Miles & Warren, Friday evening
Dec. 23rd, 2016 08:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsMiles confronts Warren about a mysterious scholarship offer he received.
The letter had come as a surprise. Miles had lost count of how many college scholarships he had applied for, but he knew that the Worthington INnovative Novice Enrichment Reward (WINNER? Really?) was not one of them. In fact, fearing a conflict of interest and accusations of favoritism, he had avoided anything he saw that was sponsored by the Worthingtons. That he had received this award so soon after publicly bemoaning his lack of funds aroused his suspicion.
Not to mention his ire. He had done all this work himself to get into a good school, he didn't need a handout. How dare Warren?
It was a Spider-Man sort of night, so before he started his patrol, he would speak with Warren. He wasn't at the XFI office, the penthouse above, or his own home, so assuming he was in the city at all, Miles concluded he must have still been at the office. It took forever to crawl to the top of the skyscraper that housed Worthington Industries, but there he was, sitting at his desk and typing away. Clinging to the window, Miles lifted his mask and then tapped on the glass loudly enough to get his attention without shattering it.
The noise was annoying. It had been a long night, and this was not what Warren wanted. Grumbling angrily, he reached for his phone and pressed the speed dial. "Jolene! Why are the window washers here so late?"
"What?" The confusion in her voice was obvious
"I said," he repeated, swiveling in his chair, "why are the --" Stopping mid-sentence, he frowned. Not a window washer. An angry spider miles. Great. "Never mind." He hung up before Jolene could ask any more questions, although he wished he could hang up on the inevitable questions that were going to come from Miles.
Why did no one (except Bobbi) accept his money?
Motioning to his young friend, he tried to convey that they should meet on the roof. Whether or not Miles got the message, Warren wasn't sure, but he grabbed his jacket, silently thankful that he didn't feel the cold. He had a feeling they'd be up there for a while.
Miles got the message and continued climbing until he reached the rooftop. Pre-Christmas winter in New York was a lovely scene. The lights seemed to sparkly more brightly in the cold air. It made him sigh with contentment, but he steeled himself when he heard the door open.
In a way, Warren felt better knowing that Miles had to wait for him. This way, he'd regained a measure of control that he needed. "Fancy meeting you tonight," he stated nonchalantly. "how goes the patrol?"
"The cold usually keeps all but the most determined and stupid of criminals inside. It's a problem of quantity versus quality, you know?" Mask in one hand, Miles reached into his suit with the other to take out the scholarship acceptance letter. "What's WINNER?"
Warren feigned ignorance. "A winner? You're looking at one, why?l
"Oh my God," Miles groaned. "It's a scholarship I won. Full ride to Columbia for four years. Including books and fees and all that stuff. Which, I mean, is pretty freaking amazing, except I never applied for it. I didn't apply for anything with your name on it, which, spoiler alert, really took away a lot of options."
"At this point, my name is attached to so many things, it's hard to even know what. I assure you, I've lost count over the years." Warren put his hands in his pockets. "so what's the problem? You were probably headhunted, but for schools. That's a thing. I think."
"Stop pretending I'm an idiot, Warren," Miles demanded with an edge to his tone he only reserved for particularly frustrating video game levels. "I am positive I didn't apply for this, and I got it just days after I said publicly that I can't afford college. It couldn't be more obvious unless you actually signed it yourself. Mira, look." He sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate it but I don't need your help with this. You don't need to keep meddling."
Warren rolled his eyes. "Meddling is what old women do. I am not meddling. If you're looking for scholarships, then you need help. If you can't go to college when you obviously want to, then you need help. I have no idea how you haven't managed to be accepted for a scholarship, but isn't it a nice feeling to not have to worry? Keep applying, keep looking at other options, I don't care." he paused. "And for what it's worth, it is a real scholarship. It only takes a few hours to set one up."
Miles crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly at his patron. "I'm not some charity case you get to help every time you need a PR boost. You're not Will Stacks and I'm definitely not Quvenzhané Wallis."
"Jamie Foxx played Will Stacks," Warren stated automatically. "You're mixing your references."
"That's what I said. Whatever, never mind. You didn't even ask me if I wanted this. You just went ahead and did it. That's just . . . it's not fair. I worked my culo off to get in. Only fourteen percent of last year's entering class was black, fifteen percent Latino, and less than a fifth are first in their families to go to college. That's all me. And it's not worth it if I only get to go because someone else intervened, you know?"
Warren sighed. He wanted badly to say the right thing but it was hard to turn off his defense mechanism of being witty and hilarious. Instead, anger came out. "Look, you earned the grades, right? You rocked your SATs. The only thing holding you back is money. Do you want student loans until you're 50? I don't think so. If the scholarship bothers you, then just take my fucking money. And if that STILL bothers you, you can pay for your own damn textbooks and supplies and I'll handle tuition. Just go to your dream school, be amazing and put me out of business one day, for fuck's sake."
Miles didn't reply right away, and his first attempt to say something was blocked by the sudden loud, cold gust of wind. He shivered, and his crossed arms became more for keeping him warm than presenting himself all rebel-like. "Wait, what?" he said when he found his voice again. "I don't get it."
