#ler!jeff

“You’re gonna be fine, Hobs. My mom’s gonna love you.”

Hobie sighed, biting one of his ringed fingers. He remembered how Gwen’s second meeting with them went: Jeff was still super suspicious, and Rio was drilling her with seven thousand questions. She’d bitten her nails to the quick before they reached a peaceful place with each other.

Unfortunately, it was his turn. He was terrified.

“Your dad’s a cop, Miles. I’ve got blue laces. Even if he jus’ thinks it’s the anti-racism message, it’s not a good look,” Hobie appealed, his colors flashing a spotty grey. “Plus, he’s a cop. You know how I feel abou’ that.”

“I know, but…he’s not like your cops. He’s not a massive asshole, he’s not racist or homophobic, and he actually cares about the city and the people in it.” Miles could easily see where his boyfriend was coming from, but he wanted to try and ease his nerves and anxiety. “The system is flawed, but he’s not someone who contributes to it being that way.”

Hobie bit his lip, running his tongue over the metal ring lip hanging on it. He wished Gwen could be there. She had plans with her dad, however, and she couldn’t waste the special time they had. Hobie completely understood; they deserved some casual fun after everything that happened.

“Mmph…al’igh, fine. I got this.” Hobie shook out his shoulders, trying to amp himself up. It was only a dinner, maybe some couch talk afterwards—nothing horrible or life-threatening. He was Spider-Punk, for crying out loud.

With a smile and a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, Miles took Hobie’s hand. “Yeah you do. C’mon, we can catch the four o’clock if we leave soon.”

- - -

“So, Hobie… Is that your birth name? A preferred one? Nickname?” Rio was rattling off question after question as the food around them dwindled. Dinner was heavenly, but Hobie was starting to think it was a gentle send-off into the new hell.

“It’s…kinda a preferred one? Not for my gender or anythin’, just like it better.” Hobie rolled his shoulders, trying to shrug off the weight of Rio’s gaze; it was not working. Miles held his hand through all the questions as they sat on the couch, getting into the finer details of their relationship with his parents.

“And what about your laces, huh? Blue?” Jeff’s tone was hard and questioning, brows pressed in a firm line. It was a question Hobie knew was coming, but it still caught him off guard.

“Tha’s…bit personal, yeah? I don’ got any problems with you specifically.” The punk knew he had to answer carefully. He wasn’t about to lie, but he knew he wanted to make a good first impression. “Yer a good dad from what I’ve heard, and ya seem like a good man.”

Jeff hummed, nodding slightly. He wasn’t exactly pleased with the small deflection, but he could tell the boy was being honest. That would have to do, for his son’s happiness, if nothing else.

They’d gotten through most of the general questions at that point, but Rio wanted a few more answers—answers she knew she wouldn’t get with Miles around.

“Hey, papa, can you go out and grab some coquito from the bodega?” Hobie could hear the smile in Rio’s voice, but he felt that something was off. “Gwen loved it when she was here. I want your boyfriend to try some, but we ran out this morning.”

“Now? It’s almost closing—” Miles quickly shut his mouth as he received “the look” from his mom; yeah, there was no arguing. With an apologetic peck to his boyfriend’s forehead, Miles went to grab his shoes. “Back in twenty, mami.”

As soon as the door closed, Rio’s smile fell into a firm frown. Hobie could feel the appraisal in her gaze; it unsettled him just enough to make him sit up straighter. He was no fan of authority figures, but Rio… Her, he needed to please. For Miles’s sake.

“What are your intentions with my son?” Her crossed arms were somehow more intimidating than a mutated supervillain charging him head-on.

“I… I wanna make ‘im happy, treat ‘im right. Miles and Gwenny both.” Hobie ran his tongue over the inside of his lip piercing, trying not to let his nerves show in his body language. “They’re the best parts of my life right now.”

“Hmm. And where were you three last week? Miles always gets hives when he has strep, and I didn’t see any on him when he video called us.”

Bollocks.

Hobie knew exactly where they were that day. The trio was set to meet Jeff and Rio all together, but a villain had started causing havoc in Gwen’s universe. They had to dip, and Miles came up with the strep throat alibi. They should’ve known better than to let him fabricate his own excuse, given his track record.

