Chapter Text
“Hey Miles?”
Miles has long since calculated that those two words, uttered with a certain range of inflections, represent 95% odds that he is about to get asked out by Gwen Stacy.
To wit:
Poke in the ribs. “Hey Miles, your girl is hangry. Take her out and feed her.” Eyelashes bat.
Two slim hands double fisting the front of his hoodie. “Hey Miles!! My favorite band is playing at the Madison near my house! You're gonna love them! Next Friday, you, me, book it.” Kiss.
An arm sneaks its way surreptitiously across his shoulders and her head rests next to his. "Hey Miles, what’s a girl gotta do to get reinvited to your secret hidey spot, so she can nibble on her boyfriend’s ear?”
In the last few months, Gwen has gotten confident and bold in the way she has established herself as a fixture on Miles’ calendar. In insisting on his time and on not taking no for an answer.
Miles. Loves. It.
He would gratefully spend every waking moment with her if their crazy schedules would actually allow it. And with every new date, whether it be low-key or high-key, the barren emptiness of the lonely year (as they had come to think of it) is slowly vanishing into the sands of time.
But this request...something is off here, and he can tell right away. She isn't blatantly invading his personal space, touching or grabbing him, as is her penchant. She’s maintaining a neutral distance, rubbing her fingers nervously, with eyes downcast.
“So, there’s this thing at my school. And it’s a small thing, not a big deal really. Kinda silly.” She looks up to him, “It’s...It’s a dance and I was hoping you would be my date.”
Miles’ pulse immediately flushes hot and quickens. He has only maybe dreamed about this exact scenario playing out twenty-seven different times during the lonely year. And...maybe, just maybe had drawn about it three times in the pages of his sketchbook that she hadn’t discovered yet.
“...and you know, I kinda missed some of these dances in the past...for obvious reasons.”
“I know. It’s busy being us.”
“...Y-yeah. So...you’ll come?”
He beams her a mega-watt smile, “Yeah! Of course! Why, was there a chance you thought I’d say no?” A gentle jibe, “Because you know I DO have all these other people beating down my door for dates...”
She slides closer, grabs his jacket drawstrings so that his neck closes uncomfortably, and pulls his face near enough for her half-serious threat to register.
“You know I don’t even like you joking about that.”
“Right, right. Possessive.”
Their banter has put him back at ease when she darts her eyes to the side and makes a different request.
“Hey, also...do you think we can...can we put the suits away for a night?”
“Sure, that’s fine by me-”
“Not even the web-shooters.”
This gives him pause. In all their time together together, whether out and about or even just lounging in a room, they’ve never been without the fundamental basics. Without the ability to defend themselves, those around them, or most importantly, each other.
“Really? No shooters? But...what if we need em? Like that one time at the concert where we had to-”
“Miles.”
His name is sudden on her lips and a touch sharp. She softens and blue eyes bore into hazel, begging him silently. “Please. Can I have this?”
His eyes drift down. Her right hand has suddenly clutched the front of his shirt, and even with her pale complexion he can see that her knuckles are radiating white. Gwen's squeezing the fabric like there’s a chance Miles will just run away and disappear. An invisible sense tells him that discretion is the better part of valor for now, but she looks uncomfortable so he decides to give her an easy out.
With all the bravado and reassuring charm he can muster, he flashes her a lopsided grin. “Yeah that’s fine, I see how it is, you just want a real normal normal night with yours truly. I mean, who could blame you?”
Relief washes through her face, and she pulls him into a swift hug that feels a hint desperate. “Thank you. I’m...I’m looking forward to it.”
_________
Miles reminds himself that he really needs to thank his Mom and Dad for insisting that they buy him a new sport coat for the occasion. There seems to be something about jacket lapels that magnetically draws Gwen’s hands onto them. At the beginning of the night in Gwen’s apartment, he’s had them fingered at least five times and used once to draw him into a stolen kiss, while George Stacy wasn’t looking.
“Are you serious, he coulda saw that!”
“Relaaax, if we ever cut it too close, just turn invisible.”
“And leave you standing there in the middle of nowhere with your lips flapping in thin air?? I’m not sure what’s worse for your Dad to be seeing.”
