Archive of Our Own

Dealing with an angry Miles was a delicate endeavor. It was sort of like gentling an angry cat. Peter had to keep his distance, respect the boundaries Miles put up so he wouldn’t bolt.

Difficult as it was to truly piss the boy off, Peter still finds a way to manage it.

Through Peter’s own brashness he’d led himself and Miles right into a trap. What was supposed to be an empty weapons cache turned out to be an ambush. They were outnumbered, isolated inside a private compound outside of the boroughs. The window for escape was closing. If Miles got seriously hurt, he wouldn’t be able to get help for a long while. And if Peter went down too, they’d both be screwed. Before the doors on the compound could lock, Peter ordered Miles to leave.

Miles attempted to argue, but the chaos of the shootout hardly gave him a chance. All it took was one look from Peter to let Miles know it wasn't up for discussion, the jagged eyes of his black suit piercing through the boy’s nerve.

With clear agitation, Miles escaped in the nick of time.

Peter grunts as he lands onto the fire escape outside of Miles' apartment, body still just slightly sore and bruised from the prolonged fight he’d put up tonight. It didn’t matter though. He took care of business and took care of Miles. Those were his only concerns. The other guys looked far worse anyway.

He peers in through the window to see Miles lounging on his bed. He’s surrounded by a few textbooks, eyes focused down on a notebook. Peter watches nimble hands fly across the pages, pen scribbling far too aggressively to be in a chipper mood.

Peter can tell by the subtle shiver in Miles’ shoulders that he feels his presence, their senses pinging off of each other. Miles always compared it to microphone feedback. Peter liked to think he was more poetic, likening it to an ionic bond. Two molecules drawn to one another by an irresistible force. They would always find each other.

("You could've just said a magnet and gotten your point across much quicker?"

"No, it's because we have chemistry, Miles. Get it? We have chemistry .")

The only acknowledgment Peter receives is a glance out of the corner of Miles’ eye. It takes him a few tense moments, but soon the boy sighs and gestures for Peter to enter with a tilt of his head.

Miles wasn’t too angry to let him in, at least. That was a good sign.

“How’d your date with the private army go?” Miles questions sardonically once Peter shuts the window behind him. He doesn't seem to want to grace Peter with eye contact.

"Oh, awful. They shot at me all night and didn’t even put out.”

Miles doesn't have to look up for Peter to tell he’s not amused.

“I took care of it.” Peter says.

“Uh huh.”

“Everything’s fine now, Miles.” Peter assures him, raising his arms to show off his undamaged red suit. If he hadn’t been wearing the black suit for that shootout, he’d be faring much worse. He’d already retracted it before coming in, Miles commenting weeks ago on how he didn’t like touching the slimy texture. Peter had replied that he thought slime was all the rage with Miles’ age group. With a hidden smile, Miles reminded Peter that his jokes have never been funny. “See? I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Great. Clearly you didn’t need my help.” Miles replies, expression pinched as he focuses on his notebook.

“For this, no.” The ease in which Peter agrees causes Miles to glance up. “But that doesn’t mean I never need you.” Peter adds.

“What do you need me for then? To patch you up? Congratulate you? Tell you how big and strong you are, and how I’m so grateful you kept me out of danger?” Miles eggs Peter on, too scorned to care that he's being immature. “Oh, thank you Papi, I don't know what I would've done without you!" He dramatically lays a hand over his heart, snarking at Peter in a faux sweet tone.

Miles expects Peter to snap back at him for the unneeded sarcasm. He knows he's playing with fire, what with how short the man's temper is these days. Instead, he watches Peter rub his faintly stubbled jaw while his cheeks redden. And not in anger.

Miles nearly laughs. It really is way too easy to get this guy going. “Coño, eres tan predecible.” He mutters to himself.

“... I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to any of that…” Peter attempts some levity. By the deadpan look on Miles’ face, it was another joke gone unappreciated. He was really striking out tonight, huh. “Kidding.”

Miles rolls his eyes. “There’s no point in us going out together if you’re just gonna bench me as soon as things get tough.”