“He, uh…made a quick recovery, yeah? Real strong immune system and all that.” Hobie knew he sounded ridiculous; Miles’s horrid lying skills must have been rubbing off on him.

“Hobie, sweetie, I’m a mother. You can’t lie to me about my baby and expect me to buy it.” She didn’t even sound mad—just done with the fibbing. “The truth, please.”

Well, Hobie was screwed. He couldn’t think of anything plausible and convincing under that pressure, and the truth definitely wouldn’t fly.

“I…can’t do that, Mrs. Morales. I can jus’ promise it wasn’t bad, and we weren’t doin’ anything illegal. I’d never do somethin’ to put ‘im or Gwen in harm’s way, I swear.”

Jeff didn’t like that answer. He could tell the boy wasn’t lying, but that didn’t make the deflection go down any better.

Rio, on the other hand, was formulating a plan. Her baby wasn’t getting into anything illegal or wrong, yes, but she didn’t like secrets. Luckily, she knew how to wring secrets out of antsy teenagers.

“Hm. Jeff, grab him.”

“Wha’— Oi!” Hobie yelped as a pair of strong arms hooked under his own, pulling him back against a sturdy chest. His immediate instinct was to fight back, but he knew that wasn’t smart; a lanky teen overpowering a strong, full-grown cop would raise more questions he couldn’t answer.

“I’m gonna give you one last chance, kid. Tell us where you were.” Rio cracked her knuckles, smirking at the loud pops; she wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was going to work.

“You ain’t ‘bout ‘a hurt me.” Hobie said it as a statement; he knew Miles’s parents would never do that to him. However, the look in Rio’s eyes unsettled him, and rightfully so. He still wasn’t talking, of course; just a little intimidated.

“True. I’d never hurt you.” With a small tisk, she moved closer, sitting right next to the restricted teen. “I just want the truth.”

Before Hobie could claim innocence again, ten fingers descended on his sides. They dug in, drilling and vibrating into the bit of give his taunt skin offered.

The punk clamped his mouth shut, ducking his head as best as he could. It took all his willpower not to kick out or use his strength to get away.

“C’mon, Hobie. You can’t stay quiet forever.” Rio huffed fondly, shaking her head. Miles would’ve instantly started giggling; it was rare for her to have a challenge. Luckily, she was a very determined woman.

Hobie growled as her hands moved upwards, approaching his underarms. Any noise was better than giggling, he figured. The invasive buzzing feeling shot through his nervous system, making him twitch and squirm.

“Kid’s resilient, I’ll give him that.” Jeff chuckled, keeping a firm hold of Hobie. He could tell the boy really didn’t mind it; otherwise, he would be more tense, yelling at them to stop. Right then, he was just…trying to hold out. It was almost cute, though Jeff wasn’t about to let his walls down that easily.

“He can’t macho his way out of this,” she teased, her nails slowly inching closer and closer to his pits. By the way he thrashed, she could tell it was a bad spot. “Last chance, kid. It’s better to tell us now rather than later.”

Hobie kept his mouth defiantly shut, trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt. Being ticklish wasn’t something he was ashamed of, but those were his boyfriend’s parents; he needed to impress them, not make them think he’s adorable or easy to take down.

“Fine. Your funeral.” With a mock sympathetic sigh, Rio shot her fingers up to the poor teen’s pits. Her nails scribbled with just enough force to really tickle while taking extra care not to hurt him.

“SsssSSHIHIHIHIT!” Hobie nearly screamed at the sudden change, almost bucking Jeff off him with the force of his jolt. It was nearly impossible to contain himself with those evil nails scribbling into his hollows.

“Damn!” Jeff chucked as he tightened his grip, planting his feet on the floor. Hobie was a lot stronger than he looked. At least he could protect Miles and Gwen if need be, though both of them would most likely be more than fine. “What’re they feeding you, kid?”

“Not much. I can feel his ribs,” Rio clicked her tongue disapprovingly, already thinking of a lecture for Miles on forcing his boyfriend to eat more. “He’s a lot more ticklish than he looks.”

“STOHOHOHOP SAHAHAYIN’ THAHAT STUHUHUHUFF!” The punk could feel his ears burning as he tried and failed to stay stoic. The dam had burst; he was done for. Them talking like he wasn’t there was somehow making it all worse.

