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Miles' body felt heavy, oh so heavy.
His limbs felt like solidified cement, weighing him down. it caused himself to trudge through the days with great difficulty.
He's been getting fucked, and I mean, fucked by school. No no, he's not failing. With his parents? That's not on his bingo card. His mental health is, however, at an all time low; and that's saying something. We'll get into that a bit later though.
Currently the skinny teen is swinging around New York City. Having just finished his homework, he figured he could squeeze in a few hours of patrol before heading back to his house for the weekend.
His mama had put up left over pasteles from dinner, it has been so long since he's tasted her food, he can almost smell— "ah fuck!" Miles managed to narrowly dodge a billboard, too occupied with his daydreaming.
He makes a split decision to land on a nearby roof with a 'thump', hoping to take a short break. A well deserved break, he's been at it since what? Ten pm?
And now its—"two in the morning, god I hope they haven't tried to check on me, that's my ass right there."
Shaking his head as he gathers his thoughts, miles shoots out two webs. he pulls back before letting the momentum push him off the rooftop.
Bouts of laughter can be heard throughout the city as our spider themed hero swings off into the night, unaware of what lies ahead
Soon he makes it back to his house. Miles pops open the bedroom window with ease, slipping inside. His feet landing with a thump on the wooden floor. he pauses to listen for movement before letting out a soft sigh.
It seems like god may be on his side tonight, his parents already left.
Padding around the creaky floors of his room on his toes, he peeled off his suit. which was caked in sweat and dirt. He physically recoils at the feeling, holding back a gag of displeasure.
While spandex helped with aerodynamics, it was a sensory no no. Too busy in his stupor, he failed to see the figure lurking in the shadows.
Suddenly, his spider senses go off.
Miles' head snaps up as he looks around the room, fully alert. What the hell man? It was pushing 3 am, can he not catch a break tonight?
Soon he sees something—no no, someone, crawling across the ceiling. That's when he loses it.
Before the curly headed teen could even so much as scream, a web shoots from the upper right corner of the ceiling. It lands with a 'spat!' across his mouth, effectively quieting the now panicking spider.
the mystery person just lets out a muffled snicker, miles assumed they placed a hand over their mouth. they then take a breath, managing to utter, "No need to get your knickers inna knot, it's just me bruv''.
That voice seems famil—ohhh. That slick motherfucker.
Miles glares at Hobie's silhouette on the ceiling as he rips at the web stuck to his mouth. The brit in question just chuckles lowly before making a show as he bends over backwards.
Hobie lets his feet detach from the ceiling, landing on his back on miles' bed. He kicks his feet up on the frame as he lazily waggles his fingers towards miles in greeting .
Getting the last of the webbing from his mouth, miles glares half-heartedly at the other. Though he can't help the amused, but rather tired, smile grace his lips.
He picks at the webbing for a few, watching it disintegrate between his fingers. miles wipes the remaining residue on his suit before slinking over to his bed, plopping down next to Hobie.
"Hi man, how've you been?" The words flow off of miles tongue with ease, yet seemed to be accompanied by a rather heavy tone. It's been a while since he's last seen Hobie, being Spiderman and a high schooler will do that much to you.
Hobie would pop up here and there to check in on the younger, making sure that he was still alive and kicking. which was different; but, different wasn't so bad, now was it?
Miles would never admit it out-loud but he did enjoy that, someone who enjoyed his presence without the stale air of guilt hanging over them silently. It's nice knowing that Hobie cared, in his own, odd way.
There was, though, a little voice nagging in the back of Mile's head that screamed, 'It's just for pity, he doesn't really care'. He'd try to brush it off but it only seemed to stick around. it was also grow.
'They always say that, look what happened with Peter—with Gwen'.
That thought alone made Miles' stomach churn, he hated when the voice became louder than his own. That's when he'd start to question if the words were true, and that only sent him down hill from there.
Miles takes in a breath, letting his eyes slowly wander up from his lap to see Hobie staring down at him weirdly. He then realizes that Hobie is waiting for a response. "Sorry I spaced out, mind running that back?" Miles blurts out, words almost intangible and sounding rather sheepish.
Hobie gives miles a devilish grin as he sits up, looming over the curly headed teen. "I've been chillin', bruv, not much going on in my dimensions except for a lil' government overthrow, you know? What's good with you?" Miles gives him a little smile in return. that's good, Hobie's been good.
He then blinks, huh, what has been good with me? That question alone sets off a wave of memories from the weeks prior, which makes miles cringe.
ah. Right.
Now, remember earlier? That we'll get into that a bit later? Mhm.
Firstly, miles has had 8 exams back to back. His schedule has been packed, considering it is the last few weeks before winter break. who in their fucking mind would do that to a almost 17-year old.
He should be thinking about what he should be getting for Christmas, what food his mamì is gonna make, the flowers he'd bring to uncle Aaron's grave; but noooooo.
oh no, no, no, no, no, no. silly miles, silly him.
So, he had to pull several all-nighters, consume tons of caffeine and re-edit all of his notes into a cheat sheet.You would think that's all he had to deal with. No. It gets worse.
it seemed like almost all the villains in his dimension had a group meeting to decide when they were gonna fuck him in the ass— no no, no literally, metaphorically.