Lapels aren’t the only thing Gwen is holding tightly for leverage – on the subway ride out, she doesn’t let Miles out of her grasp, choosing to stay under his arm with her corresponding arm around his waist. Whereas a scant two years ago she could feel the depths of isolation and loneliness despite being packed into a sea of humanity, now she revels in the fact that she will never be that alone ever again. It’s a pleasant ride with pleasant company, and Miles tickles her laughter by telling her how weird their subway car’s adverts are compared to his world’s. Gwen Stacy looks as content as can be.
“Hey Miles?”
“Hm?”
“You’re the best for doing this.”
“I thought I was normally the best all the time.”
“I can’t believe I have to put up with this all the time.”
“You mean you get to.”
At that she must admit, “Yeah, I do get to, don’t I?”
She pulls him in for another brief taste of his lips. To her, the crowded subway car might as well be completely empty, reserved just for them.
________
Gwen Stacy is no longer content. They arrive at her Visions Academy, and the sound of booming bass grows ever louder as they approach. Their faces pull into the inverse of the other as they get closer; he’s beyond excited to have this experience with her, she’s beginning to look like she’s facing the oncoming drums of war. Gwen's lips press further into a line as they approach, which he notices when they reach the double doors and she just stops. His arm yanked by the sudden shift of momentum, he glances over.
“Hey...everything ok?”
She shakes herself out of it and puts on a face that has the outward appearance of stating: I’m fine. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes though.
“Yep, never better.”
She stiffens her shoulders as she enters the double doors as if walking into a blustery storm and leads him inside.
Maybe she just doesn’t like the loud blaring music, he thinks.
_________
As the night begins to kick off, Miles sees that there is not too much of a difference between their two worlds in how school dances play out. It’s jam-packed, loud, and the air a touch sweaty with youth and awkward exuberance. Truth be told, though this event and who he’s with matters a great deal to him, this environment isn’t exactly Miles’ vibe. But that doesn't matter when he has Gwen right beside him rocking in rhythm.
Going into tonight, he has been curious as to what would pass for fast-dance music in this world – and more importantly, what would Gwen look like while dancing to it. He’s somewhat surprised that for someone who’s been schooled in the art of formal dance, she would come off this goofy.
Miles on the other hand, is a blend of two potent musical influences in his life. His style ranges the spectrum from Uncle Aaron’s old school hip hop tastes to his Mom’s salsa flair. A bit of Harlem Shake and the Cabbage Patch meets the swinging hips and rhythm demanded by the pattern of the son clave. Inevitably, as with most things, they find a way to blend their styles into one that suits them together. It also hasn't hurt that Gwen likes to flick her hip so that her half-skirt flares in front of him just so.
When they’re moving together on the dance floor, they’re having a blast and the world’s worries or distractions do not exist...with only one minor interruption. Once, Miles recognizes a briefly popular variant of his world’s songs and reacts in a manner that seems befitting. He instinctively bends over slightly, taps his heels, and begins to swing his arms in elaborate half-circles. He expects Gwen to mirror. Instead Gwen freezes.
“What. Is that.”
“...uhh they don’t do the Griddy around here?”
“Miles, around here that’s a name for the pancake special at IHOP.”
“....fine, let’s sit this one out then.”
When they’re off the dance floor? The world’s worries and distractions might exist. The night has been mostly normal. Miles does note however, that she is keeping an unusually close eye on their surroundings as the evening progresses. More than is warranted.
In their relationship thus far, there have been only a few times in which Gwen’s additional Spidering experience has manifested itself into something that was discussed openly. A few topics from time to time, that she’s deliberately tried to teach him, so as to refine him and make him better...and to keep him safe. In receiving, Miles has always had to thread the needle between being grateful for the practical advice and in feeling that he’s still not measuring up to her standards. Tonight, one such lesson has resurfaced but Miles thinks that it’s being misapplied.
“Hey - I thought you said, ‘no suits no kit’ for this, but you’re the one who’s looking like she can’t put work away for a night.”
“Keeping an eye out for exits or entrances at all times is a key part of the Spider-Life. We’ve been over this.”
“So you’ve told me, but the number of times you’re doing it tonight...this is getting obsessive. And what exactly are we supposed to do under the bright lights with no gear?”
Gwen knows she’s been caught, so she throws out a diversionary red herring.
“Maybe you just gotta raise your game to my level.”
“Oh so that’s how it’s gonna be?” He drops his mock outrage and tries more seriously, “Since we did go ahead and put the toolbox away for the night, it would be nice to have my girlfriend’s full-on attention while we’re here.”