“That wasn’t a ‘benching’ situation–”

“Yes the hell it was!" Miles argues. "You didn’t talk to me, you didn’t ask for my input, you didn’t give me a chance to come up with a plan…” 

Miles huffs, frustrated as he turns his attention back to his notebook. “I’m not the same little kid that used to just follow you around and do everything you say.” As angry as Miles tries to look, it’s obvious how hurt he is. He’s unable to hide that dejected pout on his face. Contrary to Miles’ words, all it does is remind Peter of how young he truly is. “I thought I already proved that by now.”

“Look, how long are we gonna argue about this?” Peter sighs, beginning to get frustrated with how much the conversation was dragging on. He tried to explain himself, but Miles really wasn’t giving an inch here.

“As long as you decide to keep being condescending.” Miles answers. “Oh wait, I forgot! That doesn’t turn off.”

“Jesus, you sound like MJ.” Peter shakes his head and mutters under his breath. 

Miles stills, staring at Peter like he’s lost his mind. The silence in the room is deafening. It gives Peter more than enough time to regret his life choices. 

“Seriously? I sound like MJ?” Miles spits. “Fuck you, dude–”

“Miles–”

“ –Get out.”

“That isn’t what I meant–”

“Then what did you mean?” Miles demands, furious.

“I just mean…” Peter scrambles to placate the boy. Comparing his current boyfriend to his ex is a big no-no, even he knows that. “... You know who I am, Miles. You know I’m not going to change, not about this.”

It’s in Peter’s nature to be protective. He tried for so long to deny it, to suppress those urges, but at some point he had to accept that it was part of who he was. He’s a superhero for fuck’s sake, protecting people is basically his whole MO.

But Miles did accept that about him. Miles never makes him feel guilty for it, because he knows how it feels. The desperate need to help people because you can do what they can’t. He only ever really got ticked off like this when Peter put himself in danger.

So throwing it in his face isn’t fair, Peter knows it isn’t.

“Yeah, I know exactly who you are. And I love you, Peter.” Despite the fury in his eyes, Miles' tone manages to sound so soft and intimate as he stands. “I love that you make me feel safe, I love that you take care of me. That’s why it pisses me off so damn much when you’re in danger and you refuse to let me help you in return.”

That aggravation in Miles’ eyes dies down, the smoldering embers of his anger fizzling out into more hurt. “This isn’t about pride, or ego. I don’t keep score on which one of us saves each other more, who the hell do you think I am? Peter, all I care about is you .”

That manages to draw some guilt out of Peter, forcing him into silence. After a few minutes with no response, Miles throws up his hands in exasperation, flopping back down onto his bed. 

Miles has always given Peter grace, given him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't excuse his flaws, but he understood them.. He made sure Peter knew he was valid for having them, what with all the terrible things he’d been through. Miles understood everything about him. He was the only other person on earth who could. He was perfect for Peter. Perfect in general, in every conceivable way.

With nothing in his head to say, Peter simply watches Miles. His eyes traveling up the delicate lines of Miles’ body to his face. The boy’s finely arched brows furrow in frustration as he picks his notebook back up and returns to his notes. His plump, pink-mauve lips are set into a soft pout. Peter knows he should be taking this more seriously, but god, Miles is distractingly hot when he’s mad. He’s always hot, but there was something about drawing that spitfire nature out of Miles that just got Peter going from time to time. He would annoy Miles more often if he wasn’t so addicted to making him happy. 

The times he did get on Miles’ nerves though, it was never usually that serious. They would argue over something silly, Miles would push Peter away, teasing him until Peter got back in his good graces. This didn’t seem to be one of those times.

In the prolonged silence in the room, Peter finally takes stock of what Miles is wearing. An oversized collegiate sweater, he had dozens by now from all the different campus tours he’d been going on. 

That was just one cute thing about Miles in the list of endlessly cute things about Miles. He loved being cozy. As soon as the temperature dropped Miles would be swinging around in layers of sweaters and scarves thrown over his suit. Taking pictures with girls gushing over how adorable he looked. Much to Peter’s chagrin. 

Luckily, Miles more than made up for it in private. Peter had captured dozens of photos of him wrapped up in a big fuzzy sweatshirt or blanket somewhere in his house. Stolen from Peter’s closet more often than not. Looking so at home, at peace. Like he had always belonged there. Belonged with Peter. Even if the universe had taken too damn long to bring them together, this is exactly where Miles was always meant to end up. With Peter.

‘Forever.’ A voice in the back of his head whispered.

