she needed it.

From the distance, he watched them walk down the atrium, while his song softly chimed in his ears and his ears only. Hobie took a step back and walked away to open a portal back to his dimension.

He needed to think.

That night, after doing a few rounds around the city, Hobie laid in bed staring at the ceiling. There was a melody stuck in his head, but he didn’t mind. He hummed the pieces; fragmented sounds that felt like trying to remember a dream. He tapped his fingers against his chest and imagined what the missing pieces would sound like.

Can you love a song even if you don’t know the whole thing?

He was no expert in soul connections, and he had never sought to have one. Hobie liked to think he would have been fine if he never got a soul song. It was hypocritical of him to loudly and unapologetically question every single system he came across, but this one. He couldn’t help it. Part of him wanted to have something like that.

Now it was there, at his fingertips, and it wasn’t what he thought it would be.

The song was still softly chiming around him, the notes incomplete. There were parts missing, but he heard more notes this time. He rested his hand on his chest, where the intensity of the song left its sensation.

There was a problem, though; He heard the song, but she didn’t.

He let out a heavy sigh. He should leave it be, no matter how much the need to reach nagged at him. He was setting himself up to fail. Understanding that made knowing he would not back off even more vexing.

“Cheers,” he said in the dark, laughing at himself, and closed his eyes.

Next time he went to HQ, he paid more attention to the girl that made his song echo. Her name was Gwen Stacy, and Hobie didn’t need to be a skilled detective to know she was hurting. He felt a bit of an asshole thinking about his song when it was clear Gwen was dealing with her own shit.

Well, there was his calling.

Whatever was wrong, Gwen didn’t have to deal with it alone. Hobie will push his song to the back of his head and keep it to himself for her sake. Song or no song, Hobie felt Gwen could use some help, maybe a friend. Definitely not someone nagging her about soul connections and destiny. Gwen needed something else.

He could be that something, if she let him.

Yeah, he could do that.

Chapter Text

Gwen could carry her entire life in a backpack. Well, her life as it was since the day she revealed her secret identity to her father, and he pulled a gun on her. It didn’t matter that the person behind the mask was Gwen Stacy, the only daughter of Captain George Stacy. Spider-Woman was suspected of murder, and he only saw that. Her father’s reaction broke something in her. It felt like she had lost someone important yet again, and there was nothing she could do about it.

He couldn’t stop being a cop when she needed him the most, and it hurt deep. The thought chased her to sleep and festered in her dreams, where she could still hear the echo of the warning gunshot being fired. That sound hit her with paralyzing fear that wouldn't leave, paired with the cold disappointment in her father's eyes as he aimed the gun at her and refused to listen.

Gwen wondered if things would have been different if she had told him about her double life before that day. If knowing would have made her father stop trying to avenge a ghost and mourn the loss of a loved one with her instead.

It was hard to tell, because part of her would never ignore that she was responsible for Peter’s death, even if she didn’t kill him. She has lived with that guilt and perhaps always will. But, after what Miguel showed her… she couldn't help but wonder if there was anything she could have done differently. Was it even possible? If it had never been in her hands, then she did everything she could, right? The rest was something she had no say in. Literally greater than herself, and… and…

It didn’t matter. It was done. She couldn’t change it.

There were many things she couldn’t change, and one truth kept chasing her; Gwen could not go home. She wasn’t sure if she even had one anymore.

Not everything was so bleak. In the Spider Society, she could be better, do something greater than herself, she could help. Gwen had the chance to start over, with people that understood what she was going through, people who could relate and knew what the turmoil clawing at her chest felt like.

She wondered what Miles would say, what he would have done in her place.

Thinking about him made her want to cry all over again. She didn’t even have their picture anymore, left behind in the home she couldn’t return to. She could only remember him and imagine the light in his eyes and the smile on his face. She wondered if he would know how to fix this, because she sure didn’t. She wondered when she could see him again.

Gwen pushed those thoughts from her mind. Her focus shifted to the feeling of the wind against her face and the moment gravity caught up with her body and pulled her down. As the ground came closer, she couldn’t help but laugh before shooting a web to catch herself on the ledge of the building where Jessica was waiting for her. Gwen landed with practiced ease and natural grace, earning a nod of approval from Jess.

“I see you have been exploring,” Jessica motioned around.

“HQ is great, but Nueva York is just so big. There’s so much to see,” she said, turning to look at the horizon. “It feels surreal.”

And this was not even the most interesting world Gwen had been in. Earth-928 was Miguel’s world, the place where HQ was located. She spent a lot of time in and out of HQ. Keeping herself busy, let the noise in her head die down, it let her breath. It helped.

They went back to HQ, taking the more direct route instead of the scenic path she would have preferred. Jessica was busy, and she still made time for Gwen. That was, well, she couldn’t explain it, but it was nice.

Then she felt something else. She recognized the feeling as familiar, but couldn't recall when she had experienced it before. However, she had little time to ponder on it before another Spider came near, shifting her focus.

“Oi! ‘eads up!”

After jumping away just in time, Gwen felt a bit embarrassed by the yelp she let escape when an older variant of Boomerang dropped all tied up and contained from a portal opened right above them. She looked up at the Spider-Man that followed. She had not seen him before, because of the way he dressed? Yeah, she would remember. The war vest looked awesome, and the spikes on his mask gave the impression of a mohawk. When the guy jumped off the portal to stand before her, she still had to look up. Damn, he was tall.

Jessica clearly knew him. She was looking at him with a mix of fondness and exasperation, shaking her head lightly.

“I see you had some fun,” she pointed out at the anomaly, his signature boomerangs webbed in his hands, pinned to his body with the same web. The guy looked incredibly pissed off, mumbling all kinds of curses about disrespectful youth and nosy Spider-Man. “Nice one.”

“My, my. Is the greatest mentor of the Society giving me a compliment? What a Tuesday.”

“I’m back to being the greatest?” Jessica asked with a laugh. “How long before you change your mind?”

“Dunno. Father of the year ain’t too bad. Picked up a thing or two, nothin’ to do with the spider gig though.”

“Why am I even surprised?” Jessica rolled her eyes. “You’re still avoiding Miguel?”

“Gonna skip brooding 101.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Gwen observed this exchange, almost mesmerized. It was hard not to. There was something about this guy that she couldn’t place. Between the shifting colors and text in his form, and the guitar strapped to his back, Gwen wasn’t sure where to begin. He took off his mask and shook his head, making his hair bounce before settling down. Were those dreads? Wicks? Was that the name? Those piercings looked good on him. She barely had time to stop herself from touching her pierced brow before his eyes fixed on her, and he smiled.

“Who’s the new gal?” 

Oh, he was talking about her. Gwen looked between Jess and him, suddenly forgetting how to talk. He couldn’t tell who she was? Well, he wasn’t a variant of Peter Parker so, maybe he didn’t have a Gwen Stacy around. And even if he did, it’s not like it would be her, so either way he still didn't know her, and Gwen was still just staring. She should say something. But the surrounding noise, people talking, and the distant music mixing with shouts and other sounds suddenly felt too loud to think clearly. Was she smiling? Nope, maybe she should start with that. Oh gosh, she had been staring with her mouth open? No, no, come on.

“Gwen Stacy,” Jessica said, cutting the noise around her like a sharp knife. “Gwen, this is Hobie Brown: number one candidate for the title of bane of Miguel’s existence. Depending if it is a Monday, Friday, a full moon, the second Wednesday of the month, or the cafeteria is serving something he likes. Obliviously.”

Hobie winked. “Gotta keep ‘em guessing.”

Gwen muted an unflattering snort by covering her mouth, her face scrunched into an awkward smile behind her hand.

“H-Hey,” she eventually managed with a little wave of her right hand.

“Come on, let’s get this guy filed,” Jessica said, walking ahead of them.

“Wanna help a bloke out?” Hobie asked her while shooting a web towards the grumbling guy. She did the same and together they dragged the contained anomaly past the atrium and towards the containment area.

There was no need for her to do anything. Either of them was more than strong enough to drag this guy around, but Gwen felt glad about having something to do with her hands. Hobie was holding the web over his shoulder with one hand, and the other rested inside the pocket of his vest.

He looked at her, and Gwen made an incoherent sound. “So, uhm. Anomalies, amirite?”

She winced internally and averted her eyes. What the hell was that? She looked towards Hobie, bracing for a judgmental stare. But Hobie was still smiling, like Gwen had not made a fool of herself. He looked amused, and Gwen wasn’t sure what to think.

“Bit of a hassle for the gigs,” He said with a shrug. “I keep havin’ to shift my shayd’jewel.”

A grin broke on her face, and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed. Hobie raised an eyebrow, not understanding that Gwen found him pronouncing ‘schedule’ in that accent of his so amusing.

“So the guitar is not for show?” She asked, and let herself fall a step behind to look at the instrument at Hobie’s back. It had so many stickers she wanted to look up close.

“Real deal,” Hobie confirmed, and handed her the web he had been pulling.

She took both webs in her hands while Hobie shifted the guitar and plucked at the E string a few times, then shifted to a play. The song felt familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she had heard it before. She liked the beat.

“Nice!”

“You play?”

“Yeah, drums,” Gwen said, and it didn’t hurt to remember. “I like to play drums.”

“You gotta let me hear ya drop a beat sometime,” Hobie shifted the guitar towards his back, and Gwen handed him the webs as they arrived at the containment area.

A few Spiders were already there, going over other anomalies. Hobie dragged the guy to one of the set spaces and the laser cage activated around him.

“Seriously?” the guy complained. Shifting awkwardly around, he groaned at the webs still holding him. “How long until this goes away?”

“Gonna find out, don’t ya?” Hobie replied. He looked so confident in the way he carried himself and with that smirk. “Come on, let’s get outta ‘ere.”

Gwen wasn’t sure what he meant until Hobie extended his hand and nodded exactly in the opposite direction Jessica was walking. She looked between both and took a step closer to Hobie. He must have taken that as his queue because the next thing she knew, her hand was on his and they were jumping between the pillars and beams of the structure, higher and higher until they reached a space between the walls tucked away from the buzz and noise around them.

“Hey, wait!” Gwen laughed, and caught up with Hobie as he sat down at the edge of the beam, long legs dangling in the air. “What’s the rush?”

“None at all,” Hobie leaned back, supporting his weight on the palms of his hands. “Dontcha wanna take a break?”

“I wasn’t exactly working,” Gwen mumbled, but sat down next to him, anyway. “How long have you been here?”

“Just arrived.”

“No, I mean here, as in the Society.”

She had seen Spiders around her age here and there, but few. This was the first time he talked with any of them. She should introduce herself to Margo, and she definitely had to find Peni. She did not know what was holding her back.

Hobie hummed. “Few months.”

“Do you like it?” She asked, pushing the lingering questions in her mind aside. “I… I’m pretty new.”

“There’s good stuff,” Hobie laid down, resting his head on his folded arms. He kept one leg dangling in the air, the other bent. “If you peel back the shiny wrapper, I ain’t a big fan. But there’s no harm, so ‘ere we are. I like dimension hopping tho, that’s fun.”

“I’ve been to three, wait, no, four! I’ve been to four dimensions so far, including this one.”

Hobie rolled over to rest on his side. He lifted his right hand to show Gwen his watch. The gadget stood out because it was so different from the texture of his, well, his everything. The studded bracelets and torn hand warmers seem perfectly in place, while the watch sat there as it were trying to fight the shifting colors of the guy wearing it.

“138,” he tapped the watch. “That’s home. What about ya?”

“Uhm,” she looked down at her watch and suddenly the cold in her chest was back. “65, but… never mind.” Hobie gave her a curious look, but didn’t push it. “I was meaning to ask… you like punk music?”

He responded with a big grin, his eyes nearly twinkling. “What gave it away?”

If she leaned over and looked closely. Some of the text shifting in his skin were names of bands she knew, others that she didn’t recognize. Some of the text was backwards, like reflected in a mirror, and other words were just gibberish. She watched intensely as it all blended and the letters eventually spelled her name, and it wasn’t until then she noticed she had been staring.

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and stumble for an apology, but Hobie was smiling like the whole thing was amusing. Gwen made an embarrassing sound and pushed him back. He went along even when both knew she didn’t push hard enough to actually do anything. It didn't matter, because he was laughing and she liked the sound. It felt contagious. She ended up laughing as well; the smile pulling at the corner of her lips and swiping away the cold that had threatened to nest in her chest again.

“Don’t let me do that!”

“You seemed entertained something proper,” he chuckled. “’s alright.”

“No, it makes me look like a weirdo,” Gwen was pretty sure she was pouting, to make it worse.

“Then you’re right at home!” Hobie shifted to get up and folded his very long legs under him, resting his arms on his knees. “Can’t have a yawner around.”

“Come on,” she chuckled. Was he calling her fun? She couldn’t tell.

“Take something useful out of it,” Hobie waved at himself. “Which ones you fancy?”

“The bands?”

“Aye.”

“No Flag and Crash I know. Haven’t heard of 17 Seconds or Rascals.”

“Can’t have that, you’re missing out,” Hobie clicked his tongue. “I’ll get you some of their stuff, yeah?”

Something softened around her, and if she were in her world, she might reflect the calm such simple words gave her around her. It didn’t feel like a formality; it felt like Hobie actually wanted to see her again.

“Thanks…” she smiled. “I’d like that.”

She almost jumped when her watch started beeping, a swipe later, and she was looking at Jessica’s unimpressed face. She smiled awkwardly, unsure what to say.

“Hobart Brown.”

“Ugh, not the government name,” Hobie grumbled beside her, scrunching his nose.

“Why are you stealing my pupil?”

“Oh, am I disowned again?” Hobie’s gasp was exaggerated and Gwen barely contained a snort. “Tragedy.”

“Hobie…”

“We’re havin’ a laugh. I’m sure you can run us into shape some other time, you know what I mean?”

“Oh I will, don’t test me boy,” that sounded like a threat even if not serious. Gwen looked at Hobie, alarmed, but he was already holding both hands up in a sign of surrender.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your knick—”

“Just get back here, both of you,” Jessica interrupted. “Yes, you too, Hobie.”

“I was ‘bout to head out. It’s teatime.”

“You were not, and we both know it,” Jessica countered.

“I’m giving the greatest mentor title back to B. He would never disown me.” Hobie was examining his nails, looking utterly amused.

“If he’s not around, what are you gonna do?” Jessica smirked. “Miguel?”

“I ain’t that desperate,” Hobie scoffed, and stretched his arms over his head lazily.

“Just get back here,” Jessica sighed.

“I’ll do it, but just because I want to.”

“Of course.”

Jessica ended the communication. Gwen was standing up while Hobie remained seated. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not coming?” She asked.

“Give it a moment,” Hobie answered. It took Gwen a second to understand what he was doing, and she snickered.

“We’re gonna get in trouble,” she pointed out, but there was no heat behind it. If anything, her smile was too soft to march her words, almost contrarian.

“You? Nah,” Hobie assured. “I’m the trouble, love.”

“Yeah, well,” she gently shoved him with her foot. “Do me a solid and we can call it double trouble, ‘kay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

They eventually made it back. Turns out Jess was used to Hobie’s antics and wasn’t actually angry with him, or Gwen, for that matter. That let her exhale a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Hobie gently dabbed her shoulder like he knew what she was thinking. Gwen let herself relax a bit after that. It was fine. She was not in trouble.

“—I think it would do you good.”

Jessica’s voice snapped her back to the present, and her deer caught in the headlights expression must have been obvious because she slowly raised an eyebrow at Gwen expectantly.

“Yes? I mean, yes!” Gwen said, and then cleared her throat. “Uhm, but I wouldn't mind knowing more, of course.”

“Nice save,” Jessica commented while folding her arms over her chest. “As I was saying, despite his, uhm—everything, Hobie knows the drill on missions in and out.”

“Like the palm of me ‘and,” Hobie loud-whispered, wiggling his fingers as remark.

“If you feel you’re ready, you two can team up,” Jessica suggested. While her tone was casual, her critical gaze was on Gwen. She was giving her the last word. Gwen wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to decide on being ready for missions or being partnered with another Spider, especially considering that she had just met the guy. But she had to answer.

There was something soothing about Hobie’s presence that made the knot in Gwen’s chest loosen, and she couldn’t explain it, but he felt… safe.

“Yeah,” she repeated, this time firmer in her decision. She looked at Hobie. “Yeah, let’s do that. Should be good.”

“Aces,” Hobie replied with a smile, and Gwen couldn’t help but smile back.

Even after that was done, Hobie stuck around. She ended up having dinner in the cafeteria with him, talking. He was in a band, and they played local venues pretty frequently. Gwen tried to not feel jealous and pushed the thought of The Mary Janes aside. She left the band on her own, so she could not feel bad about it. Like everything else, it was a choice Gwen made, and she had to deal with the consequences.

That night, Gwen dreamed of playing the drums, but that dream turned into a nightmare when she saw her gloved hands and felt the mask on her face instead of her regular clothes. The ceiling collapsed over them, leaving her standing in the middle without a scratch, her hands bloodied and her mask ripped. She couldn’t run because her father was standing right before her, aiming the gun at her chest.

No, please no. Dad, please.

She woke up tangled in the sheets, face down on the cold floor of the small, impersonal room she had crashed into for the night. HQ kept a few dormitories available, just in case they needed them. Gwen didn't think Miguel had designed the place with homeless runaway teenagers in mind, so she knew her stay there was nothing more than a temporary stop. Even if she didn’t have anywhere to go, she couldn’t stay there for long.

There was no way she was going back to sleep after that. Just another night, just another reminder of why she was here. Gwen laid down on her side and stared at the wall. Sleep would not find her, but she felt tired, and when it was time to leave, she felt like the lack of sleep was weighing on her. Hopefully Hobie won’t notice.

“Did you pull an all-nighter without me?”

He noticed.

“Obviously, I partied until an hour ago,” she deadpanned, making Hobie laugh. She liked the sound.

“Next time, consider my invitation. There’s this pub, think ya migh’ like the music.”

“Only if you are playing.”

Hobie leaned closer. The way his little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth was more noticeable thanks to his lip ring.

“You got a deal righ’ there, love.”

She had been joking, but Hobie wasn’t. By the time they opened the portal and jumped into the dimension their next mission required them, he was asking her for her top five favorite songs and suggesting a few himself to make a set. He was seriously going to make a set to play with his band because Gwen made a joke about it.

