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Miles hates doing his hair.
Tight coils such as his make it a hassle to get under control. He’d need more than two hands to count the times either he or his mom have broken combs. As a child, Miles was absolutely uncooperative with having his hair combed out. The pressure on his scalp hurts, sitting still long enough for it to even be combed out is nigh impossible.
It’s a bit frustrating, because for as much as his mother has tried to care for his hair, she doesn’t have the same texture as he does. Thickness, absolutely, but her hair is much easier to style in any which way she desires.
(Miles’ dad sometimes likes to show Miles photos from the days where his parents had begun dating. It never fails to make Miles smile seeing the many ways his mami fashioned her long locks. From slicked back buns to French braids to her now signature side ponytail, it can’t ever be said that Rio Morales doesn’t have style and class.
Still, Miles thinks sometimes as he’s tugging on a coil of his hair which snaps back into place, he wishes he had gotten her blessed hair genes.)
His dad keeps his hair in a buzz cut, so he doesn’t even have the slightest clue about how to help Miles style his hair or maintain it. Even after numerous instructions from his wife, Jefferson just never managed to acquire the skill to help his son in this particular department.
Uncle Aaron was bald, so he was even more hopeless than his brother.
In the end, Miles just had to learn how to bite the bullet and care for his own hair. From YouTube tutorials to asking the girls on his block, he’s tried his best to make it work. Though, it’s still a bit of a lost cause.
Detangling coils is a bitch, and it’s just one of those things that Miles does not have the time nor patience for, what with all the superhero duties and schoolwork expected of him. Eventually, taking care of his hair besides the superficial fluffing of his afro fell to the wayside.
Then, Hobie came along.
The first thing that caught Miles’ attention (well, besides the numerous piercings and clothes and lanky height) was Hobie’s hair. They’re wicks, which in and of themselves require their own kind of care. Had the circumstances of their first meeting been better, Miles’ probably would’ve asked how he managed to care for them.
Things went to shit, so any thoughts about personal grooming were no longer lingering in Miles’ mind.
After much heartbreak, then reconciliation, then forging a new path for the future, Miles was able to breathe again. Suddenly, the more mundane things could take relevance again. While things will never return to the way they once were, at least he and his friends could now find their new meaning of normalcy.
One of the perks to saving the universe(s) was the free roaming permission the spider-people were given to jump to various universes (Well, it’s not like they needed permission in the first place, but it sure was a lot nicer not having Miguel and crew on their asses). So, they visited each other as much as possible when they weren’t being bogged down by personal responsibilities.
Miles thought about the new developments of relationships in his life. While he has, for the most part, forgiven Gwen and Peter B. for their betrayal at hiding such crucial information from him, he knows things probably won’t be the same between him and Gwen again. Gwen accepts this, and does all she can to make up for her mistakes. Yet through it all, Miles will still love her, because she’s his best friend.
Pavitr and Hobie took him completely by surprise.
Hanging out with Pav is super fun. Not only does Miles get to broaden his horizons about the realities beyond his, it’s just super great having someone new to befriend and have an easygoing friendship with.
There’s times when Miles would catch up with Pav, and the first thing he’d notice was Pav’s hair. Its lustrous sheen was so eye-catching, Miles couldn’t help but be a bit envious. Just coconut oil, prayers, and genetics, Pav had said. Some people just have all of the luck.
To be fair to Pavitr, he did try to give Miles advice and tips. “It’s not that hard, really!” He had exclaimed.
“Easy for you to say,” Miles had sulked as he watched the breeze flow through his friend’s hair. “You’re blessed by the gods.”
“Haha, yeah.”
The only person who may be able to help Miles in some way at this point was Hobie. Truthfully, Miles has been psyching himself up to do so. Hobie is just so cool. Even when they first met, Miles was starstruck by the older teen. He was even more baffled by how his massive hair could even fit under his mask.
