small word nonsensical vomit about miles and hobie (PLATONIC.) wc: 1,165
it was a few months after uncle aarons death. his funeral had been held and his grave had been dug. miles could barely hold himself together, he didnât have time to properly grieve him. he got caught up in having to literally save everybody that he didnât realize he couldnât process his uncleâs death properly.
when itâs a quiet afternoon, gwen, pavitr and hobie drop by, itâs been happening quite a bit. offering miles company when they could, when they were free of spiderman duties. he appreciated them a lot, an awful lot, which is why when heâs alone, he feels a deep ache bloom in his chest.
it sits in his sternum and flows through his ribcage, an immaterial feeling inside. he doesnât know how to deal with it, how to ignore it. so he does what he always does to let out his feelings: spray paint.
for miles, it hurt too much to go back to that place, but he figured there was nowhere else where he could not so legally paint a wall, (who was he kidding? it hurt so much, but the good memories there helped him comfort himself. he canât admit that to anyone outside of his brain, it sounds sad and his teenage brain canât handle it.)
he grabs his spray cans and runs off, yelling out a quick âbye!â to his mom and rushing (for what? he silently asks) to the underground wall.
as he walks through, he feels like wanting to cry. how did it hurt worse after he died? shouldnât it have hurt him more in the moment? why is the ache getting worse? he asks, but there are no answers for him. he just wants to see his face again.
as he reaches the wall, he begins immediately. itâs sloppy, itâs rushed. he doesnât care, heâs just putting on colors, it can be fixed later. though, he gets caught up on the mistakes. his feelings of incompetency from when he first started as spiderman creeping up and blending with the unknown and hurtful ache. he knows, deep down, this doesnât have to do with his skills as spiderman, but his irrationality rears its ugly head and connects the two.
he berates himself for it, for everything. for everyone who diâ
âoi, mate, you up to any barney rubble today?â hobieâs smile is heard through his thick accent that cuts through the air, effectively shocking miles enough to almost drop the can he was holding.
miles then turns around to say something, but his heart is stuck in his throat and he merely chuckles and sends a quick wave his way. his focus has been deterred now, no matter how much he tries, his hand cannot stop shaking and he cannot spray more paint for some reason.
hobieâs brow raises at his silence, miles is usually never ending with his teasing at hobieâs âlanguageâ and accent, with his nonsensical quips and jokes. a non stop rabbiter, if you asked hobie.
âdâyou need any company, china plate?â he asks softly and miles shakes his head yes and continues splattering on random colors and making obscure shapes. he doesnât know what heâs making.
the taller man decides to drop the talking, while he absolutely loves a good rabbit and pork with his mates, itâs clear miles is not currently in the headspace for one. (or here emotionally at all, his mind seems blank and far from here.)
hobie steals some cans off the floor and starts on making a portrait of himself (as heâs working on his nose, he hears a chuckle and a snort from beside him, it paints a smile on his face)
hobieâs exceptionally more experienced than miles is at spray painting, heâs done his best (not really, just lightly put some work into it) to make himself with some doodles around and checks up on how miles is doing. he seems to have a struggle reaching the top of his drawing. while miles has been growing, he hasnât quite reached at the height heâs currently attempting to paint.
hobie silently walks over and grabs miles, putting him on his shoulders with ease to help him reach the top of his drawing and guiding miles on how to make his drawing look dynamic. heâs in the middle of explaining a technique that helped him in the past when he feels a tear on his hand.
drip splash. drip splash. drip splash.
for a second, he questions if either of them are sweating hard and should take a break before they catch heat exhaustion, when he realizes that these drops are not sweat. he looks up and milesâ head is bowed down, looking to the side and tears streaming down his face. he refuses to make eye contact with hobie.
he worries heâs done something wrong, maybe he was too harsh? he knew sometimes he can be a bit blunt and annoying, but maybe he shouldâve toned it down a bit.
âhey, mate, iâm sorrââ he begins, but is cut off by milesâ voice, filled with tears.