If you asked him, miles would say that they unanimously agreed to wreak havoc on the city at the times that were most important. Like you know, movie night with his parents, THE PERFECTLY CURATED TIME FOR HIM TO FUCKING STUDYING FOR HIS CHEM QUIZ.
Sorry, sorry.
Moving on--he had not one, not two, but three 10-paged essays due during the past few weeks. we don't need to get into details about that. That's another story for another day.
thirdly, though this may not seem like a big deal to many, he had been dry during finals. Popped, absolutely nothing in his grinder. He got through the day by looking longingly at his ashtray.
Miles doesn't know what god smited him, but he did not deserve to go through finals week sober. With all of the hero-ing and schoolwork he does? What the hell man. (Hobie fixed that though ;)
Fourthly, and this is the worst..
He couldn't.
fucking.
regress.
.
.
Yes, miles regressed. It helps when things between fighting baddies and getting straight A's seem to be too much. The feeling of being able to let go, give in, to feel small—was so rewarding after all of the pain and suffering he's been through.
Anytime he would sit down with his stuffie, after he triple-checked to make sure that his parents were asleep, and pull out his sketchbook dedicated to his little artwork, everything was right in the world.
He didn't have to think about how rough school was, how rough being Spiderman was or how rough life was. He was able to enjoy just being a kid for once, not worrying about balancing the weight of the world on his shoulders. it was truly safe to just be him, unapologetically.
But as said before, he couldn't regress. It felt as if his brain was going through some type of regression drought, not allowing him to utilize one of his healthiest coping mechanisms.
It sucked not being able to regress, it sucked ass.
lastly, and fucking not least, he hasn't seen Hobie in weeks. The two have been busy and doing their own things, only being able to squeeze in sparse Friday night hangouts along with the occasional coffee drop off; due miles becoming a hermit for the past few weeks.
Hobie also knew about him, about the fact that he regresses.
It was actually Hobie, funny enough, that explained to miles what exactly regressing is.
All Miles knew is that his head would get all fuzzy and goopy, like smooth paint running down a pallet. His tongue would become all heavy, which made it harder to speak. His voice would soften, seeming almost kiddish. speech broken and only a hair away from being hard to understand.
His legs would feel so weak, wobbly. He'd feel so sensitive, with just about anything. Everything just seemed so big when he felt like this, while he became so small.
It was scary at first, miles will admit. however, with Hobie's help, he's become a little bit more comfortable with his headspace; mainly, he knows it's okay to feel this way.
letting out a quiet sigh, Miles looked back up at Hobie, eyes low. Those brown, sleepy eyes told Hobie all he needed to know. Wordlessly, he pulls miles into a tight hug, knowing that's what the other needed.
The tears threatening to fall from miles eyes start to cascade down his cheeks. He covers his mouth as choked sobs start to force their way past his lips.
The older man sighs, shaking his head as he cradles miles close to him. Hobie begins to rock side to side as he hums a soft tune, giving miles a nice squeeze every now in then to help ground him.
Our young hero gives up on trying to quiet himself, pressing his face into Hobie's leather jacket—being mindful of the spikes—wrapping his arms around the other just as tight.
Miles body shakes as he stutters through his breaths, nosing along the leather material. "I missed—missed you so much, so so so-so much," Miles sputters through a couple of coughs.
goodness, the poor boy was gonna make himself sick.
Hobie rakes his nails up and down Miles' back gently. He brings up his other hand to comb through Miles' thick curls, making a mental note of the various knots throughout the boy's hair.
Finals week must've hit miles hard.
Hobie takes his time combing through the knots, easing them out of Miles' hair. "The last couple of weeks have been really rough for you, huh?" Miles nods at Hobie's admission. They have been rough, they really have. He's tired of pretending like they haven't.
"I feel so icky, 'm tired," Miles complains, his words muffled from his place in Hobie's chest. The other's lips turn down in a subtle frown, feeling a pang in his heart from Miles' confession. Hiccuping breaths still emitted from Miles, the boy choking up on his own breaths.
"Hey hey, don't go making yourself sick, sunflower. Take some deep breaths, okay? I got you." God, Miles hated when Hobie did that. His voice sounded like butter on bread, making Miles look up from his place in Hobie's chest rather pitifully as he struggled to take in some deep breaths.
"There we go, 'member the 478 method, kiddo? No? No worries, let me guide you – breathe in for four." Miles takes in a stuttering breath in time with Hobie's. Miles chest felt like it was being squeezed tight, as if sucking through a plugged straw.
"Hold for seven, hm? Hang in there, hold it, hold it, hold it," Hobie makes a silly voice, prompting Miles to crack a little smile. He puffs out his cheeks slightly as he holds his breathe for seven, just like Bubba—no, Hobie said.
He couldn't be regressing, seriously? This is when it happens, huh?
Miles shakes his head to clear his thoughts just as he hears Hobie's calming voice ring through his ears. "Exhale for eight, yea? There we go, that's my good boy."
...god. That was sick.
Good boy? Pure evil.
Miles could feel himself drop right into that fuzzy, spacey feeling he missed oh so much. The suddenness of it all left him a bit shaken. He looks up at Hobie with wide doe eyes, looking rather surprised at the turn of events. Hobie's own eyes gazed down at the other. They were filled with warmth, filled with amusement.
One of the first thing that Hobie notices is the difference miles face. The kid looked so soft, quite the opposite from the hard stress lines that seem to have etched a permanent place on his forehead recently.