Friendship with Hobie was a breath of fresh air, and there was no other way to describe it. Hobie, who encouraged and supported him even when everyone else had turned against Miles. Hobie, who held no expectations for Miles to try to reach. Hobie, who was perfectly content to just let Miles be, because he understood that Miles wasn’t a diamond, that pressure wasn’t the way to show off the best of what he was capable of. Miles was a sunflower, and he needed space to grow. It was the most simplest of things Miles has ever asked of anyone, and Hobie was the only person to understand that right off the bat.
Sometimes, it reminds Miles of Uncle Aaron, but somehow different. Hobie, and the rest of his spider friends, know both sides of his life. However, Hobie offers a tranquility Miles could not find, even with his uncle. It makes him wonder why Miles is able to find refuge in a person his father would more than definitely cough up blood over out of pure shock and nearly did, when his mom and dad were first introduced to Hobie.
The answers reveal themselves slowly, but surely. It’s because Hobie listens. He’s not just hearing Miles, but he’s actively giving him his undivided attention. For as loud and brash as Hobie is, he’s very attentive when it comes to the people he cares about. Through every rant or excited babble or just chill conversation Miles has ever spewed out of his mouth, the other has matched his energy beat for beat.
They also hang out the most out of the group. Every week one goes to visit the other in his universe, and there’s always something new to catch up on. Hobie enthusiastically invites Miles to his shows with his band, and Miles lets Hobie help with his graffiti work. It’s a very enriching friendship. It’s irreplaceable to Miles.
So when Hobie comes to visit again, Miles works up the courage to ask for help.
“My man Miles!” Hobie greets as he steps out of the portal and into the space of Miles’ room. “How’s it going witcha?”
Miles brightens up. “Hey, Hobie! Just the man I wanted to see.”
Hobie gives a lopsided grin. “What, I’m always on your mind now?”
Miles smiles, warmth filling his body and making his scalp tingle. “Hmm, maybe you are.” It’s said with so much unintended tenderness that it makes Hobie Brown of all people a bit flustered.
Here’s another new development in Miles’ life: This relationship he and Hobie have. It’s not quite defined yet because neither have yet to actually bring it up, but it is something that is definitely more than friends at this point.
Miles had subtly confided in his mom about his feelings for his friend, but Rio Morales, being the great woman she is, was able to put two and two together. This also led to him also finally coming out as bisexual, to which his mom replied, “Honestly? I’m not surprised. My little man is just too amazing and kind to not be liked by everyone.” She kissed his cheek. “You should tell Hobie how you feel. And, hey, you’ll be surprised to find that he may even like you back. Mijo, te amo mucho. Your father and I want what's best for you, and what makes you happy. If Hobie is one of those things, then you have my full support. I’ll deal with your father.”
Sometimes, it surprised Miles, just how much he loved his mother, loved his family.
It made Miles think about how much he really wants to solidify what he and Hobie have. He knew Hobie was a stickler for not being labeled in any capacity, but a gut feeling was telling him this was one label the other wouldn’t mind having at all.
“So, love,” Hobie starts, flopping down next to Miles on his bed. Miles immediately scoots closer, loving the contact. Hobie places his arm around Miles to get them more comfortable. The bed creaks under the weight of two growing teenage boys, but Miles is confident it won’t break. “What’s on the agenda today? Thinkin’ about a chill day, yeah?”
“Actually, I have a request,” Miles starts.
“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”
“I was wondering if you could help me do my hair.”
“Thought this day would never come,” Hobie says with great glee. His fingers come to rest in Miles’ coils, lightly scratching his scalp. Miles shivers with delight. “Your hair’s too great to keep it in just one style, y’know.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been too busy to try to take care of it properly.”
Hobie hums in acknowledgment. He of all people definitely understands. Of course he would. For as wonderful and beautiful as textured hair is, it’s a pain in the ass to maintain, and it’s also extremely high-maintenance. Maybe that’s why Hobie put his in freeform wicks, to keep some control over it.
After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Miles pushes himself up. “Lemme get the stuff for ya.” He shuffles around his room, trying to find all of his hair supplies and products. Hobie just looks on in amusement. After a quick trip to the bathroom to fill up a small spray bottle with water and get some leave-in conditioner, Miles returns and sets everything down by his bed near Hobie. “Here ya go.”