âno, no, man. youâre fiâneâ his voice cracks at the word fine, a hiccup coming through right after. his hands frantically wipe against his face and he feels fucking mortified. sure, miles was a soft kid and had no problems showing his feelings, he was kind, but that didnât mean it felt any less embarrassing to be caught crying in front of one of your biggest fucking role models.
hobie sets miles down and quickly, miles wonders if heâs scared hobie off. he knows that hobie would never do that, but right now he is sensitive and logic is not driving his brain.
hobie does not know what to fucking do. he hasnât made a kid cry before (he has, he definitely has),
he doesnât know what to do so he does the most familiar thing he knows, hugs.
he hugs miles tightly and rubs his hand up and down gently to calm him. and miles just lets go. hobie had reminded him so, so much of his uncle. he could not handle it, he canât. he misses his uncle. he misses peter parker. he misses the life he had before. itâs not alright, not yet. thatâs why when hibie connects the dots as to why miles is sobbing, he doesnât say anything. he knows when words are helpful and when they arenât. right now, he can bask in his hurt. he can heal later, he has all the time in the world. he cannot skip this crucial moment.
bonus:
when hobie brings the rest of the teen spider gang to milesâ painting site, they are shocked at the murals that cover the walls. itâs them. all of them. separate portraits, some have all four of them, some have different combinations of the four. but itâs them nonetheless. and when miles sees their faces, he knows he is not alone in this. he knows he can move past this.
Fun fact I deal with physical pain a lot bcuz my health is shit. I have been in so much pain I couldnât even sleep for the last 2 days. Was especially bad today so hereâs smth kinda self indulgent.
(Hc portion)
Gwen is insistent on having miguel or jessica check you out to see if they could possibly ease your pain. Miguel is from the future technically, there has to be something. She hates the idea of you being in so much pain you canât even lie down comfortably, you canât sit still, you canât sleep, or even worse if you start crying? She feels awful. She has heating packs to help you ease your pain if it helps, and she keeps you on a strict schedule with taking medication so that your pain is as limited as possible. She does everything she can for you, especially given the lack of knowledge she has on this typa thing.
(Small fic portion)
âI hate seeing you like thisâ she sighs, kissing you on the forehead, pressing the big heating pack to your stomach. There is instant relief, even if that relief is short lived and your once again reminded of your pain, she still feels you relax. Even if only slightly. âIâm sorry I canât do more for you.â she frowns, feeling guilt.
âNonsenseâ you say, giving her a weak smile, putting a hand on her cheek. She puts her hand on yours, holding it in place on her cheek. âYou being here is enough for me. You did everything you could. This is just⊠how it is, yknow?â
She sighs, taking your hand off her cheek so she can kiss your knuckles. âBut it shouldnât be. You shouldnât have to deal with this. I wish I could just take this pain away from you.â she presses her forehead against yours, and for a moment, even if it was brief, you feel peace.
(Hc portion)
Miles is so unsure how he can help you but damn if he isnât determined as fuck to help ease your pain even if only slightly. He is extremely sympathetic towards you. He genuinely cannot imagine how it must be to constantly go through pain to the point you canât even get proper rest. He will try to get you to relax your muscles, which can be difficult granted the pain youâre in, but he knows if heâs able to succeed with that you can at least get some sleep. Back massages or even massaging the places that hurt, heâs all on it. Always has medicine with him, might even ask his mom to watch over you for him while heâs gone doing Spiderman stuff, even if just to check on you.
(Short fic portion)
âYou didnât have to do this miles,â you say, chugging down your third dose of ibuprofen today. âThank you though.â you say, before lying back down.
âOf course I had to do this for you babe!â he says with a roll of his eyes, annoyed youâd even suggest he didnât have to help you out. âIf I canât be here for you in your time of need, whatâs the point in being your boyfriend, your best friend for that matter.â he continues to speak as he lies down next to you. âRoll over.â he commands, which you arenât quite used to him doing. Heâs been acting rather motherly towards you lately, but you canât exactly blame him with the state youâve been in.
You follow his orders and do so, and he begins to message your back, and you audibly sigh without meaning to. He laughs as a result, making you laugh too. âShut up.â you roll your eyes, and he canât help but laugh even more. âHey Iâm glad youâre just finally relaxing.â he says before kissing the back of your neck.
Somehow youâre boyfriend always knows how to make your agonizing pain a bit more bearable.
