Chapter Text
Miles blinked open his eyes to ash and dust, coughing when it settled in his lungs. He collapsed forward on his hands and knees, the metal groaning and grinding as it moved, and looked up.
The ceiling was suddenly a lot farther away than it was before. That was... a pretty big explosion. How was he still alive? Is he, like, indestructible now? No wonder Spiderman could handle being thrown through buildings all the time.
A groan sounded out nearby. Speak of the devil.
Miles crawled forward carefully, freezing when the platform jolted underneath him. Heavy, wet coughs replaced the groan. It wasn’t a good noise. His mom was a doctor, he knew the difference between the sound of mucus and the sound of fluid trapped in your lungs, and those coughs definitely indicated the latter.
He slid down onto the pile of rubble, wincing when the rocks scraped his palms as he made his way toward Spiderman. People were talking behind him. Flashlights blinked closeby. There wasn’t much time.
“Uuuuuugh,” Spiderman said when Miles landed next to him, knees aching from the impact.
“We need to get out of here,” he hissed.
Spiderman coughed again. It sounded like something landed inside his mask.
“Oh boy,” he groaned, “that’s not a good sign.”
Miles tugged on his arm, trying to get him to stand. “They’re coming, we gotta leave now.”
The pinpricks of flashlight swivelled towards them. Perhaps yelling, even if he was scared out of his damn mind, was a bad idea.
“No, kid,” Spiderman told him through painfully gritted teeth, “you gotta get out of here, alright? Take this-”
And he shoved something into Miles’ hand, closing his fingers around it.
“No-” Miles started.
“Take this,” Spiderman interrupted, and Miles had seen his lift cars before but the hand around his was warm and gentle and the voices and flashlights were getting closer. “Use it to end this.”
“I can’t-”
“It’ll shut this place down, alright? There’s a panel in the ceiling- climb up there, stick it in, everything’ll be alright.”
“Spid- Mr. S- Sir ,” Miles said, “I can’t leave you here.”
“You have to.”
In the distance, someone said, “I think I heard something.”
Spiderman dropped his hand roughly, leaning back into the rubble. “Listen, kiddo. I’ll be fine. I always am. You take that, get out of here, save the world, capiche? I can tell you all about getting stuck to walls when you’re safe.”
“But-”
“Go.”
Miles tensed up, a second away from listening to him and sprinting back up the pile of rubble to hide. But Spiderman was still coughing, and his wheezing sounded wet, and he didn’t look like he was planning on standing up any time soon.
A rock toppled on the other side of the rubble pile. Someone cursed, so close now that Miles felt like they were talking in his ear.
When Miles was little, his dad used to pick him up in a fireman carry and run through the house. His mom hated it, always worried that Miles would fall and get hurt, but she told him that if there was a fire and he had to drag someone out, that was his best bet, even if they were hurt and weren’t supposed to be moved.
Better to try and survive with injuries than certain death, after all.
“Kid,” Spiderman insisted.
Miles grabbed his arm and twisted, sliding Spiderman’s torso on his back until he could grab the man’s leg with his other hand. Spiderman let out an indignant yelp.
“No, leave by yourself, you won’t make it if you take me, I’ll be-”
“Shut up,” Miles whispered harshly. “You’ll be fine because I’m going to make sure you’re fine. We’re going to get out of here and they won’t find us and I’m going to take you to the-”
“No hospital.”
“-to my mom.”
As they reached the top of the debris—with a lot less struggle than Miles was expecting, though maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised, since he’d seen how Spiderman lifted cars—the people looking for them stumbled into the clearing.
“I could’ve sworn I heard something over here,” one of the suited men said.
The others circled their flashlights, landing on crushed rock and twisted metal.
“Maybe he got away?” another one suggested. “I mean, it’s Spiderman, right? He’s been around for ten years and hasn’t got caught yet.”
Miles breathed heavily through his nose, trying not to make a sound. If they looked up, they could see him. He needed to get out of there. Three more steps and he’d be out of sight.
Heavy feet drummed into the scene. The sound echoed in his bones, a figure larger than a billionaire stepping into play.
Five flashlights swiveled onto his face. The man stared, unblinkingly, at his henchmen.
“Did you find him?” Kingpin asked.
As each of them stammered out a negative, Miles took the chance to try and creep farther away. It was hard to tell which bits of rock were a hasty footstep away from crumbling, but if he kept his body low enough, then it should be easier.
Kingpin scraped his hands together. It was a soft sound, indicative of someone who often sat in an office collecting money. All the callouses he had were on his knuckles.
“I want,” he said softly, “to kill Spiderman.”