She never felt more grateful for having her mask on, because it hid the stupid smile on her face and the flush on her cheeks. Catching the bad guy was easy when they worked together, and she felt disappointed that they had to go back to HQ so soon. Contained and filed, they dispatched the guy back to his own dimension, and with that done, Hobie was going to go back home, and Gwen, well. Gwen had a backpack waiting for her.

“Wanna grab a bite? I know a good place,” Hobie asked while they were walking down the hall.

She had not felt this good in weeks, and she didn’t want to go back to the impersonal room and silence just yet.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

Hobie opened a portal, and Gwen didn’t even think before jumping behind him. They landed on a rooftop, and it was only then that Gwen’s brain caught up with the fact that she was in Hobie’s dimension.

It was late, but the city was still buzzing. Gwen looked up, and noticed how the block was dim except for the surrounding area, and her breath hitched. In her dimension, the world shifted, and the light followed, unlike others. Except… It had occurred only once before, during her time with Miles.
She looked at Hobie. He was fumbling with his watch and pacing the rooftop. Darkness covered almost the entire block except for where they stood. Couldn’t he see it? Wasn't it obvious how she drew him towards the light like a moth to a flame? It would be like Peter all over again.

She took a step back. What was she doing?

Her hands were shaking, the surrounding light dimmed, and the shadows creeped closer. This had been a mistake. She shouldn't be here. What if Hobie got hurt because of her? Miles was safe because he was worlds away from her. She always ended up hurting people. Even if Hobie didn’t get hurt, what made her think he wasn’t just being polite with someone that might consider a co-worker at best?

It was so dark now. She should leave.

“Hey,” Hobie’s tone was softer, but he didn’t come closer. “It’s alright.”

“I— I don’t know…”

“I think,” Hobie began, slowly shuffling towards her, dropping his arms at his side, “that you should give yourself more credit.”

“What?”

She looked up. Hobie’s colours had changed, softer tones that had a glow to them that Gwen wanted to hold and keep safe, to not let anyone who wouldn’t appreciate it see him like this. It reminded her of Miles; it reminded her of home.

“This thing we do, it ain’t easy. But you’re here, you care. It may not sound like much, but it is.”

Her jaw was trembling, and she clenched her teeth to stop it. She took a deep breath, but it only made her eyes sting and the knot in her chest became painful. She wanted to run; she wanted to scream, but she also didn’t want to leave.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Hobie took a step closer, and Gwen didn’t move. He approached her slowly, step by step, until he stood just within reach, but not too close, leaving the space for her to close the distance between them. Gwen dropped her gaze, her shoulders shaking. The stinging in her eyes was becoming unbearable. Without another word, Hobie opened his arms, giving her the choice.
She shouldn’t, she didn't deserve it but, but… she was so tired. A sob broke the silence, and she crashed into Hobie’s chest, holding onto him like a lifeline. He held her just as tight, his chin resting on her head as she fought to not unravel right there. She didn’t cry, even when that’s all she wanted to do. Gwen exhaled, exhausted, while Hobie just held her tighter.

It was enough.

Chapter Text

Hobie wanted to jump to Earth-65 and beat a cop. The only thing holding him back was that the cop was Gwen’s father, and she explicitly asked him not to, but that didn’t stop Hobie from thinking about it. He couldn’t help it. There was a burning need to make things right for Gwen, and there wasn’t an easy way. Hobie took the few things he could do and ran with them.

First and foremost, his goal was to make Gwen feel safe. He could feel a choking feeling of despair that wasn’t his echoing since the day on the rooftop. Having that over his head made it hard to be patient, but he focused on Gwen and gave her as much time as she needed.

Over the next few days, the tension in Gwen’s entire being loosened. Slowly, that wretched feeling eased down, and his song drifted in and out of tune as Gwen let him in. He never mentioned the song. It didn’t feel right, and the last thing Hobie wanted was to hurt her by giving the impression he had some ulterior motive.

Technically, he did. Yet, he suppressed the voice within him that reminded him of that. Hobie wasn’t expecting Gwen to give him anything because he was helping her, he just wanted her to be alright. He yearned for her to feel protected and at ease in his company.

An important detail that Gwen didn’t mention was that she had no place to go. The backpack wasn’t a dead giveaway, except for Hobie. had been there. He knew the signs.
That was a good place to start.

He couldn’t make Gwen’s father listen to her daughter, just like he couldn’t make the world give him a mutual song. But he could offer her a space to be. Physical and metaphorical, and perhaps in time she would feel safe in that space.

“You live in a canal boat.”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“You get inside it and make it yours, like a flat but on water.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” She noticed his smirk. “You’re messing with me.”

Hobie playful shrugged and jumped from the edge of the canal towards the docked boat. He leaned against the railing and tilted his head towards the main door, inviting Gwen in. He didn’t wait for her to follow and went inside, leaving the door open behind him. The space was narrow, but long. That gave more than enough room if you were creative. This place was a far cry from the dumps he had squatted in before. This was a proper living space, and like he told Gwen, he made it his home.

He heard her come in and smiled. “Tea?”

She stood in the gallery, looking around with delight. Eventually, her eyes found him and she nodded. Her backpack hit the floor, and she slid to sit on the patched bench by the dinette, her gaze exploring the place. He had some string lights hanging around and many, many posters all over, including the ceiling. Behind the closed double doors a few feet from him was his bedroom, and further back was the space he dedicated to thinker and study, his HQ so to speak. Nothing as fancy as the bells and whistles Miguel blinded people with, but no less useful.

He got the kettle going and looked for the tin he had in mind. He did not know if Gwen liked tea, but he chose the best one he had. If he didn’t think about it, then he couldn’t feel self-conscious or ridiculous for wanting to impress her a bit.

By the time he had the teapot and two mugs on the table, Gwen had visibly relaxed. She had a gentle smile on her face, accompanied by a soft gaze. There was something oddly nostalgic hanging in the surrounding air. It was nice. It nearly let Hobie forget about the quiet music notes drifting by that only he could hear.

He offered, and she accepted.
Having Gwen around was nice. It had been a while since he shared a space with someone else. The change came naturally and easily because Hobie wanted her to be there, and both made it work.

The first night Gwen stayed over, she took the couch and even thanked him. Hobie felt like he wasn’t doing enough even though had enough extra blankets to make even the floor comfortable, one of those few things he got more than necessary because there was a time he had none.

Perhaps opening his door with no strings attached was what led Gwen to stay with Hobie more often as they kept working together until she understood his offer was not temporary. Hobie meant it when he said she could stay as long as she wanted.

So she did.

It was so easy for her to ease into his life, to become part of it. It was both what he wanted and what he feared. Still, Hobie introduced her to his crew. They knew about the Society, but Gwen was different. She was, well… she was Gwen.

Karl was one of the few people in Hobie’s life that he would consider a constant. He was his closest friend, and they had seen each other at their lowest and still crossed that bridge on good terms, so there were very few things he could hide from Karl. That didn’t mean Hobie was not gonna try. So, when he kept giving Hobie a questioning look after he introduced Gwen, Hobie ignored him.

Unlike Karl, Riri wasn’t subtle. She teased Hobie for the next five days about him liking Gwen. Hobie said of course he liked Gwen. Who wouldn’t? She glared at him, very unimpressed. Yes, he was acting obtuse on purpose to annoy Riri, and to avoid the subject. It worked like a charm.

What he liked the most about having Gwen around was the details. Like how as time went by, Gwen’s things made their way into Hobie’s home. He tried very hard to not dwell too much on how that made him feel. He was fine with this, even if his song would sporadically make itself known when Gwen smiled.

It was simple, so of course it didn’t stay that way.

One night, Gwen showed up at his door in the pouring rain with a crestfallen face and fighting her own body to not show how hard she was shaking. That night, she cried herself to sleep in his arms. He wished he knew what to say to make it better, or even what to ask, so she would tell him what was wrong. All he could do was hold her, both wrapped on the covers, tucked in his bed, and hum the song she couldn’t hear but seemed to soothe her.

At least she stopped sleeping on the couch. The bed was big enough for both of them.

Hobie sat on the floor with his back to the bed, thinking about this. Gwen had gone to HQ, and he gave himself the time to catch up on his responsibilities to New London. His city was always buzzing with something shitty going on. 

His watch flickered with a message, and Gwen’s holographic figure looked at him with a big smile.

“Hiya,” she said. “Wanna join me for a mission?”

“Sure,” Hobie replied. “Be there in five.”

It was a good timing. Hobie had dispatched a few of Kingpin’s goons that day and could use the distraction. He let himself enjoy the soft chimes that rang in his ears for a moment and opened a portal.

The music flared louder, but eventually the surrounding noise overshadowed it, growing more prominent. As he walked towards the meeting point, he saw Ben Reilly and Martha Franklin talking to Gwen.

“They, like, eat people?” Gwen asked.

“Not exactly,” Martha said, looking a bit worried. “They feed from potent emotions or something like that, not actual blood, and well, soul bonds are in core emotional.”

“A soul connection is the ultimate bond between people!” Ben nearly shouted, moving his whole body as if he were reciting an intense dialog. “There’s no stronger emotional understanding. Obviously, some vile vampire-like creature would delight to feast on them, despicable.”

“Don’t let Miguel hear that,” Hobie jabbed, snapping Ben out of his performance, who straightened up, resting his hands on his hips.

“Ha! That’s a good one. It’s the cape?”

Hobie did a playful bow, and once he was done, he rested his hands inside the pockets of his vest. “I was thinking about the fangs, but yeah.”

“Isn’t it a hologram?” Gwen asked, frowning as she was trying to remember something about the cape.

“So, the jumpers are back?” Hobie asked with a grunt and looked at Gwen. “Where are we going?”

“Well, we were going to Earth-89521, but we’re switching missions,” Gwen said, sounding unsure. “The anomaly can feed from soul connections. It’s an unnecessary risk or something like that?”

“Yes, that's the assessment. My dimension doesn’t have soul connections, neither does Ben’s,” Martha explained. “One less thing to worry about.”

“Well, my dimension does. It’s not universal, and I don’t have one?”

Hobie kept his expression carefully neutral.

“While risks are part of our lives and forge our memories, we can mitigate some of them with prevention.” Ben struck a pose after saying that. “Thus, you’re going to Earth-12859 instead. Hobgoblin variant. Looks like blown glass.”

“We’ll take it,” Hobie said quickly, already typing the destination on his watch. “Never mind the vampires. I hate zombies. Let’s go!”

He took Gwen’s hand, and all but ran into the portal.

“Zombies, like real zombies?” Gwen followed him through the portal. “If they’re slow, at least the anomaly won’t get in too much trouble.”

“Those zombies run, love,” Hobie pointed out, shuddering. “Also fly, jump, shoot lasers and a whole bunch of hogwash. If they are more than human, they will keep their powers after being infected. It’s creepy.”

The dimension they landed on looked like an 8-bit video game. A lot of things were flat and pixelated, while others stood out like saving points would. It wasn’t the most interesting place Hobie had visited, but this was better than the fucking zombies.

Oh, and the cursed vampires.

“You have dealt with those guys before?” Gwen asked. She was messing with her watch to set a perimeter to track the anomaly. There was not much distortion around them, but there were a few points where things seemed affected, a giveaway of the path the anomaly took. “The vampires.”

“Yeah. They are repeat offenders. I dunno how they do it. Keep showing up in different dimensions from time to time. More trouble than they’re worth. Ben and Martha will have to worry more about the zombies than them.”

“Miguel must be frustrated,” Gwen mumbled.

“Aye, it’s hilarious,” Hobie chuckled.

It took nearly three hours, but they found the Hobgoblin in the city, glitching inside a building and doing his best to scare people. The place was a bank, and he couldn’t be sure if the pixelated people were screaming for help as they arrived, but if the boss fight music that blasted out of nowhere was any clue, they probably were. 

Hobie got an idea. He signaled Gwen, and they went in different directions. He stood upside down on the ceiling and strummed his guitar, focusing the buzzing running under his skin towards his guitar, powering it up and resonating against the blown glass Hobgoblin, not enough to shatter the guy, but he stunted him good. Gwen did the rest and knocked the guy out with an excellent kick. The electronic music shifted to what Hobie guessed was a victory fanfare, and the civilians jumped around them, sharing the moment.

They got the guy webbed and secured before dragging him away towards another area where they could portal without further disrupting the people of this dimension.

“What kind of guitar is that?” Gwen asked out of nowhere. “I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“A pretty cool one,” He answered with a cheeky grin.

She shook her head, amused. “Yeah, but how do you make it work without an amp?”

“Oh, that.” Hobie shifted the guitar to his front. He placed his fingers on the neck of the guitar against the strings, and rested his other hand palm flat over the pickups for a moment, then plucked at the strings, playing a few notes. He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Spider bite gave me a bit of inner static.”

“Electricity?” The lenses of her mask widened. “You can use electricity?”

“Kind of.” Hobie scratched the side of his face. “I can charge things, overload ‘em if I’m feeling proper spicy. I modified my guitar to back me up in a fight after getting a hang of the buzzing. Would like to do more wit’ it, but so far that’s the thing I can do without givin’ myself a splitting headache.”

“Oh gosh. He would love you.”

“Eh?”

“Miles,” she said, and even with the mask, Hobie could tell she was smiling. The sound of strings drifted around them. “He has electric base abilities, too. First time I’ve ever seen something like that, or other Spiders for that matter. He was new to being Spider-Man when I met him, but he caught up so fast, I—It was so—he was so great.”

There was so much behind those words. Hobie had to bite the inside of his cheek because the moment Gwen started talking about this other guy, his song got new fragments. They were subtle underneath Gwen’s melody but not clashing with it. They matched, they enriched the whole thing, and Hobie wanted to scream.

He expected the misplaced sting of jealousy and got the need to get Gwen to keep talking about Miles instead. He was grasping for the sound, whistling in his ears and settling in his chest, around his heart. What was happening? Why was he hearing two potential harmonies when Gwen didn't seem to hear a thing?

He wanted to push it all away, demand the unknown to leave him alone, and curse everything and everyone. But he also wanted to do none of that. He wanted so many things that were not his to have.

“You gotta tell me that story,” Hobie said, managing a chuckle to hide the fact he was about to pull his own heart out and stomp on it himself. “He sounds brilliant.”

“Yeah, he is…”

Longing, that’s what he noticed in such simple words. Hobie wanted her to keep talking. He wanted to know more; he wanted to know everything. He was already thinking of several ways to get that conversation going. At least two of those wouldn't be too awkward or obvious. Probably. But he held himself back and bit his tongue to let her be.

They went back to HQ, and the itch to know more about Miles was still nagging Hobie. It made his chest feel uncomfortably tight in a way he didn’t like.

“Hey,” he called, the question on the tip of his tongue.

Gwen looked at him with big, bright eyes. “What’s up?”

Nope.

“I got a gig tonight. Wanna go?”

“Yes!” she answered, genuinely excited. It let Hobie breathe easier.

It was a spontaneous decision. Sure, he got himself there to not ask more about Miles, but it worked out. Getting himself in the mind-space to play was exactly what he needed to calm down. They arrived early at the venue, and Hobie watched Gwen chat with Riri while he tuned his guitar, absentmindedly plucking the notes of an incomplete song.

“How you doin’?” Karl’s question snapped him out of his trance, making him notice the song he was playing. He stopped, quickly covering it with random notes in favor of looking like he was still tuning his guitar.

“Same as the first time you asked,” Hobie gave him a side glance. “I dunno what you want me to tell you, man.”

Karl ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. It was the gesture that he made when he was attempting to be patient and not just take his shield and smack Hobie’s head with it.

“Okay bruv, whenever you’re ready.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Uh-uh.”

Karl placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze before walking away, knowing there was definitely something going on. Hobie threw his head back and groaned. At least it was just Karl.

Until it wasn’t.

Of course.

As if Pavitr would ever keep things to himself.

While Hobie kept an amicable stance with the Society, he didn’t get involved with most of them. There were a few exceptions, and Pavitr was one of them, because Pavitr was Hobie’s friend, and it was not just from his side. If anything, the one that proclaimed Hobie his friend to begin with was Pavitr, and that was fine with him. The declaration might have given him a moment where he didn't know what to do with himself, but in the end, they indeed became friends.

Pavitr was very new at being Spider-Man, and Hobie wanted him to be great. There was a tendency for Spider-Folk to keep to themselves, and he didn’t want Pavitr to do that. Hobie cared little about Miguel’s task force in saving the multiverse and all the speeches about order. But if there was a good thing about the Society was the chance to make community, and if Hobie could help a fellow Spider like Pavitr with a thing or two, then he would do it.

There was just one thing. When Pavitr said he is good at reading people, he wasn’t exaggerating. The bloody git.

Hobie could see the moment Pavitr’s eyes lighted up when he introduced Gwen, and he literally had to shoot a bit of webbing to shut him up before he said something stupid. Pavitr took it surprisingly well, but just like Karl, he did not keep it to himself and kept giving Hobie side glances, smiling so much Hobie wondered if his face hurt. Neither of them knew the truth, at least.

The day after the Hobgoblin mission, Pavitr invited them for lunch.

Mumbattan was so big, easily the biggest city Hobie had ever been. No matter how often he visited, it felt like there was always something new. But it wasn’t the landscape that had him nearly in a trance this time. It was Gwen. The way she jumped, swung, and twirled in the air wasn’t merely gymnastics. It looked like she was dancing. It was a sight to witness.

“En pointe,” he couldn’t help but say as they landed on a wide area, Gwen reaching solid ground in a ballerina pose. “Look at you.”

She got en pointe and jumped, arms over her head. She landed and bowed. But what he liked the most was Gwen’s melodic giggle during all this.

“Here I am,” she said, just in time for Pavitr to land next to her.

“This is the place!” Pavitr gestured widely with both arms at the area down below full of people and street vendors. “Ah, memories!”

“Okay, you guys met in this place,” Gwen said. “But how?”

“Anomaly chase,” Hobie answered, looking around the street at the vendors from the place they had stopped. It had changed a bit since that day. The landscape in Mumbattan changed very often.

“It was quite surprising to meet another Spider!” Pavitr jumped onto the street to get some Vada Pav from one vendor and went back to them, sharing the food gleefully. “Got the entire speech from Miguel a few days later.”

“And what do you think?” Gwen asked. There was something vulnerable about it.

“I’m still trying to understand,” Pavitr said. “It’s a lot to take in, but there’s good to be done, and I like that!”