(Hc portion)
My man hobie somehow manages to get his hands on morphine. You will not be dealing with this pain on his watch, he will find a way. High key hates the fact youâre going through this and does everything he can to ease it or prevent it. Might talk to you about random shit, about his day or about other people or crazy shit that happened, anything as a means to distract you. Though this can prove to be difficult, hobie has a relaxing voice and heâs able to soothe you no matter how bad your pain is. Might sing ya to sleep with his lovely voice.
(Small fic portion)
Your quiet as you listen to hobie hum. While his music tastes consisted of punk (obviously) he was a bit of a metal head as well, and itâs not that you didnât like that genre of music but it was far from relaxing. So you had calmly asked hobie if he could please sing something that wasnât so intense.
Soft shit was not his thing but if it eased your pain, who is he to complain?
He had his arms around you, your head on his chest and you felt it rumble as he quietly sang to you.
âCariño, eres un amorâ
âSomething about you babe.â
âSomething about you babeâ
he finally finishes, and you smile for the first time today.
âThank you, hobie.â you whisper, and he kisses the crown of your head. âAnytime hunâ
(Hc portion)
Pavitr feels terrible omg bless this boy he does everything he can. Buys you a lot of fattening foods as tribute. He knows he shouldnât make it a habit especially if youâre pain is like constant and happens a lot but he cannot help himself. His baby should not be in pain! Sometimes kisses the spots your in pain and likes to rub the spots in an attempt to soothe you and your pain. Buys a lot of medicine and pain relief creams. May try to distract you with watching movies and stuff, but also will straight up ask you if thereâs any other way he can help you. Definitely makes you peppermint tea to help ease your pain.
(Small fic portion)
You drink the last of your tea, placing the empty cup on your end table and lay all the way back next to your boyfriend. He offers to put the cup in your sink and clean it, but you shake your head. âItâs fine I can do it tomorrow.â you say, before resting your cheek on his shoulder, âbesides I want you here with me.â you admit, and he smiles at your little confession before wrapping is arms around you in an embrace. âAww babe!â he says, before smooching you on the cheek with an annoyingly loud, âmwah!â
you laugh as he attempts to kiss you more all over your face, putting your hand on his face and pushing him in an attempt to get him to stop smothering you. âBaby cut it out!â you laugh, âwhy? I just wanna love youuuu!â he whines, and you giggle, âbecause Iâm trying to watch the movie!â
Your boyfriend sighs before conceding. âFine.â he says, and you finally turn back to watch the movie.
âJust kidding!â he says quickly, attacking your neck with little kisses this time, making you laugh even harder than before. âOh babe Cmon!â
Heâs just glad he succeeded in distracting you from your pain, for a little while.
†warnings: fem reader sorry ;(, my grammar isnât the greatest + not proofread lol, no use of y/n. there are some marathi words also translations may not be right: bhau is like bro, shonu means like pure gold/god gift, mĆ«rkha means foolish/stupid, sakhya means companion
†synopsis: word vomit about a fluff friends2lovers w pavitr, he also tells you about being spiderman
†w.c: 3,159
Your page filled with meaningless doodles as the teacher droned on in front of you, your mind not entirely focused on the present. Seated beside you was your best friend since before you could even remember, Pavitr Prabhakar.
Youâd known him for so long, you donât think you remember a single memory where he wasnât with you. Whether it be him physically there or his voice, heâs there. Like when your first (serious) heartbreak happened during your pre-adolescence time, you had called him over immediately and he was there to comfort you. He had dropped everything to help you, his soft whispers in your ear that you âdeserved better than himâ, calling him many colourful words in a (successful) attempt to make you laugh. Your reminiscing session comes to a short end as you hear Pavitrâs bored tapping on the desk, his eyes nothing short of unamused as the teacher says words that go through one ear and out the other.
His tapping creates a nice rhythm that soon becomes a little too repetitive to you, so your solution is to grab and hold his hand gently to stop it. His hand feels warm against yours, his palm slightly rough from working hard. You play with his hand, moving it around, preferring to observe him than listen to whatever your teacher says. Your fingers travel along his hand, tracing his knuckles and playing around with them, comparing hands and accidentally cracking a few of his knuckles by your roughness. His giggles when you do make you smile, he tries to keep it down, but the smile is evident on his face as he copies down notes. He looks unbothered, but comfortable with your presence.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, he was trying so, so hard to not confess to you right then and there.
