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It had been a year since his eyeballs seared off.
Not quite literally, of course, but Peter could still remember the moment he woke in Miles’s world, billboards flashing neon lights through his goggles, and immediately thought, I must be dying. Despite everything, Peter never truly got used to the sensation of seeing an object be hued.
Even now, sometimes Peter would still think of that world - more peaceful, futuristic, and confusing in every way - and miss everything and everyone. Such as now, sitting at his desk, fountain pen in his right hand as he marked up newspapers for his latest case. His left hand clutched his completed rubix cube, scratched up but just as colorful as before; something for him to look at when he thought about Peni, Ham, or any of the others. He pushed up his mask, licked his finger, and flipped to another newspaper page -
“Hey! Ben!”
- and suddenly his eyes were being seared all over again.
–
Peter scrambled back, knocking himself down to the floor as the - orange? - portal yawned into his black and white world. Gwen’s face popped out, surveying the area before she stepped in like she belonged there. He stared from his spot on the ground before adjusting his goggles. “Gwen… You’re here?” He said, slowly standing up before being squeezed into a hug by the girl in question. He patted her back, grinning. She had gotten stronger; he could feel it.
“BEEEE-EEEN!” Two voices cried from behind the pair. Gwen smirked at him before sidestepping so Peter could get tackled back onto the ground. Peni and Porker were wailing, Peni latching onto his button-up while Porker’s arms circled impossibly around both of their necks.
“I missed you so, so, so much,” Peni sniffled. Porker grabbed a tissue out of nowhere and blew noisily into it. “I haven’t seen you in - in so long!”
“Me too, doll,” Peter said softly, patting at her hair. She had grown so tall since he last saw her. It made his heart ache. “And you too, Porker,” he nodded at the pig, who gave him head pats. He looked over Peni’s head to see Peter B lounging lazily against the wall, smirking with Gwen. Even though his eye roll shouldn’t have been visible through the goggles, B still laughed, jostling a harness that held… a baby. Peter’s eyes bugged, but he shook his head and forced it to clear. There were three other Spiders with him, all of whom he didn’t recognize, but he focused on the ones he cared about.
“I… I sure am happy to see you all,” Peter admitted, then asked, “What happened?”
“What do you mean, ‘what happened’? Can’t we just come to see you?” Gwen asked, eyebrow raising, which only made Peter raise one of his in return. He considered ripping off the mask just to let Gwen see it.
“When it comes to people like us, nothing ever comes down to ‘just wanted to see you’,” Peter explained. He could feel the mood in the room darken, and, yeah, there it was. A part of him stung at the truth of it - but, mostly, he just found himself already preparing for the worst.
“Miles is in huge trouble,” Gwen began, and Peter straightened. “Miguel is after him, and his dad is going to die, but he’s stuck in… Wait, do you… Do you not know?” Gwen paused, eyebrows creasing.
B’s eyes widened before interrupting. “Wait, she’s right! I never - I never saw you! At the, uh, Spider… Hub. What have you been doing, man?”
Peter gestured over to his desk, which now had newspapers strewn everywhere and an inkpot dangerously close to tipping over. “I was working on a case. They want the low-down on the Kingpin here, if you can believe it. That pill has been on some real shady business lately… you wouldn't like it.”
“You’ve been working on a case this whole time? No missions from Miguel?” Peni asked, worming her way under his arm. He let his hand rest on her shoulder.
“Of course I have, Kingpin's a no-good capitalist grifter - Ah, I see," Peter realized, "You’re a bit out of the loop… I got the boot a while ago,” He revealed, and the apartment became rife with chaos.
“What!?” B gaped, along with two of the new Spiders - some kid with a lot of hair on one side and another that glitched in and out of the air.
“How?” Gwen asked. “You’re all… hardboiled,” she said, flapping a hand.
Ham merely patted his shoulder before sitting down on it, hooves swinging in the air. “Well, I wasn’t even invited, so that makes two of us!” he reassured, and as the other spiders exploded again, he shouted, “And I’m sure that Ben here would love to have the chance to give an explanation before we keep judging him!” Peni looked angry on both of their behalfs, round face puffing, but closed her opening mouth.