That was the reason he clicked with Pavitr. Even with all the shiny cellophane wrappers Miguel had put in the Society, he still asked questions. He wasn’t one to blindly follow.

“I’m glad,” Gwen relaxed, and Hobie looked at her under the Mumbattan sun, wondering what she was thinking. “Knowing there’s other people that understand makes things… easier. This can be kind of lonely.”

“I’ve been thinking about telling Gayatri about it,” Pavitr said, casually and cheerfully. He completely missed Gwen’s panicked expression. “She’s going to suspect soon.”

“No, don’t!” Gwen shouted and then covered her mouth after noting how loud she had been. “I mean, I—What if she takes it badly?”

“Why would she?” Pavitr frowned. “She’s going to be super mad that I kept it from her, that’s for sure.”

Hobie nodded. “Either you tell her, or she’s goin’ to find out in the most inconvenient way possible and beat ya ass.”

Pavitr shuddered. “Oh, I know.”

“You sound so sure she’s going to find out.” Gwen frowned. “Why? You’re not hiding your identity?”

“I am,” Pavitr assured. “But it’s hard to hide things when you have a soul connection. She can literally feel when I’m close. It’s so romantic!”

“And bad for the secret identity business,” Hobie added with a laugh.

“Oh, she’s your soulmate?” Gwen visibly relaxed. “I guess that makes a difference.” 

“She’s an incredibly classy teenager,” Pavitr said, and Hobie was sure he was hearing his song while waxing poetically about her. “I still need to make an effort, you know? Show that it’s not just the universe telling us to get along and I took it for granted, she’s just so… aw, I love her!”

“That’s very sweet,” Gwen sighed.

Hobie ate his Vada Pav and told himself he was not bitter.

Spending time with Pavitr was good for the three of them. After a few hours, they said their goodbyes and made some plans for the next week. Hobie and Gwen opened a portal back to Old York, swinging around the city to patrol before going back to Hobie’s home.

Gwen had been quiet, Hobie could tell she was overthinking. After changing clothes, she kept pulling at her sweater while staring at the opposite wall of the kitchen area.

“You’re going to give yourself a headache,” he commented, walking to the table and placing the mug of warm tea in front of her.

“Shut up,” she laughed, but accepted the tea. “I was thinking Miles would like Pav, too.”

Hobie sat down with his mug of tea and waited for the song to echo. It didn’t take long, and just like before, it was a double sequence in bits and pieces.

“When are you going to visit?” He asked. It was something he had been wondering for a while now. For as much as Gwen talked about Miles, it was in the past tense. “I can get his dimension’s coordinates.”

“I know them,” she said, her voice low. Too low.

“But?” Hobie rested his arms on the table and saw the moment Gwen’s entire demeanor crumbled. “Hey, hey, Gwen, love?”

Hobie scooted closer, but he didn’t know if he should touch her or not. The echo of fear made him nauseous. The song sounded distorted. It was jarring and hurt his ears.

“I—I can’t.”

She was shaking so much that the tea in her mug splashed on the table. He gently pried the cup from her hands and gave her a napkin. When she looked up, her eyes were glassy. She was holding back tears.

“Why?” Hobie dared to ask. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s—I asked Peter about going to see Miles weeks ago,” she said. “He told me it wasn't a good idea, because… Miguel said—Miles shouldn’t get involved.”

Hobie kept the need to snarl at bay, barely. “Why?”

Gwen took a deep, shaky breath. “Miles is an anomaly. The original anomaly. The spider that bit him wasn’t from his dimension, and—that’s part of the reason the multiverse is all wrong, now.”

The way she said it gave away she was quoting Miguel. The break in her voice and the shaking were a contrast with the monotone, almost clinical explanation. Gwen might believe what she was quoting, but she hated it.

The song pitched higher, off tune. Hobie closed his eyes, grinding his teeth painfully.

“That…” he began and exhaled. “Makes no fucking sense.”

His words cut the tension, and it felt like a spell had been broken. Gwen snapped out of her stupor and directed her gaze towards him, a look of wonder and hope in her eyes. It appeared she had been longing for someone to speak those words, to vocalize them, to put them out there and not just to tumble in her head.

The echo of fear took a step back.

“It doesn’t?” her question was tentative. She wasn’t arguing with him. She wanted him to be right. “No?”

“No! How can Miles just existing be wrong?” He argued, something hot and dangerous brewing in his chest, an anger he didn’t expect but owned the more he spoke. “It’s like all those canon events bullshit. The fucking multiverse can’t be that fragile.”

From the moment Hobie got the rundown on the canon events and how they had to be preserved, he thought it was wrong. He couldn’t believe the stability of the entire multiverse depended on the trajectory of their lives, specifically their lives as Spiders. The idea that there was an entity, force, or whatever higher power that had decided how their story should go down to the letter was sickening. It didn’t feel like fate; it felt like a sentence.

Hobie hated it.

“Besides, it’s not like Miles planned to get bitten.” He looked at Gwen for confirmation, and she nodded. “There you go. It was just like the rest of us—a twist of fate.”

Gwen’s lower lip was trembling, but she attempted to smile. When the tears fell down her face, he couldn’t help himself and reached out to brush them away. She let him, and Hobie exhaled. 

“I wish… I wish I knew what to do,” she said. The conflict in her gaze was back, but there was fear there as well. It took Hobie a moment, but then he understood.

The canon events were a comforting idea for some Spiders and a horrifying threat to others. Hobie was on the latter. He kept that to himself until now. Gwen was afraid, and he had a feeling it was not just the threat of what breaking the canon could mean that fed that fear.

He had noted how Gwen had stepped into the space he offered her, keeping in the back of his mind what made their arrangement a necessity; she couldn’t go home. It made him wonder if Miguel had explicitly threatened to send her back if she didn’t fall into line, or if it was a silent implication. Neither option was good, and both made Hobie want to get violent.

Kicking the living shit out of Miguel would make him feel good, he knew. But this was not about him.

“How can I help?” He asked and took Gwen’s hands in his. “How can I help you, Gwendy?”

She looked him in the eye and twisted their hands to lace their fingers together. Part of him wanted to bask in the touch and another part of him wanted to pull away and scream. He didn’t deserve it.
He did neither.

Hobie stood still and listened. His song was no longer distorted and high-pitched. It slowly got back to the melody he knew, with a sporadic additional note, as Gwen’s features softened. She was letting him see her.

“Miles,” she said.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I want to make sure he’s okay, I need him to be safe, and I need to know he’s safe until I see him again,” she said, and two fresh notes joined the melody she couldn't hear but Hobie treasured. “Could you watch over Miles?”

He knew the answer before she even finished the question. There were many things Hobie wanted to do, but this was what Gwen needed him to do. He committed to memory the feeling of her hands around his. She did not know how much the simple hold meant, and he couldn’t tell her. The song wouldn’t leave him alone, and he started thinking that perhaps he had to do this for himself as well.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Chapter Text

When Hobie got the canal boat that became his home, it was a strange place that didn’t feel like it belonged to him. Hobie knew what it was like to have nowhere to go. He knew what it was like to be homeless and have to fit your entire life in a backpack because you never knew how long you would stay in one place. He was so familiar with the sentiment that for the first months he didn’t dare to add too many things to his place because, in the back of his mind, he still couldn’t believe it was his home.

Supporting Gwen was not an entirely selfless decision. He never claimed to be noble. His soul song guided him to her, and it was up to him to do the rest. That’s how those connections were supposed to go. That’s why it didn’t feel like a constricting fate, like a totalitarian system. There was a choice in that path. At least that’s what he told himself in order to justify defying every other system he encountered but this one.

Again, he never claimed to be noble.

He opened his home to Gwen and promised to watch over Miles because he wanted to, not because he was selfless. While he expected nothing in return, part of him wanted something more. But he didn’t do things for others as transactions. Not for the people he cared about. Never has, and never will.

He wanted to see Gwen smile. He wanted to meet Miles.

Two-dimensional watches sat innocently on his workbench. One was from HQ, which he had taken apart and put back together several times since the day he joined the Society. First out of curiosity, then out of necessity. The second one was of his design. He tapped on the screen of the bootleg watch he created and smiled when it came to life. It wasn’t like the Society’s watch, not just in design, but in a few things here and there. Hobie didn’t copy things. He took the concept and, like everything he did, made it his own, with a bit of spice.

He could have used the official watch to jump dimensions. It wouldn’t be the first time he did so. Before he could make his watch, he had tested several add-ons he engineered to prevent the watch from being traced. Those worked perfectly. It wasn’t a secret the watches logged their destination, and most times, Hobie didn’t care the Society knew when he went dimension hopping, he gave them the impression there was no harm in him doing that and tested his add-on.

But this time? Nah.

Hobie couldn’t risk his destination being found. This wasn’t his usual antics done while being perceived as harmless to keep playing his cards right. This was important. It was personal.

He keyed in the destination, and the number 1610 displayed on the screen felt like it was calling him to just open the portal already, to ignore the way his chest felt tight and his fingers heavy, as if covered in lead. He pressed the correct button, following the need to action instead of his doubts. He successfully opened the portal, ensuring that his personal touches were included.

Follow the call.

Hobie’s Old York differed greatly from 1016’s New York, but he had learned to adapt quickly to changing circumstances long before being Spider-Man and he continued to do so after. It didn’t bother him. Hobie found the rhythm to swing between buildings he had never seen and skyscrapers that called for him to climb them. The wind felt welcoming. It was as if this universe didn’t mind his presence.

The night was very active; it didn't take long for Hobie to find Miles, and when he did, the world sang him a familiar tune.

Hobie kept his distance, enough to see but not to alert Miles of his presence. He was toeing the limit. A few more feet and their spider-sense would call to each other. For as much as he wanted to simply reach, he kept himself rooted in the distance he imposed.

Miles was wearing his suit, helping people. Because he was this dimension’s one and only Spider-Man. Hobie wondered what else Miles was. He knew a few things, though. Gwen shared with him that Miles wanted to do the right thing from the start, even if he felt scared and didn't comprehend his powers. He knows Miles helped Gwen, Peter, Peni, Ham, and Benji go back home. He knows Miles saved the multiverse.

He knows the four additional notes of his song belong to Miles.

There are a few things Hobie knows about Miles, but he doesn’t know Miles as a person, not yet. He was keeping his distance because he promised to watch over Miles for Gwen, and he was still figuring out how to do that. Knowing Miles was not part of that promise, that’s something Hobie wanted to do for himself.

As Hobie stayed at bay, he kept telling himself this was him simply being cautious. Yes, staying out of Miles’ spider-sense was just him being cautious, keeping his distance and watching was part of that same sense of caution, regardless of how much of a stalker it made him feel.

So Hobie kept his distance and observed.

Miles was so… friendly. Spider-Man spent equal time helping people with mundane things as he did fighting for them. If there was a robbery, he would stop it. If there was someone in danger, he would be there to save them, for sure. He caught and safely lowered a falling construction beam, swung people out of the way of a speeding car, and gave directions to a lost man. He treated these incidents with the same importance and did so with an honesty so transparent it nearly made Hobie jump in and take him away from everyone.

It was a dangerous thought. He should go back.

Miles was doing fine. He got the information he needed and could go back to Gwen and let her know what he saw. She would ask for details and Hobie would act like he didn't follow Miles for hours and give only a few notes at a time. Hobie could tell Gwen what she wanted to know and move on.

Four broken notes pierced his ear with a sharp and painful sound.

With a hiss, Hobie looked around. He couldn’t sense danger, but something was wrong. He moved into action, following the sharp sound. In the distance, he saw Miles sitting on the wall of a skyscraper, staring at the ground. The lenses of his mask were half closed. The notes kept hissing off-tune.

Then he felt it.

An echo in his core, a feeling that wasn’t his own but was familiar with. He had felt it himself, he had felt it in Gwen, and now in Miles. He knew what it was even from a distance, loneliness.

It was just a moment. A few minutes when Miles closed his eyes, the feeling steeped. Hobie didn't know what he was thinking, but he could imagine. If he let his memory feed those thoughts, he would remember about the time when he was the only one, the only Spider. A time when he didn’t have friends in Karl and Riri, when it was just him in between a broken world and the slightest possibility of making a difference. The exhaustion nagged in his bones as the days passed and nothing he did felt like enough.

He didn’t have to imagine loneliness, he still remembered it.

The moment passed, and Miles stood horizontally on the building and ran down to give himself momentum, shooting a web with a thwip to pull himself in the air and jump in a long arch, stepping into another building to get more speed to his run and keep moving.

Hobie followed.

The night was winding down, and Hobie observed as Miles made his way across Brooklyn. Hobie didn’t find it odd when Miles skipped to the ground and ducked into an alleyway. Those spaces were a commonplace to find people in need. He thought nothing of it until he noticed there was no one in that place. No human, that’s it.

Miles was on his knees, his hand extended towards a cat that looked like he had seen better days. The cat was white and gray, but it was hard to tell because of how dirty he was. There were missing patches of hair along his sides, and some crusted blood around his ears. He was so skinny even from afar, Hobie could see his pronounced spine. The cat lay on his side, his pitiful meow a heartbreaking sound. Hobie couldn’t hear what Miles was whispering, not from such a distance, but he saw Miles stay there until the cat got up and approached him slowly to head-butt his hand, only then did Miles pet the cat and eventually hold him in his arms like something fragile.

Miles had the cat curled against his chest while walking down the street. He didn’t swing or jump around this time, perhaps to not disturb the elderly animal. He kept walking all the way to his intended destination. The clinic was closed, but Miles knocked on the door anyhow. The intercom lit up, and eventually, a man came out to talk with Miles.

Hobie noticed the sign. This was not just an affordable clinic, but a rescue. The top looked like an apartment. Most likely the home of the man Miles was talking to. He seemed to be part of the rescue group if the way he looked at the cat in Miles' arms was any sign.

After a few minutes, the man took the sleeping cat in his arms and shook hands with Miles before going back inside. Miles saw the man off, waving his hand goodbye until both the man and the cat were inside the clinic. Only then did Miles get himself back into the air and across the rooftops of Brooklyn.

Hobie had to sit down for a moment.

Part of him had considered that every time Gwen talked about Miles, she was talking about her longing and not the person. He couldn’t help but wonder if that something behind her voice was a crush and nothing more. If what she spoke was her perception of making more of someone than they were. But he could tell now it wasn’t.

The four notes were back in tune.

Hobie laughed. He let himself fall onto the floor of the rooftop he had landed on and laughed to himself because he was about to do something incredibly stupid and maybe also incredibly selfish. He made up his mind and would deal with the consequences down the line.

“Cheers.”

His heart was pounding against his ribcage, it felt like it wanted to break free from his body. Something kept stealing his breath. It felt like he was being pushed and pulled at the same time. He shot a web and jumped forward, following in the direction Miles had taken, and then shot another, thwip, and another, thwip, and another. He moved faster with each maneuver, jumping in long arches and pulling himself in the air, once again propelled by the impulse he got from tugging at a well-placed web.

As he landed on the roof in between two apartment complexes, he noticed that the taller walls of the adjacent structures were covered in graffiti, old and new. Hobie stood there for a moment. He lost Miles in the distance, and his sense of direction was trying to get him settled. He was close, he could feel it. He could hear it.

His damn song. The melody Gwen started and now was threading itself with the notes she pulled into the world by talking about Miles, the same notes that resonated when Hobie finally saw him. He could hear them close, very close, so, so close…

“You’re like me.”

Hobie spun faster than he intended, landing in a battle stance before his brain caught up with his body. His song was singing, and his spider-sense was not. It stayed calm; it felt serene. A testament to the fact that he was not in danger.

Miles Morales was right in front of him.

The lenses of his mask were staring right into Hobie’s. His stance wasn’t tense, but he wasn’t relaxed either, alert. He seemed to study Hobie, perhaps deciding if he was a threat or not.

It dawned on him that Miles had found him, not the other way around. It made something in Hobie want to cheer. It was the same sense of pride he felt every time Gwen aced a drum solo or landed a perfect hit.

“Yeah,” he finally said, dropping his stance to stand at full height.

Miles tilted his head up and took a step closer. Hobie’s song was so loud even in fragments, and Miles, just like Gwen, didn’t seem to hear it.

He tried not to be too disappointed.

“Oh man, I can’t believe this is happening!” Miles said. He sounded excited. He took another step closer, and one more.

Hobie blinked a few times, his brain catching up with the moment.

“Nothing suspicious about this, eh?” he said, motioning to himself.

“I’ve seen it before,” Miles explained. “I thought I would never see it again.”

There was melancholy in that statement. Such honesty on display made Hobie feel conflicted because it was so open, earnest even. He didn’t want anyone unable to appreciate such a thing to see Miles like this.

Miles shook the feeling away with a whole-body shrug, his good mood back in line. “But anyway! How long have you been here? Were you pulled from your dimension? Wait, wait, first things first: Are you okay?”

“Pardon me?”

“Are you okay?” Miles asked again.

Hobie chuckled. “You worry abou’ li'l ol' me?”

“Yeah man, if you start glitching you’re gonna get hurt,” Miles looked at him up and down, as if looking for a confirmation of his well-being. His gaze trailed on him and tilted his head in questioning, his hands hovering closer, getting ready to catch him if he were to suddenly glitch.

“All good,” Hobie answered with a laugh. Miles didn’t look too reassured, his eyes trailing across Hobie’s form until they landed on his watch and back to his face.

“Another dimension, still.”

Hobie had to make an effort to keep himself in check as the outline of his form vibrated in yellow and purple, the rapid text crossing still looking like gibberish and the news instead of reflecting what Hobie didn’t want to say out loud. Miles, Miles, Miles.

“Aren’t you clever?” he shook his head, endearing.

“Oie!” he laughed, barely containing his renewed excitement. “You aren’t here by accident.”

“‘m not?”

“Nah. Don’t think so. Something strange happened last year when my friends got pulled into this dimension, but, uhm, whatever the reason, you're not here because of that.

“Maybe I just think it’s neat. Ain’t gonna worry.”

“Sure, that’s why you’ve been following me for hours.” He rested his hands on his hips, the lenses of his mask narrowed. “’Cause it’s aaaall good.”

Ah, caught.

Hobie stared at him in silence, one that extended to an awkward moment. Then both of them ended up laughing out of nowhere. This was not what he envisioned at all, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Name’s Hobie.”

“Hobie, eh? Nothing like Howell or Howard, Harold.”