He also notices a tinge of worry behind Miles' surprised look. Not putting much thought into it, Hobie chooses to give him a soft grin.
"Hey there, poppet. Did I say somethin' wrong?" Hobie's voice was so comforting, so soft, and oh god—miles felt so small.
Miles shakes his head absentmindedly, blinking slowly at Hobie.He continues taking in his deep breaths, still trying to shake the fuzziness out of his head. which was not working, might he add.
Hobie snickers in response, rubbing the back of Miles' neck in a comforting motion. "Mm mm, is okay um.." Miles pauses, looking down at his fingers shyly.
Why was talking so hard? Why was thinking so hard? His head felt so fuzzy and Hobie's voice made him so warm and fuzzy. This is nice. Miles blinks, looking up again, seeing Hobie give him a knowing look before pressing an equally warm kiss on his forehead. " Bambi, do you feel like you need to be a bit small? No worries, mate. I'm cool with it, you know that."
Oh.
Oh.
Miles just closes his eyes tight, shying away from Hobie's gaze as he brings a hand up to pick at his lips—a nervous tick he picked up on a while ago. Hobie tuts, lightly tapping at Miles' fingers as he chides, "Nah, none of that. We've got better ways to deal with those rubbish feelings, yeah?"
He was right. Miles hated that he was right. He also hated how patient Hobie is. how understanding he was. He hated how fuzzy his head got, and the way Hobie spoke to him, as if calming down a toddler on the brink of a meltdown, grated on his nerves. Miles' face began to screw up, his brows furrowed and lips curled down into a pout.
As if sensing his impending tantrum, Hobie places a hand on Miles shoulder. He turns miles to face him, nudging Miles head up with his index finger, coaxing him to open his eyes. "Oi, let me get a peek at those beautiful peepers, love." Miles just laughs to himself, his normal chuckle long gone, being replaced by a precious hushed giggle.
Bubba was so silly, peepers? Those were his eyes!
He opens his eyes to look up at the older, giving him an anxious smile. Hobie continues his soothing gestures, running his hand up and down the younger's back as he gives Miles a smile in return.
"You've been doing a bang-up job, kid, looking out for everyone—being all selfless and such. How about you let Hobie take care of you, huh? You've earned it." Hobie adds the last part when he sees Miles attempt to disagree.
Uncoordinated fingers fumbled with Hobie's pins, the owner of them looking at Hobie with glossy eyes. Hobie smirks a bit at his expression. If only the boy knew the power he had with those eyes. Those eyes would be the death of Hobie and he's not the least bit upset with that.
Just as smooth, and as patient, Hobie continues,"You're hittin' the showers, I'm packin' a bowl. We're gonna smoke, and you? You're gonna regress. No ifs, ands, or buts, lil' man. It's non-negotiable." Miles blinks hard, his brain taking a second to register Hobie's statement.
Soon it catches up to him, prompting him to nod slowly, "mhm.." There was no point in trying to deny Hobie's plan, no matter how much he wanted to. Miles wanted— no needed to regress, he needed the break.
Hobie hums in response to miles compliance, moving miles out of his lap before getting up, and making his way over to miles dresser. He turns back to look at the other as he opens the drawers, with a raised eyebrow.
"So, whatcha feelin' like, huh? Basketball shorts, leggings, or just rockin' your boxers? Maybe throw on one of my shirts, kid?" Miles squirms at the question, the different choices made things so much harder.
What did he wanna wear?
Basketball shorts aren't tight, he won't feel suffocated or hot—but, the material would constantly rub on his leg. Leggings are nice, he won't feel suffocated in those either—but, leggings are fitted, he'd get too sweaty. Miles blinks as he thinks through his options once more before looking back up at Hobie, who was calmly waiting for his answer.
"bo'ers." Hobie had to hold back a little laugh at miles lisp, god this kid is adorable. he nods, tipping his head to the designated drawer in question. Hobie fixes his tone into one of encouragement, "Why don't you go ahead and pick 'em out yourself, lad? Maybe go with some cartoons?" Miles liked that idea.
Clapping his hands once in agreement, Miles stands up quickly, before stumbling his way over to Hobie with a big grin. Hobie had to hold back another laugh, this kid is a humanized Bambi. He bites his lip to hold back a smile as Miles rifles through his drawer, praising Miles when he finds a pair.
"Bubba lookie! it has rep-rep, um..", miles furrows his brows, his undies clutched in his fist, what was his name? "Reptar, lovie, your undies have reptar on them." Miles gasps at the revelation,"Yeah! Yeah, Him!"
That's his name! Bubba is so smart.
Miles pushes under Hobie's arm, the older chuckled and moved it to allow the younger to press into his side and cuddle into his jacket. With his free hand, Hobie pulled out a couple of his own—semi-child friendly— shirts from the times he's crashed in miles dimension.
Pointing to each, Hobie asks miles the burning question, "Alright, my friend, which one tickles your fancy, huh? Take your pick, anyone you like—choose your prize."
Miles just giggles, peering from his place in Hobie's side to look at his options. He thinks for a few before pointing to a Ramones t-shirt, one that hobie made himself, " 'is one pease?"
God. Pease? Someone wanted him dead.