“Erm, yes… Thanks,” Peter coughed, warily thinking about the inevitable noise complaints from his neighbors before continuing. “I mean, I did work with O’Hara at one point, not too long after I got back to my - er, dimension. I think it was long before you folks joined up. He asked me to keep an eye on ‘canon events’ in different dimensions - I’m guessin’ you all did the same?” He paused and got a chorus of nods. “But, well, I just didn’t agree with him all the time. It was already hard for me not to just visit you all - I dealt with it because I understood the cause… but I kept arguing with him to do what he told me not to, because I gotta - I gotta do something. So many of these young kids seeing their relatives in the ground, it wasn’t right.” Peter gulped, thinking about his Uncle Benjamin, body ravaged and blood strewn on the wooden floor, and how he would have given up anything to prevent a death so cruel. He shivered. “So I kept messing things up. I think he deemed me too much trouble. Not that the fella wasn’t causing such a riffraff himself, on that throne n’ all…” He grumbled, clenching a fist before trailing off, gauging the room’s reactions.
Many of them, strangely, looked almost uncomfortable, with the way that those like Peni and B averted their eyes. Gwen, especially, seemed both downtrodden and angry (at what, he couldn't tell), her gap teeth biting her lower lip while she wrung at one of her hands. The only ones who didn’t look like Peter had stepped on a puppy were Ham - nonchalant as ever - and some Spider with spikes on his head, whose eyes had widened. In fact, if Peter were to guess by the Spider’s body language, he seemed almost… alert. Excited.
Peter wasn’t really sure what to make of that.
–
“So, you got kicked out, huh?” The other Spider muttered during Gwen’s ‘rescue plan’ debrief, causing Peter’s head to whip around. It was the one with the spikes. Somehow, he wasn’t really expecting the British accent. “Nice, nice. Stick it to the man.”
Peter had no idea what he was talking about. He squatted down and pretended to re-tie his boot, shifting awkwardly when the other went down to meet him. “So, what’s your deal? Most of the others know you, but I didn’t quite get the memo,” the other joked. “Y’know what, I’ll stop faffing around. I’m Hobie, Hobie Brown,” Hobie introduced, thumb pointing at his face. “I live in the UK, ‘round the same era as Miles - twenty-first century and all that.”
“...I’m Peter. Er, Peter Benjamin Parker,” Peter mumbled. “But, hm… everyone calls me some variation of Benjamin to tell us Peters apart. So you can, too, I suppose," he explained with a wry, unseen quirk of the lips. It would always be ironic to him that they called him Ben. "For me, it’s 1934 in America,” he continued, watching Hobie stiffen.
Hobie remained quiet, picking at his bootlace before steeling himself. “Then what about I do this?” He asked, ripping off his mask in a single smooth motion. Peter took in Hobie’s big hair, styled in a way he had never seen before, and looked at the way that persistent paper texture shifted on Hobie’s dark skin. He had all the trappings of another futuristic Spider-Man, like Miles - especially with those strange metal bits in his skin.
“How’d’ya even get all that metal in your face?” Peter worried, gloved hand poking at one gently before jerking back. “Gee, do they hurt? I can help you take ‘em out. I got, like, half a bottle of whisky left,” he offered, “and I’m good with a knife.”
Hobie stared at him for a second before bursting into quiet laughter. His eyes crinkled at the corners, mirth showing in the dimples on his cheeks as he clapped Peter’s shoulder for balance. Peter wasn’t sure what was so funny, but part of him was just glad to see Hobie happy. It wasn’t often that he made others laugh.
Hobie eventually calmed, then leaned towards Peter almost conspiratorially, still sporting a lopsided grin. “Y’know what, bruv, I think I’m upgradin' you from 'Ben' to ‘Peter’,” he admitted, whispering quietly. “Those other Peters can get their turns from someone else.”
–
Even after the battle, Peter continued to see Hobie Brown.
Of course, he still saw the others too, now that it wasn’t seen as a sin to use the little wrist gadgets to visit friends on a whim, and he was incredibly grateful for it. Peni and Ham were his most frequent visitors, but once in a while the others would show up, too. Even Miles, who he heard had been avoiding some of the others, would visit him. It hurt his heart to hear about Miles' avoidance from Gwen, of all people, but he couldn't blame the kid. Betrayal was a hard pill to swallow, and an even harder one to digest. He should know.
But, regardless, Hobie still continued to swing on by, often to just complain about his world or to show him something new. Sometimes he would even bring that other new Spider, Pavitr, along, much to Peter's confusion. He didn't know what Hobie found so fascinating about him, but… he couldn't complain. Hobie was one of the only people who didn't look at Peter as an oddity for being so far in the past. He never babied Peter like many of the other Spiders did, even if it wasn't on purpose. Even Peni sometimes forgot that Peter was capable of understanding - of learning - all of the advanced doodads of her era. But Hobie always remembered. He respected what Peter did and didn't say anything when the apartment smelled like washed blood.