“Whut? No, why would you think that?”

“Because Gwen tried to pass as Gwanda, and I should have known that wasn’t her name,” Miles mumbled, more to himself than to Hobie. “She’s my—I met her last year when this incident happened. She’s like us.”

“Gwanda,” Hobie repeated. He would not let her live that down. Oh-oh, he was not.

“Gwen,” Miles corrected. “Spider-Woman, and she’s—she’s, my friend.”

He could tell Miles was smiling, and his damn song wouldn’t shut up. Hobie wanted to scream and tear his hair out. He wasn’t supposed to get closer and yet he couldn’t help it. There was a choice to be made, and he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Miles, by the way,” he added. “My name is Miles.”

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah, I know. Gwen told me about you.”

The song came to a screeching halt.

Miles stared at him in silence. It felt like he was being watched under a microscope, as if Miles was looking for deception in his words. He would find none, but it was not up to Hobie to decide.

“You know Gwen,” Miles’ went softer. Was he disappointed? He sounded disappointed. This was a mistake. He fucked up. It was too late to take it back, so Hobie confirmed with a nod.

“She—” He ran his tongue over his lip ring and decided that if Miles was going to be this honest with him, then Hobie would be an arse to not reciprocate. “She sent me. Wanted to know how’re you. Can’t be here yet, so! You got me.”

Miles’ shoulders dropped a little. Of course he was disappointed. After all this time, he was obviously excited to see another Spider, but if the way Gwen talked about Miles was any similar to the way Miles felt for Gwen, it was not just about seeing another Spider. He could see now the most obvious things that both Miles and Gwen had. The raw emotion in their voice, and the sincerity that lay underneath. Gwen, guarded and aloof. Miles, open and honest.

Another thing both of them had in common was that, instead of getting to see whom they really wanted, they got stuck with Hobie.

What a shame.

“Hmm yeah, a sandwich,” Miles said, probably the last thing Hobie expected, if at all. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry? We should get some food. I’m thinking of Cuban sandwiches. Do you like them?”

“Can’t say, never had them.”

“Man, you're missing out,” Miles pointed towards the street with his thumb. “So, are you hungry?”

“Don’t have cash on me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Oh, this guy.

“I could eat.”

“Sweet,” he nodded. “Shall we?”

Sometimes, Hobie would do the exact opposite of what he was told just to be contrarian. It came like an instinct, the need to stand his ground, hold his voice, and not give his compliance. This need resulted from the world he lived in. Hobie's opposition stemmed from his deep conviction that the system was broken. This would manifest even when he was not in a situation that required it. By turning it into a quirk, he managed to find a way around it, and it was mostly successful.

He didn’t feel that need this time. Hobie was happy to relax and follow Miles as they swung through Brooklyn. Hobie liked to swing high to maintain long arches and momentum. Miles, on the other hand, would move high and low, sometimes at street level and sometimes over it, where he would run horizontally to the structures and buildings, jumping and swinging like he made friends with gravity, and she let him show off.

Their run wasn’t long. Miles descended on a busy street where a food truck was parked, and the people running it served customers while exchanging greetings, laughs, and gratitude. Hobie didn’t go down, opting to lean against the side of the building facing the truck instead. The people around Miles didn’t seem surprised to see him, they were as welcoming to him as to any other person in the neighborhood. Chatting and catching up in small talk that didn’t feel awkward or forced.

These people didn’t know Miles, but they liked Spider-Man.

When Miles came back, they sat side by side on the ledge of the building. Miles offered him a wrapped sandwich, and Hobie took off his mask before accepting it. His fingers tingle where they had brushed against Miles’s hand.

“Thanks, mate.”

“Aw, man! Seriously? That’s not fair.”

“Whut?”

“How come you’re cooler under your mask?” Miles asked with a whine, taking off his own mask. His mouth scrunched in a pout that made him look younger. Hobie took in every detail of him. His eyes were so bright.

He had to look away before he said something stupid like tell him his eyes were such a pretty shade of brown with a tint of gold. He held the sandwich in his hands and laughed at the exchange. He turned back, pretending he didn’t feel himself flush, fixing his gaze to Miles with a smirk.

“I was this cool the whole time.”

He could see the moment that registered for Miles, who threw his arms up in what Hobie guessed was meant to be frustration, but he was smiling anyway, so Hobie counted it as a win.

The food was good. He had never had something like it before. It probably showed, because Miles was looking carefully for his reaction and whatever he saw, he liked. Hobie didn’t mind being watched, not when it was Miles. That thought should scare him. Maybe it did just a little, just not enough to make it a problem.

“How did you two meet?” Miles asked. “You’re not from the same dimension, are you?”

“No,” he said. “We’re not.”

“So?”

He had another choice to make, and it took him less than a second to know what he wanted to do. The plan had been for Hobie to simply observe, and everything else was going to be for Gwen to decide. Hobie wasn't meant to get involved at all, yet the moment he saw Miles, he knew he wouldn't stick to his own stupid plan.

“There’s this group, people like us. This bloke, Miguel O'Hara. He got together a bunch of Spider-Folk looking over the multiverse, yadda, yadda.” Hobie rushed in his answer, ignoring the way his heart pounded and his voice wavered a little. He hid that by clearing his throat. “I got in, thinking it would be great, like a community that understands what this gig does to you. Sounds good, doesn't it? Too good to be true.”

As he spoke, the look Miles had on his face was something Hobie was having a hard time describing. Confusion? Incredulity? Both? Whatever it was, Miles ended up smiling, and it wasn’t fair how much Hobie liked to see that smile.

“Like, an elite society with all the best Spider-people in it? That sounds amazing!”

The excitement in his voice made Hobie wince. “Wow, nah, nah. Hold it right there, mate. You’re givin’ them too much credit.”

“You’re in it, so is Gwen.”

That Miles considered Gwen amongst the best Spider-people was no surprise, and Hobie agreed with him, so that was fine. Now, him being included in that description as well? Hobie was in over his head, and not because he was being considered “among the best” but because Miles was the one making the distinction. It also made him angry, because Miguel’s bullshit club didn’t deserve Miles’ free admiration.

“Too good to be true, Miles,” he repeated with resentment in his voice. “I mean it.”

Miles was silent for a moment, perhaps shifting the information in his head, and when he spoke, his voice was less excited. “They’re not what you expected.”

“Aye.”

“Bummer.”

Hobie shrugged like it didn't matter. Like he didn't remember the moment the disappointment came crashing down on him when he realized the same thing. It was his mistake, letting himself hope this flashy system would be different.

“There are a few good things, like meeting Gwen, and a few other folks,” Hobie said because there was a bright side. “And you.”

Miles’ little laugh was worth the awkward conversation, even more so when his shoulders lost the tension he had been holding. It wasn’t much, but enough for Miles to relax next to him little by little. Hobie wanted him to be alright. He didn’t want to be the reason Miles felt bad and more disappointed than he already was.

He looked down at his sandwich, and they ate in silence for a bit. Something kept coming back to Hobie’s mind, and it had nothing to do with the Society.

“You’re good to them,” Hobie said in between bites, catching Miles’ attention. “These people.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but they’re good to you too,” He looked him in the eye. “That’s sumthin’, mate.”

Miles shifted to look at the skyline view in the distance. Hobie couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He wanted to reach out, ask him. He wanted to know Miles like Gwen knew him. It was dangerous, and once again he was setting himself up to fail, but he did it with Gwen and he knew he was going to do it with Miles the moment he saw him because he was a fool who never learned.

“What about you?” Miles asked. “How’s your New—wait a minute, do you even live in New York? You sound British.”

“I am, place’s Old York,” He said. “From what I gather, my gig looks like a mix of two of yours. Trus’ me, it’s way more trippy to me than ya’.”

“Oh so, it’s like Old York and, uhm, New London?”

“You get it!” Hobie chuckled. “Righ’ next to each other.”

Miles laughed. It felt melodic because it was sincere and because the notes that had been following him fell into place in the song only Hobie could hear. It was a shame that he couldn’t share it.

“How long have you been Spider-Man?”

“Close to three years,” Hobie counted. “Long enough for folks to gimme another name. Can you believe it?”

“Uh? What name?”

Hobie took the last bite of his sandwich and gestured at himself, tossing his hair back to make his wicks bounce. He held his hands up and curled his fingers in the rock-on sign.

“Take a guess!”

“Nooo, really?” Miles giggled. “Spider-Punk?”

“The one and only,” he dropped his hands and made a bowing gesture. “Kinda hated it at firs’, not gonna lie.”

“But it sounds so cool! So you kept it?”

“It grew on me.”

“That’s great man, it suits you.”

“Doncha say.”

Miles clicked his tongue. “Well, I think it does.”

“What about you, Spider-Man? What’s your thing?”

“Eh, well, uhm...”

There was an underlying blush across Miles’ cheeks. It was endearing. Hobie shifted the guitar to hold it in his lap. He needed to do something with his hands, so instead of fidgeting, he plucked at the strings while Miles shared a few things with him. He listened, taking every detail in. His way of making art was drawing, the type of music he liked, and the intricacies of being a teenager and Spider-Man at the same time.

“School is kicking my ass, man. You would think the bad guys would be more thorough than my teachers, but noooo. Mrs. Diaz has no mercy.”

“But you like it.” It wasn’t a question. Hobie could see that despite the complaints, Miles liked what he was doing.

“There’s a few things that, how did you say? Grew on me.”

“Mate, I got stuck with a name. You fell for science.”

“Come on, you gotta admit there’s lots of interesting stuff out there, and there’s people already researching other dimensions, dark matter and, and I was thinking… I was thinking it would be cool to be part of… that.”

It took Hobie a moment to understand. He looked down at his watch and the way Miles was prosperously not looking at the device, he just smiled. There was a light flush on his cheeks, perhaps a dust of embarrassment, but Hobie didn’t think he should be. 

“But do you like it?” This time, it was a question. He felt the need to ask because Miles was shaping his future at the thought of seeing his friends again, no matter how long it would take. That made him want to shake his shoulders and tell him something was going on. There was a reason they had kept their distance. Save him the heartache.

“You know what?” Miles leaned back, supporting his weight on his hands. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Good, you gotta do what makes you happy, and keep going from there,” Hobie lifted his hand, showing Miles the watch. “I dunno a lot about dark matter, but I can show you a shortcut for this one, tho.”

“You would do that for me?”

“‘course. Don’t wanna make Gwendy wait too long, aye?”

Miles looked away, but his smile was bright, open, and sincere. Four notes became eight, and Hobie didn’t know how long he would be able to hear the song. It was a shame he couldn’t share it with the two people who made it for him, but he could at least enjoy it for a little while.

Chapter Text

There was something about Mile’s dimension that made Hobie feel strange, but not in a bad way. Saying that he felt welcomed was the easier way to describe it. He wasn’t sure that was the correct term, but at the very least, he felt this dimension didn’t mind his presence. There was an impulsive thought that wanted him to take off his watch to find out, which was ridiculous. While he felt at ease in this dimension, it didn’t mean his atoms would agree to be in another dimension. Still, it was an interesting thought.

Perhaps he was just bored.

Or nervous. Most likely nervous.

Hobie kicked his feet in the air, looking down at the street below. He was sitting on the ledge of the building Miles lived in. Hobie would occasionally look at the window that led to Miles’ room with a frown. The window was open, and Miles had invited him in, but Hobie remained on the outside of the building with a convenient excuse to put some distance between them. Miles was working on something, and he didn’t want to pressure or make him feel like he should rush.

At first, the request came rushed, and then tentatively, almost like Miles was bracing himself to be told no or be judged, but he still went ahead and asked. He wanted to write a letter to Gwen and asked Hobie if he could deliver it. It made him feel warm that Miles would trust him for something like that, considering they had just met. The sting he felt over seeing Miles’ disappointment at meeting him and not Gwen lessened. Not like he had the right to feel hurt over that to begin with, but he couldn’t help it.

“Hobie?” Miles asked.

He looked down at the window, where Miles was waving to get his attention. “Yeah?”

“Come inside dude,” he said, and went back to his room, leaving the window open.

Hobie walked down the building and sat on the ledge of the room’s window, watching as Miles fidgeted with a makeshift envelope taped together. It had Gwen’s name in bright colors written on it. There was a noticeable blush on Mile’s face, and he took a few moments to look at his shoes before he met Hobie’s eyes.

“Here.” Miles stood in front of him and handled the letter with steady hands, his grip on the paper tight. “I, uhm, I really—I really appreciate it.”

“You got it, mate.”

“A-and I made this one for you,” Miles said quickly, nearly tripping over his words. He scrambled to get something from his desk and back to Hobie. “I mean, if you want it, it’s kinda silly, but I wanted, uhm, thank you. I wanted to thank you.”

“Hey, ’s no problem.”

“Still.”

Hobie looked at the name tag sticker in Miles’ hand. The border was blue, with the phrase “Hello My Name Is” in printed white letters. In the center, the words “Free Style” had been drawn and stylized like graffiti, colored in neon teal and vibrant pink, with star-like details and strokes to wrap the whole thing together. The style made it look three-dimensional, like it was about to pop out of the paper with texture and weight.

He reached out, and Miles handed him the sticker. His face broke into a grin as he imagined Miles making it. Choosing the colors and forms while letting his inspiration drive the moment of creation.

And Miles did it for him.

“It’s brilliant,” he said, still looking at the sticker. “Thank you.”

Hobie instinctively moved his guitar to his front without hesitation. He didn’t notice the way Miles smiled when he saw him peel the sticker and slap it on the back of his trusty instrument, where there was space for it to stand out, but also to be seen by Hobie the most.

Upon looking up, Miles had a puzzling look in his eyes that left Hobie at a loss for words. It made him feel like if he tried to find reason, he would end up unraveling himself in the process, and he couldn’t let himself do that. From the moment he stepped on Earth-1610, he understood that his role in all this was limited. This was about Miles and Gwen. Pushing for anything else was borderline masochist.

“I’ll be back soon…ish?” he said, awkwardly. He didn’t know when he would have the chance to come back. If it were up to him, he would do it tomorrow, but even with his own watch being the method used to cross dimensions, Hobie was still in the Spider Society’s lines, and he was certain Miguel was putting a Big Brother on them. The whole point of Hobie being here instead of Gwen was to avoid that.

“Soon-ish,” Miles repeated with a chuckle. “I’ll hold you up to soon-ish.”

Hobie dared to step closer and bump shoulders with Miles. He carried himself with the demeanor to pull it off as something casual, hiding the way his heart was pounding in his chest and a voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him to stop, to not get closer. He should turn back and pretend there was no song. It was for the best to keep in mind this was nothing more than him servicing two people in need of a favor. He was doing this because he could. Just that, nothing more.

When Miles bounced his shoulder back to him, the reproaching voice screamed in his head, but when he lifted his hand to bump his shoulder with his fist, a sequence of melodic notes overpowered that voice. The notes were beautiful, and their addition would haunt Hobie for the rest of the night, possibly even more.

He took off to another building before opening the portal back to his dimension. If only to get a moment to level his head. While he expected to be an observant of Miles, borderline a stalker, that quickly went away from him. He had only himself to blame. At that moment, he had no regrets. There were vicious thoughts clawing in his mind about everything that could go wrong from one second to the next, but watching the sticker on the back of his guitar let him tame those thoughts a little.

Gwen wasn’t home when he got there. He placed the folded letter on the kitchen table, wondering what it said. Curiosity fed that thought, and the sensible part of him kept it at bay. The letter wasn’t for him, and that was fine. He still got a sticker.

Wait.

Hobie groaned at his own train of thought, feeling annoyed for even going there. He turned around to lightly bang his head against the nearest wall and nearly pulled at his wicks, feeling himself tremble. What the fuck was that?

Instead of dwelling on how embarrassing his own thoughts were, Hobie dragged himself and his chagrin to his work area. He promised Miles he would make a watch for him, and he was going to deliver. There was one halfway done resting in a box. He had been putting that one together with Gwen in mind. He liked to build things, even more when those things helped someone else. It was contrasting with how good he was at breaking stuff. He was fully aware of the irony. He found it amusing. He had a knack for breaking things, but it wasn't always beneficial.

Material stuff was one thing. Objects only held value to the beholder. What some people view as priceless, others might consider trash and vice versa. There was a worn and patched jacket in his closet that had seen the best and worst of him. He had outgrown it and still made it work because it wasn’t just a jacket to him, the value it held went beyond its usefulness. It was well loved and Hobie could remember every single addition, change, and upgrade he made to it. The jacket wasn’t important; it was what it meant to him.

On the contrary, there were so many things in his boat that if broken, he would feel mildly inconvenient, if anything at all. The mismatched mugs and cups in his cabinet were a combo of not caring for uniformity and the result of replacing broken ones.

But there were things not meant to be broken, and Hobie had done so anyway.

He held the unfinished watch in his hands. A few more touches and he will have it ready. The schematics were not a problem. Once Hobie put together the first one, he engraved the process into his mind. The delay came from lack of material. There were certain things he couldn’t easily get in his dimension. Snatching bits and pieces from HQ solved it, but he had to be discreet to accomplish it. Hobie was many things, but discreteness was not one that came naturally. It required a conscious effort.

Hobie looked at the box with bits and pieces. There was not enough to finish the watch just yet. He could get adequate supplies from his own dimension with the help of Riri and other trades. It would be harder, but possible. Another person who could help him out was Peni. She had given him supplies before. Either way, he would get all parts to complete it soon enough.

Next to the box of parts was another one. This prototype was not a watch itself, but something akin to a radio jamming. The idea came after he spent more time talking with Margo. Her knowledge on the mechanics of interdimensional travel came directly from working in HQ. Hobie didn’t have to do much more than listen to her gush about something she liked. And he was already doing that, anyway. 

After coming up with the jammer, he did research with the watch from HQ. Hobie wanted to take it apart without risking raising red flags. He was completely sure it wasn’t only his paranoia telling him he was being watched, at least from time to time. He knew how it felt being under a watchful eye from experience. His instinct had kept him alive all this time. He would not ignore them now.

The radio jamming had served its purpose. Hobie took apart and put back together the HQ’s watch several times before coming up with his own version. Now that his little gadget had served its purpose, perhaps he could take it apart and use some of its components to complete the watch he was working on. It was better to have his own watch than jamming the one from HQ.

“HOBIE!”

