in this capitalist nightmare we scream

Miguel gestures to their roof. 

“It’ll be easier to explain if I’m not trying to shout across buildings.” 

Miles appraises him, wary in a way that makes him seem much older. The sight twists something in Miguel’s chest. 

Finally, Miles nods, stepping back to give Miguel room to swing over. 

Miguel lands as close to the edge of the building as he can, all too aware of the nervous energy that thrums through the group. He doesn’t want to set them off. 

Up close, he can see that Miles looks exhausted, and injured. There are gashes on his shoulder, climbing up to his neck. 

For a moment Miguel’s gut burns acrid with guilt until he realizes that the edges of the wounds are cauterized. He might’ve lost control, but he knows intimately well what his talons can do. These nasty cuts reek of Prowler claws, likely a souvenir from 42. 

“Well?” Miles prompts, crossing his arms. “You gonna talk or what?” 

So Miguel does his best to ignore everyone but Miles as he lays out the plan to defeat Spot and how Miles’ power is the key to doing so. When he’s finished, half the group’s eyes are on him and the other half are on a pensive Miles, who, for once, isn’t wearing his emotions on his sleeve. 

“Kinda convenient innit?” Hobie states, staring Miguel down, “a Spider’s gotta get up close and personal with the villain and it so happens to be the one you’re tryna get rid of.” 

“It’s not like that,” Miguel argues, keeping his temper in check. 

“Isn’t it?” Hobie throws back, sardonic and irreverent in all the ways that have always pushed Miguel’s buttons. 

“Trust me, if I could take Morales’ place, I would.”

“Don’t think you know the meaning of that word mate.”

Miguel bites down a retort. Hobie grins, surprised but happy to take the win. 

“Alright,” Miles finally says, “What’s the catch?”

Miguel’s brows draw up in confusion. 

“What?”

“No offense—”

“— ’e means full offense—” Hobie interjects.

“—But you’ve made it clear that you’re not the kinda guy to give something for nothing,” Miles continues, “So, what’s the catch? If you let us use your tech, I have to go along with what you want? I gotta let my dad die?” 

The others look away. Peter actually flinches. 

Miguel sighs. Right. He brought this on himself. 

“No.” He says, in a tone he hopes is very honest and very final. 

The others stare at him in shock. Miles’ gaze is softer. There’s something in his eyes, a glimmer of that young, infectious hope that was there before Miguel ruined the vision of the Spider Society for him. 

“It’s your world, Morales,” Miguel affirms, “It’s your story. You call the shots.” 

“So if I tell you to go right now, you’d do it?” 

Miguel swallows thickly. 

“I’d tell you you need all the help you can get but yes, I’d go.”

“And if I tell you I can do both things I gotta do, but I’m saving my dad first, you’ll listen?”

“Yes.”