“I love how he thinks he has a choice in this.” Ignoring Hobie’s protest, Rio tweaked his side; the little squeal the action received made her chuckle. “Just tell us, Hobie.”

“I’m startin’ to feel a little bad for him.” Jeff’s smile was both sympathetic and amused as he watched Hobie’s descent into madness. He’d been married to Rio for a good handful of years; he knew her tickle-monster tendencies all too well.

“Remember that he’s hiding where he was with our son.” Rio scolded him, but her words had no real animosity. She trusted Hobie when he said they weren’t doing anything wrong. She just needed to know what was so serious that her baby would lie to her.

“C’MOHOHOHON! snort IHI CAHAHAHAN’T!”

Before Rio could explain the simple way to end his misery, the door lock clicked open. Hobie was immediately released as Miles’s parents casually settled back down on the couch.

“They didn’t have the size we normally buy, so I got—…” Miles stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before him. Hobie looked like he’d just finished the most intense workout of his life, his mom’s smile was an attempt at innocence, and his dad was smiling. When he left, the man wouldn’t quit glaring at Hobie. “What happened to my boyfriend?”

“We were just talking about last week,” Rio shrugged, pretending the teen beside her wasn’t struggling for each breath. “When you had strep, remember?”

“Oh…” Understanding and sympathy bloomed on Miles’s face as he met Hobie’s eyes. The punk gave a small nod, letting him know he was okay—just exhausted. His parents had apparently made their point: lying to them was a bad idea.

“Didn’t I send you out for coquito?” Rio broke the silence, the edge in her smile fading in an offer of peace. She’d let them get away with their secrets that one time. “Hobie’s a nice boy, and he could use a drink.”

“Uh— Yeah, I’ll, uh, get some cups.” Miles quickly pulled the bottle from his bag, taking the olive branch gratefully.

Miles groaned as he hauled himself out of bed, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and lower back scream in protest. Spot had been causing problems the night before, requiring the gang to go down and deliver his weekly ass-kicking. The spotted man had been getting more creative, he’d give him that.

Unfortunately for Miles, that meant he’d had to work twice as hard to bring the slippery jerk. He’d avoided the cops again, but the teen had recovered all the stolen tech. While it felt gratifying to protect the city, his body was wondering if it was worth it. It was, obviously, but still.

The exhausted spider barely noticed his parents in the living room, zombie-shuffling into the kitchen to grab a Pop-Tart and a Monster. Not the healthiest breakfast, sure, but he needed a quick boost before he started on his homework. Uuuuugh, World History essays…

Rio, of course, snatched the can from his grip before he could poison himself with all the caffeine on an empty stomach. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Uuuuh…gettin’ breakfast?” He showed her the strawberry toaster pastry in his hand, hoping it’d get him out of the inevitable scolding. Why couldn’t his mom’s true crime show have been on to distract her?

“¡No en mi casa, Miles! You’re eating real food and drinking something other than this battery acid,” Rio huffed, trading the energy drink for a glass of milk and leftover tostones with eggs. She heated the food up and guided him to the table, placing a fork in his hand before he could process anything.

“Eat. After that, we’re talking.” Without giving him a moment to complain or speak, she went back to the couch, settling against her husband’s side.

Apparently, his mom's show was on; he could hear the gorey details, as well as his dad’s groans in response to some of the messier descriptions. Rio had left her favorite trash TV show to come and scold him. Not good…

Once he’d finished his reheated heaven, Miles slunk over to the couch. Maybe if he was slick enough about it, his mom would just let him cuddle up beside her and avoid conversation.

“Miles, sit. Your Dad and I need to talk to you.” Shiiiiiiiit. She was using the tone – the one kids and teens everywhere knew feared.

“Sure. What’s up?” Miles tried to play it cool, sitting languidly as he watched his parents’ faces.

“You’ve been really tired lately, Miles. It’s not like you.” Jeff spoke, giving Miles the “I’m here for you, but I know you’re hiding something” look. He really didn’t like how that look made his stomach twist; he felt bad enough about lying without his Dad’s skepticism.

