Miles & Gabriel: Easter Sunday

[x-velocidad.livejournal.com]

Miles and Gabriel hang out after Easter dinner with los Morales.


The point of Confession is to express genuine remorse and to work to right the wrongs committed. It's an opportunity to start anew and be better and not, as critics often ignorantly accuse, just the chance to get a metaphysical clean slate and make the same mistakes all over again.

Someone maybe should have told that to Miles.

He'd gone to church with his parents for Easter mass, and since he hadn't had confession since Christmas, went into the booth to tell the priest of his sins. The abridged version, of course, with the focus more on his dishonesty with his parents than his technically illegal nighttime doings or his other more mundane teenage offenses (also technically nighttime doings) that the church told him were wrong but really, everyone does it and it doesn't hurt anyone. He'd come out of the booth reassured that he wasn't going to Hell and with the promise to be more truthful with his parents.

A promise he'd broken pretty much immediately when Gabriel arrived for dinner. Miles told his parents that Gabriel was an RA at Xavier's, as that seemed the most convenient explanation. His parents didn't seem any the wiser, and warmly welcomed the other man into their home. A lovely time was had by all and now, while his father did the dishes, Miles showed Gabriel around the apartment. His room, half-empty because most of his stuff was at the mansion, was the last stop.

"It's a nice place," Gabriel said, and not for the first time. It was a polite refrain, one he kept repeating because the idea of Easter dinner with a family of apparently devout Catholics still made him itchy. The only reason he'd come was out of curiosity - he wanted to get to know this new Miles better, and he was dying to know where he came from.

Plus, it was flattered to be asked. "Very normal, which kinda figures, I guess."

There weren't many places to sit, just the desk and the twin bed, so Miles hopped up onto the desk and crossed his legs. "¿Qué quieres decir? 'It figures.' You make me sound so . . . common," he said with a smirk.

"You're a good kid," Gabriel shrugged, taking his place on the bed. "Seem like one anyway. And your parents are nice too." He played with the left sleeve of his black shirt, which kept falling down his arm even though he'd rolled it up and back. "But what do I know," he looked up and smirked. "Just an observant RA."

"That's an important quality for an RA. I'm glad you came," Miles said as he loosened and carefully removed his tie without untying the knot. "I think my parents are still a little unsure about Xavier's 'cuz I transferred there so quickly. And, you know, I have more than two friends now, so, that's a big change."

"Wait, let me get this straight," Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "You're using me to convince your parents that everything's sunny in Westchester?" Hoo boy. "¿De veras, coño? Think you miscalculated."

"My choices are still limited. I think Bobby had his own family to go to today. So that leaves me with either the tejano bartender, the diamond-shooting daughter of the two biggest stars in music history, or freaking Warren Worthington III and his blind lawyer. You are actually the most almost normal guy I know. Es la verdad."

"Huh." Gabriel considered that. "Keep ranking me above Warren. That will get you far in life." He glanced around the room a little more. It was nice and orderly and... normal. In his head, his room in Texas was frozen in that place. More likely than not, his parents turned it into an exercise room or something. "So your parents," he finally looked back at Miles, "they really don't know?"

Miles shook his head and, considering where this conversation was likely to head, reached over to close the door. "No. I don't . . . It's not safe, for a lotta reasons." The Spider thing being number one, but he wasn't ready to tell Gabriel that yet, either. "We lived here when Manhattan was taken over. My dad was kind of grr about mutants in the first place, but my uncle and abuelas live in Harlem, so that was just kind of it, you know? It's like now he's just waiting for the next mutant to make his moves on like Brooklyn instead."

"Huh." There was something kind of familiar about that too. "Must be tough."

"I mean, I don't mean to presume, but . . . isn't it the same with you?" Miles asked hesitantly. "What you said about your parents and being gay . . . I guess it's not the same, but still. Not gonna lie, I think they'd be happier if I was gay like you than a mutant."

Gabriel tensed, an instinctive reaction to any mention of his family out loud. "I don't..." He sighed. "Family is complicated. My parents know I like boys, and they don't really..." He shrugged once more, unsure what to say. "I'm not sure which is easier."

"Do they know about the M-word, too?" Miles hazarded to ask.

Gabriel snorted a little at the epithet. "I dunno." He fixed his vision intently at a stack of books on a nightstand. "Never really came up. Not like I can really ask them now."