He was nice.
(Besides, even if Peter didn't like Hobie, he would've still let him in as long as he brought Pav. Pav was funny).
And so, on a dreary Tuesday afternoon, Hobie was once again lounging on Peter's threadbare couch, the gray sun casting strange shadows upon his textured skin.
"Y’know, mate, I think I should really get to changin' my laces at some point. What do you think?" Hobie idly asked, head tilting towards his boot. Peter glanced back at him from his writing desk, his ungloved hands speckled with ink. "I'm thinkin' a new color."
"You could pick… um… purple," Peter stuttered out. "The - the one on Gwen's uniform?"
"That's pink," Hobie laughed kindly. "But ‘s alright, I gotcha. Purple ain’t so bad. I’m a bit queer myself.”
Peter frowned. "You're not queer." Hobie’s face scrunched into an uncomfortable mess, so Peter hurriedly added, "Fellas ain't ever kind, but I… I think you're fine just the way you are."
Hobie stayed silent for a second, looking down and rubbing at his temple before his face bloomed into a grin. "Pfft… I meant that I'm gay. A homosexual."
"...Oh."
"Think nothing of it, yeah?" Hobie shrugged, still smiling in that crooked way of his. "Now you know."
Peter nodded dumbly, beginning to smile a little, too. Yeah, Hobie was nice. "Actually, um, that reminds me… what do the colors have to do with you being homosexual?" He tilted his head. "Do all colors have a meaning like that?"
Hobie shook his head. "Depends on who you're askin'. But, in this case, bootlace colors can be pretty significant, at least for my world," he began, becoming more animated as he went along. "Purple, for example, usually means you're gay or LGBT - I can explain that later if you need. Yellow means somethin' like 'anti-racist', if I remember right.
"And blue, what I got on right now,” Hobie continued, pointing to his bright blue laces, “Means I’ve killed a pig. A cop,” he clarified, clearly remembering Porker. Hobie almost looked sad for a second, unusual for this type of conversation. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t pretty. I almost liked the bloke - was the first pig I thought might be worth a damn. But he was just another fascist,” He spat, mouth pursing. “That’s why I wear the laces, so I can say ‘fuck you’.”
Peter nodded. “I get it. Too many corrupt coppers in my world. I’ve killed a few, too.” If Hobie was expecting judgment, Peter surely didn't have any to give. Silence lingered in the room before Peter asked, “Say, you have any spares?”
(Peni liked the sight of his blue laces the next day. She said they made his eyes pop - whatever that meant).
–
Peter instantly regretted going into Hobie’s universe, but it was hard to think with a hole in his side.
He wobbled to and fro, portal closing behind him before he collapsed on the ground, clothes stinking of iron. He could hear the quick stomping of Hobie’s heavy boots before the Spider in question finally arrived.
"The fuck!" Hobie shouted.
"Sorry, fella, I didn’t - too many of ‘em were packing heat, didn’t notice the goon with the knife - panicked," Peter rushed out. He hated seeing Hobie’s usual coolness gone - it twisted in him something terrible. "C-Can you use the - the doohickey and get me to B’s - ?”
“Don’t gimme that tosh. I can do it," Hobie interrupted, face steeling in grim determination before yanking Peter up and into his arms. Peter's vision blurred as Hobie manhandled him to his bathroom, and a hysterical part of him lamented at how he was dirtying such a surprisingly clean place. Hobie flicked open a pocket knife and began to saw through Peter's dress shirt after ridding him of his jacket and vest. "Christ, man, you got nicked bad."
"Damn sunuvabitch Nazis," Peter only replied, much more crass than usual. He hissed when Hobie stabbed him with a suture needle. "Goddamn wet twits who can kiss my -"
"Did you get 'em good?"
"...Pardon?"
"You beat 'em up good?" Hobie repeated.
"Of course I did," Peter spat. As if he'd do anything less.
"Good," Hobie grinned, finishing up the last of his stitches. He had been much faster than B. He pulled tight, making Peter wince, and then snipped the thread. Peter glanced at him for a second, watching Hobie disinfect his needle, before yanking his mask off, revealing shoddily cut hair and crisscrossing scars. It fascinated him to see Hobie's reaction be reduced down to a simple blink. "Now wotcha do that for?"
