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Daredevil and Spiderman have bonding time on top of a New York skyrise while patrolling for crime.

Miles was sitting on the edge of the roof of yet another new midtown luxury condo development. How did they keep finding space for these? Surely they would run out of room some day soon. Or developers would be scared off by Dan Hanrahan's murder. But no, every time Miles donned his outfit and came into the city, he found a new one. Development continued unabated.

"Does anything ever even make a difference?" he wondered out loud, surveying the city. "How far does punching even get me?"

"Deep thoughts," Matt commented, stretching his neck, "But yeah, things affect each other. Kindness makes more of a difference than you might expect. That said, it is often the little things that make the most impact and are the most difficult to see the results of. Most people, they aren't intentionally hurtful or bad, but in order to good in one way, it often means hurting someone else in another...so the cycle never ends."

"On the other hand, punching is just more personally satisfying," Miles considered. He fiddled with his web-shooters, checking for the tenth time to make sure the cartridges were all in place properly. "Haven't seen or heard from Prowler since January. Parents haven't said nothing about him, either, so I guess violence got him out of town again."

"That it is," Matt agreed with a small smile. Even he knew it wasn't the best option sometimes, but he still favoured it. "You...doing okay with that?" he asked, "He's your uncle. Can't be easy being on opposite sides like that, then hiding it all from your parents?"

A small web thwipped from Miles's wrist when he pressed the wrong button, and it daintily drifted down to the ground way below them. "Oops. It's, well . . . I try not to think about it too much. I don't like keeping secrets from anyone. I think I might be allergic to it. I mean, I want to tell them. Dad's kinda quiet about it sometimes, but he's not a fan of mutants. Or super-powers in general. Not even the Avengers. And if he doesn't like Captain America then he's definitely not going to like that his son is Spider-Man."

"How do you not like Captain America?" Matt wondered, mostly rhetorically. He understood not liking Spider-Man or himself just because they were technically vigilantes. Captain America was a US icon though, a hero. He had grown up with the stories and of course, now there were the Avengers. "Keeping secrets generally ends up biting you in the ass, no matter how well-intentioned you are," he added, thinking of Foggy.

"Right? I think he doesn't think he's the real Cap, so that's his justification. But, whatever. I don't even know how to tell them in a way that won't get me kicked out. Pues, maybe if I saved their lives in costume then they'd be so grateful, they'd give me their blessing." The personal implication behind Matt's comment didn't go unnoticed to Miles, at least after a moment of consideration. "Still haven't talked to Foggy yet?"

"Tried a while back," Matt shrugged, not continuing. Foggy could hold a grudge. "You could do that," he smirked, "Save his life, mira si está agradecido."

"And you save my parents, and it's like that movie where the two people on a train agree to kill the other's targets, except the opposite."

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith?" Matt had no idea what movie Miles was talking about, "but sounds like a plan to me. Speaking of plans...college? How's all that? You ready?"

Miles shook his heard, racking his brain for the right answer. "No no no, it's . . . crap, we watched it in AP English. It's really old. Black and white old. Something on a Train. Whatever. Anyway. I . . . maybe am ready?" Even though Matt couldn't actually see him, and he was wearing a mask, anyway, Miles still turned away so he didn't face the other man. "It's . . . I dunno. It's weird."

Movies weren't exactly Matt's forte unless they were really, really, popular and somehow part made it into mainstream phrasing or something like that. An older movie like that, he had no clue. "A milestone?" Matt guessed, "Or at least...the next step in life. You're ready, even if it's something new." Turning away didn't make a difference to him, but he granted the younger man his pseudo-privacy.

"I don't know what to do, you know?" Miles stood up and paced a bit. "Like, what do I even want to study? What do I want to be when I grow up? I guess I've thought about it but not, like, where the decision I make now is what I do for the rest of my life. Did you always know you wanted to be a lawyer?"

"Mmm....sorta?" Matt adjusted his position, getting more comfortable. Nothing seemed to be happening in the city requiring their attention, "My dad, my birth dad, wanted me to be more of a success than he was. He didn't finish high school. He wanted me to be a doctor or lawyer. After I went blind, he wasn't so sure what I could do, but damn well, I was going to do. When he died, I wanted to make him proud. So...lawyer's always been in the back of my mind as an option and I still changed my major twice. What sort of law....now deciding that was a challenge. I didn't decide until almost halfway through my second year of law school. You don't need to know now. You're not supposed to know. You take classes. See what interests you. Then....go from there."

"My parents didn't go to college, either." Another point of commonality. "So they're all" — Miles made a forceful gesture — "about it. At least not trying to make me be a doctor. But Gank's going into civil engineering, so I think they want me in one of those, too. I don't even know what an engineer does. And Peter just graduated with, like, three degrees. Gwen, too."

"Hey, get your PhD and you can be a doctor, too," just not a medical one. Details. "Engineers...build stuff? Ask Clint, he has engineering on one of his diplomas," his brother collected degrees like a hobby and it was getting annoying. Stupid older brothers being over achievers. Most people were happy with one degree or becoming a lawyer, but not Clint. Noooope. "Take a year or so for college, explore your options. Take a year off and explore the world. No matter what you do, you're not wasting anyone's time or money because you're learning all about Little Spider. And you gotta live with yourself the rest of your life, not their dreams and expectations."

Warren probably would not mind paying for an extra year of college, right? He would just have to forego a fancy bribey dinner for a client once or twice, no big deal. "I guess I'll start undeclared. Take some science and math, maybe a writing class. Maybe I'll learn another language. What's a good language to learn? That's easy. French? France is next to Spain, they can't be that different."

Snorting, Matt shook his head, "Tomé español Es por eso que Foggy y yo éramos avocados. Any Latin-based language will have similarities to Spanish, but I think Portuguese is closer to Spanish than French. That's a good plan."

"You have to work on that accent, cumpa." Miles sat back down, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. The city below him was still boringly quiet. "Maybe you should just show up at Foggy's and force him to talk. It's kinda how Bobby and me did things when I told him I'm Spidey. He didn't want to talk but I wouldn't let him leave it alone, and it worked out. I could never live with myself if I made him hate me, you know what I mean?"

His accent wasn't bad...for a gringo. It also wasn't good or anything close to sounding authentic. He would be understood at least. "Yeah," he sighed, "You know that advice about falling in love with your best friend? It's crap," not that he was any sort of expert.

The thought of falling in love with Ganke or Peter was laughable, and Miles almost did, except the restrained pain in Matt's voice held him back. And besides, was it really so weird? What better way to lay the foundation for a relationship than close friendship? Miles had no advice to offer, though, and even if he did, the sudden wail of a police siren would have interrupted him.

"Freaking finally."


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