The real star of the show was Miles’ bottom half. He wore a pair of tiny red pajama shorts with a white trim. Unnecessarily fitted and did nothing to hide the expanse of those impossibly long legs.

It’s a wonder how Peter wasn’t distracted as soon as he came in. He watches Miles lounge on his bed, seemingly content to ignore his presence for the moment. One smooth leg crossed over the other. Miles uses soft thighs to rest his notebook upon as he writes. His once spindly limbs growing more toned by the month. 

Peter drinks the sight in like a starving man. His eyes take their time roaming over every inch of buttery brown skin. Unblemished, hairless, and god, shiny. How was his skin even shiny? How does he just… glow like that? Just looking at Miles’ bare legs reminds Peter of how perfectly soft they always feel under his hands. 

How they look draped over Peter’s shoulders. 

How they feel locked around Peter's hips. 

How Miles feels when Peter makes him cum so hard his thighs are shaking.

Peter wants to lick them. Run his tongue from delicate ankles up golden bronze calves to feathery plush thighs. 

Watch Miles squirm as Peter draws closer and closer to his prize. 

Peter aches to just reach out and touch. 

He knows he can’t. Not yet. When Miles puts up a boundary, spoken or unspoken, crossing it is the last thing you’ll ever do. Peter knows he needs to break down those barriers gently if he doesn't want to get kicked out.

Peter wants to say Miles wore this on purpose, knowing full well Peter would be coming by to grovel and patch things up. Wanted revenge, tempting Peter with what he couldn’t have.

‘We can have him any time we want. He’s ours.’

 Logically, he knows by now this is just what Miles usually wears to bed.

That was Miles’ beauty in a nutshell, effortless. And totally careless to what it did to the people around him. 

Not oblivious though, not anymore.

The worst part about Miles being so goddamn fine was that he knew it.

Peter almost longed for the old days. When Miles was freshly sixteen, still innocent and oh so blissfully unaware of the beauty he was blossoming into. Confused at all the new attention he was garnering, his cheeks ran hot at every compliment and shied away from all the stares he received in public.

After a few casual flings helped Miles understand how people actually saw him, he was a menace. Miles knew exactly how sexy he was, and exactly how much it affected people. Peter especially. A bat of those long lashes, a soft look in his big brown doe eyes, an unassuming little smile, and he had people eating out of the palm of his hand. 

That somehow didn’t even change in the mask. Miles’ comforting aura, warm voice, and natural charisma was enough to diffuse almost any situation. Whenever Peter expressed amazement at it, Miles would claim he only learned it from him. Peter remained unconvinced. 

It would be almost scary to see what Miles could get people to agree to, if he wasn’t such a good person. Peter was the only one to be a victim of Miles’ subtle manipulations on a regular basis.

So when he couldn’t get Peter to budge on something, that caused tension.

“If you want an apology for protecting you, you’re not gonna get one.” Peter finally states, his tone resolute. “That’s my job.” 

With a shake of his head, Miles tosses his pen aside. "What the hell is it with everybody thinking I need to be protected 24/7?" He asks before laughing incredulously. "I have super powers, I'm not defenseless. I mean shit, you think I'll get whisked away and kidnapped if you stop hovering over me for a second?"

'No. We'd kill anyone that tried.' The thought enters Peter’s head so abruptly he nearly utters it aloud. Catching himself only barely.

"Who's ‘everybody’?" Peter asks instead. He tries to keep the edge from his tone as he investigates. 

Who else is watching Miles? Is someone bothering him? Another 'friend' from school? Peter's fists clench as images of all the different people he’s seen Miles hanging around flash through his head. People Peter didn’t know and didn’t trust. Constantly hugging him, touching him, playing with his hair. It felt like Miles had an endless carousel of companions that seemed far too familiar for Peter’s comfort.

Pausing from his passionate tirade, Miles sighs. "Just… everybody. You, my mom. Ganke pulls all nighters logged into my HUD, even when I tell him he doesn't need to. And my Uncle."

Uncle Aaron was probably even worse than Peter. Which Miles didn't think was possible. Peter had at least never kidnapped him and kept him locked him away. 

Should he really be giving Peter credit for that? Was the bar really that low when it came to the men in Miles' life respecting his autonomy?