Hobie fights the urge to put a hand over his heart, fixing his usual lax smile back on his face as he nods. "Alright, lil' bit, I'll have this all set out for you on the bed, yeah? How 'bout you go get all squeaky clean for me? I'll whip up a snack for our little session once you're done."
Miles smiled at him shyly, giving Hobie a hug as he pressed his face into the other's shirt, soaking in Hobie's warmth.
That sounded nice, he liked that idea a lot.
Miles looks back up at the taller, giving him a nod in agreement. "sì bubba." The small guy managed to utter only those words, planting a clumsy kiss on Hobie's cheek before grabbing his towel and stumbling out of the room.
Hobie just smirks as he watches Miles disappear into the bathroom down the hall. "Man, that was the most adorable shit I've ever witnessed—like a Bambi reenactment or somethin'," The punk murmurs to himself, letting out a hearty laugh when his ears pick up a huff from the bathroom. seems like Miles heard him.
Little firecracker has all that sass for what?
Hobie waits until the shower turns on before he kicks his 'help sunflower rest, relax, and regress' plan into action. He lays out the fresh clothes that he and Miles picked out on the bed, grabbing the boy a pair of calf high socks to keep warm. He drops Miles' deodorant and lotion on the bed next to the clothes. Miles has always had a harder time remembering the little things when he felt, well, little.
Shaking his head at his own silly thought, Hobie makes his way out of Miles' room and down the hall, passing the bathroom on his way over. He stops to press his ear against the door, chuckling to himself when he hears soft giggles on the other side. The little bugger was probably playing in his body wash—again.
Hobie just shakes his head before calling out to miles through the door,"Hey there, sweetheart, don't forget to give those little ears of yours a good scrubbin'. You gotta make sure you wash behind 'em too, you know?" The little squeak he got in response was worth it, causing him to grin to himself when he got an affirmative 'mhm!' In response.
Continuing his journey, Hobie then makes it to the kitchen. He was able to work on the snack with ease, making sure to clean up after himself as he goes. He did not want Ms. Morales on his tail. He sends a silent thanks to the big man upstairs that Miles' parents are out for the night, expected to be home later on the morning after.
Hobie created a decent sized charcuterie board for Miles and himself, making sure to pick out the boy's favorite snacks. Once that was done, he worked on the drinks, which wasn't too hard. He grabs a couple of waters and a glass of apple juice for Miles.
Balancing everything with ease, Hobie makes his way back to the room, placing the goodies on Miles' desk. He then makes his way over to Miles' closet, digging through the far back corners and grabbing an old duffle bag and pulling it out. He unzips it to look through the contents of the bag smirking to himself—his little sunflower was such a sneak.
The old gym bag contained a few bongs, one regular size glass piece and two cute smaller ones that had silicon encasing some parts of the piece. All were decorated in the boys personal tags and waterproof stickers he's collected.
There was a glass pipe tucked in the inner pocket and a handful of lights there with it. The boy had a box of wraps in there as well, along with a few of rolling trays.
Hobie manages to find the grinder that was, thankfully, already full and ready to be packed into a bowl. Hobie grabs a lighter, one that he gifted to miles a couple of months back, the pretty thing painted with intricate flowers—Hobie was proud of his work.
He then grabs the regular sized glass piece before zipping the bag up and stashing it far back in the closet, hidden from view. Plopping into the chair at miles desk, Hobie makes work of packing the bowl, thinking to himself as he does so. He barely catches the sound of the shower turning off, perfect timing, he was done.
He places the bong on the desk, getting up to grab some water for it. He makes it back in time to see Miles struggling to pull his shirt over his head.
Hobie quickly swoops over, guiding Miles' arm through the sleeve. He ruffles Miles hair playfully when his head pops through the neck of the shirt. "Good job, pipsqueak. You all fresh and clean for me? Did you remember to put on some deodorant and lotion too, hm?"Hobie may have sounded overbearing but he knew how sensitive Miles' skin was, and how forgetful he can be, Hobie wasn't gonna take the chance tonight.
Miles doesn't seem to mind, nodding as he plays with the long sleeves of the shirt, looking up at Hobie with eyes that seemed to look even more glossy, more smal—oh. The little thing seemed a bit smaller after his shower. Hobie just pats his back, leading him over to the bed to down as he finishes up with filling the bong up.
Luckily it was a warm night, the boys could smoke on the fire escape without too much hassle. With this idea in mind, Hobie quickly sets up boxish build of metal bars with cushions, blankets and pillows, making it more cozy and inviting.
He moves the makeshift charcuterie board and drinks onto the fire escape, along with the bong. Miles just sat there, looking very adorable as he watched Hobie scramble around as he messed with his own fingers.
Soon it was done, Hobie guides the younger out onto the fire escape, situating him. He gently reminds the boy not to move until he's back, getting a, "yes bubba" in return. Hobie grabs the last few things: MIles' laptop so the little guy could watch something during their sesh and two presents he's been meaning to give to miles after he found out about his regression.
Maybe tonight would be a good time? He hoped so. He hoped Miles would like it.
On that note, Hobie slips out onto the fire escape with Miles, who was busying himself by watching the lights across the city skyline. Hobie plops down next to him, ruffling his hair as he sets the presents down, opening the laptop and pulling up cartoons for miles; the amazing world of gumball. it was a safe choice and you could never go wrong with the watterson family.
