There's a long, stunned silence from his parents. It gives Miles time to be aware and feel uncomfortable about how they're seated while he's standing, like a performer in the spotlight. The tension he feels growing is finally broken by a single word from his dad.

"No."

His dad's response is.... stupid.

"No? What do you mean 'no?' It's not a question it's what's happening." Even tho he was expecting something like this, it takes a lot to keep his body language polite. It's an effort that is not being reciprocated.

"It's what's about to stop happening." His dad crosses his arms and Miles' heart sinks when his mom frowns and nods along in agreement. No allies. Worst case scenario on that front. That's fine. He can still salvage this.

"Why? What's wrong with Hobie?" he hates that asking this question was necessary and he really wishes Hobie hadn't insisted on being here. Miles thought it would go smoother if he talked to his parents alone, but Hobie was so insistent. They usually backed down so easy the first time that Miles told them 'no' about anything, so how could Miles argue? The compromise was for them to wait in his room, but that means Hobie would be hearing his parents' unwatched words.

His mom rests a placating hand on his dad's shoulder before speaking.

"Miles," saying his name in an attempt at being comforting is infuriating, "we're glad you have other people like you to support you..."

'But...'

"but couldn't you date someone... less... violent?"

'Violent?'

"Hobie's not violent." What else was there to say?

Miles remembers their first kiss, how Hobie had been unable to look at him as they had asked. The words were burned into his mind. "Can I kiss you?" As if they hadn't really been asking 'will you kiss me?' They didn't move after he had said "yes", only looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and had waited for Miles to make the first move. It had been the same way for their first time holding hands, their first date, first time sleeping in the same bed, for telling their friends, for being public where the press in each reality could see. They hadn't even looked at his artbooks without permission!

Always asked.

Always waited.

Violent????

"He breaks people's faces with his guitar!" his dad accuses.

"I break people's faces with my fists!" Miles retorts, pulling his hands from his pocket to gesture at one fist with his other hand. But the mention of the guitar makes Hobie's slow cover of Sunflower come to mind and he lets out a heavy sigh, relaxing slightly. He hadn't realize how much his shoulders had risen.

"That's different!" his dad stood, elbows out and fists clenched, causing Miles to take a startled step back. Despite the intimidation, he remains confident when he counters.

"How is it different!?"

"You aren't out there killing cops!" he must have read something different in Miles' confused expression because he adds a condescendingly triumphant, "Yeah!" before crossing his arms again and asking harshly, "You think I don't know what those blue laces mean!?"

"I've told you what their dimension is like! You've seen what injuries Mom's treated them for!" Miles doesn't understand how his dad is struggling with this. He knows how different other realities can be. He knows that cops can be corrupt, even in this reality. He was the one who gave Miles his BLM button!

"And how are we supposed to know any of those stories are true?" His dad's tone had softened, assured that he was close to ending this discussion with a win. But Miles could think of several ways they could know already. They could have gotten footage of the violence against protesters. The propaganda against Hobie. Could have let them visit the community center. But they had never asked!

"If you wanted proof why didn't you ask!?" Miles throws out his arms in exasperation.

"Okay, Okay, Okay," his mom interjects, standing and pointing a placating palm towards each of them, "Let's all calm down." Of course she stepped in before his dad had to respond. God forbid Miles get a win here. He looks away in annoyance, knowing he can't control his expression, no matter what she says next. "We thought you were dating that nice blond girl."

Miles feels like he's losing his entire mind. If he wasn't watchless and glitchless, he would suspect he's in the wrong universe. Since when did they think Gwen was nice? And how did they still not know her name after almost two years!? He doesn't dare look back at them but he manages to stay mostly calm when he replies.

"I've literally never dated Gwen." The thought of dating her had made him uncomfortable ever since that day at Spider Society HQ. He had expected her to have his back, instead she had joined everyone in the chase. She even got close to catching him! The only person who had never been against him, always had his back, was always there for him.... had been Hobie. He thought he had made that clear to his parents every time he talked about it.

"You've never dated and yet we keep finding her sweaters in your room?" his dad escalates again. Miles sighs and isn't able to keep the exasperation from his voice.