Two more steps. He’d be on the other side, he could find somewhere to hide until they went away, or- or he’d have to drag them out and try to stay undetected.
Undetected with a search team after them, yeah, right, great idea Miles.
“We heard something earlier,” one of the suited men asked. “We followed the noise. We think it came from this spot.”
Miles took one more careful step farther, finding that the incline was going down. He was almost there. They could make it. Spiderman wasn’t moving much anymore—he might actually be unconscious, which was worrying—but they could make it, and Miles’ mom could help, since hospitals were out of the question. Apparently.
He couldn’t see what Kingpin was doing behind him anymore, so it was a shock to his nerves and bruises when there was a smaller explosion.
He had no free hands to scrabble for purchase when the rocks all slid down. Milese was stuck trying to keep his feet under his knees and Spiderman away from any sudden projectiles, desperately hoping that the noise of struggle would blend in with the overall chaos.
“I said you need to find him!” Kingpin yelled.
There was no response from the henchmen.
“Well?”
“Ye- yes-” Miles swore he heard the man gulp twenty feet away. “Yes sir.”
There was the unmistakable noise of Kingpin shifting his feet, and a sickening squelch. Miles stared up at the ceiling.
Four flashlights. One of them was missing.
He held his breath to keep himself from whimpering when he realized what Kingpin must have done.
Miles tried to clear his head. He had to think. Or- not think. Kingpin punching someone into- no, wait, don’t think.
Kingpin losing his temper gave him the opportunity to escape with Spiderman. They were on level ground now, and Miles had seen a couple side doors from when he was watching the fight earlier.
Large footsteps drummed away. Kingpin was gone. The henchmen were dispersing.
Miles stood up shakily, hefting Spiderman higher up on his shoulders. The man was a deadweight by then, which definitely wasn’t a good thing.
He’ll find a way out with Spiderman. It was going to be fine. Miles would make sure of it.
——————
Jefferson sat on the edge of the couch, clutching at his phone when it went to voicemail again.
“He’ll be alright,” Rio said next to him.
“How do you know?” he rasped out.
“I don’t.” She squeezed his bicep. “But I have to believe it, or else I’m going to go insane, and then we’ll both be useless.”
He choked out a laugh even as he rubbed his eyes.
“I even tried calling Aaron,” he told her. “He doesn’t like talking to me, but he usually answers anyway, just in case it could be about Miles, you know? There’s been a couple times I didn’t call a squad out because Aaron knew where he was.”
“Aaron’s a good guy,” Rio hazarded.
Jefferson twisted his phone in his hand and didn’t answer.
“It wasn’t that bad of an earthquake,” she said. “I passed by his school building when I was coming back from work, and it was intact. Miles has just been...”
She trailed off.
“Going through some things?” Jefferson finished shrewdly. “You’d think he’d be able to put a couple of those things off to tell his parents that he’s alive.”
Rio didn’t answer. It made him feel queasy with guilt, glancing over and seeing that she looked as worried as he did.
He reached and grabbed her hand in apology, not wanting to try and talk at the moment. His thumb rubbed against hers.
“I just-” Rio sighed. “I need to believe that my son is fine, Jefferson. We both want to hear from him right now, and the fact that he's not answering his phone is-”
She took a deep breath. Her hands were strong, and it felt like she was going to break his with her grip.
“I need to be able to get through the night,” she said.
“I unders-”
There was a crash upstairs. They both froze.
“Stay here,” Jefferson demanded. Rio didn't argue, though he could tell that she was itching to go get the bat.
He went over to the table next to the front door, grabbing his hand gun so he could be prepared for a robber who thought to take advantage in the chaos.
Jefferson hurried up the stairs silently. There were more banging sounds, and getting closer he could tell that they were coming from Miles’ room.
It wasn't hard to sneak underneath the noise. The intruder must be pretty amateur.
He slammed the door open, bringing his gun up in one smooth sweep.
“Alright, thief, put your hands-”
Jefferson choked on his words when he processed what he was seeing.
“Uh, hey, Dad,” Miles said sheepishly, hefting an unconscious Spiderman higher on his shoulder. “Can you get Mama? I kind of need her help.”
Spiderman's head lolled to the side. His mask was stained a deeper red than the rest of the suit, not to mention the other tears and construction stains that gave him an overall gray appearance.
“Yeah, alright,” Jefferson said in a high-pitched voice. “You set him on the, ah, bed, I'll be... right back.”
He turned on his heel and walked stiffly down the stairs, leaving Miles alone. With Spiderman. Who could potentially be dying, judging by the situation.
“Rio,” Jefferson said in his calmest voice, “you need to come upstairs.”