Miles became easily entranced when the intro started up, wiggling in place and tapping his fingers together along to the beat. While Miles sung to himself, Hobie made sure everything was ready before he gently shoulder checked Miles. The other blinked, his mind taking time to catch up to the action before turning to Hobie, cheesing up at him.
God, this kid would be the death of him.
Hobie gestures to the bong, smiling softly. "Hey there, sweetheart, you know the drill. I load it up, and you take that first hit. Need a hand with sparking it up, or are you good to go?" Miles looked a bit hesitant before nodding slowly, "help." Hobie figured much, scooting closer to Miles and slinging an arm over his shoulder and pulling Miles flushed to his side.
He has Miles to hold the base, his larger hand guiding Miles clumsy fingers around it. Hobie tips the mouth of the piece towards Miles, waiting for the boy's nod before flicking the lighter on, lighting the edge of the bowl.
Miles starts to inhale, the thick milky smoke filling the neck of the bong, water bubbling against the glass. Once the chamber is filled with the thick smoke, Hobie guides his fingers to the peg. "One, two, three—you got it, you got it." Hobie says encouragingly as Miles clears the bong, squeezing the boy's upper arm as he pulls back.
After Miles pull, he holds in the smoke for a few, before letting it flow out of his nose—as if he was a dragon breathing fire. The little man's eyes started to water from the burn, letting out a small cough as he finished. Normally Hobie would crack a joke on the boy for choking, but he just lets out a melodic laugh, helping wipe away Miles tears along with helping him get a sip of water.
Then Hobie took his hit, with ease. Miles just stares at him wide eyed.
How did bubba not choke? That's not fair!
Hobie just chuckles at his expression, reading the boy like a book. This continued, both Miles and him alternating rips until the bowl was cleared. Usually Hobie would've gone for a second bowl, a third, maybe even a forth—but, Miles seemed calm and finally, relaxed. Hobie could deal with the little high, he needed to cut back for the sake of his tolerance anyway.
The two ate through the charcuterie board like it was nothing. Miles took it upon himself to feed the older some of his goldfish. Only continuing to give him more when Hobie accepted it, despite Hobie's gentle instances of, "I'm alright, mini. These are for you. How about you take them, huh?"
Ultimately though, Hobie ended up allowing Miles to feed him the goldfish anyways, because who would there right mind say no to that sweet face. The little one seemed happy enough to share, giggling between every thank you Hobie gave, and that was more than alright In Hobie's books.
Miles is now resting against Hobie, fingers dangerously close to slipping inside his mouth as his low eyes stay glued to his episode of TAWOG. 'This would be a perfect time to give him his presents', Hobie thought to himself. He scoots the two brown boxes, one smaller and the other more medium-ish, in front of Miles, coaxing the boy to look at him.
"You know, mate, when it comes to your littlespace, it seems like there ain't much to work with, yeah?" Miles nods at Hobie's rhetorical question.
The boy had only semi-recently discovered this part of himself, or well, placed a name for it. It took him even longer to accept the fact that being small was okay, that it was healthy.
With that being said, he was too embarrassed to feed into his harmless desires of crayons, color books, toys, comfy clothes and so much more. It felt wrong, Miles didn't deserve to have nice things, the world proved it to him that much.
"Well, I get it, sunshine. I know these things ain't really your cup of tea, but I thought it might bring a bit of goodness into the mix, yeah?" Miles just tilts his head curiously. Did Hobie make him something? Hobie always make the coolest things.
This realization, although discovered a bit slowly, made Miles beam as he nodded once more. Hobie took the time out of his day to make him something, and he seemed really eager to give it to him.
Hobie cared, cared enough to make something for him and that made his heart warm—and oh so fuzzy. Along with a certain feeling he couldn't quite place at this moment, butterflies beating around in his tummy. That's a problem for big Miles, these presents however, are for little him.
Miles gingerly takes the medium-ish box first, gently shaking it incase it contained something a bit too delicate. He hears something solid knock against the cardboard, prompting him to look up at Hobie with eager eyes. "It's all yours tiger, go at it." With that confirmation, Miles opens up the box, pausing to let out a soft gasp.
It was a sippy cup, and it was gorgeous—a lovely shade of dark red mirroring Miles suit. It even had his spider emblem on it, an almost perfect replica of the dripping spray paint spider on his suit.
He loved it, so so so much. One of Miles hands lets go of the cup, curling into a fist as he starts to shake it up and down rapidly. He couldn't contain all the warm feelings bubbling from within.
"Guessing you're a fan, huh? Good to hear. Took me forever to nail it down, your suit's truly one of a kind, kiddo." Hobie's kind words made Miles tear up a bit as he rocks from side to side.
Yeah, it is truly one of a kind, it was him through and through.
Hobie couldn't hold back the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, leaning over to press a kiss on Miles' head full of curls before rubbing a hand down the boys back soothingly. Hobie starts with a persuasive tone, "I gave it a good wash and all before I packed it up. Fancy trying it out?"
Miles nods quickly, pushing the sippy cup into Hobie's hand, before jamming a finger in the direction of the cup of untouched apple juice with a smile. Hobie unscrews the top to the cup, pouring the apple juice in without spilling a drop before twisting the top back on. He tilts the cup over, putting the back of his wrist near the spout to check for leakage. After seeing none, he hands it over to Miles.
