Work Mom & Babies
Spiderverse AU fic. Gwen and Margo are babies. Pavitr is a toddler. Hobie is a little kid. Jess is in her mid-twenties. lowkey them
This is headcanon heavy and might not listen to lore, so yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh...
Characters Mentioned: Miguel and Lyla
Goo goo ga ga
(grammarly assit)
Headcanon Fic by Dude
5-ish, Afternoon, Spider Society (Early, early stages)
Hobie jogged to keep up with her, boots slapping against the floor as he half-ran, half-skidded behind.
“I’ve got a guitar,” he announced, like this was crucial information. Then, after a beat, “An’ I’ve got a piercin’.”
Jessica didn’t slow. Hobie darted closer and pointed proudly at the stud above his eyebrow — crooked, plastic, and very obviously fake.
“You’re eight, Hobie,” Jess said flatly, reaching back and hooking two fingers around his sleeve to tug him back into arm’s reach. “And you’re British.”
Hobie gasped like she’d gravely insulted him. “Duhhh!” He swatted lightly at the back of her leg before turning forward again. “So where’re we goin’, then?”
“Gonna see my boss,” she replied, checking her watch without missing a step. “Then we’re picking up your friends.”
Hobie’s shoulders drooped. He stared down at the toy guitar he was dragging behind him, thumb mashing one of the plastic buttons so it let out a sad electronic plink.
“I don’t wanna see your boss.”
Jess shrugged. “That’s rough.”
She nudged the guitar down with her boot. “You don’t gotta bring that thing everywhere, kid. Twenty-five hours a day.”
Hobie scowled and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like her own words thrown back at her, then bolted ahead toward the tall sliding doors.
They hissed open as Jess caught up.
“I left my motorcycle in here,” she called out.
“Mmh,” came the distant, deeply uninterested response.
Hobie wandered after her, hands immediately reaching for the glowing panels lining the walls. He poked one. Then another.
Jess gently smacked his wrist away without even looking. Hobie huffed.
They stopped beside the bike. Jess grabbed a helmet off its hook and turned, crouching to his level.
“Helmet,” she said. “Visor up or down?”
“I don’t want a helmet,” Hobie said, folding his arms. “You don’t wear one.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m too cool to get hurt.”
“I’m cool!”
Jess tilted her head. “Then you’ll wear the helmet.”
They stared at each other.
After a long, dramatic pause, Hobie stepped forward and aggressively flattened his hair down with both hands. Jess smiled and eased the helmet over his head — and the fake piercing promptly slid off his face and hit the floor.
“…Oops,” she muttered.
She scooped him up and set him in front of her on the bike. Hobie sat stiffly, arms down, trying very hard to look tough as she climbed on behind him and gripped the handles.
The engine growled to life.
Jess was just reaching for her watch when Lyla flickered into view.
“Hey! Where are you go—” Lyla vanished mid-sentence.
“Sorry,” Miguel’s voice echoed from above. “Still testing her.”
Jess rolled her eyes. Hobie snorted inside his helmet.
She tapped at her watch. A portal bloomed open in front of them.
“Hold on,” Jess said quietly.
Hobie shook his head like he wasn’t scared at all — but his hands tightened around the sides of the seat.
The portal dumped them neatly into Jessica’s apartment, and within minutes the place had settled into its usual state of barely-contained chaos.
Now they were all in the living room.
Gwen and Margo were sprawled on the couch on their backs, close enough that their socked feet occasionally bumped together. They babbled at each other in nonsense syllables, wide-eyed and delighted, as if the other was the most fascinating discovery in the universe. Gwen kicked excitedly, hands flapping. Margo answered with a happy squeal and tried to grab Gwen’s sleeve, missing entirely and smacking the cushion instead.
On the floor nearby, Pavitr sat cross-legged, very seriously explaining something with big hand gestures while Hobie half-listened, half-tuned his toy guitar.
“So then Spider-Man goes whoosh,” Pavitr said, launching his hands upward dramatically, nearly smacking Hobie in the chin.
