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"Ocultarlos."
Miles first clear memory of his mother is not like most people’s.
Hide them.
Them, of course, being the eight soulmarks adorning his forearms, four on each arm. Or rather, seven soul marks for eight soul bonds. He has a triple on his right wrist, a rare triad bond that occurred in less than one percent of the population. They're beautiful and intricate, fascinating him from a young age. He's lucky, being born with them rather than having to wait until he was older to receive them. The thing is, though, that soulmates in Miles' universe are always romantic. So his parents urge him to hide them for fear of the bullying he might endure from his peers.
Miles is glad for their advice as he learns quickly to cover them up, hiding them away from the world. But he draws them frequently in the privacy of his bedroom, mesmerized by their shape and their color. Wondering what they look like, what their favorite color is, wondering if they spoke Spanish, how old they were.
He daydreams in school, wondering how he would have children with eight people. If he even had the ability to have children with them, especially as he notices that he has more than a passing interest in the other boys of his school. How big a house would have to be. What he could do to support that many people.
His wonder doesn't last forever. Miles loses his first soulmate at age fourteen when Peter Parker dies protecting him from Kingpin, marking the beginning of his slow, gradual descent into a life he didn't ask for. Soulmarks come in a variety of different colors when a person's soulmate is alive. When they die, the mark turns a silky black, shapes loosing their definition. He doesn't even get time to mourn the red and blue soulmark shifting colors before he's presented with his next dilemma; defeating Kingpin before he can cause more trouble with his new friends.
Miles thinks he's going to lose the second when his uncle dies, as one the triple mark looks suspiciously like the Prowler's emblem overlaying spiderwebs. It doesn't fade to grey, however, which bothers him more than it should. Would there be another Prowler, eventually?
He works with Gwen and Peter B. and successfully defeats Kingpin, sending all of his friends back to their universes. He's sad to see them go but he's determined to study until he can build the technology to visit them in their own universes. His grades are high and his parents are proud of him, even if it's hard for him to manage his time between Spider-Man and his classes.
Also in that time is extreme loss. Still reeling from his uncle's and Peter's deaths, he doesn't bother to look at his soulmarks in that time. When he does, two marks have faded to grey, followed a month later by a third.
A black soulmark meant that his soulmate was dead. Grey soulmarks meant that his soulmate rejected him.
Miles feels his heart shatter for the billionth time, sinking to his knees as his eyes are dotted with tears. He has no idea what's going on but he doesn't like it. He doesn't like that one of his soulmates died and that he's being rejected by so many so quickly
Who were they? What were they doing? What had he done wrong? He doesn't think he's burnt any bridges but it's always so hard to tell when he's too much for people, sometimes.
Then Gwen shows up unexpectedly a year after the collider and Miles finally figures it out.
It's some kind of messed up karma to meet two of his former soulmates while stumbling after the Spot, forced to play nice and appear happy. Hobie is too cool and amazing and he can totally see them as lovers but that's no longer viable. Pavitir is a ray of sunshine and energetic and he can imagine himself swinging through Mumbatten, laughing and cheering while the winds batters his face. But that's no longer possible, either.
Miles thinks he'll catch a break in Nueva York. Maybe meeting this Miguel O'Hara will make him feel better.
He'll finally belong. He'll finally be wanted. He'll finally have a place in something that's bigger than himself. He'll get to have his happy ending and have people who understand his responsibilities around him to rely on.
With four soulmates out of the picture, Miles should know by now better than to hope.
A mark he didn't even realize belonged to Peter B fades as soon as Mayday pops out of her baby carrier. Miguel's.... Well, even if it hadn't faded, Miles would have rejected the man himself after being body slammed into a train for wanting to save his dad.
(The third mark of the three he had lost before Nueva York had been Pavitir, he had found out. But the ones before that had perplexed him up until he had free fallen through the air of the futuristic city. One was Hobie and the other... Gwen. It had to be Gwen. Because he can't have anything, apparently. Because Hobie didn't just offer his couch for Gwen to crash on.)
