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“And this is my room!” Miles said excitedly, throwing the door open.
Peter managed to keep his grin plastered on his face out of sheer habit more than anything else. The kid’s enthusiasm was uplifting and he was truly grateful to Rio and Miles for letting him stay with them. But the truth was that Peter felt so achingly empty right now. He’d just buried his aunt. His last remaining relative was now dead and he was completely alone in the world.
“I’ll just get the air mattress out!”
Peter felt Miles brush past him into the hallway and felt a small wave of amusement wash over him. No, he wasn’t alone. Not completely. He still had a few friends left in his life. He had to hold onto those.
Come on, Parker. Things aren’t as bad as all that. You’ve got your life, a roof over your head, and food in your belly.
He rubbed his flat stomach self-consciously. He had been surviving on energy drinks and protein bars during the past few weeks and the pizza Rio had ordered for them had been the first real meal he’d had in nearly three weeks. Not for the first time, Peter thanked the Spider-Gods for his powers. A normal human would have collapsed a long time ago from malnutrition and sleep deprivation. But Peter’s superhuman physiology allowed him to shrug off both for extended periods of time. He was even able to eat a solid meal after weeks of near-starvation with no adverse consequences.
Sitting down in the armchair in the corner of Miles’s room, Peter took a deep breath and tried to relax. Between an entire pie of deep-dish and the crispy tostones Mile’s abuela had made, he felt truly satiated for the first time in a month. A slender figure moved into his vision and he saw Miles bustling around as he laid out the wide air mattress. Plugging the bed in, Miles flicked a switch and the dark blue rubber began to inflate.
“Almost done,” Mile said with a broad smile. “You’ll love this, Pete, Ganke says it’s like sleeping on a cloud!”
And you’ve got a fanboy.
This thought brought a more genuine smile to Peter’s face as he gazed around the room and saw his own masked visage staring back at him from multiple posters and merchandise.
“Thanks, Miles,” Peter said, favouring the boy with a gentle smile.
“You and your mom are super generous.”
“When you help someone, you help everyone,” Miles said, matching Peter’s wan smile with one that could light up the night sky.
The ache from hearing May’s old phrase was dulled a bit by the bright smile on Miles’s face.
“You really do,” Peter admitted. “And, Miles, you…you really have helped me. In more ways than you can know.”
Miles beamed so brightly at the praise and before Peter knew it, the teen had thrown himself around Peter, hugging tightly and with surprising strength. He returned the embrace with enthusiasm, relishing the feeling of the slender youth’s frame in his strong arms. Miles had lost his dad because of Peter’s mistakes. It was his duty to look after the boy now. He’d already let May and Otto down. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to Miles.
After a long moment, Miles shuffled a bit in Peter’s clasp and, with a bit of reluctance, he released the youth. The teen was blushing when he took a step back, his dark cheeks turning bright red.
“S-sorry,” he mumbled, “You just looked like you needed a hug.”
Peter smiled, the first real smile he’d felt in far too long.
“I did,” he said, reaching out to squeeze Miles’ shoulder warmly.
“That was exactly what I needed. Thank you, Miles.”
Peter hadn’t thought it was possible for Miles’s grin to get brighter, but it did. The boy was about to say something else, when a low beeping pierced the air.
“It’s done!” Miles spun around and bent over to unplug the air mattress.
“All good! Lemme just get you some sheets and pillows and get you all set!”
Peter shook his head at the younger man’s enthusiasm and smiled warmly. As he did, a stray thought occurred to him, and he raised an arm to give his sleeve an idle sniff. The scent of dried sweat and body odour was an assault on his senses, and he had to wonder when he’d last had a proper shower. The thought that Miles had had endure his stench while hugging him sent a hot wave of shame up Peter’s face.
“Hey, Miles? Do you mind if I take a shower? I think I’m kinda ripe.”
“Yeah, sure,” Miles said, still facing away from him.
“There are fresh towels in the hallway closet. The guest towels are the dark grey ones.”
“Thanks, kiddo,” Peter said and exited the room. The towels were right where Miles had said they were and Peter took one before padding down the hall to the main bathroom. Stepping inside, he locked the door behind him and began to strip off. Leaving his jeans and button-down on the floor, Peter stood before the mirror in his underwear. The tiny Spider-Men that dotted his grey trunks stared back at him as if in mockery or perhaps a reminder of who he really was on the inside.
Peter sighed deeply and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the bathroom counter. Sometimes, it felt like he’d lost so much and so many people that Peter Parker barely existed. Peter had lost so much but Spider-Man endured. He was Spider-Man and at his core, Peter sometimes wondered whether that wasn’t his real identity these days. The world didn’t seem to need or even want Peter. But the city needed Spider-Man. That was why he wore his own merchandise. Peter didn’t have a lot to be proud of, he didn’t have much to call his own. Hell, at this point, he didn’t even have a home to call his own or anything resembling savings. He didn’t have a job and barely had any friends left.
And no family.
Sighing again, Peter heaved himself back up to a standing position. He didn’t have much left, it was true. But he still had himself and his mission, which was to help people. That, at his core, was really who he was now. And that was going to have to be enough.
Because it’s not like you’ve got anything else left.