“AP classes are kicking my butt, not anything new. More homework means less sleep.” That felt pretty believable. Of all Miles’s horrible lies, that one might’ve ranked in the top-ten.

“Come on, mijo; we aren’t stupid. You get most of your homework done at school, and we both know it.” Rio’s firm words shattered that little beam in his chest. He really needed to get better at lying…

“C’mon…” Miles sighed, grasping at straws. What could he tell them? Obviously not the truth – they’d be furious if they learned he’d been lying to them for over a year. He couldn’t think of any good lies, though, just sighing. “I dunno. It’s…it’s complicated, I guess. Don’t really wanna get into it.”

His parents seemed to take the angsty answer as a clear boundary, giving each other the parental “we’ll scheme later” look before addressing their son. Jeff leaned over Rio, patting the boy’s shoulder.

“Alright, Miles. We’ll leave it for now, but you gotta give us something. Why’re you so slow today?”

That was an easy answer: he was sore as all hell, fighting every muscle in his body with each subtle movement. Had to be an easier way to say that… “A few guys and I were playin’ ball down by my old school. I got a few in, but my arms are sore.”

They seemed to believe that one, his father’s hand switching to a gentle squeeze. “Hey, no pain, no gain. Gotta get those noodle arms conditioned.”

If only he knew how strong Miles truly was…best not to think about it. He still got to complain about physical activity with his facade anyway.

“Hey, hey! Leave the poor noodles outta this!” Miles hugged his arms to his chest, feeling a bit of playfulness rise in his chest. He was exhausted, sure, but people he was close to and having fun with tended to recharge his battery.

Rio picked up on the mood shift, her mom brain running through a few ideas on how to cheer him up. He was obviously still upset and facing something, but they couldn’t force him to tell them anything. It seemed, for that day at least, like perking him up was the best course of action.

Miles squeaked as he felt a poke on his side, narrowing his eyes at his mom. Rio chuckled knowingly, already moving to do it again. Miles tried to jump off the couch, but his dad’s squeezing hand quickly became a vice-like grip.

“Hey- noho! C’mon, Mohohom! Dahad!” Miles could’ve easily ripped himself out of his father’s grip, but that would reveal his secret to them; that definitely wasn’t happening until he was ready, or maybe ever. He wasn’t sure, honestly. All he was sure of was that his mom’s tickling was getting more insistent.

“Nope. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my baby boy really laugh. This is long overdue.” Rio moved her wiggling fingers higher, curling them around his ribcage. As expected, he folded like a lawn chair, trying to curl in on himself while also suppressing his spider strength.

“Jeff, mi amor, little help?”

Jeff smiled before hooking his hands beneath Miles’s arms, dragging him across Rio’s lap, and pinning said arms above his head. It wasn’t a very good spot for Miles to be stuck, but his parents seemed utterly amused.

“D-Dahahahad! Youhu trahaitor! Ihi’ll remehehember- NYAHAHAHAHOHO! M-MAHAHAMI!” Miles thrashed like a worm on a hook as he suddenly felt his mom’s nails on the bottoms of his socked feet, wiggling evilly as they made him lose his mind. Of all the places she could’ve chosen to target, why did it have to be his feet?

“But I’m having so much fun! What about you, Jeff’?”

“Absolutely. He’s kinda cute like this, all giggly smiles. I could get used to it.” Jeff obviously shared her sentiments, gently scratching a finger against his son’s wrists. He usually left the overly physical affections to his wife, but he was enjoying himself.

Miles didn’t know what to feel.

First off, his parents, plural, were tickling him to pieces. His friends were the only ones who’d done that within the last few years, save for Miguel and Peter B. Secondly, it freaking tickled! Like, a lot! His mind was taken back to much earlier days of his mom making him shriek for lying, refusing to eat his vegetables, and when he…asked. Oh shit.

Mom knows I like this.

That single thought alone was enough to break his brain; when he felt his mom’s nails glide up to his armpits, it was all over.

“GYAAAHAHAHA! MOHOHOHOM!” With a shriek of laughter, Miles suddenly disappeared.

Rio yelped, while Jeff sputtered some less-than-appropriate phrases. They could both still feel their son on top of them, but…he was hidden from sight.

Just like Spider-Man.