Out of the eight people he started with, he lost six within the span of a year. One to death, five to... something. Not being fit enough to be soulmates with them. Not being a good enough person. Not being nice enough-
Only the triple remained and for how long he could not say. He's not bitter as he stumbles his way through Earth 42 (and he knows it's not his universe, okay? He knows because the colors are muted and unnatural and his moms eyes aren't green. But he wants to hold on to the fantasy just a little while longer. That his life hasn't completely gone to shit)
He's not bitter as he sees his uncle alive for the first time in over a year, laugh lines prominent and hair white with age. He's not bitter as his uncle takes him on a winding path, an eerie sense of dread taking over him at the last possible second before the world goes dark.
Miles wakes up tied to a punching bag, staring into the face of his own reflection. The ensuing power struggle sends a spare piece of shrapnel through his last mark. His last chance at being with people who were destined to be with him.
(His last chance at being wanted.)
He doesn't know who his soulmates are but he can't help but laugh anyways, making the Prowler and his uncle stare at him oddly. It's deep in his belly, powerful enough to shake his entire body and make his lungs ache from exertion.
"This is a sign, right?" Miles says bitterly, ripping his mask off to feel the rain against his face. The only sort of soft feeling he would ever experience from something in his life outside of his parents. Because there was no way he would ever trust anyone associated with Miguel's spider society and he would never find someone who truly loved him for himself and not Spiderman in his own universe. "I can't even have fucking this, can I?"
The Prowler looks confused until he sees the forming scar on Miles' wrist, right where the triple soulmark is. Miles doesn't notice this inquisitive gaze, operating on autopilot, his focus on getting to Alcehmax to return home and save one of the last remaining good things in his life.
It's a fight. Because of course it is. The Prowler and Miles make a great team, fighting styles easily complementing each other in a way that takes them both by surprise. They, of course, have no time to reminisce, Gwen and Peter and Hobie and Pav alongside everyone that ever helped him (they all hurt him), ready to help him with his father. Miles summons what little self control he has and his waning ability to care for one final battle, the Prowler's curious eyes on him as he leaves. Leaves for one last fight to prove to everyone else that defying predictions could be done without disaster.
He succeeds, just barely.
Miles allows himself one small indulgence in the aftermath: he punches Miguel square across the face with his venom crackling. It doesn't do anything for the soulmates he's mourning, for the people he's lost, for the dreams that have been crushed but it does feel good to let out some of his frustration, especially when he sees the amusement of his friends at a 6' 9 beast of a man getting decked in the face by a teenager.
Life moves on for everyone but Miles. He's stuck with nightmares and PTSD and the knowledge that out of eight people he was destined to be with, only three had not outright rejected him. And one of those three was dead so what did it matter, in the end?
The mark he thinks looks like the Prowler's emblem, funnily enough, is the only one to survive, glowing a soft purple, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. The triple mark that had been impaled by shrapnel. It's hard to pick out the underlying design, below the Prowler Emblem and his own spiderwebs, the scarring making it hard for him to tell the difference between what was there and what was born with. Regardless, he's still left with questions. Who would the Prowler's emblem represent, since his Prowler is dead? And who would be with the Prowler, knowing just what they are capable of?
(He's not alone, after all. But that wouldn't last long, knowing his luck.)
Still, his fascination is not enough to get rid of the growing loneliness in his heart. His professors drone on and he protects his city as Spiderman and he still has dinner with his family, the weight of his responsibilities ever present at the table. His friends visit him frequently but even knowing what he does now, after some smuggled books from Nueva York, he can't help but be bitter.
The thing is, Miles' universe only had romantic soulmates. But that's not the case for everyone.
The grey upon his skin was a rejection of romantic intention, not a platonic relationship. But the knowledge that he wasn't rejected at all, only relegated to friendship or familial bonds, does nothing to heal the years of thinking he had eight romantic soulbonds and quite frankly, he doesn't want them to know. Doesn't want to see their pitying looks as they pat him on the back awkwardly as they realize just how their actions, the nature of their worlds, have affected him. Gwen's stuttered admission of her getting with Spiderman ending in disaster had been bad enough and Miles doesn't really want a crash course with the rest, especially Miguel.
It's easy enough to do considering he's in his suit more often than not and his marks all along his arms are always covered by something, a jacket or a school uniform. And he doesn't bother to correct them when they assume it's normal for people to keep their marks hidden.