The yell startled him. He was on his feet and running to the front of the boat before he had time to recover or question why Gwen was yelling. He didn’t have his guitar on him, but he still had his web shooters. He reached Gwen on high alert, only to drop his stance just as quickly. She was holding Miles’ letter with shaky hands, her grip a little too tight. He could see the paper wrinkle where her fingers pressed on it. She looked like she was attempting to keep herself together with misty eyes, staring at the paper before her. She didn’t spare Hobie a look while speaking.

“You talked to him?”

Her tone was low but pointed. It made the question feel like an accusation. Hobie leaned against the wall and tucked his hands inside his vest pockets, keeping his expression neutral and looking past Gwen’s head instead of her eyes. They discussed beforehand what "Watch over Miles" entailed and emphasized the importance of Hobie maintaining his distance. How it was necessary, logical even. So, of course, he fucked up and didn’t listen. Or, being precise and technical, he listened to a song only he could hear, instead of Gwen’s concerns.

“Self-evident, innit?”

“I can’t—ugh!”

Gwen turned around and stomped across the gallery. She was holding the letter against her chest like it would disappear if she let go of it, her eyes darting around the room without really focusing on anything. She was chewing on her lower lip so much it looked raw already.

“Gwendy—” She glared at him, Hobie refused to flinch. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t,” she countered, letting the silence hang until it felt uncomfortable. Gwen ran a hand through her hair while mumbling to herself so low Hobie couldn’t make out the words. He followed her with his eyes, and eventually she stopped pacing.

She shifted her hold on the letter to look at it, the pads of her thumbs rubbing against the paper because she couldn’t keep them still. Gwen took a shaky breath and crossed the distance between them in three long strides, colliding against his chest and holding her arms around him so hard it felt more like she wanted to lift him off the ground than hug him. He awkwardly moved his arms around her shoulders and held her in return, his face resting against her head. Her hair smelled like his shampoo, and he tried very hard not to think anything about it.

“He misses you,” Hobie said as gently as he could muster.

Gwen’s hold turned nearly painful at that point, but he just waited. She shifted and faded her strength so fast Hobie had to hold her, or she might crumble. Her shoulders were shaking. She was taking deep breaths to push away whatever was threatening to escape her. Hobie didn’t know what else to say, just kept holding her.

It could have been a few seconds or a few minutes. He didn't count, but eventually Gwen was steady enough to stand on her own. She took his hand in hers and tugged him towards the couch, where they sat wrapped in each other. Miles’ letter safely pressed against her chest, tucked between them.

“He’s so bright,” Gwen whispered, her gaze lost somewhere in the space before them and far away in another dimension. “Hobie, am I a coward?”

“Whut?”

Gwen extended her free hand between them, shifting her wrist in the low light where the HQ watch sat around it. “I could see him right now. I can open a portal, find him, and just talk to him. They might not even find out.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. While HQ probably didn’t have surveillance over Gwen’s every move, they were very strict about where she went. First it had been missions with Jess or Miguel, a few with Reilly, all under the convenient grounds of training. Setting her up with Hobie and Pavitr had been HQ giving her some leisure. It was until recently that she had solo missions.

She dropped her hand and curled into herself, tucking her head under Hobie’s chin. She had gone quiet, and her breathing slowed down. She was holding onto him like it was the only thing keeping her from bolting out of the place to open that portal. Consequences be damned. Hobie wanted her to do that. He would be in her corner when she does.

But it had to be her choice.

“What are you afraid of, Gwendy?”

He wasn’t oblivious. He had a pretty good idea what was holding her back, but Hobie didn’t want to assume. He learned the hard way that sometimes you cannot ask yourself the hard questions, and it was only when someone else did it you could understand and answer.

“I miss my dad,” she said, her voice quivering. “He’s a cop… a police Captain… I keep thinking, maybe… maybe if he’s not close to me anymore, he’s going to be okay.”

He could hear Miguel’s voice. Event ASM 90. Police Captain close to Spider-Man. Dies. Battle. Arch-Nemesis. A canon event.

It’s not the only event. Hobie had seen a lot of them, listed and cataloged like they were nothing more than files to be tracked and not concurrences that, many times, defined their lives. Files on a screen, reports on data and statistics detached enough to strip away the crude emotions linked to them. He had seen a few unfold as well, for himself and others.

“I can’t go back,” she added. “When I took off my mask, I lost my father, but he’s still alive. If I return, I will lose him in every sense, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Gwen,” Hobie hissed, anger lacing his voice. “No.”

He didn’t like George Stacy, not only because he was a cop. The man pulled a gun on his own daughter. It wasn’t just an offense; it was betrayal. Hobie felt anger simmer every time he thought about it, but his dislike for Geroge Stacy was insignificant because it was not about him. Gwen was the one that mattered, and that man was her father. She loved him still.

“Canon Events are the connections that bind our lives together. And those connections can be broken,” she said in the monotone voice of someone repeating words that had been engraved in their memory out of fear and resignation. “Break the Canon, and the world breaks with it.”

“Gwen.”

“That’s why anomalies are so dangerous, because they step where they don’t belong, and that will break the Canon.”

“Gwendy.”

“The spider that bit Miles was from another dimension. He was never supposed to be—”

“Gwen!”

“What if—what if it’s true? What’s gonna happen? What if he’s really a—?”

“Gwen, love, stop!”

It was like she snapped out of a trance. She let go of him and bolted upright, nearly falling from the couch if not for him holding her arm. She looked him in the eye. There was fear in her gaze. Her mouth opened and closed several times like she wanted to say something, and the words wouldn’t come out if she didn’t force them.

“I’m going to hurt him. Not just him, I'm going to get you hurt as well,” she said with a twisted smile, desperate and broken. Hobie could see she was on the verge of bursting out laughing and crying at the same time.

Hobie held her. “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“No, that’s not—I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt Miles. But I always end up hurting those I care for.”

He could understand that. Hobie placed his hands on her shoulders, as if doing that could keep her safe from the demons chasing her. As if he could stand between her and the universe. Maybe he couldn’t. He had seen the damned Canon events, too. He had lived a few already. But he didn’t believe in them. At least not the way Miguel did, and not how the Society preached to them. They made rules around them, in the name of having a drop of control, and those rules were being enforced by fear.

Hobie could see that in Gwen. That fear was staring him in the face, reflected in the eyes of his—his something. Because she couldn’t go home, she couldn’t go to Miles, and she was already thinking she couldn’t stay with him.

If this is how things were supposed to be, why did it feel so unnatural?

Anger rolled over him in waves, it made something in the pit of his stomach burn, fire wanting to be spitted. It made him want to break something, anything, everything. How could he not? He understood fear, and how what seems like good intentions can get twisted in it. The pattern of doing things you don’t like in the name of something you desperately want to believe in, even if it’s wrong until you can’t stop.

Were they fighting destiny, or enforcing something that looks like it out of fear?

He took Gwen’s hands in his. His head was so full of everything he wanted to say, and no words came to him to express it. Something raw and intrusive was brewing in his chest between his ribs, like it wanted to be set free or it would choke him at any moment. It made him feel sick. He wanted to scream.

And over all that noise, in the distance, echoed sixteen notes and a gasp.

“Nah, it ain’t true,” Hobie finally said, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Miles is one of us ‘cause that’s how fate intended, we know this… and yeah, sometimes people get hurt despite our best intentions, it’s gonna happen. But we can’t back down just because we’re afraid. We can’t live in fear, love. That’s not living.”

Gwen looked up. The fear was still there, but it wasn’t all consuming in her gaze. There was a light that wanted to be fed, hope that wanted to be ignited. She shifted her hands and laced her fingers with his, her grip tight.

She nodded.

“You can say it now,” she said.

A grin broke in his face and cleared his throat.

“Are you mad?!”

Hobie exaggerated his tone and overacted by throwing his head back. The first time he said it had been a genuine reaction. She was about to boil water in the microwave, Hobie still stood by it. But ever since, it became their little joke. It made Gwen giggle every time and pull back from the dark space she looped into.

She practically cackled, and Hobie didn’t point out the tears gathered in her eyelashes.

“Oh, how could I even consider—” she said behind clenched teeth, pulling at his shirt. She shook her head and spoke again, firmly this time. “Miles is not, has never been, and will never be a mistake.”

“There you go.”

She looked down, and Hobie followed her gaze. Miles’ letter sat in between them, the pages safely balanced on his legs and Gwen’s lap. He helped to make that happen. It felt good.

“I’m going to write back.”

Chapter Text

Hobie wondered what playing inter-dimensional mailman said about him, considering he didn’t mind. Not when he got to see the way Miles and Gwen smiled each time he handed them a letter from the other. Another thing was that Miles insisted on him to stay around every time. Hobie could tell he was aching to read Gwen’s words, but he would wait because Hobie was there, and he wanted to share a moment with him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Hobie told him last time he visited. “This ain’t a transaction. You don’t owe me.”

“No, Hobie,” Miles couldn't even finish what he was saying. He looked at Hobie with a deep frown and didn't immediately say anything. It made Hobie feel like he had done something wrong, but it wasn’t long before Miles' expression changed and he shook his head while looking at him up and down.

Hobie wondered what he was thinking. He was so expressive even in his silence. At that moment, he got the impression Miles was both amused and exasperated, which was better than angry. It was weird being the target of that reaction. It made him feel something that he couldn’t quite name, so he reserved the task of dissecting it for later.

“I want to hang out with you because I like you, Hobie, and that's it.”

The sincerity of Miles’ words hit him with another feeling that nested in his chest, and he did not know how to decipher. He had to make an effort to keep his easy going demeanor because if he dwelled too much on how Miles’ words made him feel, it would reflect on his shifting appearance, and he wasn’t ready for Miles to look too closely at him. He had dodged Gwen’s questions a few times, but she was too smart to not be suspicious, and he didn’t want to do that with Miles as well.

Hobie laughed softly instead of saying anything. He walked backwards to Miles’ window and sat on the ledge, grinning at him as if he actually had a plan and was not making things as they go.

“Race ya’”

“W-What?”

Hobie let himself fall backwards from the windowsill to the open street, and Miles followed with a yelp, barely having a moment to get his mask on before they were swinging across Brooklyn in no real direction.

Miles caught up with him and playfully punched him on the shoulder as they swung side by side. Hobie swung forward, looping the web on his hand, and turned to catch Miles as he let go of his own web. He used the momentum to catapult him up, and Miles went with a whoop of joy accompanied by a spin when reaching the high arch of the swing.

This was his favorite part. The thrill, and the feeling of freedom when it seemed not even gravity could hold him down.

Miles’ kept his rhythm by swinging on his own, and Hobie got closer before Miles turned to shoot a web at his chest. Hobie went with it, finding himself laughing as Miles pulled him forward and up. There was something so exhilarating about swinging with another Spider. But more than that, it was Miles, and that made Hobie feel fuzzy.

He did something like this with Gwen, too. Usually it was the highlight of his day, but it would crash into a bittersweet reminder that this was as good as it would get. Because when he was high in the air and let himself disconnect for a second, he could hear his song. The song Miles and Gwen gave him without meaning to, the same song they had no idea even existed.

It was a soft sound in the breeze. If he didn’t know what it was, what it meant, and where it came from, maybe it would be just another series of notes surfing the wind with no actual path.

But it was not a lost sound, it was his.

Hobie sighed as he twisted himself in the air, and gravity took him in a free fall. When he opened his eyes, Miles was falling with him, right in front of him, so close they nearly touched. It was a sight to be seen.

“Look at you,” he said.

“Right here,” Miles replied. Hobie wondered if he was smiling under the mask. It sounded like he was. They raced each other some more. It felt nearly perfect. Hobie wished he could bring Gwen and stay.

Well, if the stars won't align for them to follow, then he would have to make his own chart and get them there differently.

Miles wrote another letter for Gwen that day, and Hobie got another sticker.

He had as many stickers as Gwen had letters, a little thing that made him ridiculously happy. He cared for those stickers because Miles made them with him in mind, and that… that was something.

Going back to his dimension that day was a bit more difficult than the rest, but he dragged himself and his reluctance back home before he did something stupid.

The place he chose for his latest sticker was on the wall facing his workbench, where he could look at it every time he lifted his gaze. He resisted the urge to trace his fingers over it, if only to not look like the lovesick git he was. The design had the letters “FNSM” written in Miles’ style. He got the idea from the crossed x logo on the back of his vest.

He glared at the unfinished watch sitting on his worktable with annoyance. It was nearly complete, but he still needed a component to make it stable. The last thing he wanted was to give Gwen a watch that could take her to another dimension but could not keep her stable while in it. If he could get his hands on one of those day passes HQ gave to visitors, he could replicate the component more easily. He had studied the thing enough while watching over Mayday, without ever taking it off her wrist, of course. He wanted to pull one apart and use that schematic to upgrade his watch. It would be easier to make more watches if he didn’t have to pull the pieces from the HQ walls.

He was still going to do that, though.

“Dinner’s ready!”

Hobie stood up and stretched his arms behind his back. Gwen had been in a mood to cook and Hobie was not one to say no to homemade food. It was always different when someone else did it.

“I think you should take m’ watch, call it a day,” He said, walking to the kitchen and looking at the pot of soup she had made. It smelled pretty good, and since the weather was cooler, it felt like a cozy meal.

Gwen shook her head. “Miguel’s hovering. It’s not even subtle. I dunno why.”

“What’s he yapping about?”

“He asked me to describe the collider incident again,” Gwen answered and sat at the table. “I get why Noir tried to punch him, also Peni hissing at him makes perfect sense now. I can’t blame them. He kept asking the same questions over and over.”

“Benji’s smart, and I ain’t messing with the doll with the mecha,” he said.

Hobie liked both. Peni and he shared a love for tinkering. Noir wasn’t keen on HQ missions at all. He would help if there was something needed from his dimension, but that was it. Hobie understood. He was there mostly for Gwen, and if he was honest with himself, for Miles.

Even if Miguel had nothing planned against Miles, Hobie doubted he would leave them alone once Gwen got closer to him again. They were toeing an interesting territory. So far, Hobie has played his cards well enough to avoid being considered a threat. That leverage would run out eventually, it always did. Hobie wanted to be ready for when that happened.

Once they ate, Gwen paced around the boat’s gallery as if she couldn’t stay still. Hobie went back to his workshop, only to groan when he saw the nearly finished watch, and move to the bedroom to collect a few scattered things. He patched up his suit the night before, and lost a few pins from the back of his vest, so he dug around his to get some new ones to distract himself.

Out of nowhere, he felt a pressure in his head, between his eyes. It started slowly then quickly built up from one second to the next. It hissed in his ears and forced him into a quick alert.

Danger.

His spider sense was clawing at him, pushing and pulling for him to listen, but it was all around, not pointing to any source of danger in particular, making it difficult to determine what exactly was wrong.

Danger!

—In danger!

Hobie clutched his head in his hands. Not even during that time when he was stabbed after overloading machinery, he felt his spider sense whine like this. He couldn’t think.

Move!

He felt something snap, and in the gallery Gwen screamed. Hobie was running towards her before the sound reached him.

“Miles!” she shouted, while looking around, unable to focus her gaze anywhere. “Miles, something’s wrong with Miles.”

Go! Miles! Danger!

The pressure broke, and Hobie could think again. Message received. But how? Was this because of their—his song? But only he can hear it. Then how?

Gwen didn’t look nearly as confused as Hobie felt. If anything, her conflict was about how to get to Miles and not not knowing what was actually happening, because she was already messing with her watch.

“How did you—wait, wait, have you felt this before?”

“Yes, when I met him,” Gwen explained quickly. “It guided me to him, but this is bad. Something’s wrong, Hobie, I—”

Hobie saw her activate her watch, and he had to slap his hand around her wrist to cover the hologram screen before he keyed the coordinates. She tried to pull away.

“No! I got—just gimme a sec, just a sec! I ain’t gonna stop you!” he said quickly, before she could reproach him.

Hobie rushed to his workshop to get his DIY watch and the sleek but efficient radio jamming. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than doing nothing. Gwen could use his watch and he would jam the HQ one. Better him risking being tracked than her.

She was already wearing her suit when Hobie returned. He handed her his DIY watch and snapped the radio jamming in place on his “official” one. He would not use it to open a portal, just to not get fried in the jump because his atoms didn't enjoy being out of 138.

“Last destination, let’s!”

He was coming with her. It wasn't even a question. She masked up with a short nod. Hobie couldn’t tell if it was because she agreed or simply was too worried about Miles to care about anything other than where he was, including what Hobie did. The portal opened and Gwen couldn't run fast enough to throw herself in it with Hobie close behind.

They barely touched the ground before both were swinging across 1610’s New York. The pressure between Hobie’s eyes was back. It made him feel nauseous. If Gwen was feeling anything similar, she was not showing it. She was moving with both fear and determination.

Run, run, run!

There was a desperate whisper pulling him from one direction to another, making him go in sync with Gwen without even meaning to. Under the distorted whispers, he was hearing broken notes, like smashing a piano keys and slamming on drums without rhythm or reason. It was a horrible distortion of the song he loved, but it was barely noticeable over the need to rush, move, go, closer, closer, closer!

There!

A construction site where a fight was taking place.

They landed on one of the many beams supporting the structure. The first thing he saw was Miles dodging an attack, the second they saw was his opponent. The stinger was a complete giveaway, but there was something weird about this Scorpion. It was huge, probably the largest variant Hobie had seen of that guy yet. The guy's skin was red, his clothes were green with gold, and, ah fucking hell, he had six arms. Why the fuck did this Scorpio had six arms?

Miles looked like he had been fighting for a while, by the state of his suit and the visible strain of his breathing. He must have been doing a good job, because Scorpion looked incredibly mad, nearly rabid.

Even with no advantage, Miles didn't back down. He kept moving, dodging the stinger, and retaliating until he had the guy cornered. Only then Miles jumped to the guy's back and dug his finger’s in Scorpion’s shoulders. The electric discharge that followed was amazing. It made Hobie feel proud, even if he had no ground to do that. Whatever, he was still proud.

“He’s fine? No, no, he’s not. What’s going on?” Gwen asked out loud, but it seemed more like she was talking to herself.

Hobie looked at her, wondering the same because his spider sense was still whining like Miles was about to be run over by a truck, and while he watched Miles web the guy to keep him secured, the loud, sharp sound of smashing piano keys got louder, making him hiss. He had to hold his head for a second, closing his eyes. He didn't see Gwen having the same reaction.

Scorpion glitched.