“Ace.” Hobie gestures to the space between his legs on the floor. “Have a seat.”
Once Miles gets comfortable, Hobie gets to work. Using the spray bottle to keep Miles’ hair damp, Hobie works on detangling thick coils. All the while, he takes care not to tug any hair as much as possible, and if he comes to a particularly stubborn knot that makes Miles wince, he apologizes.
“You’re really great at this,” Miles compliments. “How did you learn how to take care of hair?”
“‘M tender-headed m’self,” Hobie begins. “My mum taught me a bunch of tricks to help with making styling easier. Then as I grew older and became Spider-Man, she volunteered to put my hair in wicks, which I’ve maintained on my own ever since.”
“You told your mom about your identity?” Miles asks, bewildered. If it hadn’t been for the whole conundrum with the Spot, Miles probably would’ve hesitated for even longer about letting his parents in on his secret.
“Mm, not quite. But she did end up figuring it out. Smart woman, she was.” There’s a bit of a wistful tone in Hobie’s voice now. “Any road, I think ‘m gonna put your hair in simple twists for the week, it’s long enough to do so.”
Miles smiles. “Sure.” Then he blinks as he remembers something. “Hey, Hobie? How do you keep your hair from breaking off while you have your mask on? Mine gets caught with strands every time I take it off.”
A fond huff of air escapes the other. “I have a friend who made a satin lining within my mask to prevent breakage. I could have them tweak your mask to do the same thing, if you’d like.”
“I’d like that, thanks, man.”
“No problem at all, mate.”
Sometime when Hobie is halfway through his styling, there’s a knock at the bedroom door. “Miles, you in here, mi corazòn?”
“Sí, mami. You can come in.”
“I was wondering if you wanted to— oh.” Miles’ mom takes in the scene before her. Her smile becomes that much brighter. “Hola, Hobie. Thank you for doing his hair. Who knew you were such an amazing stylist?”
“Nothin’ off m’ shoulder, Mrs. Morales.” Miles can’t see it, but he’s one hundred percent sure Hobie is beaming at his mom, if the softness of her smile is anything to go by.
“Hi, mami. Did you need anything?”
“Sí. ¿Tienen hambre? I was about to get started on dinner and wanted to know if you wanted to help, but I can see you’re a bit occupied.”
Miles’ stomach gave a light growl. His mom smiles knowingly. Miles felt his cheeks warm. “Yeah, I kinda am. What about you, Hobie?”
“Won’t lie,” Hobie begins. “I am, too. But could I finish doing Miles’ hair first? I’m almost done. I’ll even help with the cleanup, if that’s alright with you.”
Rio quietly laughs and shakes her head. “No need to worry about that. Just you helping mi hijo with his hair is more than enough. Muchas gracias.”
Hobie laughs. “Really, it was never a bother.”
Rio has a knowing look in her eyes. Thankfully, she spares Miles any embarrassment as she says, “Well, dinner should be ready in an hour and a half. I expect both of you to be ready by then, you hear me?”
“Yes,” both Miles and Hobie say in unison.
Rio nods and closes the door, then it is just the two of them again.
The comfortable quiet envelopes the two again, and Miles comes to another realization about Hobie: for all his intensity and boldness, there are some things that he treats with quiet care and attention.
This whole time he’s been doing Miles’ hair, Hobie hasn’t said much of anything. In fact, he’s mostly just been humming some song. Maybe it’s one that he’s written with his band. The soothing sound washes over Miles. The orange glow of the evening sun washes the room alight in this bubble of light and warmth. It is in this softness that Miles comes to one more realization, perhaps the best one of all.
He is deeply in love with Hobie Brown.
“I have one more twist to go, Miles.” Hobie says softly. “You must be crampin’ up, sitting on the floor for so long.”
“Nah.” Miles shrugs. “I’ve endured worse.”
Miles does not miss the minute pause in Hobie’s actions before he carries on. “Yeah, you have.”