It wears on him, over the years. He feels old, the energy of his mind and the energy of his body at odds with each other. His parents continously worry about him and Peter B. even starts coming around for weekly dinners, trying to make an effort to be a better mentor and someone to rely on. Somewhere, deep inside, Miles appreciates the gesture. Likes it. But it still hurts so much, all of it, and he can't help but swallow the bitter taste of reality. The life he wanted to live and the life he lives are so completely different, standing in direct opposition to each other. He mourns, sometimes. He'll sit underground, where he had first gotten bitten, and weep for everything he lost. He wished he had turned out as the Prowler like 42 had. And not been the anomaly. And not been Spiderman.
He wants his uncle back. He wants his Peter back, to have someone from his universe in his corner that wasn't his parents. He doesn't want to be unwanted to people who are supposed to be important to him, like the grey ink on his arms so clearly indicate.
He thinks, on occasion, that he wants to visit Miles 42. But he chickens out every time, something deep in his gut causing every limb in his body to freeze. The same reaction he had before he stumbled into Miguel's lab and saw Peter B. A paralyzing fear of rejection. From what, he can't name. But it's strong enough to stop any attempt, leaving him anxious and jittery.
That choice, however, is taken away from him. When he wakes up to all 170 pounds of Miles 42 landing squarely on his chest in the middle of the night. After stumbling out of bed, wheezing, he finally turns to address his counterpart, only to pause. He's not alone; Aaron 42 stands behind him, inspecting his room with interest.
Miles 42 does not have his Prowler weapons with him but he still wears the tank top, pants, and boots that make up his outfit. He can't help but look down Miles 42's arm, freezing when he notices a familiar mark on the same part of his wrist. The exact same mark that he has.
"God no," Miles thinks to himself, muscles tensing in anticipation of what was to come. "Not again."
He doesn't receive any rejection. Far from it. Miles 42 grabs his wrist and places a chaste kiss right where his soulmark is. It sends sparks of pleasure thoughtout his body, skin warming beneath the light touch.
"... What?" Miles asks quietly. He's even more confused when Aaron approaches, also grabbing his hand, day pass glinting off the moon light, placing a kiss over his soulmark as well. It sends more pleasure to his brain, a happiness he can't describe filling his gut.
"What?" He repeats. "How. Why."
"You don't know what soulmates are?" Aaron asks, cocking an eyebrow.
Miles frowns. "Considering I've been rejected by six of the eight I have...."
"Eight?" Miles 42 echoes. "You have eight soulmates?"
"Used to," Miles says bitterly. "One is dead, and the other five have... other people."
"Eight?" Aaron echoes, a genuine look of surprise on his face that doesn't look well worn.
"I don't understand it either. So if you're just going to reject me, stop playing around and leave. I can't... deal with it. It's bad enough that I got rejected in around a years time by the rest of them."
"What makes you think we're here to reject you?" Miles 42 challenged, eyes flashing with danger.
The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Why wouldn't you be?"
Aaron sighs, weary and tired. "We don't have the tech you have. We traveled here ourselves after you had left. Your spider society didn't help us at all."
"You.... got here by yourselves?"
"Aye. Finally got to put my engineering experience to use for something other than my nephew," Aaron smirks, placing a hand on his shoulder. Miles stares at the hand, a warm feeling that he hasn't felt in a long time blossoming under the touch.
"Or nephews, as it is. Wasn't expecting the spiderwebs to be another version of Miles but I'm not complaining at all," Aaron muses, flashing the matching mark he shares with Miles 42. With himself.
His mark. His soulmark-
Miles 42 circles behind him, muscular arms snaking around his front, pulling their bodies flush against each other. The man's voice is muffled as his other self buries his face in the back of his shoulder.
"I felt betrayed when you didn't visit us," Miles 42 says.
"I'm sorry," Miles says quietly, something settling in his gut.
"But... I understand now why you wouldn't," Miles 42 says. The room is still for a long time, the sound of their breathing the only thing he can hear. It's quite the contrast to his mind, which is firing at all cylinders at the realization that he's not being rejected. He didn't lose all of his soulmates. He didn't completely mess it up.
"How the hell is this going to work?" Miles asks, feeling strangely small. Like the small child who had to cover all his soulmarks to prevent himself from getting bullied.
"We'll figure it out," Aaron says, kissing his forehead, pulling him into an embrace. The combination of Miles 42 at his back, a faint hint of his cologne and an unyielding warmth, and his Uncle at his front, scent so nostalgic, he can't help himself. His body is racked with sobs as he tightens his arms around Aaron, tears flowing down his face. They hold him, letting him cry and whimper and let out all the emotions he's been pushing down for the past few years.