Miles watches as the tension in Peter’s posture loosens up a bit. That answer seemed to satisfy him. Miles never did tell Peter about that little kidnapping incident. He likely never would. Peter wasn’t happy when he found out the supervillain he’d never been able to catch was none other than his boyfriend’s uncle . And that Miles had respected his uncle's wishes by keeping it from him. The two already didn’t like each other, Miles doesn’t need to give Peter more reason not to trust Aaron. 

"Well… it is kinda your fault for making yourself so damn lovable.” Peter shrugs, quirking his lips and injecting some good-natured humor into his tone. “Now you're stuck with a whole league of people that refuse to ever lose you."

'We never will.'

Miles opens his mouth to argue more. But as he processes Peter’s words, his playful smirk, he can't help but let out a quiet scoff. "Flattery's not gonna get you outta this one, big guy." He says, turning away to hide his own reluctant smile.

"Just saying, reap what you sow."

Miles keeps his head turned, pointedly avoiding Peter’s face. He’d fallen victim to that charming smile far too many times. He doesn’t understand how someone so dorky could just flip a switch and have him weak in the knees within seconds. 

Miles was quick to let most fights go, but this was important. He needed to stand his ground.

“Look. I know how capable you are. You amaze me every day with how much you’ve grown.” Peter says. And he means it. There was no ego between them, Peter's heart swells with pride every time he watches Miles in action. Occasionally, so did other areas. “But you’re still my responsibility.”

If anything were to ever happen to Miles, that’s when Peter knows it’s time for him to pack it up. None of the people he’s lost deserved it, but if there’s anybody that deserves it least, it’s Miles. 

Miles, who doesn't have a cruel or malicious bone in his body. Miles, that always puts everybody else before himself. Miles, that deserves the entire world, but asks for nothing.

Peter had fucked up plenty, but there would be no bigger failure than letting Miles slip through his fingers. If there ever came a day that Peter couldn’t protect him, he knew there was no point in trying to protect anyone else.

A world that could hurt Miles Morales was a world that didn’t deserve saving.

But that day would never come. Peter would keep Miles safe, even if it cost him everything. Even if Miles fought him every step of the way.

“No, Peter. That’s not how this works anymore.” Miles turns back towards Peter as he argues. “We’re each other's responsibility. If you really see me as an equal, that means you have to trust me to protect you too.”

“It’s got nothing to do with trust–”

“What is it then?”

Peter sighs in frustration. “Just because we’re equals, it doesn’t mean we’re not different.”

“Different how?” Miles raises an eyebrow.

“There are just some advantages I have that you don’t.” Peter can see Miles getting more agitated by the look in his eyes. “And advantages you have over me.” He quickly adds. “You don’t see me shooting electricity from my hands.”

“And what advantages do you have over me, exactly?”

Peter pauses, looking for a way to phrase this without putting Miles down. “... Well, more experience. Obviously.”

“It’s been almost three years. I have enough experience by now to know what I’m doing.” Miles knows he sounds childish, but he’s past the point of caring. Peter’s condescension had a way of bringing his immaturity out like nothing else.

“And your spider-sense is clearly weaker than mine.”

Miles’ mouth closes. He doesn’t exactly have a retort for that. Peter could tell if something was wrong with him from across the city. Meanwhile there were times Miles’ senses didn’t kick in until the very last second before a hit, leaving him with no time to react.

“I’m also a lot stronger than you, physically.”

At that, Miles scoffs in offense. “You aren’t a lot stronger than me. Come on.”

“I kinda am.”

“We’ve both got super strength! I’ve hardly seen you do anything that I couldn’t if I really pushed myself.”

“I hold back more than you think, Miles. A lot more.” Peter explains. “More than you have to.”

“How do you know how much I hold back? I could do some real damage if I wanted to.”

“We’ve been sparring for years, Miles. I can tell how strong you are.”

“Strong enough to put you on your ass more than a dozen times?” Miles smirks.

Peter huffs out a quiet laugh. “You know I always take it easy on you, right?”

“Whatever helps your ego, cabrón.” Miles teases, returning his attention to his homework.

Peter considers Miles for a moment before stepping back and rolling his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s see it then.”

Miles pauses as he watches Peter adjust his stance, feet shoulder width apart. “Seriously? This again?”

“Yeah. Give it your best shot. See if you can get a free lick in.” Peter raises his chin, looking down in confidence at the boy.