“Sorry...just got distracted. Ready for another round?” She heads back to the parquet and as she does, he sees her nearly imperceptible shake of her head as if attempting to cleanse what’s inside.
_______
When the DJ sounds the call for the last dance, it’s finally here, Miles thinks. Their Cinderella moment – their first formal slow dance. He hopes that it will match his dreams and his art. But when he makes to move onto the dance floor, Gwen’s body doesn’t follow right away, still rooted to the sideline, rigid and immobile.
He first tries levity. He extends his hand with a courtly flourish and asks in a sweet whisper, “May Spiderman have the pleasure of this dance with his Spiderwoman?”
That might have been a mistake.
Gwen is blanching white. She doesn’t move to accept his hand right away. A drawn-out moment passes and Miles begins to think about the words he can say to recover.
Before he can though, he sees Gwen will her face to soften. Quietly, shakily, “Sorry...I’ve been a little off tonight. But I promise you I want this.” Her slightly trembling hand curves around his fingers, and she squeezes an apparent apology.
When they come together, it’s still not what he expected. She’s intentionally staged the two of them in the awkward-teenager, arms-length slow dance formation. She’s creating intentional space like she’s just met him and they have no history, yet paradoxically holding him tight like she doesn’t want him to leave.
To Miles, she feels tense, maybe from nerves, but also it feels as if she’s ready to spring into action...for something he knows not what. He thought they would be closer. He thought they would be looking in each other’s eyes. Instead, she’s darting her eyes around, looking in the corners for would-be ghosts, looking in the rafters for would-be dangers. Her breathing begins to quicken, then it escalates, and now it looks like she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. Miles thinks she’s starting to have a panic attack.
He instinctively tries to calm her by breaking formation...by insistently sliding his arms around the small of her back – his spot, the way she likes. He holds her close, as he knows she needs – typically at all times, but especially at her worst.
When she tries for him...when her arms slowly move to close around the nape of his neck, and he feels the whisper-fine silkeness of the bare skin of her wrists...
...instead of the hard steel and polymer plastic that so often adorns that space, representing her oath as a Spiderwoman, and the threat of danger said oath carries...
….it's then that the final clue snaps into place for Miles.
And because Miles Morales is an emotionally intelligent young man – far beyond his years – his neurons and his synapses make their final connections of –ghostsglancespanicweapons– at lightning speed. Now he understands fully.
Miles is Gwen Stacy’s boyfriend, so of course he’s heard the story. One hard night, on an anniversary born not out of love and new beginnings, but of a nightmare from hell, she told him. Every detail. He held her all night afterwards.
He looks down at her and packages every ounce of reassurance he can into his words.
“Hey. Look at me. I’m still here. Nothing happened to me. I’m not going anywhere.”
He stops their motion across the dance floor to make sure she hears him, and the curious glances from couples nearby can be damned for all he cares. He rests his forehead onto hers. Miles softly hums a few bars for Gwen’s ears alone - a lullaby once reserved for his mother and him, but one that he has now reserved for her from time to time when he’s holding her and she needs it.
Hija del corazón
Deja ya de llorar
Junto a ti yo voy a estar y nunca más te han de hacer mal
Tus ojitos de luz
El llanto no ha de nublar
Ven mi amor nadie nos ha de separar...
The huskiness of his voice breaks through the haze of her trance, the melody and familiar words drawing her back to him. From darkness, back to light. When Miles feels that he has Gwen back from beyond, he stops humming and gifts her what she needs to hear.
“The past is the past, yeah?”
She looks into his soul as she considers his veiled plea. Her breathing slowly starts to slip into the realm of the normal. She can barely exhale, “Yeah...I guess everything turned out alright after all.” She leans into him more heavily and lets him support her weight.
On the beat of the last note of the song, she closes the final distance and holds him so tightly he thinks that she might never let him go. She speaks into his chest.
“Thank you...for being here for me. I don’t think I could have done tonight without you.”
She makes a decision. Blue eyes tilt up and bore into his again, but this time they hold a different request. “Hey Miles? I got one more favor to ask of you.”