Miles 42 is crying too, grip almost too tight. But he won't complain, finally feeling whole in a way that he hasn't his entire life. They end up on his bed, Aaron in the middle, Miles 42 on his left and himself on his right, hands linked together over their uncle's torso. It feels so right, like he's the missing piece to a puzzle that's been waiting for years to be completed.
Rio's gasp of surprise wakes Miles up first the next morning and he can't form words, still too frazzled and the bond between his soulmates too new to give any explanation.
"A few days," he croaks out. "And I will explain everything. But I need a few days."
"Mijo..."
"Please, Mami. I will tell you everything. You and Dad have Friday night free, right?"
"Si."
"Then plan to have dinner with two guests," Miles pleads. He is so, so grateful when his mom doesn't push any further, nodding before shutting the door behind her quietly.
Miles makes use of that time, going in between Earth 42 and 1610 to spend time with his soulmates. Properly introducing himself to Rio 42, who only stares at himself with amusement and fondness. Getting to know them and their world as they get to know his. Mapping out every inch of their bodies, sweat sliding down their bodies as they come together for the first time. His body is pleasantly aching as they settle down, musk and sweat the only thing he can smell.
"This doesn't bother you?" Miles 42 asks, kissing and nibbling the skin of his neck, leaving more marks.
"Hmm?"
"Being with Unc,"
"Ah. No," Miles says, stretching his limbs out, before relaxing. "I've always suspected the mark looked like the Prowler. Thought it was my own Uncle at first."
"I mean, technically, I am still your uncle," Aaron says.
"Tomato, to-mah-to," Miles parrots, yawning. "But I've had time to process. There are worse things that could have happened. Like me being with the person who bodyslammed me into a train."
"I hope I get to meet him one day," Miles 42 says. "Just to have a chat."
"I would love to see it happen. I bet it would be priceless,"
"Oh, so the goody two shoes wants to see the big bad get beaten up?"
"It would be a race to see which Miles got to him first,"
"Oh?"
"I don't remember if I told you this but I did punch him in the face after I saved Dad. Best thing I've done in years," Miles says. "Speaking of... are you sure you both are okay with tomorrow? Mom will understand if... you know."
"Yes," Miles 42 says, grip tightening on his arms. "Just..."
"Be there to support you?"
"Yeah," Miles 42 murmurs.
"Y tú, tío?"
"Yeah. I'll be good," Aaron says, voice strained. Miles isn't stupid; he's seen the grey marks adorning both of his soulmates skin. It's rather obvious, in retrospect.
"... You were soulmates, weren't you?"
"We all were," Miles 42 says quietly. Miles doesn't say anything, only placing a small kiss on Miles 42's forehead and one on Aaron's too. They hold him tightly as they fall asleep, the aftermath of the next day's events uncertain and nebulous.
Miles can tell his parents were prepared to ask many questions. But those questions immediately left their thoughts when Miles 42 flings himself at Jeff, tears flooding down his face, hugging him like his life depended on it. Rio's gaze softens as Miles 42 quietly gives a shaky explanation as to who he is, Jeff wiping away his other son's tears. Aaron's expression is unusually vulnerable as he watches, letting Miles 42 grab his hand whenever he needs to for comfort
It's not an easy conversation when the topic of soulmates comes up, the nature of their relationship odd and against the grain, even when Miles finally lets his parents look at his faded soulmarks for the first time. Nipping any hope they have of him going to someone else in the bud. He's is almost certain that his dad is going to show disapproval but both his parents surprise him, welcoming the other version of his uncle and himself into their lives seemlessly
Miles knows it's not easy for them and he's so immensely grateful, hugging them like Miles 42 had done. Rio only smiles warmly at him, kissing his forehead before smirking and reminding him to use lube and condoms and to be careful if he wants to attempt anything with more than one dick. Aaron is howling in laughter while Miles vehemently denies everything, causing Miles 42 to crack a smile.
Jeff chuckles at his embarrassment, placing a hand on his shoulder and reminding him to bring them over more often and to remind them that they're welcome anytime. Miles grins and hugs his dad again, listening to his mom and his soulmates trading jabs, falling into a familiar cadence that feels comfortable. Natural.
Homely.
It's been a long few years but so long as he gets to bask in this, this feeling purring and bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin, Miles is willing to weather any storm he needs to.