Shaking his head in self-deprecation, Peter tugged his underwear and socks off and stood completely naked before the mirror, eyeing his nude form. This wasn’t vanity, he hadn’t really had a chance to inspect himself since the two emergency doctor’s visits during the crisis. Yuri had said he’d broken eighty-seven bones during his ordeal at the RAFT and he knew he’d broken a sizeable number again after the agonizing fights with Otto in the Devil’s Breath lab and the OsCorp roof. But his body barely showed any signs of the numerous injuries he’d suffered in the past month. Aside from a handful of new, pink scars that dotted his torso, Peter couldn’t really see any evidence of his near-fatal encounters.
“Thanks, Dr. Michaels.”
Glancing down at his pecs and abs, Peter shook his head ruefully. Once, as a teen, he had dreamed of having a physique like this, imagining that the hottest men and women wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off him.
“That worked out well, didn’t it, buddy,” he said, looking at the limp piece of flesh that hung between his legs. One consequence of his month of malnutrition and physical abuse was a complete absence of his sex drive.
Not that you have a girlfriend to do it with anyways.
Shaking his head, Peter kicked all his clothes to the side and stepped over to the shower. Turning the water to hot, he began to scrub away at himself. Miles had a bottle of Spider-Man body wash (Peter couldn’t help but grin at this) and he squeezed a generous dollop of the liquid into his hand and began to wash. Peter took advantage of the unlimited hot water and used Mile’s Spider-Man shampoo to give his hair a proper going over and when he emerged into the steamy bathroom, he felt better than he had in a long time.
After drying himself off, he glanced down at the discarded pile of clothes and wrinkled his nose. He’d changed out of his suit after reaching Miles’s apartment but all he’d had to change into was the outfit he’d been wearing before, which hadn’t seen the inside of a laundry machine in weeks.
Shaking his head, he knotted the towel around his waist and gathered up his soiled clothes before padding back into the hallway. Miles was turned away from the door when Peter re-entered the bedroom, still bent over the inflated mattress, finishing pulling a fitted sheet over the bed.
“Hey Pete,” he called, laying a dark blue blanket on one side of the bed. “How was your shower?”
“Pretty good,” Peter said, closing the door behind him. He didn’t really want Rio to see him shirtless like this. “I was wondering, do you have any clothes I could borrow? My landlord trashed most of my stuff when he evicted me and whatever I was able to save is under lockdown at OI.”
Miles stood and turned to face Peter and seemed to freeze in place, his eyes glued on Peter’s bare chest. Trying not to feel self-conscious as the youth stared at him, Peter shuffled where he stood.
“Miles?”
The boy shook his head once to clear his mind of whatever thoughts he was lost in, and he nodded once.
“Uh, yeah, lemme see what I can find.”
“Thanks, bud.”
“Yeah, yeah, no worries.” Miles rummaged through his drawers hastily.
“Not sure if I have a lot that’ll fit you,” he said, back still turned to Peter.
“Whatever you have,” Peter said amiably. “As long as it’s clean and covers me up.”
Miles abandoned his drawer search and went over to his closet, looking inside for several minutes before emerging with a large black t-shirt with writing on it and a baggy pair of dark grey sweatpants.
“These might fit you,” he said. “My titi got them for my birthday last year but she picked up the wrong size.”
Peter grinned gratefully. “Thanks, Miles.” He was about to drop his towel to pull the proffered garments on, then paused.
“Shoot.” He looked back up at Miles and blushed. “I…actually don’t have any clean underwear either. I don’t want to ask to borrow some because I know that’s a bit weird, but….”
Miles blushed but grinned despite himself. “No worries!” He turned back to his dresser and grabbed something from the top drawer and handed it back to Peter.
“My mom got me these a while back, but the pack had the wrong label size.”
Peter opened the plastic pack and held one pair of the black boxer briefs in his hands.
“They’re large,” Miles said helpfully. “Hope that fits you?” He eyed Peter’s hips and where the towel hung over them.
“They’re perfect,” Peter said and set the pack on the ground, waiting for Miles to turn around so he could get dressed. When the boy didn’t move, Peter shrugged mentally and turned around before shucking his towel. There was a sound like a squeak behind him but Peter ignored it and stepped into the underpants.
The boxer briefs were soft cotton and clearly hadn’t been worn before, by their crisp feeling. They were comfy and form-fitting and after adjusting them a bit, Peter turned back around to face Miles who was looking at him with a rapt expression on his face.
“Thanks, bud! They fit just right.”
Miles managed a smile. “Glad they fit!” He turned back to his drawers and began rifling through them again. “Lemme find you some socks too.”
He produced a couple pairs of large socks with nerdy patterns on them and Peter accepted them with a smile. Once he was fully dressed, he stretched widely and yawned.
“You-you want to catch a nap?”
Peter shook his head. “Not quite ready to sleep yet.” He glanced at the window where grey clouds still blanketed the sky. “When I do crash, I’ll probably sleep a solid twelve hours, maybe more.”
Miles nodded. “Maybe I can show you some of the stuff I’m working on, then!”
Peter eyed the wide desk with various electronic gadgets on it. “I’d love to see what you’re working on, kiddo.” Miles took that as encouragement and began to chatter on about the latest version of the hacking app he and his friends had developed. Chuckling, Peter laid a hand on Miles’s shoulder and looked down at the gadget. As the younger man gabbled about his adolescent inventions to the older, the heavy clouds shifted above, and a lone ray of sunshine pierced the veil to shine down on the city.