"She forgets things at everyone's houses, Dad." But of course that's a wrong answer....

"How many boys' rooms is she sneaking into!?"

"Jeff, please. Focus on Miles," his mom places a comforting hand on her husband's chest before looking back to Miles. "So then, how long have you been together?" Miles sighs again and drops his gaze to the floor, her previous words taking on new meanings. 'Focus on Miles.' 'Focus on what we can be mad at.' 'Focus on blaming him for being afraid to tell us.'

"Since right after... you know. Everything." They hadn't really put a name on it but they understood. And of course it wasn't acceptable.

"That's more than a year!" his dad yells the obvious while his mom gasps.

"Sixteen months," Miles says quietly. It was going to be a bit embarrassing if Hobie had been able to hear that.

"We've let you alone together in your room with the door closed!" his mom says, sounding scandalized.

"So then, why now? What finally got you feeling guilty enough to tell us?" Miles glares at his shoes as if they can change his father's words. Throwing the reason of guilt out is going to make anything Miles says next sound selfish. But he does have a reason, and he isn't going to lie about it.

"You think we're letting you invite him after this!?" His mom asks incredulously.

"My birthday is soon, and I don't want to have to pretend we aren't together like last year." It had been torture. How Hobie had been afraid to touch him too much or for too long. The sad look Hobie would give as a warning when they caught him smiling at them too fondly. They had even brought a single, half-assed combination birthday/xmas gift as a kind of decoy and Miles had to wait days before they could meet up again for them to give him the real things.

.... How he wasn't able to kiss them goodbye.

"What?" he snaps his head back up to stare in confusion. He's about to correct her misgendering when his dad adds,

"We're not letting him back in the house! You'll be lucky if we even let you have a birthday party!" he sounds surprised that Miles didn't know all this already.

"Dad! That's crazy! Do you even hear yourself!?"

"Oh and you're grounded!"

"For how long!?"

"A year!"

"A whole year!? What does that even do!? What suddenly changes after a year of isolation!?" Miles is trying to not cry. How is this happening? Why are they acting like this!?

"That's as long as we can protect you from that pervert!" His father snaps.

"Pervert!?!?"

"Yeah! How old is he anyway!? He looks 30!"

"Thir-" Miles feels like he's going to get a headache. "They're only thirteen months older than me!"

"An adult!"

"Gwen is fourteen months older! And you were fine with me dating her just a minute ago!"

"Whatever! Whatever!" Miles suddenly realizes why they hate when he uses that word. Miles uses it to try and give up.... but they use it to force a win. All this time they've been getting mad at him, grounding him, for something he wasn't even saying!

"I can't believe this. We're going to have to put bars on all the windows." His father rubs his head, exasperated, As he paces around the room, Miles struggles to hold back tears. "But those portal things! We'll have to restrict your watch use. And we'll need to take your door off it's hinges!" Jeff raises and drops his arms, like this is the biggest inconvenience he's ever had. He stops pacing to point stiffly at Miles, "Tell that spider society of yours whatever it is you tell them to get a replacement for you."

Miles feels the tears spill and he can't stop himself from turning invisible. Jeff grabs for him.

"Don't you dare," he shouts, managing to get a firm grip on Miles' arm.

"I wasn't doing anything!"

"Jeff!"

"Let go!" Miles pleads, desperate to not use his spider strength.

"No!"

"Please stop!" Miles turns to his mom with pleading eyes she can't see. "Mom!"

"Mi amor, please!"

"Not until you turn back visible!"

"Oi!" Miles' bedroom door bursts open with the word. A printed shockwave from the door's collision with Miles' dresser clashes against the style of 1610.

"Hobie," Miles breathes. He isn't sure if he means to say it as a warning or a plea, but he's so relieved to see them that he turns back visible.

"Oh come on! What the heck are you doing here!?" Jeff snaps as Hobie steps towards him, a pink border flaring behind their mostly yellow form. It's one of their least threatening color sets to people unfamiliar with them, but Miles recognizes it for what it is: Radioactive.

"Miles loves you too much to hurt you." they grip the wrist of Jeff's hand that's still holding onto Miles, "I don't." They squeeze, the action causing them to shift to their printed style and their border's edges to spike.

