xp_logs | Miles & Gabriel, backdated to Sunday, April 24

Spider-Miles chats with a drunk post-party Gabriel.

Either Gabriel's fingers weren't working or his lighter was out of fluid. Either way, he'd been flicking this Bic for what felt like forever, and no flame was coming. it was a shame, because the only thing he wanted more than another cocktail was a cigarette.

He sighed and leaned his head against the brick wall of the Brooklyn party he'd just stepped out of. A breeze blew an empty fast food bag down the street, and his eyes followed it while his hands searched the pockets of his leather jacket for a spare lighter. When he came up empty-handed, he was hardly surprise.

"Well, fuck." His phone vibrated, but he ignored it, instead cupping his hand around the end of the cigarette as he tried to ignite. After a few more sparks, he managed to get a flame that held long enough to light up. Triumphant, he tossed the tapped lighter into a nearby garbage ground and started a rather unsteady stroll in what he assumed was the direction of a bodega or a bar.

A voice called to him from the darkness of the alley he passed. "Algún día, esas cosas te matarán." The owner of the voice suddenly materialized out of the shadows, clinging to the wall of the brownstone, clad in a skin-tight black body suit adorned with a red webbing design on the chest. Large white eyes gazed curiously at Gabriel. "¿Qué es lo que hay?"

The sound made Gabriel jump at first, but as Spider-Man stepped into the light, he couldn't help the snort he emitted. "You know," he said after a drag on the cigarette, "isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Crime never sleeps," Miles replied sagely. "I was on my way home when I saw you and thought I'd say hi. You've got a very distinctive swagger I can see even when I swinging around."

"Yeah," Gabriel nodded as he flicked his ash on the ground, "that's probably the mezcal." He eyed Miles, tracing the pattern of the suit as if he was seeing it for the first time. In a way, he was. "You make that? Pretty impressive. Seems a little small though."

Miles pushed himself off the wall and landed on all fours. "No, Matt's bro did. This is legit SHIELD tech," he said as he stood up and proudly patted the spider emblem emblazoned on the middle of his chest. "It's an upgrade from what Spidey Uno made me, which was, like, spandex and paint. And before that I just had this lame homebrew. A hoodie and face mask and goggles. It was terrible. You'd've laughed."

"You're probably right," Gabriel said knowingly. "This has to be an upgrade." A Clint upgrade. Go figure. He took a puff on the cigarette to avoid thinking too much about it. "So this is it? You go around swinging on webs and, like, I dunno. Fighting crime?"

"Yup. Doing whatever a spider can. Which is a noticeable and statistically significant drop in crime rates. Other Spidey did the math, it's legit."

"Yeah?" Gabriel whistled appreciatively, because it's what you did. "And that's all you? Kinda feel like the mayor might disagree." He tilted his head, staring at Miles's white eyes for a second. "How much time do you spend doing this shit?"

Miles detected an element of challenge in Gabriel's question, whether or not it was intended innocently. Another adult questioning his choices. He was glad he was wearing a mask so Gabriel couldn't see him glower. "As much time as it takes. It's important. People count on me."

"I don't doubt it. You saved me once, kinda." Gabriel shrugged. He took another drag off the cigarette, which was almost burnt to the tip, then threw it to the ground. "Just don't know how you manage this, and your, like, nine AP classes, and Becky with the good hair."

"Only four AP. Unless you count working Warren's Twitter to be worth a few, which it probably is because making him look good is hard work, too." The Beyonce reference earned a chuckle. "She's seriously thinking about going by Becca now. And, you know, it's just time management. And getting a good four hours of sleep a night."

"Teenagers can't live on 4 hours of sleep," Gabriel countered, his voice pretty matter-of-fact. He reached back into his pockets for the lighter before he remembered he'd thrown it out. "Tell Warren to send his own tweets."

"And then I'd have no money. So you can see where that problem is. You don't have to worry about me. I'm always at the top of my game."

"If you say so," Gabriel said in a way that suggested how little he believed that. "Just remember. All work and no play, bla bla bla."

Miles leaned back casually against the wall. "That's why I got a girlfriend, though. To 'play.'" The implications couldn't have been more obvious unless he came out and said it explicitly.

It was quiet for a second, as Gabriel did Miles the courtesy of letting that whole thing hang in the air awkwardly before he burst into laughter.

Miles joined in. "Cállate." Although there was no effort behind that order. "Alright, sorry, that was terrible."

"No, no, no, man, see, no, this is good," Gabriel finally said once he'd recovered. "Because, like, see, you get this shit out when you're with me, and then you don't say it to her." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't say it to her, though, seriously."

"She'd just clap back, like, she's just playing with me, too," Miles said, still shaking with laughter. "You should meet her. She's, like, really smart and knows her shade."

"Oh, yeah?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "What's she doing with you, cumpa?"

"No sé. Es loca, probably." Miles shrugged. "Or she's just using me for my body. Who knows? So how come you're all the way out here? I thought you worked in Manhattan."

"Work in Manhattan, play in Brooklyn." Gabriel shrugged. He leaned against the wall as well, looking down at Miles. "I got the night off, so, you know..." He waved a hand. "This isn't that out there, really." He looked around, blinking a few times. "I think. Not entirely sure where I got dragged."

"Do you need, like, a ride home or something? Or at least to the subway?" Miles grinned as a thought occurred to him, and he tapped one of the steel bands he wore on his wrists. "Hey, you ever flown through the city before?"

"What?" Gabriel stared at Miles blankly for a few seconds, until something clicked. "Oh, uh..." He couldn't help but look skeptical. "Have you ever given somebody a ride before? I'm not really eager to be your test subject here."

Miles waved his hand like it was no big deal and Gabriel was getting worried for nothing. "Sure I have. You just need to hang on tight por que I need both my arms to shoot and swing."

"That's it?" Gabriel raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Hold on tight and pray? Come on."

"Oh, don't be such a baby. I wouldn't let you fall. Ma would kill me if I ever let you get hurt. Other Spidey does it with his girlfriend all the time. You gonna let some rubia blanca show you up and be braver than you?"

"Maybe," Gabriel grinned. "That other Spidey seems a bit more..." He shrugged. "I don't know. Taller. Stronger."

"Now you're just saying stuff to make me mad and jealous. Fine, I'm sure you can find your own way home and you'll be regretting it like, 'damn, I could've had an aerial tour of the city with a real superhero but I wimped out.'" Though his tone was let down, he was grinning behind his mask.

"No, no, no," Gabriel shook his head. "This is good. We should do it. This is, like — I'm hopped up enough to enjoy this, and I'm not, like..." He was about to say he wasn't drunk enough that he would forget to hold on, but then he decided that was a thought better kept to himself. "It could be good. It'll be crazy. An adventure."

That's the spirit, Miles thought triumphantly. He raised his right hand to shoot a webline at the roof of the brownstone so he could pull himself into the sky. "Alright! Hold on tight and please remember to keep your seat in an upright position throughout the flight."