“Me cago en Dios…” Rio felt her heart pump double-time in her chest, a feeling of cold shock and realization settling over her. Her son, her sweet boy, was Spider-Man. Worse, he’d felt the need to lie to her. For a year.

Miles would’ve loved to stay invisible, but his body followed it’s usual “fuck you, I do what I want” routine; he popped back into their sights, a look of pure terror on his face. What would they think? What would they do? Would his dad react like Gwen’s initially did?

Jeff was much less calm than his wife with his reactions. He dropped Miles’s wrists in a hurry, staring right into his son’s eyes. He’d been right there, right in the danger with him, shoved him out of the way to take hits way too heavy for a teenager. When it came time to actually speak, the man could only force two words past his heavy lips.

“Miles…why?”

Shit. That was so much worse than anger.

“I-I can explain! I was- it wasn’t on purpose. Well, a-all the Spider-Man stuff was, but not getting there! I got bit by somethin’, just like the original dude, and it gave me powers. I couldn’t not help people, ya know? Dad? Mom?”

Miles rushed the words out as he looked between their stunned faces, unable to move off their laps. Well, he wanted to, but his body was too shocked and afraid to do much, aside from twist his fingers and occasionally shake.

“Please say something?”

“Why did you hide this?” Rio was the first to say a complete sentence, though it followed the basis of her husband’s two words of dismay. She didn’t look as horrified as his father did, but she definitely wasn’t humming a tune and giggling.

“I…had to. To keep you safe. I wasn’t… I didn’t have everything figured out. By the time I did, it was already kinda too late.”

“You didn’t have to! You could’a told me! I could’a helped you with half the crazy assholes you’ve fought!” There was Jeff, expressing his emotions by shouting. He felt his son flinch from the volume, immediately adjusting himself. “I never would’ve let you face off against some’a those fuckers…”

“That’s the problem, Dad. I’ve got a responsibility, just like you. I can’t just abandon New York because a bad guy could whoop me! Sure, I get banged up sometimes, but I’ve got a healing factor. I can fix a broken rib in a week.”

Miles hoped that would be enough to soothe the hurt and fear on his father’s face. It wasn’t even close to enough, but it did give him some information.

“But you shouldn’t have to know that! You’re 15! You should be worryin’ about girls and puberty and drivin’, not saving the whole damn city!”

Miles felt that it was a bad time to mention that he saved the whole damn state, not just Brooklyn, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Mi precioso niño… You could’ve told us. We could’ve been there. We’re your parents, Miles!” Rio grabbed his arm, bringing it down from above his head to really examine the skin there. Sure, enough, she found scars; faint, thanks to the healing factor, but she traced each one with reverence. “Sentías que no podías confiar en nosotros...”

“I didn’t not wanna trust you! I just… It’s hard. I didn’t wanna put you in harm's way, and I didn’t know what you’d do if I told you.” Miles’s voice finally betrayed him, wobbling as he forced back tears. He preferred anger. Anger was reciprocated, easy, mindless. But the fear and hurt? Those were killing him.

Miles felt his mom brush away a tear he didn’t even realize he’d shed. Rio looked over at her husband, the two having a silent conversation before she spoke. “We’re not mad, Miles. Well, I really wish you hadn’t hidden this, but we’re not gonna get angry. We love you, baby, and we’re here for you.”

“For whatever you need, hear me? We love you, Miles; more than anything on this damn planet No more hiding. You tell us everything.” His father’s voice cut in as well, a little shaky, but still firm. Still there, not kicking him away or shunning him for his misdeed. They were supporting him…

A jolt of warmth shot right into his heart, followed by the crushing weight of all he’d been keeping from them. Tears started flowing as he curled on his side, hiding his face in the closest abdomen – his father’s. Jeff sighed, gently petting his son’s head as he sobbed.

Rio carefully rubbed Miles’s legs, feeling hidden muscles as she tried to soothe him. He was in so much trouble later, but…the knowledge was hurting him, too. The burden of living the life he was apparently just tossed into. She knew what that felt like, and she wasn’t about to get mad at her son for it.

With a shaky sigh, Rio leaned her head on Jeff’s shoulder, her hazel eyes met his. Both parents knew one thing: they’d do anything for their son.