Jeff yells as he releases his grip to try and free himself.

"Hobie! Stop!" Miles yells.

They do.

"See how easy it is to stop being a git?" they sneer at Jeff, their border disappearing and their colors chilling out into their neutral look. Miles clings to them, hugging them tight, and speaks quickly.

"I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry. You were right. I love you. I'm sorry."

"S'ok, love." They wrap their arms around him firmly, "This ain't on you, you hear?" Their deep voice is comforting, and their hold is so familiar that Miles can almost feel the gentle rocking of Hobie's home where it usually happens. There had been so many missions that ended like this and Miles finds himself desperately craving all the comforts that usually come next.

"I want to leave," Miles barely keeps steady as he says it. He wonders where he even found the strength to speak.

"Whatever you need, love." It was exactly what Miles wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. He's stopped crying and he wipes his cheeks on their shirt with a pitiful laugh.

"Take me home." Just saying the words made him feel so much better. It didn't feel like a request or pleading, it felt like casting a spell, because he knows Hobie will make it happen.

Both their spider sense is suddenly triggered with the sound of radio static.

"Is anyone there?" Rio pleads. "This is the wife of Captain Morales! A spiderman just attacked my husband and is planning to kidnap my son!"

Miles barely has time to process the words he just heard before Hobie is speaking.

"I've already packed for you. Let's go."

"What?" Miles is too lost to keep up and Hobie can see it. They take his hand and retreat back to his room, ignoring Jeff's protests. Miles half notices his partially packed room before a bag is shoved into his arms and a portal opens. His parents are screaming but he can't process anything that they're saying. So he listens to the only word screaming in his mind.

'Leave!'

He lunges through the portal, not even landing gracefully, laying on his back and staring at Hobie's patched ceiling. He manages to comprehend the thuds that follow him as more of his stuff being flung from the portal. Forcing himself to stand, he watches as Hobie lands more gracefully than he had, their arms wrapped securely around a box of records. Their radioactive colors look more pink in the lamplight of their livingroom.

The portal closes.

Hobie sets the box of records down with care and a huff.

"How someones like them turned out someone as wonderful as you I'll never-" their words die at the sight of Miles; stiff, his eyes wide, still clinging to this duffle as if it was the only thing holding him together. The sight is so jarring that they shift to monochrome. They snatch the bag and throw it across the room, replacing the empty space by pulling him into a tight hug.

Miles instantly shatters, clinging at the back of their vest as he sobs into their chest.

"I've got you," they promise, holding him tighter and pressing their lips to the top of his head and speaking softer, "I got you, love."

Miles feels something unexpected on the back of Hobie's vest when he grips them tighter, and gasps when he recognizes it. He pushes them back to look up at them with wide eyes.

"He tased you!?" and he hadn't been there to redirect the charge....

"Shit." Hobie swears as they toss their vest to the side. "Didn't mean for you to notice that. I'm fine. Don't think about that now."

"Well I don't want to think about it later! I should have been there to protect you!" Instead he was running away like a coward. Left Hobie alone. Hobie would have never done that to him!

"Tasers is nothin, love," they say with a chuckle, "I'd been fine even if it had made it through my jacket."

"How do you know that??"

"Your playful shocks are more powerful than those mosquito bites." They pinch his side, teasing. It tickles and Miles can't help but yelp out a laugh. "I keep sayin you need to start thinkin with volts more." They were right. They were always right. Miles presses his face into their chest again and, finally feeling safe, all his strength leaves him. Hobie catches him and guides him to the couch.

"Sorry," Miles mumbles.

"Nothin to be sorry for," Hobie assures, kneeling to pull off Miles' shoes.

"Mi amor, no," Miles complains, "You don't need to do that...."

"But I'm gonna anyhow." They toss his shoes to the side before thwipping over the bag they had thrown from Miles. Catching the bag causes them to turn their neutral colors. They must finally be feeling safe too. "Now stop fussin and let me take care of you," they scold as they rummage in the duffle. They find what they're looking for quickly and toss the pajama pants at Miles' face. Exhausted as he is, he isn't quick enough to catch them and Hobie laughs at his fumble. Miles loves that sound. So the embarrassment was worth it.