“Anomaly,” Gwen gasped. “That’s why he looks different. I’ve fought this dimension’s Scorpio before. That one looks more like something out of Mumbattan.”

“He probably is,” Hobie scowled. They were going to need Pav’s help.

“But why…?”

The answer didn’t take long. Miles launched himself to the nearest structure and stumbled back onto the ground, barely catching himself and taking off running, Gwen and Hobie behind him. There was a large, bloody gash across his upper back. Scorpion had got him at some point.

“Miles!” Gwen called, but Miles only ran faster and donged across the alleyways, then he was gone. “Damn it, he went invisible.”

“He’s confused,” Hobie figured out. “The venom must be acting up already.”

That shit could be lethal. Most of them started with hallucinations. Hobie had not fought this Scorpion before, so he did not know what kind of neurotoxin they were dealing with.

“Pav,” He said while Gwen was looking around, trying to get Miles’ trail back. “He must know the fucker.”

Gwen was already typing the message. “On it.”

They moved a few more blocks, and then he heard a softer sound. His spider sense all but pushed him in another direction. Gwen frowned, looking around the residential area. This was nowhere near Miles’ home, and he wouldn’t go to his parents like that, because they didn't know his identity as Spider-Man.

“I-I can’t find him, I don’t—” she snarled, and kicked the nearest trash container in frustration. “I know he’s close, but I don’t know where!”

Hobie was sure then. Miles and Gwen had a soul connection. It was likely mutual, not like his. It was so obvious with the way Gwen could feel Miles in danger. This was not because they were Spiders, it went beyond that and she could use it. If she understood how.

“Gwen,” Hobie took her hand. “Listen to me, love. That feelin’? Grab it, pull a’ it to guide you, don’t think abou’ it, feel it.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but closed her eyes and squeezed his hand so hard the hold was painful. He didn’t mind. It was oddly grounding. Those few seconds felt like an eternity, but the moment Gwen gasped and the distorted sound stopped made up for it.

She shot a web towards a nearby apartment building, pulling him with her. She propelled herself up and jumped to the next floor by using the fire-scape as support, reaching a level where a solitary open window let them into a dark apartment.

As they made their way inside, Hobie observed that a layer of dust covered every surface, and sheets covered a few pieces of furniture. They found Miles passed out on the floor between the living room and kitchen.

He didn’t know who screamed Miles’ name first, but both ran to him at the same time. Gwen dropped to her knees to hold Miles in her arms. She was shaking, but her hold was firm while she moved Miles to the nearby couch as gently as she could manage.

Hobie could tell the apartment belonged to a ghost. It had been left untouched for a while, but someone familiar had lived there, someone close to Miles. The kitchen table had some of Miles' stuff scattered on it, mainly ingredients to make web fluid and cartridges. He also saw notes about things Miles had been testing or practicing, and it dawned on Hobie why Miles came here.

With that suspicion, Hobie all but ran to the kitchen and opened the portable cooler sitting on the counter. Sure enough, there were a few vials in there. Hobie noticed that one of the vials in the cooler had a label saying "Scorpion," which was most likely the antivenom he would use against his Earth's Scorpion if he had to fight it. Hobie didn’t know if it would help, but he took it anyway.

“He knew what was happening,” He said, showing Gwen the vial.

“But it’s an anomaly,” Gwen responded, thinking the same Hobie had feared. “The side effects can make it worse.”

Miles was already shaking, his breathing coming in short, pained gasps. It made Hobie want to scream. They exchanged a look, and with no words agreed it was a risk they had to take until they could get the proper antivenom.

Scouting around, Hobie found a first aid kit. It had a couple of disposable needles, but the rest could use a restocking. He got the injection ready, and Gwen held Miles while he administered it. Miles whimpered and curled into himself.

“I’m sorry, love,” Hobie mumbled, moving to look at the stinger’s slash on his back. “Gotta clean this.”

With a frown, Gwen looked at the first aid kit and took whatever little items were available and usable. Hobie got the top layer of Miles’ suit off without jostling him too much. The wound looked worse than he initially thought. Hobie laid Miles on his side so it wouldn’t hurt himself and looked at Gwen.

“I’ll get some stuff. Be right back.”

There was a protest on Gwen’s lips, but she didn't voice it. It was obvious they needed more than a couple of alcohol wipes and some gauze. It wasn’t just the supplies. Scorpion’s neurotoxin usually would let them have some time before acting up, but this one was already taking effect. Hobie suspected it was a fast acting formula.

It shouldn’t surprise him that an anomaly ended up in Miles’ dimension. It’s not like it was barren from the rest of the web. While the Society had restrictions over 1610, random tears in the multiverse don’t care about Miguel’s need to be a control freak. Tears in between dimensions were how most Spiders ended up in the Society. It had been the case for Gwen and for him as well.

But there was a nagging voice in the back of his head wondering if the anomaly ended up here because Hobie had been hopping into this particular dimension more often. Logically, it made no sense, hoping from one dimension to another didn’t make that dimension more susceptible to dimensional tears. But Miles’ dimension had not had incidents since the collider, not until now. At least, not known incidents.

That made him wonder that if something had happened in this dimension before, who dealt with it? No matter, at the moment, the problem was Scorpion.

When Hobie got back to the construction site, Scorpio was coming back to himself with a groan. Hobie wished he could zap the guy like Miles did.

“Where’s the little spider?” the guy cackled. “Bet he’s not feeling so good now.”

“Fast acting then,” Hobie said, more to himself than Scorpion. The guy laughed anyway. The sound made him angry.

“Hobie!”

Pavitr had not only received Gwen’s message, he made his way to them. Hobie had no doubt he did so as fast as he could. He looked like he had been in a hurry when he masked up.

“This one's yours?” Hobie motioned to the guy with a nod.

“Spider-Man!” Scorpio roared, struggling to get himself free and having no success. Pavitr and Hobie got another layer of webbing on him, anyway.

“Yup,” Pavitr confirmed. “Man, you shouldn’t be causing trouble here. That’s very rude of you, sir.”

“Like I care,” the guy huffed. “Eh, got the other spider. He’s gonna have fun!”

“Oh, no,” Pavitr gasped. The guy didn’t get to say anything else because Hobie kicked him in the head, knocking him back again. Pavitr didn’t seem surprised, but he gave Hobie a curious look. “He got Miles?”

“Yeah,” Hobie scowled. “He’s not lookin’ good.”

“His venom is fast acting, but unless it’s a high dosage, not lethal on its own. The side effects are what’s more dangerous. I’ll get this guy back home and synthesize some antivenom,” Pavitr said while shooting a web to drag the guy. “You guys keep Miles as comfortable as possible. The fever is gonna suck.”

“Thanks, Pav…”

He was about to say something when Pavitr opened a portal, waving at him. Hobie noticed he was shifting to black and white in worry, the scribbles across his skin spelling Miles, Miles, please be okay, Miles.

“None of that. I’ll be right back. Text me the coordinates. I’m assuming Gwen is with him?”

Hobie nodded. Pavitr looked down at his watch. “She’s got my homemade.”

“Good!” He dragged Scorpion towards the portal. “Get back to them. I’ll catch up with you.”

Hobie wanted nothing more than to do that, but the first stop was getting some supplies, then he would make it back to Gwen and Miles. And if the text across his form kept spelling what he refused to voice, nobody had to know.

Chapter Text

Meeting Miles had been one of the most important things that had ever happened to Gwen, and it all started with a feeling. 

One would believe that being tossed back in time and space, directly into another dimension, would have her in complete panic, and it kind of did. For about an hour, she was only human, after all. But she was also Spider-Woman, and that meant she had to center herself and act. Going around the city helped. Looking for the familiar yet different things in it was both fascinating and incredibly insightful. Visions Academy had not been her first thought, but the moment she came near it, her spider sense lit as she was looking at a beacon. 

Here.

Wait.

Look.

Find.

Stay.

Alert.

It was not exactly easy to get into Visions. She could have just gotten a uniform, sneaked in, and called it a day. But that wouldn’t work if she had to do it more than once. So she had to fake her identity, and being in another dimension with no resources proved that to be difficult, but not impossible. There were enough similarities between her dimension and this one to navigate certain places that had the right type of contact. 

In this dimension, Brooklyn Visions Academy was more prestigious than in her own. While both were private schools, this one appeared to be the type of school that you gain admission to because your parents are wealthy or you have a scholarship. They had to wear uniforms and had a whole other set of rules in the dress code. The only uniforms Gwen had from her version of the school were because she was in the Gymnastics Team.  

Details. She felt bad about having to get money by skipping legal means, but she didn't hurt anyone in the process or the long run so, there was that. She did the best she could in those circumstances as she always did. Because she was on her own. 

It was a lonely path.

The thing that kept bothering Gwen was the calling from her spider sense. She had never felt something like that before, but her spider sense had saved her far too many times for her to ignore it now, just because it felt different. 

Then she met Miles. 

Things didn’t immediately make sense. She felt like she could hear music when she met Miles. It was weird. She would have ignored him in any other circumstance, but he made her laugh. His joke was not funny, but she found it so amusing, endearing even. Despite her better judgment, she engaged in conversation with him. She was not there to make friends; she was trying to get home, and yet she talked with Miles, not as much as she would have liked to, but it felt significant. 

Things made sense the next day when her spider sense went off with a shifting call. It was reacting to Miles because Miles was like her. He was a Spider. Gwen had never met another Spider. She did not know there could be more Spider-People. Somehow that sounded more out there than the idea of different dimensions, something she could believe even before being tossed into one. 

It felt different from the first time, though. She couldn’t tell why. Yes, it was a resonance of both being Spiders, but she could have sworn it differed from the day before. Nevertheless, it set her in the right direction. Because that’s what Miles turned out to be, the right direction.

After Peter, Gwen was never the same. Being Spider-Woman was overwhelming, even more so when she was being accused of the murder of her best friend. Until she met Miles, she thought she wouldn't ever make a friend again. He understood her, and even in the short time they spent together, it felt more than meaningful. It felt like it was meant to be.

It was a shame they were literally worlds apart. 

Gwen wished there was a way for her to see Miles again. Every day got harder. It was all Gwen's fault that she eventually broke the very few connections around her. Her bandmates didn’t grow apart from her. She pushed them away. Her father was trying to bring justice to the wrong crime, and she was too much of a coward to just talk to him. Tell him the truth. It hurt because more than the distance between them; it was a constant reminder that nothing could bring Peter back, and the only person she was sure could understand her was someone she could never see again. 

Sometimes, Gwen couldn’t help but wonder what things would look like if her life were different if she lived in a perfect world. In her imagination, Gwen pictured a world where she had never been bitten, where Peter didn't die, and where she and Miles lived in the same world. Would they have met by going to the same school, too? Maybe the calling would have happened, anyway. Maybe she would carry his soul mark and he would carry hers. 

But no, this is the world she lived in. She was Spider-Woman. She didn’t have a soul mark. She couldn’t think of Miles like that. She was on her own.

Gwen had not made peace with the idea of never being able to see Miles again, but she was slowly getting there. At least she told herself that. The best lies were those we tell ourselves after all. Gwen had gotten very good at lying to herself. It was not even funny. 

Then, the incident in the Guggenheim happened. 

She was expecting a fight but got more than that. The Vulture evidently wasn’t from her world, and that was an issue, but also an opportunity. She knew there were more Spider people out there, so seeing another one didn't shock her. Although Miguel's explanation could have been interesting in another situation, she only focused on the watch around his wrist. He could travel dimensions with that. There was a way to safely cross dimensions. There was a way she could see Miles again. The moment gave her hope, and she should have known better. Luck was rarely on her side. 

The image of her father pointing the gun not at Spider-Woman, but at his own daughter, haunted her. The sound of that warning shot echoed in a way that it felt embedded in her brain. Gwen thought she could make it work, but the distance between them was an abyss she couldn’t bridge. 

She lost her father. She had no home. Being welcomed into the Spider Society might have saved her life, perhaps literally. 

When she met Hobie, the same familiar yet different calling from her spider sense made itself known. She had only felt that quick moment when she met Miles. She remembered how it felt. Meeting so many other Spiders helped her notice the difference. She didn’t know what it meant. What she knew was that Hobie was a good person. To Gwen, it felt like he carried music with him. When she was with Hobie, she felt like he could take all of her worries away, like she could just be. 

It scared her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Peter, about her dad. About the people that got hurt because of her, but she needed a friend, and Hobie made her feel safe.

Gwen had a terrible habit of breaking things, and of making poor decisions. There was so much she couldn’t fix. Perhaps that’s why the explanation of Canon events made sense in the beginning. She got bit by a radioactive spider, and that came with a wave of events she had no control over, and there was nothing she could do about it. Those events defined them as Spiders-People, which made the connections between the multiverse and kept that web together. 

But it also confirmed what she feared; her father was going to die, and it would be her fault. Because he was a Police Captain close to Spider-Woman, it was a canon event. She didn’t know when, but she knew how, and that broke something in her. 

After knowing about this, she carried herself with solemnity, to let Miguel and Jess know she understood the importance of such events as something higher than themselves. She understood her duty. It wasn’t until she was running to Hobie’s home that the facade broke, and with it months of bottling up everything she was feeling. 

Understanding didn't come with acceptance.

Hobie held her close, like if she stayed in his arms she wouldn't break into pieces, and Gwen felt it might even work. And it did, for a while.

Everything came crashing down again when she was told about the nature of Miles’ existence as Spider-Man because it made no sense. She couldn’t believe there was any fault in Miles just existing . Just like any of them, Miles had no control over that spider choosing him. It was like Hobie said, a twist of fate. 

Gwen believed Miles wasn’t a mistake. She believed that with all her heart. But she was still afraid of hurting him, of losing him. Just like she was constantly afraid she was going to hurt and lose Hobie. 

It haunted her. She always ended up hurting those she cared for. That meant she should stay back, and be on her own to not risk anyone, but she was selfish, and she was greedy, and she couldn’t help it. After the night she fell asleep in Hobie’s arms. She should have gone back to the couch, but she didn’t. 

He extended the offer, and she went back and laid next to him again, and again, and again. Because at night she could watch Hobie next to in the dark, asleep, and she couldn’t get enough. Hobie loved so loudly. There was no hesitation when he offered his hand to her. It reminded her of Miles. Both of them consumed her thoughts in the best and worst way possible.

She had to know if Miles was okay. The only reason she stopped herself was because she was afraid of being sent back to her dimension where she no longer had a home, where she was a wanted criminal, and where her father would die because of her. 

She couldn’t let fear control her, and she didn't have to do everything alone. If there was someone she would trust to look over Miles, it was always going to be Hobie. 

They made a plan. He was supposed to watch from afar. He did not. Because of course, he didn’t. If Hobie saw a fraction of everything she had told him about Miles, how could she blame him for wanting to know him? To get closer? To experience some of that radiance for himself? She was not even mad at Hobie for doing so. She felt scared .

And maybe a little mad. A tiny bit. 

But Hobie, being Hobie, took her a step closer to seeing Miles again. After starting with a letter, it was as if the silence that had been imposed between them never existed. In a few words, they tore down the wall and built a bridge instead. 

Things were looking better, and Gwen let herself hope they could make it work, because, despite the odds, they had been fine, until now. 

Why did everything go wrong?

She should have come sooner. Seeing Miles hurt frightened her. Gwen was terrified that she would never get the chance to talk to Miles again, to see him smile, to laugh together. The situation was feeding the worst of her fatalist thoughts, and the only thing she could do to stop them was hold Miles’ hand. 

She knelt on the floor, close to Miles’ head, while he lay on the couch. It scared her to see him so still. Gwen wanted nothing more than to make him feel better.

“Did you know Hobie has been collecting the stickers you make? He loves them. There’s a few around the boat, but most of them are in between the pages of his notebook, the one he writes music in.”

The washcloths and sheets she found smelled like they had been in storage for a long time, but they were clean enough and Gwen used what she could. She cleaned the slash on Miles’ back and kept him as comfortable as possible. His breathing became elaborate, and his skin felt warm, making the fever feel inevitable at this point. She could only hope his body was strong enough to stand it.

“Miles, you need to hold on a bit, okay? You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna f-fix this,” she choked. “You have to get better so we can catch up, and just run around a bit. Also, you h-have to get your Spanish grades up, don’t you? Y-you said so.”

She didn’t want to cry; she had no right to. This wasn’t her fault and still felt like it was, like if she had come to see Miles sooner, maybe this wouldn't have happened. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just… I wanted to see you so badly. I should have done that sooner. I’m so sorry Miles, I’m sorry…”

Miles made a distressing sound, and he tried to lie on his back, but Gwen gently stopped him. The movement still aggravated the wound and Miles opened his eyes and a low, painful hiss followed. His feverish eyes looked around in confusion.

“’obie?” he asked and blinked several times, his eyes focusing on her. The smile that broke on his face made her feel like being stabbed because Gwen knew she didn't deserve it. “He brought you this t-time.” 

It took everything in her to not break down right there. “Hi, Miles.”

“I missed y-you.”

“I missed you too,” she said and took a shaky breath. “I wanted to come sooner… I should have.”

“It’s ‘kay,” he mumbled, shifting his hand to lace their fingers together. “You’ ‘ere now.”

“Miles,” she took the damp washcloth and swiped some of the sweat from his forehead. “Just rest. We got you.”

“I ‘ish…”

“Uh?”

“Wish you could… s’tay.”

She gently cupped his face, and Miles rested easier. “I will if you promise to do the same. Stay.”

“’Al’eady did,” Miles sighed. 

Brooklyn was loud outside. The distant sound of music and traffic mixed together as the nightlife carried on. They did not know their Spider-Man was hurting, and they would never know. Such was their line of work, a solo act. 

She wished it wasn’t. She doesn’t want solo acts anymore. 

Gwen could have sworn chimes sung with the wind, but when she looked to the window, there was none. Instead, she saw Hobie jumping back to the apartment, a bag filled with medical supplies in hand. It didn't matter where he got them from, just that Miles needed them.

“Pav’s making the antivenom,” Hobie said without prompting. “’s gonna take a bit.”

While Gwen dug around the supplies to get antiseptic and proper bandages, Hobie talked softly to Miles and helped him to lie on his stomach. She was sorting things, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from them. From the way Hobie reassured Miles and how Miles listened, how he trusted him. It made something nested in her chest, a warmth that made breathing easier, something that let her smile.