Peter looked up at the pockmarked ceiling. "It's… It's only fair, at this point. I don’t think I trusted you 'til now… Sorry," He added sheepishly.
Hobie shrugged. “S’alright. We all got our little secrets.” He tilted his head. “You kinda look like the rest of the Peters.”
Peter gave a messy grin. “I get that a lot."
–
In a strange reversal, it was now Peter that was lounging on Hobie’s lumpy couch while the other sat near him, legs crossed on the ground. With the danger gone, and his wound sealed, Peter was now free to look at the bizarreness of Hobie’s universe. It was a universe that was so colorful and yet so textured, almost like mashed pieces of newspaper glued together, and it never ceased to be interesting. It was almost the antithesis of Peter's world. Hobie didn't pay him any mind, used to Peter's curiosity, and instead took to trash talking whatever he saw on the television (it was something about the Prime Minister).
Hobie leaned back against the foot of the couch and let his eyes drift in Peter's direction. "You know, gettin' a better look at you and all… You look kinda younger than I thought you would. How old are you, man?"
Peter hesitated, fiddling with his glasses before acquiescing. He could trust Hobie, he could trust Hobie… "...Nineteen. Almost twenty, now."
"Nineteen!" Hobie exclaimed, springing up and slapping Noir on the shoulder. “My man! Me too! Well that’s just something, innit!" Hobie's smile was full-blown. "I mean, not to be offensive, but you got the kind of swagger that, like, O’Hara’s probably jealous of, so I thought you a bit of an older wanker, you know? But I’ll be damned!”
Peter found himself squinting as Hobie's textures shifted more rapidly, possibly from his excitement, but he smiled back nonetheless. It was admittedly charming to see Hobie so excited just from meeting a Spider his age. Peter didn't feel any differently, either - it was nice to actually know someone who wasn't either a full-grown adult or a hormonal teenager, although he wasn't surprised that Hobie thought he was the former. Almost everybody did, save for a few exceptions (like Porker, who could be scarily perceptive when he wanted to be).
"We gotta hang out more, bruv, no way am I letting this go," Hobie demanded, before snapping his fingers. "You should tell Pav - he would go mad!"
Peter knew there was a reason they got along so well.
(The next day, as they eat lunch with Pav in Mumbattan, looking down at bustling traffic from a rooftop, Peter drops, "...Shame that they don't let nineteen year olds drink here, because I could really use a pint…"
Pavitr, much like Hobie, only blinks at the statement. Not much like Hobie, he then explodes, "YOU’RE WHAT?!").
–
The new villain from Gwen's world - Electro - packed more of a punch than any of them expected, and they needed the entire gang to take him out. But none of them expected Ben and Hobie to work so well together - least of all Gwen, who delivered the finishing blow before dragging the villain to the police station.
Peter B seemed to agree. "Have you guys been doing, like, training without us, or something?" He asked, cracking his back while gesturing towards the duo. For once, Mayday wasn't with him, so his front lacked his signature baby carrier. "Because that was crazy."
Ben shuffled his feet a little, blue laces glaringly obvious in the midday sky. "Well, it was nothing, fellas, just doing the job…"
Hobie tutted and swung an arm around the other's shoulder. It didn't occur to Gwen beforehand how similar they were in height. "Nah, bruv, save the humility. We were right badasses. True, Pav?" He nodded at his best friend, who gave a double thumbs up back. "Must be thanks to busting up all those fash mingers in your world," Hobie quipped offhandedly, bopping Ben's chest with a fist.
"You guys what?" Miles gaped with Margo. Gwen, herself, was pretty surprised - not that they beat up fascists, knowing them, but that they seemed to hang around often. That they were close.
Ben gave a light snort, almost uncharacteristic with his normal broody behavior. "They thought you were some sorta devil. I wasn't about to correct 'em."
"Pfft! They were straight pissin' their pants at me, mate!"
The two bantered for far longer than anyone expected, and Gwen looked down to see Porker sniffle and wipe an overly-large tear from his mask. "My boy is making more friends… I'm so proud…!" He cried, blowing into a frilly pink hanky, and Gwen rolled her eyes fondly.
Pav was probably the only one to seem familiar with the sight, grinning knowingly after taking off his mask. He leaned into Gwen's ear, whispering loudly, "They are always like this, now! Isn't it cute?" Gwen looked back at the pair, who chatted amicably while now entertaining a clinging Peni, who latched onto Ben's arm and didn't seem to want to let go.
Even though everything about the two went against the concept, Gwen found it hard to disagree.
It was cute.