"You get changed while I put us on a cuppa," they say, standing, but they hesitate with a worried look, "You alright alone?" Miles nods but Hobie still doesn't move, wanting him to say it.

"I'm fine. Promise. Make it peach tea?" his reassurance makes Hobie smile again.

"Of course, Sunflower." They lean down and place a gentle kiss on Miles' cheek before turning to leave across the deck of the boat. "Whatever you want."

Once they're gone, Miles is left with only the sounds of the boat creaking and the lapping of the water. He takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the gentle swaying caused by the waves. Unfortunately, it gives him time to become aware of his own body. He still feels so weak, his stomach hurts, and his head is starting to ache.

He changes clothes and starts to look through what Hobie had packed to distract himself. He starts by shifting the crate of Uncle Aaron's records onto the shelf with Hobie's so they would be secure. Next, he gathers all of the duffels against the end of the couch: the clothes from his clean bin with a few of his figures tucked between, the clothes from his dirty bin, his spider gear, drums, markers, and empty sketch books.

Miles can't help but smile to himself. Of course Hobie would think to grab his supplies before grabbing his older works. He wonders what his parents will do with what he left behind. They wouldn't throw it out.... right?

He bites his lip, trying not to cry again.

"Hope I got the most important stuff," Hobie says, snapping him out of his thoughts. They're carrying a full tea tray. "I would have packed more but...." They stop themself. "Sorry." As if they have anything to be sorry for.

"I didn't expect you to pack anything," Miles says, sitting back on the couch while Hobie sits the tray on the table in front of it. "Thank you. You're amazing."

Hobie smiles and turns pink, the pink they only turn for him, the one covered in scribbled hearts and hand written lyrics. "Back at ya, love," they say as they pour the tea. They prep Miles' cup without asking him what he wants, already knowing, and sit heavily next to him. They take off their shoes and toss them aside before kicking their legs over his lap and passing him his cup. Miles breathes in the steam as he waits for it to cool and it helps with the headache.

"After this we should get some shut eye," Hobie says, eyes closed, enjoying the steam from their own cup. "You want the top or bottom bunk?"

Miles snorts into his tea at being teased for his question from the first time he spent the night here.

"Come on, man!" he laughs, "Aren't you ever gonna let me forget that?"

"Never," they say before taking a sip of their tea, the warmth and comfort turning them back to neutral. Miles tries to take a sip of his own but it's still too hot. "I'll stop teasing you about it when you stop wearin logos and brand names."

"And what can I do to make you come up with a different trade option when I want you to do something?"

They shrug, "Probly nothin."

Miles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He tries another sip of his tea and is thankful it's cool enough. The warmth in his stomach helps with some of the ache. Hobie picks up a couple of pills from a sauce cup on the tray and holds them out to him.

"Figured you'd need some pain killers," they explain. Miles wants to tell them that they're amazing again, but decides he doesn't want to be that repetitive. He settles for a simple "thank you" and takes the pills, swallowing them with a sip of his tea.

They stay that way, cozy and playful, until Miles starts to feel like it's becoming impossible to keep his eyes open.

"Bed time?" Hobie asks and Miles nods lazily, setting his cup back on the tray. They kick their feet back off Miles' lap, turning neutral, to stand and pick up the tray. They set it in a bin next to the deck door before returning to Miles and lifting him cradle style.

"I can walk," he says, but there's no bite to his words. He wraps his arms around Hobie's neck and nuzzles against it. The cool, smooth metal of their collar feels good against his hot face.

"Mmhmm," is their only reply as they carry him to the lower deck. They set him on the bottom bunk and start changing into their own sleep clothes. Miles takes off his hoodie and socks before checking the bedside drawer for bonnets, tossing one to Hobie once they've changed into their sleep pants.

"Skootch," Hobie says, sitting on the bed next to him. He does, taking his usual place closer to the wall, tucked under the narrower top bunk. He pulls the covers up to his chin and breathes in deeply, comforted by the familiar smell. When he feels Hobie's arm wrap around his waist, he takes their hand to replace the blanket, kissing their fingers and hugging their arm.

"I love you so much," he whispers, briefly worried he'll cry again.