Miles takes the sippy cup from his hand, but then pauses. 'What am I doing?', Miles thinks to himself as he looks down at his cup. He's sixteen for christ sake, not some one year old. The sippy cup seemed to get heavy to hold in his grip, his face blank as he stared down at it.
Hobie notices the one eighty in his mood, leaning down a bit to soothe the internal storm brewing in his friend's (?) minds. "Easy now, we're not going to beat ourselves up over this. Nothing you're doing right now is embarrassing or weird. You're just relaxing, and that's perfectly fine. I'm not here to judge; I'm here to take care of you, to check up on you, and to show you that I care. If you think a cute sippy cup is silly or would scare me off, you're mistaken. I made that for you, and there's nothing I'd love more than to see you using something you already love."
The weight that seemed to gather on miles chest lightened a tad. He looks up at Hobie hesitantly, the older one giving him a lax smile. Miles smiled back anxiously before nodding. He did love it, a lot. He didn't want Hobie to think it was waste, or that he was ungrateful—because he was grateful, it wasn't common for someone to put so much thought into a gift like this.
With that though in mind, Miles closes his eyes before bringing the soft spout to his lips. As soon as he apple juice touches his tongue he goes slack against Hobie's side, drinking from the cup rhythmically as he calms his heart.
As he does so, Hobie nudges the smaller box a bit closer to miles. "Hey there, sweetheart, check it out. Why don't you go ahead and unwrap your second gift? I bet you're gonna love it." Miles blinks at Hobie's question before furrowing his eyebrows.
How was he gonna drink his juice and open the present at the same time? This was too difficult.
Miles just huffs, which causes Hobie to let out a snicker. "How about this, I open it and all you have to do is tell me if I overstepped, hm?"
"Sounds 'kay," Miles hums around the spout in response, shifting to sit in the middle of Hobie's criss-crossed legs. Allowing Hobie to place the smaller box into his lap, Miles looks at the box, eyes eager and full of anticipation.
Hobie just slowly works the box open, pulling back the top and tipping the box to miles view. The latter peaks his eyes into the box before letting out a sharp exhale. Miles just stares into the box with wide eyes.
Was that—was that a pacifier?
The boy let the spout of his cup fall from his mouth as he stared at the pacifier blankly before looking at Hobie.
What was the big idea! Was Hobie calling him a baby?
Hobie had to be a psychic, seeming as if he caught onto Miles' thought process. The older just shakes his head slowly with a small laugh, tilting his head as he gazes down at Miles.
"I get it, it's a change, something new—why not give it a go? It won't cause any harm, and besides, you're into nibbling on those fingers of yours." Hobie's kind voice was alluring, causing Miles' eyes to drop back into his lap, looking at the pacifier with a face of reservation.
It didn't seem like the end of the world, but what if Hobie found it gross? Or worse. Found it funny? Miles just shakes his head to clear his thoughts once more. Hobie wouldn't usually go through all this trouble just for a laugh, he wouldn't give him these things as a joke.
Well, that's what Miles thought to convince himself.
Instead of shutting down, Miles nods. The least he can do is try, and if he didn't like it he didn't have to use it. Hobie just grins, pressing a kiss to the back of Miles' head affectionately before gently picking up the pacifier and holding it up to Miles' view for him to get a better look. Miles has to say, the thing did look impressive.
There was a type of sticker print all over the pacifier, from the shield to the handle to the button. It seemed to resemble a mixture of Hobie and his art style. He loved it. So much.
Miles just squirms before closing his eyes, allowing Hobie to pop the plastic in his mouth.
Damn. It actually didn't feel bad.
Miles gives another suck, followed by a chew before sighing. Finally, the poor boy allowed himself to fully relax in Hobie's presences, leaning back into his chest. Hobie took that as a win, wrapping his arms loosely around miles. The gift boxes pushed to the side in favor of the two cuddling and finishing up a few more episodes of TAWOG.
All throughout it, Miles giggles and talks to Hobie, his voice sounding inaudible around the pacifier. Hobie didn't have the heart to tell him. So the taller man would laugh, nod and hum when necessary.
"Oh yeah my little sunflower? And then what?" That seemed to sate Miles for a few until he'd turn back around and babble gibberish at Hobie once more before turning back to the show.
After some time, Miles starts to yawn, raising a uncoordinated hand up to keep his pacifier from falling out.
Awe, he was struggling to stay up.
This just caused Hobie to slowly rock the both of them back and forth as the episode ended. As the credits roll, Hobie picks up a hand and flicks the laptop shut in a quick motion, much to Miles discontent.
"mmm mmmm 'Obie," Miles just glares at the older weakly, letting out a shaky yawn. "None of that hun, you're obviously tired—let's get ready for bed, hm?" Hobie frames his statement more as a question, slowly guiding miles to crawl back into his room. Miles was too tired to protest, slipping onto the floor next to the window as he waited for Hobie to clean up.
Hobie takes his time bringing everything back into Miles' room.First the trash, emptying it out in the boys personal trash bin. Then the makeshift charcuterie board and the bong—he would need to clean both once the boy once tucked in for the night.
He passed Miles the laptop with a ,"Hey, can you put this up for Bubba, kiddo? 'preciate it, sweetheart." Hobie gets a sweet, lazy smile in return as Miles goes to complete the task.