Peter always had a veneer of extra bravado when he donned the mask, his inner confidence shining through more easily when he was anonymous. But things were different since he’d started wearing this new suit. He wasn’t just confident, he was cocky. Egotistical. Careless. 

There were times where Miles could admit it was… attractive. Just a little bit. Peter didn’t drop the new attitude once they got inside the bedroom and it made things… interesting. He was less cautious with Miles, less considerate. Usually it took Miles hours of teasing and egging Peter on if he wanted the older man to really let loose. Now, Peter had no inhibitions. He didn’t pause to ask if Miles was okay with what was happening, he didn’t go easy on him. Peter took whatever he wanted from Miles and didn’t stop until he was satisfied. Pounding him into the early hours of the morning, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of Miles until the boy was incoherent and barely conscious.

It was new and overwhelming, but Miles hadn’t had any objections yet. Far from it.

Other times though, this newfound confidence just led to Peter overlooking things, making more mistakes. He was getting foolhardy, underestimating his opponents.

It’s what got them into trouble tonight in the first place. Maybe a good spar could knock some humility back into him.

Miles rolls his eyes and decides to play along, standing slowly from his bed and facing Peter head on. He keeps his hands by his sides as he gets himself into position, not wanting to give Peter any indication on how or when he would attack. 

That infuriating smirk doesn’t leave Peter’s lips as he watches Miles. Staring at the man’s nonchalant expression starts to play on Miles’ nerves. He clearly wasn’t taking this seriously at all.

Without warning, Miles aims a punch towards Peter’s face.

In the blink of an eye, his arm forearm is caught in Peter’s grip.

Peter’s hand wraps around the entirety of Miles’ thin wrist, fingers overlapping. Miles is petite, but it’s only when he’s in Peter’s grasp like this does the older man notice how much so. 

Peter loves holding him. Loves knowing he’s the only one allowed to. Loves gripping that impossibly small waist, so tiny Peter can encase him completely with both hands. He loved pinning Miles down, keeping him still. Whether Miles gives up control readily or decides to struggle a little and give Peter a challenge, it’s always sweet. 

Peter refocuses when Miles gives a harsh tug to try and free his arm.

But Peter doesn’t move an inch.

That was… unexpected, Miles admits to himself. He understands Peter is capable of overpowering him, but the man seems to be expending almost no effort to do so.

Using every ounce of superhuman strength he has, Miles attempts to pull his arm free once more.

All that manages to do is bring Miles closer to Peter, the utter lack of give in the man's grip causing Miles to inadvertently rebound and snap back towards him.

Peter raises a knowing eyebrow at Miles. He still hasn’t moved.

Frustrated, Miles uses his free hand to aim another punch towards Peter.

The next thing Miles knows, he’s slammed face first against the wall of his room, both arms twisted behind his back while Peter presses close behind him.

Within seconds, both of their breaths are shallow. Peter from their proximity. Miles from the feeling of being completely immobilized. He tries to break Peter’s hold on his arms, to no avail. Miles realizes he couldn’t get out of this even if he tried, not without shocking his boyfriend. His involuntary defenses don’t even kick in, not with Peter. Miles’ body has never recognized him as a threat before.

Though it hardly took any effort at all to pin Miles, Peter’s heart pounds.

This is the first time he’s touched Miles all night. Gotten as close to him as he’s been wanting to. He can feel the heat of Miles' body through his clothes, even through his own suit. 

Miles is trapped between the wall and Peter’s body, his back pressed firmly against Peter’s strong chest. Their hips flush against one another. 

Peter breathes deeply. His few inches in height allow him to press his cheek against the top of Miles’ head. This close, the boy’s scent fills his airways with every breath.

Miles’ scent was intoxicating. For a while Peter didn’t understand what it was that drew him to Miles on such an intrinsic level, why being in his orbit was so damn addictive. Peter’s sensory reception was enhanced by his powers, but he had never noticed anyone around him having a particularly noticeable scent before. Not until Miles. Over the months they’d spent together after Miles was bitten, Peter noticed the boy’s natural scent begin to shift. It grew stronger and stronger over time, the sharp notes of cinnamon and clove becoming amplified until Peter could no longer ignore it. As their relationship grew closer, Miles' scent turned sweeter. Consciously or subconsciously, it felt as if Miles was drawing him in more every day. It must’ve had something to do with pheromones, the intensity in which Peter was attracted to this boy.