Pavitr was naturally perceptive, he was very good at reading people and observed them easily. Yet, he couldnât tell if you liked him. Sometimes, you would do all these things that couples do like sitting on his lap, intertwining your hand with his, walking so close that your shoulders brush his with each step, laughing so hard at an unfunny joke he made, making him believe that he might have a chance, but then you would switch up and call him something like âbhauâ that makes him backtrack in all his theories that you may like him back. He prided himself on knowing you well, of being observant yet he couldnât figure out your feelings for him. Either way, he felt flustered when you would initiate physical affection, like now. As he finished his notes with one free hand, he looked over to your figure that was focused entirely on his hand. It felt oddly intimate, considering the mundaneness of the action.
You looked so endearing, a few strands of hair fell forward into your eyes, he loved merely watching you and seeing your beauty. Your eyes that held your emotions, the bridge of your nose that he wanted to trace over and overâ
His thoughts are disrupted as a bell signals the end of the day and your eyes snap forward as you realize how long you had zoned out, just holding his hand. You and Pavitr speed up to collect your belongings and get out of class as fast as possible.
As you walk out together, Pavitrâs mind isnât truly with you. His thoughts focus solely on how close you are, your shoulders touch and your hands are tightly linked together. A small smile on his face as he accepts every small affection you give towards him and his memory fades to the first time he realized how in love with you he was.
It was winter, you and him bundled up in heavy and weighted blankets on his bed as you watched silly movies and laughed at them. You were focused on laughing at the bad CGI and unrealistic physics, smiling with teeth and making sure Pavitr was looking.
His arm was behind your neck, serving as a small pillow for you and your warmth radiated to him. It was as if winter didnât exist and he let himself be lost in you. Your nose scrunches up at the inaccuracy in the movie as you remark something else that the director probably exaggerated, explaining how it wouldnât work out in real life. He looks at your lips as they move and realize how much he just wants to kiss them.
ââso stupid. Like, how hard is it to search something up?â You exclaim, your hands moving as you talk. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and he thinks about how much he loves every part of you. Every single nook and cranny of yours, he wants to explore. He wants to know what youâre thinking right now as youâve gone silent while still glaring at the screen in front of you. He wants to spend every second of his future by your side. He then realizes, thatâs how he has felt his whole life. Heâs wanted to be yours, to be the one to hold your heart and keep it safe, he wanted you to be his. Protect you and love you, thatâs all heâs wanted to do since he had the ability to comprehend emotions. He has a dazed, but fading smile as he thinks of possible consequences for his feelings while you continue watching.
Your voice brings him back to reality and youâre alarmingly close to parting ways as your house is in view and he panics, he always seems to have a hard time separating from you. Though, itâs inevitable and he knows it.
âBye, Pav.â Your voice sounds soft and your hands linger as if you donât want to leave either and for a second, he lets himself believe you like him back. For merely a second.
He smiles back, and reluctantly begins to say his farewells when you continue speaking, âDo you wanna come in?â you have a hopeful smile and eyes filled with happiness and how could he ever refuse you?
You two walk by the kitchen, up your stairs and into your bedroom. You hadnât actually planned on doing anything with Pavitr when you invited him in so you started on some of your homework, knowing youâd be content just knowing he was around you.
He gets comfortable on your bed beside you, scrolling on his phone instead as he usually preferred to finish his homework during class.
A few hours pass and youâd changed from doing homework to braiding your best friendâs hair as you two watch some indie film to pass the time together. Your hands repeat the motion of putting part over another, itâs almost therapeutic for the both of you.
Pavitr always loved when you braided or played with his hair, it was always calming to him and he was so, so close to sleep when his spidey senses went off, alerting him there was a threat in Mumbattan.
He tensed up, coming up with a quick lie to tell you, eventually ending up with, âSorry, shonu, Maya Auntie needs me,â he holds up his phone and pretends to be shocked at the non-existent message.
Youâre disappointed, you wanted to spend more time with him, but you know you canât spend every second with him. âTell her I said hi,â you smile and he smiles back, grabbing his things quickly before rushing down the stairs and to his house to get his suit.