As Miles does this, Hobie thoroughly shakes the blankets and folds them, putting them up in Miles closet. Along with shaking the pillows, before bringing them back into the room.
He then grabs the lone sippy cup on the fire escape before slipping back inside and closing the window tight. He ruffles Miles hair, following it up with, "good job, how about we go brush those teeth and wash your hands? Then I'll get you all snug as a bug in your bed, Hm?" Miles beams up at him, nodding along to his words.
Hobie grasp Miles' hand in his, smiling to himself when he feels the younger lace their fingers together before lightly pulling the boy behind him. Miles seemed to be moving on autopilot, allowing Hobie to lead the way down the hall. Hobie pushes the bathroom door open for Miles, resting a hand on the others back as they enter.
Hobie leans up against the wall as he keeps an eye on miles. He gives gentle reminders to the other as Miles brushes his teeth, "Don't be forgetting 'bout your gums and tongue, a'ight?" Miles nods sleepily, taking his time as he brushes his teeth throughly. He squirms under Hobies watchful eyes, smiling up at the other from around his toothbrush.
Hobie smiles back at miles as he hums a soft tune. the soft hums caused miles eyes slip shut a few times, but he'll never admit that out loud. Once his two minutes are up, Hobie has miles spit the toothpaste down the drain, then follow up by rinsing with mouthwash. just like before, Hobie hums the sweet tune during this.
Soon it was time to spit, once miles does this he's showered in praise,"Great work, kiddo! Do you want me to help you wash your face, or are you feeling big enough to handle it on your own?" Miles couldn't help but shrink under Hobie's words. Why did bubba have to do that? He always made him feel so cared for, so tiny, so fuzzy.
That, paired along with the sleepiness tugging at the edge of miles brain, caused the boy to slip a little farther in headspace. All he could do was nod, which made Hobie raise an eyebrow with a soft chuckle.
"That doesn't answer my question bud, let's try something different okay? Hold up one finger if you want my help, hold up two if you can do it yourself." As he says this, Hobie holds up one finger, then two. the question takes a few seconds to hit miles brain, but once it does, the smaller holds up one finger.
Okay, okay, Hobie could handle that.
Hobie washes his hands throughly before squeezing two dollops of face wash onto his palm, building up a nice lather. He takes Miles face into his hands as he starts to cleanse Miles face, watching the bubbles and foam build upon his brown skin. In soothing circular motions, Hobie makes sure to get every part of the boys face.
Once he's sure he did so, Hobie lets the foam sit on Miles face. Hobie strikes up a meaningless conversation with the other, not saying much of anything, but enough to keep the boy occupied from rubbing at his eyes. It seemed to be enough for miles, who whispered back to Hobie. Even though his words were intangible, it seemed like the little guy has a lot to say.
After a couple of minutes of hushed whispers and giggles, curtesy of miles, it was time to wash the foam off. Dampening a wash cloth with warm water, Hobie uses It wash the soap off of miles face in light gently swipes.
All throughout this, miles lets our little sighs and huffs, nibbling on his lower lip in replacement of his pacifier. Hobie lets out a firm 'uh uh' when he notices, bringing a finger up to tap Miles lip lightly, "I'm almost done yeah? Stop biting before you leave a mark, sweet pea."
That alone made Miles whine before halting his action.
That was a new one, and Miles didn't hate it, not one bit.
Now that all the soap is cleaned off of Miles face, there's nothing to stop Hobie from giving him a small kiss on the forehead. Which Miles accepts rather happily. "Hey, do you think you could use the bathroom before bed, sweetheart? I'll wait for you outside."
Miles ponders on the question for a few, before nodding. Hobie lets out an inaudible sigh of relief before urging Miles over to the toilet before taking his own leave. He leans against the wall outside, starting up the soothing tune he's hummed several times tonight.
Only this time, he hears a small timid hum on the other side of the bathroom door, which makes him grin. Hobie and Miles hum together as the boy does his business. Soon, Hobie hears a flush before the sound of running water floods his ears. After a few minutes the tap turns off.
It was followed by some rustling of a towel before the door creaks open moments later. A mop of thick black curls pops out from behind the door first, then the rest of miles as he steps fully out the bathroom. The boy takes a step, looking up at Hobie expectantly before holding out his own hands.
It takes Hobie a second to understand what the boy was doing, and when he does, he doesn't bother to hold back his chuckle.
Ah. Miles was showing him that he was all clean.
Hobie nods, giving him a pleased smile. "Alright, I see you're all spick and span, buddy. Good job. Now, how about we throw on a bit of lotion for that handsome face before you hit the hay?" The word 'handsome' slips off his tongue without a moment of hesitation. Hobie pauses, gauging Miles reaction.
The little one didn't seem to mind, nodding along to Hobie's words without a second thought. This time, miles grabs Hobie's hand, pulling him back into his room with a little skip in his step.
Miles walks over to his dresser, grabbing a bit of lotion before rubbing it into his skin. He attempts to copy Hobie's ministrations from earlier; he was rather successful. As soon as he's done, he joins Hobie in his bed, wiggling his way underneath the comforter.
The punk laughs, throwing an arm around the boys shoulders and pulling Miles flushed to his chest. "Need anything else sweet pea?" Hobie says with a raised eyebrow, he wanted the boy to be nice and comfy for bed after all.