___________
When they arrive at a park in the cool chill of the evening, it’s more beautiful than he could have imagined. The trees that surround the perimeter aren’t just a dark green like they are in his world, but shift colors and shapes. Now in their deep blue splendor they are trailing lines from their branches as if in a perpetual state of trailing tears. Gwen finds the opening she’s looking for and leads them deeper inside to dreamland. Shortly, she finds a gravel path and she knows it by heart. She takes three lefts, a right, crosses a bridge over a gently babbling brook, and then they eventually reach their destination.
He’s not surprised when he sees the tombstone, a gray formal memorial standing guard in the darkness. An aura of deep indigo tinged with flecks of pink swirls around in a radius that encircles the three of them.
She takes several steps in front of Miles – he makes no move to match her, unsure if he should be standing next to her for what will come next. He wasn’t asked to leave though so he stays behind her, sensing she might need him.
“Hi Peter...It’s been a while. I’m sorry about that.” She sighs and draws courage from Miles’ presence, radiating from behind.
“We always promised each other…remember? That we would always tell each other about the important moments. No matter what...that we would celebrate them together. Well…Miles…he’s one of those important ones, and I wanted you to meet him.” And she glances aside at Miles and nods his way.
“Ever since...that night...every day...I’ve thought about what I could have done differently. If you hated me. Every day was hard. But then I met Miles...and being with him and having him and his family forgive me for things I did... helped me realize that maybe I need to finally forgive myself for that night, too. Because I...I know you already have.” Miles swallows a hard lump in his throat. “I miss you. I’m still the same old Gwen. Still trying to help everyone. And I hope you’re still proud of me.”
She unpins the corsage that Miles gave her at the start of the night and looks at him with a silent question. He nods his assent, and she lays it in front of Peter’s stone. The air around them changes as she does so. Now deep pink predominates, trading places with the blue-purple which provides thin accent tendrils tracing through the night. She slowly turns and squeezes his arm as she passes by, and he makes to follow. They walk in comfortable silence back along the path for a while when she realizes he’s stopped.
“Hey actually, can you gimme a sec?” She tilts her head in the affirmative.
He briskly walks back and stands in front of the tablet. Gwen’s out of ear shot – he needs this to be man to man.
“Hey man, I’m Miles. Like she said, I guess. This is probably...maybe weird for both of us, right? Like if what happened hadn’t happened...to you, I probably wouldn’t even be here right now...with her.”
A breath to recover and pause.
“It sounds like from what she told me…that you somehow always knew who she really was. I don’t know how you felt about that. If it was me? If I were in your shoes, there would probably be some part of me that was always worried all day, every day that she would be getting hurt. That she would just swing off into the city…and one day just never come back to you, because...yeah, it’s a risky life. Maybe you felt like you had to protect her...so maybe that’s why you did what you did. I get it, I do.”
Now Miles clasps his hands in front of him and straightens his pose with a touch of formality.
“So, here’s my promise to you. Me and you. I’m going to protect her with everything I got. Always. No matter what. As long as I’m alive, anything that wants to get to her, is going to have to get through me. And Imma put whatever that is into the ground, you have my word. I’m going to take care of Gwen, the best I can, whatever she needs. And I hope that helps you rest easy.”
He unpins his boutonniere and lays it next to Gwen’s corsage.
“Que descanses,” and he palms the top of the stone like a handshake. Around the frame of his hand, sunshine yellow now joins pink in an eternal embrace.
Gwen’s waiting for him at the top of the wooden bridge. There is now lightness in the air, and it feels to her that she could rise like a balloon and fly away together with Miles. Maybe some glad morning she will, but that time is not now. Someday, perhaps.
“Hey, you ok?”
A face of contentment, years in the making. “Yeah. I think I am, now.”
“Ready for the after-dance dinner? I've always wanted to go to one of these.”
“It's just a normal dinner Miles,” she smiles. “With me.”
“That’s the kind I like. I can’t wait to see where you’re taking me, for once.” A poke to the side, and grins are traded.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
He offers his arm, and she slides one hand through and holds on tightly. They walk off into the crisp clear night, down the gravelly trail, both contemplative with thoughts of promises honored and promises to be kept.
As they walk out the trees have transformed. Their shapes have now rounded and curved their outline against a charcoal sky dotted with diamonds. Magenta blooms have appeared where there were none before, filling their branches to the full, punctuating the night with their hue and comfort.
An out of season warm breeze descends from the starry sky, wafting through the branches, caressing everything and everyone in the park below.