Pavitr is positively panicking. After he had gone to his house, after he had left you, that villain wanna-be decided to try and defeat Spiderman instead of just focusing on his rather unsuccessful robbing. The random villain had terrible coordination, but forceful hits. He wasnât winning by any means, no one could beat Spiderman, but Pavitr would probably gain a few nasty scratches and bruises from the fight. His webs shooting out and trying to capture him while also evading more swings at him.
As he stepped on the edge of a roof, the part he stood on had cracked and for a split-second, his spidey senses went off, but he couldnât turn around in time and had gotten pushed into the wall, scratches littered across his body.
Feeling fed up with how much the fight had dragged on, he quickly captured the villain and once he knew the police were there and would take care of anything, he tried to swing back home. Unfortunately, his torso and arms then prevented him from doing so and he let out a small curse as he knew he was too far from his house to try walking there, every part of him hurt. His luscious hair was slightly dishevelled and heavily matted with blood and debris scattered everywhere. He looked around in the cold night, looking for somewhere he could rest for the night. His eyes moved around before catching sight of your house, he figured it wouldnât be too weird going into your bedroom as Spiderman. He failed to remember how weird it would be to have a vigilante show up at your house, injured. Also that he hadnât told you he was Spiderman yet.
You were laying in bed, ears filled with the quiet sound of your music in your room. A slight expression of despair was painted on your face, youâd texted Pavitr earlier in the day. He hadnât responded and was leaving you on delivered for a few hours, leading you to think the worst. Your overthinking may have taken control, anything logical or reasonable was thrown out the window.
Speaking of which, a singular knock sounded at it. Your face twisted in confusion, who would knock at this time of night?
You checked your phone for any message indicating someone you might know was at your window and slowly creeped towards it. As you didnât find any messages from your friends, you became suspicious until you looked at who was outside.
Spiderman. Spiderman was outside your goddamn bedroom window.
It took you a moment to process it was him, a million questions running through your brain like why was he there, what does he want from you, before you realized that itâd probably be a little rude to be leaving him in the cold, alone. You hastily unlocked the window and moved out the way to help him in.
As he clumsily climbed into your window, he looked around. Pavitr always loved being in your room, anything relating to you he enjoyed, really. He then remembered, in this moment, he wasnât Pavitr to you. He was Spiderman. He looked at you awkwardly, trying to figure out what your shocked expression meant as well as what to say to justify being in your bedroom.
You stared right back at him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly in surprised. You didnât know what to say, so you observed him instead which is when you saw the state of his hair, messy and blood tangled within. You had also noticed the rips in his torso and the dried blood and debris around it.
You and him spoke at the same time, âSo,â
âIâm-â He was about to apologize, it felt rude not to do so.
You smiled awkwardly and were about to let him continue, since you know, heâs spiderman, but he insisted you go first. He seemed very respectful. âDo you, uh,â You started speaking, trying to figure out how to articulate the thoughts in your foggy brain. âNeed help cleaning up?â you suggested.
Spiderman immediately began shaking his head, he already felt bad for imposing like this, he couldnât ask for more of your kindness. He smiled and responded, âNo thank you, sakhya,â You raise your brow at that, âitâll heal in the morning.â He wasnât wrong, but wasnât entirely right. Itâd probably heal, just not very well without proper care, but he supposed it wouldnât be too bad.
You were stubborn, though. You couldnât just let Spiderman bleed without doing anything, so you just shook your head and told him so, âI canât let you just bleed and get an infection or whatever. Thatâs mĆ«rkha,â He started to protest and you shushed him, immediately telling him to sit on your bed as you went to your bathroom to get some medical supplies.
Pavitr sat on the very edge of the bed. Although heâd been in your bed countless of times, in more comfortable situations, he felt weird about doing that as Spiderman. He again looked at your room like heâd never been in it before, looking at the photos of you and him strung up everywhere. Your room was decorated with the idea to make your personality shine though, he knew that was true especially because of that one deep talk on that random autumn night. He thought it was nice.
Soon, you came back with probably more medical care than he needed. Still, it never hurt to be overprepared with this kind of thing. You didnât know where to start, his injuries seemed overwhelming and every single one seemed worse than the other.