And that is the truth of it. From having to pick up where his Peter Parker left off, to losing his beloved uncle, to being told he does not belong in clan of spider people and then having to save all of them and their universes as well as his own, Miles Morales has indeed endured much worse than sitting on the floor for a couple of hours. He’s much stronger, much more sure of himself than he has ever been.
He feels aligned with his universe.
“‘Righty then, ‘m all done.”
Miles opens his eyes. He hadn’t realized he had closed them to begin with. His hair was long enough that the twists dangled in front of his eyes a bit. He felt like a new person. Miles cranks his head up to look at Hobie, who was looking at him. He likes the way his hair moved with the motion. “You’re the best.”
“Mmhm, so I’ve been told.” Hobie’s voice oozes relaxation and confidence. His eyes tell a different story, though. In the orange glow of dusk, Hobie looks absolutely radiant, and it takes all of the wind from Miles’ lungs.
It’s this moment, where Miles decides it is the most perfect to let these feelings off his chest.
Miles stands up with a honed grace that comes from being a spider. He stretches and sighs in relief when some joints pop into place. Hobie is still watching him as he heads over to the small mirror at his desk.
“Hey, Hobie. There’s something I want — no, need to tell you.”
Hobie comes closer to stand behind Miles, close enough to feel his comforting aura but far enough to still give him space to breathe. It really is the small things like that that give Miles butterflies, the hope to dream.
“What is it, Miles?” There’s a knowing tone in his voice, like Hobie knows exactly what’s coming. Maybe he does, but, as always, he gives Miles the room and freedom to come to these conclusions, to take the first step.
To take that leap of faith.
Miles sharply inhales and then finally turns around to face Hobie. He lets out a shaky exhale, and then looks at dark brown, near obsidian eyes directly. He grabs both of the other’s hands and laces their fingers together and gives them a gentle squeeze.
“I really, really like you. I probably have since the moment you encouraged me to break free from Miguel and the others. I love the comfort and solace you bring whenever we’re together. I want to spend as much time with you as possible, as your boyfriend, if you’ll allow me.”
Hobie looks at Miles as if he’s just given him the sun, the moon and the stars. Maybe he has. From where Hobie comes, violence and aggression is a mainstay. There was always space for love, sure, but survival was always the main objective, leaving no time for that kind of gentleness. Coming to visit Miles constantly has been his safe harbor, a place to release the tension nestled between his shoulder blades and at the nape of his neck. Miles Morales unknowingly granted Hobie shelter and the room to be soft.
It was something he thought he could never have, never be, but of course Miles found a way to do the impossible. That’s just the kind of guy he is. In hindsight, it’s no wonder and was basically inevitable that Hobie would come to care for and love Miles. Even before they finally met, Gwen’s stories about him already had him hooked. It was only a matter of time before he was reeled in.
Hobie didn’t believe in the power of words, so instead he gently cups Miles’ face and brings him in for a kiss. Even miles away from his universe, somehow he has found his home.
Miles kisses back with just as much eagerness before pulling away. They take a minute to catch their breath, touching their foreheads together. When they pull apart, Miles grabs Hobie’s hand again and gives it a squeeze. An anchor amongst the rushing emotions of happiness. “Let’s go to dinner, yeah?”
Hobie had never stopped smiling. “Yeah.”
Rio Morales continues to watch her son grow into something beyond amazing, beyond phenomenal. Though, as a parent, she always knew that one day he’d have to tackle the pains of romance that comes with adolescence and she could do nothing but watch. It just comes with the job.
While she had given Miles her blessing for dating, she was secretly worried that Hobie might break his heart in the same way his other friend, Gwen, had.
Maybe, Rio thinks as she watches her son and his boyfriend wash the dishes while practically glued to one another, it’ll be okay. They'll be okay.
She’s pulled out of her thoughts as her husband comes to sit beside her on the couch. “Hey, honey,” Jefferson says as he pulls her into a kiss. Rio sighs and curls up into his arms. “How are you feeling?”
Rio looks at Miles and Hobie before giving Jefferson another kiss. Everything feels warm and safe and perfect.
“Mi amor, I’m so happy right now.”