Miles goes to shake his head before pausing, gasping quietly around his pacifier. The boy slips out of bed before digging underneath it for a few. After a few moments, there was a noise of a zipper being unzipped then re-zipped.
Miles head pops back up from under the bed as he holds up the found treasure. It was an old stuffed animal, some parts of the fur a bit fluffier than others. The sweet thing was worn, but very loved; Both of its eyes were still intact too. It was a medium sized, blue, rabbit plush. a golden 'M' embroidered on the foot of the stuffie.
Hobie watches as Miles clamber back into bed, giving slow sucks on his pacifier as he holds the plush close to his chest. Miles snuggles back under Hobie's arm, pressing into his side with a soft sigh. The sleepy boys eyes were dangerously low, close to slipping shut.
Miles eyes would fall shut but then he'd jump back up slightly, fighting off the sleep that was bound to consume him. Hobie notices this, running his palm firmly along Miles back as he gently shushes the other.
He shifts miles fully into his arms before, keeping the boy from sitting back up. "You're not gonna miss out on anything exciting or new, right? I'll stick around until you doze off, I promise, Bambi." Hobie's voice was so genuine, that it made Miles cease all movements.
Hm. Maybe he could get some rest, just a little.
Miles nods slowly before resting his head on Hobie's chest, giving him a big squeeze as he finally settles down. It didn't take long for Miles eyes to fall clothes and for his to breathe even out, matching the slow rhythm of the pacifier bobbing in his mouth.
Hobie couldn't help but pepper soft fleeting kisses all over the boys face, making sure not the disturb the sleeping boy. Once Hobie deemed miles to be fully asleep, he shifts miles off his chest and onto his bed. Hobie pauses, weighing his options, before slowly pulling the pacifier out of Miles' mouth.
He holds his breath as Miles shifts before settling onto his stomach, burying his face into the plush. Hobie lets out the breath he was holding, sighing in relief. He did not want to deal with a cranky toddler, no matter how sweet Miles is. On that note, he returns back to his unspoken task.
Tidying up for the night.
Not in much of a hurry, he takes his time gathering up the things he needed to clean. Hobie grabs the bong, the makeshift charcuterie board, Miles sippy cup and Paci before heading out the room.
Hobie just lets his mind wander as he starts his journey to the kitchen. With Miles not being up to help distract him, his train of thought derailed. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Rather, it just came to be a bit too much.
All he could think about was Miles, which wasn't a bad thing. It was, however, different.
That thought alone made Hobie shake his head, chuckling at his thinking. Different wasn't so bad, now was it?
.
.
.
Ah finally, the kitchen.
He quickly gets to work washing everything up. First the board, and once he deemed that clean he put it on the dish rack to dry. The last few items he would have to hand dry, which wasn't such a hassle.
Like before, he lets his mind wander as he thoroughly cleans the bong, rinses it, and turns it upside down. Hobie taps the neck of the glass to get the water out. He then skillfully, dries out the glass piece and bowl before reassembling it and putting it to the side.
Repeating this process with a couple of different steps, he cleans out miles sippy cup. As well as his pacifier, drying both. Hobie does a quick wipe down of the counter before grabbing all of the items and heading back to miles room humming to himself.
He slowly creeps into the room, being careful to not make too much noise as he rummages around miles room putting the things back in its place. The bong was safely stashed in the back of the boys closet in the old gym bag, now all he had to do was put miles new things away.
Hobie then pauses. He did see miles go under his bed to grab his bunny earlier, maybe if he just—
Hobie bends down to stick a hand underneath Miles' bed, feeling around for something. His hand comes across a strap of what he discovers to be a book-bag. He gives it a good tug and now the bag is in his possession.
He unzips it to toss Miles' things in there before pausing. The boy really didn't cater to his own needs, huh?
The book bag only contained a singular coloring book, what seemed to be an old sketchbook, a pack of markers, and a soft plush blanket.
Hobie just shakes his head, he needs to get more for miles. the boy deserved it. With that idea in mind, Hobir tosses the sippy cup and pacifier into the bag before zipping It up and stashing it back underneath the boy's bed.
Hobie brings a hand down to his wrist to fiddle with his watch, typing in his dimensions coordinates before stopping himself. He turns back to look at miles sleeping figure fondly, "maybe I should leave a note.."
.
.
.
It was oh so warm, oh so soft, oh so—so nice.
Miles sighs softly as he feels the familiar warm beaming rays brush along his face. He cracks his eyes open, bringing a fist up to rub at them as he takes in his surroundings. "God that was the best sleep I had in weeks," Miles whispers to himself, not even bothered by his stuffed animal's presence.
He was, however, a bit disappointed to see that Hobie was gone.
Miles just hums before choosing to lay back down. It was a Saturday after all, it wouldn't kill him to rot in bed for a few.
Before he shuts his eyes he sees something familiar in the corner of the room, the corner where Hobie had been. The material, no, the webbing seemed to spell out something—
Ohhhh. That slick motherfucker.
Unnoticeable to the average human eye, it'd look like an intricate design from a spider. To Miles, he could see it as clear as day.
He just snickers to himself, covering his face as he nuzzles back into his pile of warm pillows and blankets.
In the very same corner, where this all started was the note and it read "Last night was a blast, Sunflower. Same time, next week?"