Miles told him he could feel it too, sense a scent from Peter that distracted him and pulled him in. As soon as the other entered a room, they couldn’t keep away from one another. They consumed each other’s senses until they united again.

Maybe it was a physiological defense mechanism, giving the spiders a way to locate one another in any situation. Maybe it was just the forces of nature pushing them together like they always did. It’s a wonder how Peter resisted so long, how he thought he ever had a choice in the matter. They were made for one another.

Miles was made to be his. 

‘Ours.’

Peter leans down slowly, his nose brushing the nape of Miles’ neck ever so slightly. His scent was the strongest here, wafting into Peter’s nose and swirling around his head like a thick perfume.

‘All ours.’

Miles is still as Peter breathes deeply and lets out a shuddering exhale.

Peter takes a few moments, just breathing Miles in. God, the scent was divine. It was like a potion, intoxicating Peter with its saccharine aroma. The spiced sweetness was only enhanced by the subtle notes of Miles’ cologne. It drew him in, begging Peter to taste.

He leans down further, burying his nose in the sensitive skin of Miles' neck. Peter knows from experience this part of Miles’ body is erogenous. The way he would squirm and moan when Peter licked and sucked at the area was enough to drive him insane. Peter can’t help himself. His tongue darts out to lick at the soft, warm skin.

Miles gasps, shifting subtly in Peter’s tight grasp.

He feels Miles struggle against him. Peter simply tightens his grip. He presses his body closer to Miles, trapping him against the wall. 

Their hips press against one another as Miles struggles in Peter’s hold. Inadvertently brushing up against Peter’s groin with every movement.

Peter’s body takes no time at all to respond. The press of Miles’ ass against him has his cock thickening in his pants almost instantly.

Miles hasn’t noticed yet, too focused on strategizing a way to get out of this hold.

Peter looks down, watching the arch of Miles’ back between them. His sweatshirt has ridden up, revealing those little pajama shorts in all their glory.

He watches the way they hug Miles’ body, loose around his little waist but stretched tight around his ass and the tops of his thighs.

Unexpectedly, Miles' struggling causes one side of the shorts to ride up as well. Revealing just the tiniest bit of flesh where Miles’s pert little ass connects to his smooth thigh. Peter feels like he must have died and gone to heaven.

Peter’s body moves on its own, as if possessed by a fever.

He grinds against Miles, long and slow. Peter lets out a shaky exhale at the stimulation it brings him, repeating the motion.

Miles' eyes widen as he notices what Peter is doing. Instantly, he stills. He can feel Peter’s hard length poking into the flesh of his rear. With another roll of his hips, Peter’s cock slips into the cleft between his cheeks. The taller man lets out a soft moan.

The motion has Miles disoriented. The sounds pouring out of Peter’s mouth, the feeling of his strong body against his, it draws out an involuntary response from him. 

Miles feels a distracting heat in his groin. It slowly crawls up his body as Peter continues his ministrations. It's made worse by another wet kiss to the nape of his neck, forcing a whimper from Miles’ lips.

Miles doesn’t snap out of it until he feels another forceful hump against him.

He begins struggling again, putting all the strength he has into it. Peter doesn’t budge an inch, still lost in his pleasure.

The realization washes Miles in a slow wave. Peter really was much stronger than he thought.

Peter could overpower him with ease, and Miles didn’t have a chance at getting him off. Not without using his bioelectricity. Which he would never do to Peter.  No matter how much he struggled, he wasn’t going anywhere unless Peter allowed it.

He didn’t know if it was arousing or frightening, the knowledge that Peter could do whatever he wanted with his body and Miles would just have to lay there and take it, no chance at fighting him off.

“Okay okay, I get it.” Miles speaks finally, his voice strained. “Let go of me.”

The fear in Miles' tone hits Peter suddenly, cutting through the arousal and bringing him back to reality.

Peter looks down and realizes how hard he had been gripping Miles' wrists. He promptly releases them, backing up off of him as if he was suddenly pulled out of a trance.

It takes a few moments for the fog in Peter’s head to clear. 

“Shit.” Peter curses, coming out of his haze to see Miles rubbing at sore wrists. He hurriedly steps close to examine them, taking Miles’ arms in a much gentler hold. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Miles replies, pulling his wrists out of Peter’s hands and turning away from him. 