"I'm sorry." For the situation with la familia Cohuelo, for bringing up this stupid topic in the first place. While Gabriel's gaze was focused on the closest nonhuman thing he could find, Miles's was fixed on Gabriel. "Hey, you wanna see something neat? I haven't shown this to many people." Miles pulled off his socks and stood up on his desk, and then pressed his hands and one foot against the wall. And then his other foot, too, so he was clinging to the wall just through his fingertips and toes.

Gabriel's eyes widened a little. "Shut up." He turned his head to the side, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "You climb up walls? That is – damn, Miles!" Color him impressed. "That seems... useful." Especially for Spider-Man.

Miles continued climbing up the wall until he was hanging upside-down from the ceiling. "I haven't totally figured it all out yet, but I've got this bioelectric manipulation thing going on. I'm kinda like walking static cling. You know, I don't think I ever asked you what you do."

"Didn't you?" Gabriel looked up at Miles, both amused and dismayed. Not like he could remember either, since the deja vu of their second meeting was the only thing that had stuck with him. "I'm – it's basically super speed, but not totally? There's some weird physics thing behind it, but I'm not Stephen Hawking so I don't really get it."

"So which Flash are you: Jay, Barry, Wally, or Bart? I bet you're a Wally." Miles sprung off the ceiling and twisted in midair so he landed daintily on the floor on all fours. "How do you look in red?"

"Nice." Gabriel scooted back on the bed so he was leaning the headboard, his feet draped off the edge of the mattress. "I look great in red, but I don't understand any of the words you just said."

"Flash? You know, superhero who taps into the Speedforce and runs really fast? Usually has a red costume?" Miles sighed and took his seat on his desk again. "There've been a bunch of Flashes and those four were the most . . . you know what? Never mind. I think I've revealed too much about myself in the last sixty seconds."

"No, please," Gabriel grinned. "Go on. I so rarely get to see this much nerd in the wild."

"Cállate. No soy un nerd," Miles protested. Ineffectively, one might add, given the large Star Trek: The Next Generation poster that hung on the wall next to him.

"Dude, don't sweat it." Gabriel glanced at the poster. "That's, like, in now. Big glasses and nerd cred get all the ladies." His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out to look at the text. "Or dudes," he added as an afterthought, "if you realize that's what you're into."

Miles snickered at that comment. "I've got enough game for either," he lied. "¿Qué pasa? Got a date you're running out on me for?"

"Nah, nah, just making plans for later." Gabriel shrugged. The details of those plans weren't important. "I work Fridays and Saturdays, so, you know. Today is the closest thing I've got to a weekend."

"You mean today and the rest of the week? What a hard life, going out all night a couple days a week. Must be tough." A lifestyle Miles knew well, but differently. "Do you like it? The bar stuff, I mean."

"Bartending? Sure." Gabriel nodded, though his tone leaned somewhat toward noncommittal. "Best job I've had, anyway. The hours are kind of a bitch but you meet a lot of cool people, and I make okay amounts of money. Especially now that I don't pay city rent." There was a winning endorsement.

"'Lots of cool people,'" Miles repeated, smirking. "Uh huh. Homes, you gotta teach me your secrets. It is a desert up in Westchester," he said with all the false bravado of a 15-year-old trying desperately to look cool. "I could go to one of your bars and pass for 18, can't I?"

"Dude." Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "No. Not even." Given Gabriel's relative authority on age-passing, he was fairly certain. "And trust me," he added, eyeing Miles and imagining how crazy he'd make the chickenhawks, "that is not something what you want anyway."

Miles waved away Gabriel's concern. "You're just jealous."

"Miles!" his mother called. "It's time to take you back to school, mijito!"

The boy sighed and hopped off the desk. It was a long drive back, and Mrs. Lee was generously lending them her car so Miles didn't have to go through the awful rigmarole of public transit. "Do you need a ride back, too, or are your plans in the city?"

"Nah, I'm good." Gabriel shrugged as he rose to his feet. "I've got a thing in Brooklyn in the morning." He didn't. "And the commute back and forth is a pain." Which it was, especially when you were hungover after a Sunday night on the town. "Unless that's gonna raise questions with your parents."

"You got here on your own, so they probably think you can get back on your own, too." Miles put his socks back on and stuffed his tie into his pocket. He paused for a moment, not quite sure the best way to say bye see you later. So he did the first thing that came to mind and gave Gabriel and quick (but nonetheless super-strong) hug. "Thanks for coming. It's cool you did."

Gabriel grinned at the gesture. "Hey man, no problem." He gave Miles a playful punch in the shoulder. "Anything you need."