Gwen had cleaned the wound before, but she did it again before using the antiseptic. Miles’ healing was fighting against the damage already, so while the gash was long and angry-looking, it wasn’t too deep. It had stopped bleeding shortly after Gwen cleaned it up the first time.     

Miles made another distressing sound, and Hobie barely had time to get a trashcan before Miles was sick on the floor. It sounded painful, and the way he dry heaved afterward made Gwen wince with sympathy. 

“Ugh, tha’ was a’ful,” Miles mumbled. Among the supplies Hobie got, there were some water bottles, and he cracked one open for Miles to rinse his mouth. “G’acias.”

“Hey, hey,” Gwen soothed when he started shaking again. “It’s okay, just hold on a little more.”

Hobie carefully held Miles’s head, so he didn’t hit himself against the armrest of the couch. Miles in turn leaned on Hobie’s arm for support, and blindly took Gwen’s hand on his, letting out a shaky breath before settling down again, and drifting out of consciousness. They could have easily moved. There was barely any strength behind Miles’ hold, and neither did so.

“I should have come sooner,” Gwen said again. “This isn’t fair. The only thing stopping me was myself.”

“Love, that ain’t it,” Hobie grunted, and gestured with his free hand to Gwen’s left wrist, where his DIY watch was clasped. “He’ll understand.” 

Gwen wasn’t so sure, but her self-pity would not help Miles. She nodded a few times and took Miles’ hand with both of hers. 

“You’re going to be okay, and then we’re going to talk. Properly this time, and it’s gonna be great, yes? It’s gonna be great Miles, there’s s-so much out there, so got so m-much more to tell you, to show you, y-you’ll love it.” 

She pressed her face against their hands and tried to not cry. Hobie sat on the floor beside her. His right hand was still under Miles’ head, and he placed his free hand on her shoulder. It was only then that Gwen truly believed it was going to be okay.

Time seemed to drag. It could have been just a few minutes or hours, she didn’t know, but it felt too long. She was tired. Hobie’s hold on her shoulder tightened a bit. 

Her spider sense chirped.

Gwen had never been happier to see Pavitr as she was when he climbed inside the place by the window of that lonely apartment. 

“How bad is it?” was the first thing Pav asked, rushing to their side. He was clutching a box in his hand and didn’t wait for them to answer to open it and put together a shot of antivenom. 

“He’s got a fever, but it’s kind of stable, got better after puking his guts out,” Hobie said. He sounded angry, and knowing him, he was probably directing that anger at himself. 

“Yeah, that helps. Icky, but helpful,” Pav said, trying to sound calm. One of them had to be because she certainly wasn't. “Hold him down, this—uhm—this is gonna hurt.”

Pav made it sound like he was talking from experience, and she didn’t doubt he was. Bracing themselves, Hobie and Gwen held Miles, and Pavitr administered the antivenom. 

Miles’ reaction started with a whimper and escalated from there. He trashed in their hold so much that at some point Hobie had gotten behind him and held him against his chest while Gwen held his hands and rambled nonsense in an effort to calm him down. 

“Miles, I’m so sorry. I know it hurts,” she said, her voice firm because she had to be. “Just a bit more, promise.”

Miles nearly hit Hobie when he threw his head back, but he turned to the side to dodge him and chuckled with no genuine humor. 

“That’s cheating, mate,” he said and then sighed heavily. Miles struggled in his hold a bit more. Gwen was about to scream when she heard Hobie hum. It was familiar. She felt like she knew the melody but she couldn’t place it. Whatever it was, it helped because Miles stopped fighting them. 

She moved closer, holding Miles’ hands gently this time. It felt almost natural to join Hobie like she had known the melody all along. Miles let out a heavy sigh, and slowly but surely relaxed in their arms. His breathing calmed down, and eventually, he looked like he was simply asleep, no longer in pain. 

Gwen let herself fall forward, resting her head against Miles’ chest. She could hear his heartbeat, present, steady, and strong. He was going to be okay, and she was going to have the chance to apologize for being late, to talk to Miles again. There were many things she wanted to say. Some of them scared her, but after everything that just happened, her determination grew stronger. Miles was important to her, too important to stay away. 

Pavitr moved around them. He sat on the other side of the couch, at Miles’ feet. Gwen noticed how Miles was practically laid on top of Hobie, one hand around his torso to hold him and the other combing through his hair. It was so soothing. Between that and the sound of Miles’ heart in her ear, she started to drift.

“Hobie…” she heard Pavitr whisper. It sounded far away. “Y-you didn’t say—”

“No, Pav.”

“But—”

“ Please .” 

Pavitr said nothing else, and neither did Hobie or at least she didn’t hear them. Exhaustion was taking over her, and she fell asleep before she could think let alone ask what that exchange was about. 

Chapter Text

Miles never asked to be Spider-Man. Not even when he was a kid, did he think about it. Not really.

He liked Spider-Man, his predecessor. He was a hero, and his commitment to New York’s safety was obvious. While Miles’ father had mixed feelings about him—Spider-Man was a vigilante and Miles’ dad was a cop, but they got along, right? As far as Miles was aware, he had never been antagonistic towards him.

Then Peter Parker died, leaving behind a world that needed someone to protect it, and a promise. Miles made good on that promise, and Miles became Spider-Man.

Look, it’s not like he’s resentful or anything. Yeah, he would have much preferred for his predecessor to not, you know, be dead. There was not much he could do about that. He was sure that, had he survived Kingpin, he would have done as he said and shown Miles the ropes. He couldn’t, but Peter, the other Peter, did. Because Kingpin opened a hole in the multiverse and other Spider-People ended up in his dimension.

Sometimes, Miles wondered what would have happened if he had never met his friends, what path he would have taken to fulfill the promise he made Peter. Because Miles would have tried, no matter what. He knew he would have. It was both a blessing and a curse that he wasn’t alone at the beginning. There were people out there who understood him like no one else could, and he would never see them again. Because they were from another dimension.

Awesome. Love that for him. Great…

Miles doesn’t dwell on it. He does not.

When catching a bad guy, he doesn’t think about what Peter would have done, the Peter that became his mentor, his friend. He doesn’t think about what Noir would have planned during a situation that required stealth, or what tech Peni would have come up with when dealing with security systems. He doesn’t think about Ham cracking a borderline copyright joke. He absolutely does not think about Gwen, and he never, ever wonders how a soul connection with her would feel like.

Not at all.

So yeah, He doesn’t dwell on his friends. He doesn’t draw them in his notebooks; he doesn't design and paint a mural inspired by them, and he doesn't keep drawing Gwen over and over to not forget what she looked like. That would be silly, and contra-productive. Some things you just must accept. Like the fact that his Uncle Aaron was gone, and he might never see Gwen again.

In case it wasn’t clear, Miles was unsuccessfully lying, mostly to himself. It was a bit of a miracle that he still had a secret identity. He was such a lousy liar; it wasn’t even funny. Well, it was a little funny, but only a little.

But it was fine. Things always changed, and he learned to inspect and adapt quickly, something he was good at even before Spider-Man. He couldn’t blame Aunt May for moving to Florida. The entire city reminded him of her Peter, and he sympathized. He missed Uncle Aaron every day. Before leaving, she taught him a few more things about the behind-the-scenes of being Spider-Man, and he was grateful for that.

He was fine. Things were going great. It’s just, sometimes, he felt lonely.

The heavy sigh Miles let out took some weight off his shoulders. He looked down at the notebook on his lap, and the finished drawing of Gwen smiling, like she had done that first day they met, like she had done the day they said goodbye. The notebook was replete with drawings. Miles flipped through the pages, another sketchbook full. Tonight, he was going to start a new one.

It was one of those rare days when Ganke was not in their dorm room. He said something about a group project and the library. He was a good friend, and for as much as he didn’t want to get involved in Miles’ superhero activities, he covered for him in school related things. Miles felt safe enough around Ganke to be himself, but Ganke would never understand what it was like to do the job Miles does, and Miles didn’t expect him to.

He wished he could talk with someone about that part of his life, though.

Miles caught up with his homework before putting on the suit and jumping back to the streets as Spider-Man. The bad guys would not stop themselves, and there were people out there that could use a hand. That was something Miles could do, help.

Here’s the thing people don’t get about New York. It’s not always loud, and it does indeed sleep. Places like Times Square, where the artificial light made it seem like the sun was over them no matter the time of the day, were their own special sections of the city. Away from those epicenters is where Miles—Spider-Man—was truly needed.

That night Miles felt weird, not in a bad way. He couldn’t explain. He felt like someone was calling him, but the music and the typical New York City noise distorted and missed the call. His spider sense was whispering, not in the presence of danger, but for him to stay alert, to wait and see. He couldn’t remember feeling like that before, but it was familiar, like dreaming.

He stopped to look around on the side of a skyscraper, his back against the wall of the building, and his feet supporting his weight. He closed his eyes and gave in to the urge of that feeling. To be alert. To wait. To see.

That’s when he saw the other Spider.

Not close enough. The distance was significant that if Miles didn’t know better, he would have believed it was just his imagination. There was another Spider here, in New York. Miles wondered if the newcomer was from another dimension. He wanted to know everything. But the Spider kept their distance, and they could have vanished for all Miles knew.

Look.

He’s like me.

Listen.

Ah, there he was. Not hiding anymore. Miles couldn't wait. He went invisible and shortened the distance between himself and the other Spider. It was good that he was wearing the mask and was invisible when they met because he was sure the dumbfounded expression on his face was embarrassing.

Hobie, his name was Hobie Brown. And yup, he was from another dimension.

Meeting Hobie reminded him of meeting Gwen. The underlying feeling, that’s it. Not the rest. Because Miles wasn’t as awkward and unintentionally chaotic this time and thank God, he didn't do something like get his hand stuck on Hobie’s clothes or worse, his hair. Hobie had really, really nice hair. Miles wouldn’t be able to live with the mortification of getting another person an unintentional haircut. Even if Gwen ended up looking really cool.

Speaking of.

Hobie not only was like him, he knew Gwen. It was she who asked him to check on Miles. It was both great and disappointing. There was a way to see his friends, to see Gwen again. After all this time, she still cared about him to ask someone to check on him, and that someone was a really cool guy Miles liked already.

But Gwen’s absence disappointed him.

Also, there was this other thing. The meeting with Hobie was a complete surprise to Miles; it left him reeling and unsure of how to react. It took everything in him to not flail in excitement and bombard Hobie with question after question. Miles felt a little inferior to Hobie, but things weren’t so awful. He felt he did a decent job.

He was jealous. He would never admit it, but he was so jealous it felt pathetic. He was jealous because Hobie got to see Gwen, and because Gwen got to see Hobie, as if he had any claim on either of them. Nobody said jealousy was logical.

But Miles got the chance to get over one of those two scenarios, because Hobie’s visit was not a onetime deal. He kept coming back, and news of Gwen with him. Miles made a friend in Hobie and he reconnected with Gwen. Had never been more than happy about exchanging letters, of all things. It was fun having a pen pal from another world, but he still wanted to see her.

Of course Gwen would like someone such as Hobie, he was just… Hobie. Miles didn’t have a point of reference on how Hobie treated others, so he liked to imagine there were things Hobie did that were only for those close to him, and that meant Miles was being counted in that circle. Being with him made Miles feel good.

It was a silly thought, but it made him smile.

Besides, Hobie understood what it felt to be Spider-Man. He knew firsthand the difficulties of their job, and Miles could talk with him about that. Finally.

It was just that. He was glad to connect with another Spider, that was it. Anything else, Ganke was making it up.

“And that’s the only thing, suuure.”

“Yes? What are you on?”

Ganke shrugged. “Pro: your mood has improved by leagues, so I gotta be grateful to this Hobie dude for that. Con: you won’t shut up about him!”

“Come on, man! It’s—he gets me, the other side of me!”

“He gets you, and that’s it, sure, sure, sure. That’s the only reason you hang out with him so much, and do shit like let him paint your nails. Literally.”

“I have no idea what you are babbling about, man. Also, black polish looks cool.”

“Good enough to collect dress code violations?”

“Duh.”

“And you got that studded bracelet just because, eh? Or even better, he gave it to you.”

Miles rolled his eyes. The bracelet was Hobie’s, of course. He forgot it one time, but when Miles saw him next, Hobie was wearing another one already, so he told Miles to keep the old one. But he would not give Ganke the satisfaction of being right.

“When you get your ears pierced, are you gonna let him choose the earrings? Or is it gonna be Gwen? Two for one, eh?” Ganke asked with a smirk.

“What does that even mean? Also, I’m not getting my ears pierced.”

“Yet.”

“Carajo contigo…”

“Love you too, dude.”

So Miles was happy to have Hobie around, so what? Hobie was cool, and he never looked down on Miles for being a less experienced Spider-Man. Not only were they equal, they were friends.

Between school, home, and his job, Miles had little time to just be himself, to have fun with friends, and when he was with Hobie, he could do that. Swinging around the city had never been more fun than when they did it together, exploring, goofing around, racing, or playing tag. Neither of them called it ‘playing tag’ but that was exactly what it was. Whatever, it was fun.

He needed the break. It was a weird time for him. There was so much he had to do and even more to prove. To the world, to his parents, and to himself. Miles had the feeling he was going to disappoint his parents no matter what, because he had been lying to them for nearly a year, and it was wearing down on him.

But he didn’t want his parents to be angry with him, to be disappointed in him. He didn’t want to hurt his parents, and he didn’t want to get hurt—No, no. He wasn't going there. His parents loved him, they only wanted the best for him. He should just tell them he’s Spider-Man. Surely they would understand, right? They wouldn’t turn their back on him. His mind was just running worse case scenarios, things that would never happen.

Right? Right.

Miles looked across the city. The view from the Chrysler building never ceased to be stunning, especially at sunset. The calm let his mind drift away for a little while, and draw. It was in moments like these that Miles got his best sketches. Like the one he finished the other day, the one with Gwen suited up and in action. On the next page, he drew Hobie, also suited up, in the middle of a jump with his guitar. He was putting the final touches to that one. Hobie had a lot going on in his suit. He really missed them.

As the sun set low, Miles looked at his finished sketch and blinked. He turned the page and blinked again. He held the notebook and shifted the pages to see his sketches; there were a few designs of what he thought his soul mark would look like. Those were silly. He didn't have one, so it didn’t matter. He flipped the pages and saw Gwen, Hobie, Gwen, Gwen, Hobie, Hobie and Gwen, Gwen, Hobie, Gwen in an outfit of his design smiling, Hobie in a walking down the street also in an outfit of his design, a grin on his face.

Oh.

Oh shit.

He was screwed.

Okay, okay. Everything was fine, totally fine. So he had a crush on Gwen. That was nothing new. Having one on Hobie as well was new, but he didn’t have to panic. Both Gwen and Hobie were absolutely gorgeous people, not to mention cool. It was completely normal he may be crushing on them a little. It was gonna be fine. They were his friends; he was going to get over it and no one, especially not them, needed to know. Yep.

Also, he was running low on sketch books.

Next time Hobie came by, everything was going to be completely normal, fine and good. Miles just had a little crush because he finally got to have another friend and that friend happened to be too damn cool for Miles to handle. But it was just the initial impression. The more he knew Hobie, the more he found how human he was, and that was good! Miles would get over it in no time. He was fine.

When Hobie eventually showed up, Miles almost had an aneurysm.

“What the hell happened to you?!”

Hobie sat on the windowsill of his dorm room and smirked at him with blood stained teeth. He had a black eye and a bloody nose.

“Mission. Rhino variant. Wanker got a couple hits, that all.”

“Get in here, come on, let me see you.”

“’m good, love.”

Miles still dragged Hobie inside and made him sit down on the bed. He got his first aid kit and got working on getting the blood from his face. Hobie’s nose wasn’t broken, but he had a split lip, and his piercing was gone. It wasn’t until he had cleaned all the blood that he realized what he was doing. Hobie gave him a curious look as Miles ran the wipe down his cheek. He looked so calm, like he trusted Miles, who in turn felt his face burn but refused to acknowledge it because he was going to die of embarrassment if he did.

“He didn't rip off your piercing, did he?”

“Nah, got loose from the hit. Took it out myself. ‘tis fine.”

“I’m glad.”

Miles discarded the wipes and sat down on the chair in front of Hobie. Miles noted he looked tired. It gave Miles the impression he had not slept in three days.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you still with them?”

Hobie closed his eyes, thinking. Miles had heard it before, how mixed his feelings for the Spider Society were. While he was the one Miles got to hear, Gwen also seemed to have some mixed feelings. The undertones of her letters were subtle, but present. It made Miles wonder how things could be so good and yet have his friends feeling like that.

“I’m not done yet,” Hobie said, his voice low. He looked up at Miles. “Feels constricting, but I ain’t done with ‘em yet.”

“Dunno what’s the problem? I mean, it kinda sounds good? Helping people, keeping the multiverse safe, working with others like us… I don't understand.”

Hobie kept looking ahead. Sometimes the way he looked would change. His colors shifted, and sometimes he could see text on his skin, like newspaper and magazine scraps. Miles wasn’t sure if there was a pattern, but he wanted to understand Hobie.

“A place that won’t have you on board can’t be that good, love.”

Miles didn’t know what to say to that, but he smiled because the fact that Hobie cared that much made him feel—he couldn’t describe it, but it was a good feeling.

Oh, yeah.

He was so, so screwed.

After that night, Miles wondered about the bad guys Hobie and Gwen fought. These anomalies. Anything that belonged to one universe and was swept into another they shouldn’t be was considered an anomaly, since the tears in the multiverse kept dragging people around unexpectedly. It wasn’t always bad guys, but those were the ones that caused the most damage.

How would one of his bad guys look if they were from another dimension? Variants were interesting. Like Doc Oct was a guy in Hobie’s dimension, Miles still thought Liv was creepier.

Scorpion, on the other hand. Well, he still thought his Scorpion was creepier. He made an impression on his One-Day-Being-Spider-Man-Self. But the one that showed up glitching and causing chaos in Downtown Brooklyn was a close second. The guy was huge, and looked like something right out of a mythology book, but not in a good way., he kind of looked like a demon.

It didn’t matter that Miles had never encountered an “Anomaly” before, or that he lacked the resources to send the guy back to where he came from. The guy was going to hurt people, and Miles couldn’t let that happen.

So he fought, he got dragged around, the damn stinger slashed his back, and Miles got up, because that’s what he always did. He was burning, and the world was not making sense anymore. Everything was so loud, he had to stop Scorpion, and he did. It didn’t feel like a victory because Miles had to run. He was being followed. Why was he being followed?