Peter looks over Miles’ shoulder to see the red imprints of his fingers on Miles’ wrist, the telltale signs of bruises forming. 

His mark upon Miles’ skin.

‘Ours.’

His stomach churns. “Miles… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“I said I’m fine.” Miles insists firmly, rubbing at his wrists.

Okay. Peter had really gone too far. He steps away from Miles, tries to settle himself down. It’s difficult, even without looking at Miles’ body, his intoxicating scent still fills Peter’s head.

Long minutes pass with the pair standing frozen in place, both avoiding each other’s gaze.

Peter came in with Miles already pissed at him, then he goes and does this. He was really striking out tonight.

“Miles, baby,” Peter pleads with the boy. He needs to try and help if he’s going to make this better. “Please. Let me see.”

Miles sighs and doesn’t fight when Peter delicately takes hold of his wrist.

“I told you it’s fine. See?” Miles asserts once more as Peter turns his wrist over in his hands.

“It’ll bruise.” Peter remarks solemnly.

“A bruise that’ll heal by tomorrow.” Miles reminds Peter. “Since you seem to keep forgetting I have powers.” He mutters stubbornly.

Silent guilt clouds Peter’s expression, a deep furrow in his brow. It’s not a good look on him, Miles decides. It never is. As annoyed as he is, he understands Peter didn’t set out to hurt him. He wouldn’t. Even with this… thing making him so reckless and aggressive. Miles doesn’t want to excuse Peter’s behavior, but he doesn’t like seeing him so downcast either.

“I love you, Miles. You know that.” Peter says softly, his voice almost a whisper. “So damn much.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

Peter stares at Miles expectantly. The boy sighs. Even if he’s at the end of his rope with the man, Miles still needs him to know. “I love you too.” He says.

“I’ve… I’ve never loved anyone this much. You know?” Peter couldn’t explain what it was about Miles drew this side of him out. “I just… don’t know what to do with all of it sometimes.” 

“I know.” Miles repeats.

He’s shutting down. Shutting Peter out.

Peter supposes he can’t blame him for being emotionally exhausted. But part of him can’t help but be annoyed at Miles’ avoidant personality showing its face again.

Miles is silent. He looks like he wants to tell Peter to go.

Peter gazes at Miles with uncertainty. The odds of patching this up tonight were low. But he can’t let Miles just sit with all this frustration.

“I can come back tomorrow morning. Drop you off at school?” Peter suggests hopefully.

“I can take the train, y’know.” Miles answers, still rubbing his wrist.

“I know. But I wanna take you for a drive.” A nice long drive while the sun rose over the Brooklyn Bridge. Settling in a nice glow behind Miles. It sounded perfect. It wasn’t often Miles let Peter chauffeur him around, always insisting Peter was too busy and he was perfectly capable of getting around himself. Peter hopes his lover will indulge him. “Please? I’ll even bring you bagels from Kossar’s.”

Miles is still quiet.

“You know the fresh ones first thing in the morning are top tier.”

Miles drops his wrist finally, pursing his lips while he still avoids Peter’s eyes. “Alright. Sure.”

Small victories. Peter will take what he can get.

They stand there silently for a moment, Peter not exactly wanting to go, but knowing there’s little left for him to say tonight.

Peter leans into Miles, searching for a kiss goodbye. Miles turns his head slightly and Peter’s lips land on the dimple of his cheek. 

That was… alright, Peter supposed. Baby steps. Things are always better in the morning. 

“Can I at least get a kiss for saving the day?” Peter tries.

The look Miles gives him tells him he’s pushing his luck. But at least Miles is actually looking at him now.

The boy looks conflicted. A few moments pass before he leans in, giving Peter a quick peck on the corner of his lips. He doesn’t look happy about it, pouting with what seems to be mild indignation. It’s too cute to take seriously.

It’s enough to make Peter smile again. And satisfies him enough to leave. With one last squeeze to Miles’s arm he parts from him, slipping on his mask as he walks away.

“Get some sleep, baby.” Peter says. He opens the window, has one foot out as he watches Miles clear away his textbooks and settle into his bed once more.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Miles answers.

Sarcastic or not, Miles is at least listening.

‘Good boy.’ Peter feels the voice echo in the back of his head as soon as he thinks it. 

His good boy.

Their good boy.