Hobie leaned back. “That’s not how physics works, mate.”
“It is in my universe!”
“Your universe sounds fake.”
Meanwhile, Jessica stood in front of the TV, idly humming under her breath as she pretended to straighten a stack of coasters that did not need straightening. Her real focus was everywhere at once. Without even turning her head, she reached back and gently redirected Hobie away from the edge of the coffee table with the back of her hand, then nudged a pillow into place to block a sharp corner Gwen had started inching toward with her heel.
“Pav,” Jess said casually, already walking toward the kitchen, “you thirsty?”
Pavitr looked up instantly. He nodded hard and scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over his own toes before windmilling his arms and catching himself. He beamed, clearly proud.
Jess snorted. “That a yes?”
“Yes!” Pavitr chirped, following her into the kitchen.
He climbed up onto the little step stool Jess had permanently stationed by the counter, rocking on his heels to peer at everything she was doing. She filled the kettle, her free hand hovering just behind him the entire time, ready to catch.
Back in the living room, Margo leaned back against the couch cushions, tablet balanced precariously on her belly. She smacked the screen with both hands, her face scrunching into a tiny, furious scowl when the wrong app opened.
“Noooo,” she babbled angrily.
After a few frantic taps, her favorite video finally loaded — bright colors swirling across the screen in exaggerated shapes. Margo froze, eyes lighting up like she’d just won something. Gwen immediately scooted closer, craning her head over Margo’s arm to stare at the screen, her earlier babbling dropping into quiet awe.
“Ballerina—” Hobie said suddenly, holding up a battered doll he’d found under the couch, missing one shoe and half its hair. He waved it gently in front of Gwen’s face. “Oi. Gwen. Ballerina.”
Gwen glanced at the doll, blinked, mumbled something unintelligible, and then turned straight back to the glowing colors, wiggling happily.
Hobie sighed like he’d just been personally betrayed. “Wow. Rude.”
He grabbed his toy guitar and stood up, raising it dramatically over his head. He’d seen rockstars do this. It was important.
“Aye,” Jessica called instantly from the kitchen, one hand on her hip while the other gently guided Pavitr’s curious fingers away from the kettle as it began to heat. “If you break that, I’m not buying you a new one.”
Hobie froze mid-swing. He glanced toward the kitchen, scowled, then lowered the guitar and plopped onto the couch instead with exaggerated disappointment.
“Good,” Jess muttered, turning back to the stove.
The kettle started to whistle, shrill and proud.
“It’s ready!” Pavitr squealed, bouncing on the stool.
Margo and Gwen both startled at the sound, lifting their heads from the tablet to stare at each other like they’d just realized, oh, you exist. For a second, they locked eyes.
Then they both burst into giggles, identical and delighted, before collapsing back into the cushions and resuming their intense study of the colors.
“It is ready,” Jessica said, grabbing mugs from the cabinet. “But you can’t pour it. It’s hot.”
“Yeah,” Pavitr said solemnly, stepping back exactly one inch. “It’s hot.”
Jess poured the water carefully, steam curling up around her face. Pavitr watched with absolute focus.
“I wanna do the powder,” he said hopefully.
“You can,” Jess replied, sliding the container toward him.
Back in the living room, Hobie casually raised his hand and flipped the air off toward absolutely no one in particular. He dropped it immediately and glanced toward the kitchen.
Jess hadn’t noticed.
Hobie smirked and did it again, holding it a half-second longer.
“Mamama,” Gwen babbled suddenly.
“Mamama,” Margo echoed, slapping the tablet.
Jess glanced over her shoulder. “What are they doing…?” she murmured, just as Pavitr reached for a measuring cup.
“Hobie!” she snapped without looking. “Don’t do that.”
Hobie froze with his middle finger still up, eyes wide. He dropped his hand instantly and sat very still.
Jess shot him a warning look before turning back to Pavitr, helping him tip the powder into the mug.
She sighed quietly, exhaustion threaded with fondness.
“I hope you guys get easier when you’re older,” she muttered.