You decided on doing the ones on his torso first, his mask was slightly ripped and although you wanted to badly fix the injuries on his face, fix his hair, he probably kept his identity a secret for a reason.
He leaned back as you started gently dabbing some vaseline on his torso, he flinched at the feeling. You felt oddly close to him in the moment, feeling familiar with him as if you had known him for years, though youâd never had an interaction with him before this. Merely watching news on him, admiring him.
You put some more ointment and then gauze on the more serious injuries, wrapping around his waist tightly which caused him to wince and you to whisper a small sorry, before you continued with helping him clean up. You grabbed some bandaids, seeing some small scratches on his arm and put some ointment on before sticking a bandaid on top. Gently patting it just to make sure it stayed, the real reason was you just wanted an excuse to touch him, it felt nice for an odd, unknown reason.
Once you were sure he had no other injuries on his body, you needed to treat the ones on his face. You were apprehensive, but spoke anyways, âCan you take off your mask?â At his bewildered expression, at least you think heâs shocked considering his eyes seemed to widen, you explain, âI need to treat your wounds,â
At that, Pavitr panics. He hates lying to you, but he isnât sure he can reveal his identity to you. He thinks of ways to excuse it, but he knows youâre stubborn more than anything. Everything seems to slow down in the moment, time feels like it stops and it feels like an impossible ten years as he reaches up and takes his time pulling off his mask. He prepares himself for the words you might spew at him, would you still see him the same? Doubts overshadow the logical and reasonable part of his brain that tells him that you probably wouldnât hate him for eternity.
When his mask is fully off, you take a moment to look at him. You cannot comprehend the sight infront of you.
Pavitr Prabhakar is Spiderman.
Your best friend is Spiderman, the masked vigilante that roams around your city. Pavitr, the guy youâd known since you could remember, the one you call when you need comfort, is Spiderman. There are so many things going through your brain, like remembering that one time Pavitr showed up to school with a bad bruise on his face, coincidentally the morning after Spiderman had gotten hit in the same spot with a pole, realizing that the reason he would abruptly leave when you two were hanging out were because a villain was on the loose. You cannot believe you knew Spiderman all along.
He stares at your expression, unable to really make something of it. He knows youâre shocked, but are you mad? Are you disappointed in him? Do you hate him? He suddenly feels the need to apologize for everything wrong heâs ever done.
Your mouth opens and closes, trying to figure out what to say to something like this. You still love him of course, but you feel so scared that the guy youâre in love with has life threatening fights nearly everyday, risking so much for Mumbattan. Your breath seems to disappear.
âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry,â He says your special nickname he made for you when you were younger and innocent children. He jumbles words, seemingly saying whatever comes to mind and his mouth wonât work as fast as his brain. He seems close to tears as he continues rambling, ââplease, donât leave me, Iâllââ he gets interrupted by you,
âWoah, what? Is that what you really thought would happen?â You feel a little hurt by that, even though you know subconsciously he was probably just so very scared of losing you, youâd never think of him like that. There was nothing that could make you leave him.
He starts fidgeting, âWell..â he trails off. He hopes you know he didnât mean harm, he just wasnât sure. Being Spiderman was complicated.
You smile a bittersweet smile at him, still sort of sad he would think of something like that, âWe've been by each other's sides for years, you really think I'm gonna leave now?â You remind him of all the weak moments in his life, in yours and remembers that youâre there in all of them. Comforting him and him comforting you. You gently cradle his face and he feels so warm and you make him feel so safe that he canât help it when he says,
âI love you,â He doesnât realize what he said until he sees your expression, he thinks for that slight second that he just made it weird again, that you really wonât let this one slide, until he feels your soft lips against his. A soft kiss and he feels nice. It feels like youâre taking care of him and he relaxes in your touch.
When you pull away, he chases your lips and you giggle. You press your foreheads together and whisper, like youâre sharing a secret, like itâs only you and him in the world right now, âI love you too,â and he plays with your hair as he leans in for another kiss and another.
The kisses shared between you two are full of gentleness and giggles, you go to touch his hair and you then remember the reason he even came to you in the first place.
âGo clean up, your hair is a mess and I still need to fix your wounds.â He chuckles and does what you say. For the first time since he became Spiderman, he feels so relaxed.