Run, just run.

He was alone in this, and he ran to the only place he could, where he had conversations with a ghost. It wasn’t the best idea, but Miles kept coming back to that place. His uncle’s apartment remained mostly untouched after he was gone. His dad didn’t know if he wanted to sell it or not, and he couldn’t stand to look at it most days.

But Miles did.

He kept some of his things there, the ones he could not take to home, and made Ganke uncomfortable to be around because it was too close to Miles’ secret life. Web shooters, cartridges, the chemicals to make webs, trinkets, and the antivenom that might help, if only he could reach the damn cooler.

He was going to die in his dead uncle’s apartment. How long before his parents found out? He didn’t want to hurt them, and fear gripped him. He didn’t want to be by himself at such a moment, but it was just him.

Until it wasn’t.

There was no way this was real. Part of Miles, even now, knew it wasn’t possible for Gwen to be there. Hobie bringing her with him was a nice thought, but it would not happen. So, this was just his mind messing with him. At least it was nice.

Yeah. This was a delightful dream. Gwen and Hobie were here. He was still hurting, which was weird for a dream, but Gwen and Hobie were with him and that was, that was good. He could sideline the pain because of that. Yeah, he could do that. Perhaps he would be okay if he stopped feeling sorry for himself and listened to them instead. He promised Gwen to stay, so there was that.

He was safe, and he wasn’t alone. It was a great dream. Miles didn't want it to end. But he had to wake up. It was time.

Chapter Text

His head hurt. It was a pain that nestled and every movement, no matter how small it was, made it worse. Miles shook his head, and the pain hit him like a wave, pulsing until he stayed still. It was very annoying. He felt tacky in his dirty suit and his mouth tasted disgusting. Recalling how he ended like this seemed like a monumental effort, but there was Miles, pushing through.

Someone was holding his hand, and he was lying on something warm that was definitely breathing. He snapped his eyes open in panic and got up without really seeing. Headache be damned. The last thing he remembered was running away from Scorpion, the other Scorpion, and then nothing.

There was a distant sound, like chimes in the wind. It pulled him from the dark and made everything suddenly start again.

“It’s okay, Miles.”

“Hey, hey, careful, love.”

Two pairs of hands guided him to sit down, and he blinked away the sleep that wanted to cling to him like a parasite. The headache didn’t help. His pounding heartbeat made the headache pulse felt like a hammer striking between his eyes, yet his spider-sense was silent. Miles took a deep breath and let himself slowly settle down for the world to come into focus.

The familiar, sad sight of his uncle’s apartment came into view. Then, he finally recognized the people in front of him. His eyes landed on Hobie first, and the gently yet firm hold on his hand made him shift his attention to Gwen next to him, her face twisted with worry. Her side shave remained, but she’d grown her hair longer, dyeing the ends pink. There was a slight tremor to her entire figure, like she was waiting for a sign to allow herself to move.

“Gwen?”

She made a sound that felt equal parts happy and distressed, and threw herself at him for a hug. Her arms were careful to avoid his upper back and held him around the waist instead. He dropped his arms to return the hug without even really thinking. His bewildered expression must have been obvious, because Hobie was slightly shaking his head in response. The chuckle under his breath felt loud in the apartment's stillness.

He wasn’t dreaming. Miles felt too much like shit to be dreaming, not to mention the solid figure of Gwen in his arms, holding him as if he were to disappear if she let go. This moment was something Miles had imagined for months, and none of the scenarios he pictured in his head resembled this one. Miles held on anyway. He wanted to feel Gwen close, but he also wanted to scream and maybe cry a little. He did neither.

“You’re here,” he said instead, like it wasn’t obvious. “I thought—”

“I should have come sooner,” Gwen quickly said, any faster and she would have tripped over her own words. “I should have. I’m sorry Miles, so sorry.”

There was some reluctance when she moved to let go of him. Reluctance from her and reluctance from him. He wanted to hold her and not let go because he didn't know how long they had, or if this moment was so fragile, any sudden movements would break it. Worse than walking on eggshells, it felt like standing on thin ice.

“What happened?” Miles said asked. “Scorpion!”

“It’s okay, bro. He’s back to my dimension.”

There was not just Gwen and Hobie in the apartment with him. There was another person by the far end of the couch, sitting on the armrest. His attire revealed him as a Spider, yet something about him seemed familiar. Miles was sure he had never met him before, but the description matched with things Hobie and Gwen had told him.

“Pav?”

“That be me!” he confirmed enthusiastically, and Miles nearly winced at the loud tone. “Pavitr Prabhakar, Mumbattan’s one and only Spider-Man.”

“Pavitr,” he tried again, now knowing the full name.

“Pav’s fine, rally,” he said with a dismissing wave. “It’s great to finally meet you!”

“Miles,” he said, unsure of what he was doing. “Miles Morales.”

“I know,” Pavitr responded with a grin, as if that wasn’t creepy.

He looked at Hobie, because it reminded him of the day they met. Hobie shrugged one shoulder, motioning to Pav and Gwen as if that were enough explanation. Maybe it was, but Miles’ brain was working very slowly at the moment, considering the headache and the pain on his back.

“Did the antivenom work?” he mumbled.

“Kind of,” answered Pavitr without being asked. “The guy was from my dimension, so I brought some antivenom from there over, but the one you already had softened the blow. That guy’s nasty,” Pavitr shuddered, most likely remembering a similar experience like the one Miles had just went through.

“Miles?” Gwen called, her voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Gwen chewed on her lower lip, and she nodded in understanding. He saw Hobie and Pavitr exchanging glances. There was a silent conversation going on there, and suddenly Miles had the irrational urge to stand between them and have Hobie’s sole attention on him instead.

“Are you dizzy? Nausea? Does anything hurt?” Gwen tried again, this time with a direct question Miles could answer without having an existential crisis.

“Not dizzy. My head is killing me. My back, a little.” He made a face of discomfort. It actually helped a bit. Only then did Miles look down, noticing that he wasn’t wearing his suit and that his chest was bandaged to cover the wound on his upper back.

He looked up, his gaze shifting between Gwen and Hobie, even Pavitr, and back. “You… you came.”

“Yeah…” Gwen said, her smile felt sad. “Should’ve been sooner.”

She said that already. Miles skipped through that statement because his mind was still trying to catch on with everything going on. He wasn’t doing a great job. He should try to say something about that, but most of what came to mind were questions he wasn’t sure he should ask right now.

“You couldn’t. I—I get it,” he said instead, his shoulders slowly dropped. “But you sent Hobie my way. I never expected—I mean—that’s a good thing!”

In response, Gwen’s sad smile broke into a laugh and Hobie looked away, but he could see the smile on his face, so at least Miles didn’t make it terribly awkward. Or at least it didn’t feel that way yet. Maybe when his brain rebooted, his mind would catch on with his mouth.

“Thanks, love,” Hobie smirked. Was he joking? Did he offend him? Oh God, he didn’t mean to make it sound like it was a consolation prize or something, because he absolutely wasn’t. His damn sketchbook—that they will never, ever see—was proof.

“I mean it,” Miles insisted, and finally felt brave enough to reach for Gwen’s hand to look her in the eye. “Both things! I do get it, and I am glad I got to meet Hobie because of you.”

That sounded better in his head. Miles cringed at himself, yet Gwen kept looking at him with bright eyes and something kind in her expression, something that was pushing the anxiety and fear of the past for however long it had been away. Besides her, Hobie’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“This is not how I expected this conversation to go,” Miles said, slowly resting his head on the back of the couch. “Being poisoned also sucked.”

Gwen laughed at that, and it didn’t sound forced. Miles looked at her with hooded eyes. She was wearing her spider suit, same as Hobie and Pavitr. They didn’t look hurt, meaning Miles knocked out Scorpion long enough for the guy to be taken to his home world.

“Gwen… what changed? I thought you couldn’t be here.”

“I’m not supposed to,” she said with a scowl. She didn’t seem angry with him, though. “But I needed to see you, I needed to know you’re… that you’re alright.”

Miles studied Gwen’s look. There was determination there, and sincerity. Her words were not just to placate him or apologize for the distance. They felt sincere. There was a weight lifting from his chest as he exhaled and took all of that in.

“I’m alright,” Miles said with a little smile. “Pretty sure that’s thanks to you.”

Gwen winced. “You did the hard part, actually.”

“Guy was already knocked out,” Pavitr confirmed. “I made the antivenom as fast as I could. Sorry for making you wait, bro.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Miles said. “It’s all good now.”

“Scorpion has been a headache lately,” Pavitr sighed. “Didn’t expect him to wind up in another dimension. How embarrassing that I get to meet you like this! Hobie and Gwen talk so much about you, and the first thing I get to do is bring you medicine because my bad guy is a jerk, not cool.”

There was a lot to unpack there, and Miles' head still hurt. Pavitr was friends with Hobie and Gwen. He already knew that. Hobie had talked about Pavitr before, but the way Pav put it made it sound like Hobie and Gwen talked a little too much about him. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel fuzzy inside or embarrassed. Perhaps both.

Pavitr looked like a nice guy, and from what he had heard from Hobie, he was a good friend. He had only been Spider-Man for a few months, yet he had a watch and got to hang out with Hobie and Gwen. Miles was not jealous, and he would not pout.

He managed to smile, or at least something close to it.

“Dude, come on. Unless you planned this, I’d say you’re fine.”

“Oh no, it would be a terrible plan,” Pavitr mumbled. “Also, these two would have killed me.”

“Yeah,” Gwen said nonchalantly.

“No doubt,” Hobie added, inspecting his nails like the most interesting thing in the room. Miles tried to not think too much about it.

“They probably wouldn’t even explain to Gaya what they did, to make it worse,” he mumbled with fake bitterness. “She would avenge me, anyway. She would know.”

“You know what?” Gwen said. “Soul connection or not, I think she would. Sometimes I think she’s magic.”

“She totally is!”

“Actual magic, Pavitr. Not whatever she has on you.”

“Same thing.”

Miles was confused, and looked at Hobie in hope of clarification, but he just observed the exchange, looking bemused. He was sitting on the floor, one of his long legs bent so he could rest his arm over his knee.

“Soul connection? You have a soulmate?” Miles asked and felt immediately embarrassed about it because what kind of invasive question was that?

“And she’s the most beautiful person in the entire world!” Pavitr confirmed, not sounding biased at all.

“Must be nice,” Miles mused. Pavitr tilted his head and looked at Miles like he was trying to read something on him. He looked at Gwen and Hobie and whatever he decided, he kept it to himself. Pavitr shook his head and smiled at Miles.

“I’ll introduce her to you when you visit,” Pavitr said.

Visit. Miles frowned at that. How was Pavitr expecting him to visit? Surely he couldn’t mean that just as small talk. He seemed too honest about that.

“’m not part of the group.”

“Of course you are, duh,” Pavitr countered, rolling his eyes. He then motioned to himself, Hobie, and Gwen. “See? I don’t hop dimensions and frantically render antivenom for anyone.”

He was talking about them, as if it was a given that they were going to be friends. Miles actually smiled this time, and the tightness in his chest eased a little more.

“The Society, I mean. I don’t have a watch,” he clarified.

“Whatever. Hobie will solve that,” Pavitr dismissed once again, like it was a given.

Hobie looked down at his watch with a grimace. The model differed from the one he had seen him use before. Silver and clinically clean. It looked nothing like the loud and colorful model he was used to seeing on him. That one, Miles noted, was on Gwen’s wrist.

“I guess?”

“Will do,” Hobie said with determination.

Some pieces were moving, and the questions Miles had been putting off came back. He had been holding off because he was worried about pushing the subject too much and ending up with nothing. No letters, no visits, radio silence again.

“You couldn’t come sooner,” Miles muttered, his voice almost too soft to be heard. It still caught Gwen’s attention, and their gaze locked. “But why?”

“I…I wasn’t allowed,” she said with a wince.

Miles thought back to the Spider Society. In her letters, Gwen talked about how it operates, and whom he works the most with. She would mention Miguel O’Hara and Jessica Drew pretty consistently, and also how they are pretty strict about where she goes.

“Why, it’s something bad?”

She twisted and pulled the sheet that covered Miles. Gwen was avoiding his eyes. She looked like she wanted to look anywhere but him, and she couldn’t help but gaze his way. Hobie’s expression was stony, and the vibrant colors he usually displayed had grayed out, the text in his skin blotch and runny.

“It shouldn’t be,” Gwen finally said, looking him in the eye. “I don’t understand why it is a problem. It shouldn’t be.”

Hobie looked like he was about to add something and thought better of it, keeping the surrounding silence. Miles frowned. It was not just them. Pavitr also had lost some of his bubbly demeanor, chewing anxiously at his lower lip.

Miles narrowed his eyes, and the logical conclusion he had been avoiding since he met Hobie made itself present at the front and center of his mind.

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

Something to do with him. It had to be. The way Gwen would avoid the subject in their letters, and Hobie’s reluctance to explain anything too deep about the society clued him in. Miles at first thought it couldn’t be, he was being self-centered. Whatever it was had nothing to do with him. It was something else they just couldn’t talk about.

But now? Yeah, he knew better.

Gwen squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for something unpleasant. Miles wanted to tell her it was okay, that he would not be mad, but he wasn’t sure that would be true. He rested his head against the back of the couch again, and stared at the ceiling, scoffing at their silence.

“Miguel thinks you’re an anomaly,” Gwen finally said. Miles turned his head, and she had the decency to look him in the eye. “Because the spider that bit you was from another dimension.”

Miles blinked slowly. He was having a hard time to get the information to sink in because it made no immediate sense to him. He thought back to that day in the tunnels and found the moment of the bite non remarkable. It didn’t even hurt. It wasn’t until the next day, when he returned, that everything turned upside down.

He found the spider, and it glitched. Unable to get its atoms to keep themselves stable while being in a dimension that was not the one it came from. Until now, he believed the spider’s unusual nature, not its dimensional origin, was the reason.

Miles sat up, his back straight. His mind was racing, and the scenarios were piling into his head. There were many moments that he wondered what would have happened if his uncle didn't bring him to the tunnels that night, if it would have made any difference. He wondered if the spider would have found its path to him some other way. Now there was another variable to think about. How long would the spider be able to survive on its own? Was it being out of its home dimension the reason it died after biting Miles? He didn't slap it that hard, but it died anyway.

“What’s the problem with that?” Miles asked, a deep frown on his face. “I don’t even know how the spider made it here. It just, like, happened!”

Hobie clicked his tongue, not looking at him. “Doncha say?”

Miles glared at him. “What?”

“Ignore him,” Gwen said, sending her own glare to Hobie, who looked completely unimpressed. “That’s what I don’t understand, Miles. You being bitten by a spider from another dimension, it’s, well, not how it should be.”

“According to what?”

“It’s hard to explain, but, uhm… there are these things that happen to all of us across dimensions, they’re called canon events, and the way you became Spider-Man doesn’t follow those, it goes, uhm…”

“Off script,” Pavitr offered. “It hasn’t happened before. Uhm, it makes things kinda unpredictable?”

“And what isn’t? Also, there’s a first time for everything. So what if the spider wasn’t from my dimensions? It has worked out so far!”

He motioned to himself. It was over a year and Miles had been doing the best he could, and he was still going. His only regret was that he wasn’t able to do anything for Peter, his predecessor, but he couldn't let himself sink into that thought every time he looked in the mirror, remembering his uncle was bad enough.

“And what does it have to do with predicting things, anyway? What’s the point of that?”

“Spider-People have similar things happen to them,” Gwen explained. “These canon events, they create a pattern—”

“And I don’t fit in that pattern,” Miles concluded, and looked at Hobie. “Is that so bad? What’s the problem?”

“I ain't got a scooby-doo, mate. It ain’t just you, but vampire ninja won’t budge.”

He was talking about Miguel, but Miles knew that. Not for the description, but the way Hobie sneered when talking. It felt personal, but Miles didn’t have enough room to dig into that when he was grappling with his own doubts.

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” Gwen hissed. She was angry now. Miles wondered if she had gone over this subject before, if the anger was out of frustration or something else. “But, I can tell you this, Miles. It’s not an issue for me, for any of us, and I’m sorry I let it be one.”

The look Hobie gave Gwen was one of pride. It felt contagious. Miles thought perhaps he was the persona Gwen had had this conversation before, and they were finally reaching the same agreement.

He didn’t know Pavitr, but he didn’t look conflicted over Gwen's words. He was nodding along. It hurt that all of them knew all this, and Miles didn’t. He also wasn’t happy with the fact both Hobie and Gwen kept him in the dark for so long, even if it was because they didn’t want to hurt him. He looked at them again; Gwen looked like she was waiting for the worse, and Hobie like he was embracing for the same.

Miles didn’t like that.

“You should have told me,” Miles said again with a long, heavy sigh. “Why didn't you?”

“I d-didn’t k-know,” Gwen stuttered. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Hobie kept looking between them, and Miles wanted to know. “And you? Gonna tell me you also didn’t know how?”

“No, that ain’t it. I—”

“Don’t! I made him promise he wouldn’t,” Gwen interrupted, and Hobie scoffed at her, which made Miles believe that was exactly what happened. “That was me.”

Miles felt like screaming at them, but he held back when Pavitr cleared his throat. Something in the tense atmosphere snapped. Miles had nearly forgotten he was also there. He would feel embarrassed if he wasn’t so conflicted about everything else.

“To be fair,” Pavitr started. “Both of them can be extremely stupid from time to time.”

The statement was so blunt and on point Miles couldn’t do anything else but laugh. It felt good, so he kept laughing until the layer of hurt that had been pressing on him lessened.

“For real?”

“Yes,” Pavitr confirmed, and looked very proud of himself.

“Sure, sure, go on, I’ll get back at ya,” Hobie mumbled, with no real fire behind his words. Maybe he was grateful as much as Miles was for the shift in the air.

Gwen, on the other hand, was covering her face with both hands, but Miles could see she was blushing pretty hard. He sighed again and decided that he would not hold it against them. At least not too much.

“Man, I’m so tired,” Miles whined. “I can’t even stay mad at you right now. I just want to sleep. That’s not fair.”

“Works for me,” Hobie snickered, but it made Miles smile, so he let it slide. “For real, I’m glad you’re easy.”

“Eh?”

“Doing well,” Gwen translated with a fond smile. “He’s glad you’re okay.”