"Jesus Christ," Warren exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. "What is there to get?! I BELIEVE in you! You! Miles! Not black impoverished random child. Miles Morales, my pseudo whatever that I somehow care about. So fuck this! I'm tired of this conversation! I'll just make your parents take my money or find a way to put it in your bank account. I can do that you know. I'm rich and white."
They both stood there for a moment, the only sounds those of the busy city below. Eventually, Miles sighed and looked down at his feet. "Is this the part where the music swells and we hug it out and apologize?"
Warren gave him a tired look as he reached up and rubbed his face. "No. Well. You can hug, and I can stand here awkwardly, if that floats your boat. This is the part where you accept the money, we can forget the bullcrap scholarship, and I go back to my audits. How's that?"
"Well." Miles uncrumpled the letter and quickly scanned it. "Maybe keep the scholarship. It'll be easier to explain to my parents. And definitely keep the conditions. I don't deserve this or your help if I'm failing. I'ma prove to you and everyone else how hard I work. I'll keep the 3.7 every semester, I'll do relevant internships over the summer, and Spider-Man's coming back full time now that I'll be living in the city again."
"And let me guess -- you're probably not going to let me help you with a place."
"Oh hell no. I'm living in a dorm. Ganke and I are gonna room together. And how else am I gonna make friends and get invited to parties . . . that I totally won't go to because they're a distraction from school work?"
Warren rolled his eyes. "Just don't knock anyone up. I don't want to have that sex talk with you again." He glanced around, as if finally realizing they were outside. "It's cold," he said with a bit of surprise. "Well, not for me. For you. Are you still patrolling or you want to come down and warm up? I have a shower."
"Nah, I'ma meet up with Peter in a little bit and brag to him that I'm going to college at the best school in the state." Miles pulled his mask on again and stuffed the letter into his waistband (he really needed to get a costume with pockets), but before he thwipped off on a web, he gave Warren as quick and unawkward a hug as he could. "I'll make you proud. And hey, Becky's not pregnant yet so I'm doing good already."
Warren pretended to be unimpressed with the hug, and gave a half hearted one back in return, but secretly, he was glad. "You always make me proud," he said honestly. "And you better brag. Smart ass kid. Make sure Peter gets good and jealous.". He patted Miles on the back and wiggled out of the hug. "Now get going. We don't want you to get pneumonia and die. That's no way to start a school year."
The letter had come as a surprise. Miles had lost count of how many college scholarships he had applied for, but he knew that the Worthington INnovative Novice Enrichment Reward (WINNER? Really?) was not one of them. In fact, fearing a conflict of interest and accusations of favoritism, he had avoided anything he saw that was sponsored by the Worthingtons. That he had received this award so soon after publicly bemoaning his lack of funds aroused his suspicion.
Not to mention his ire. He had done all this work himself to get into a good school, he didn't need a handout. How dare Warren?
It was a Spider-Man sort of night, so before he started his patrol, he would speak with Warren. He wasn't at the XFI office, the penthouse above, or his own home, so assuming he was in the city at all, Miles concluded he must have still been at the office. It took forever to crawl to the top of the skyscraper that housed Worthington Industries, but there he was, sitting at his desk and typing away. Clinging to the window, Miles lifted his mask and then tapped on the glass loudly enough to get his attention without shattering it.
The noise was annoying. It had been a long night, and this was not what Warren wanted. Grumbling angrily, he reached for his phone and pressed the speed dial. "Jolene! Why are the window washers here so late?"
"What?" The confusion in her voice was obvious
"I said," he repeated, swiveling in his chair, "why are the --" Stopping mid-sentence, he frowned. Not a window washer. An angry spider miles. Great. "Never mind." He hung up before Jolene could ask any more questions, although he wished he could hang up on the inevitable questions that were going to come from Miles.
Why did no one (except Bobbi) accept his money?
Motioning to his young friend, he tried to convey that they should meet on the roof. Whether or not Miles got the message, Warren wasn't sure, but he grabbed his jacket, silently thankful that he didn't feel the cold. He had a feeling they'd be up there for a while.
Miles got the message and continued climbing until he reached the rooftop. Pre-Christmas winter in New York was a lovely scene. The lights seemed to sparkly more brightly in the cold air. It made him sigh with contentment, but he steeled himself when he heard the door open.
In a way, Warren felt better knowing that Miles had to wait for him. This way, he'd regained a measure of control that he needed. "Fancy meeting you tonight," he stated nonchalantly. "how goes the patrol?"
"The cold usually keeps all but the most determined and stupid of criminals inside. It's a problem of quantity versus quality, you know?" Mask in one hand, Miles reached into his suit with the other to take out the scholarship acceptance letter. "What's WINNER?"
Warren feigned ignorance. "A winner? You're looking at one, why?l
"Oh my God," Miles groaned. "It's a scholarship I won. Full ride to Columbia for four years. Including books and fees and all that stuff. Which, I mean, is pretty freaking amazing, except I never applied for it. I didn't apply for anything with your name on it, which, spoiler alert, really took away a lot of options."
"At this point, my name is attached to so many things, it's hard to even know what. I assure you, I've lost count over the years." Warren put his hands in his pockets. "so what's the problem? You were probably headhunted, but for schools. That's a thing. I think."
"Stop pretending I'm an idiot, Warren," Miles demanded with an edge to his tone he only reserved for particularly frustrating video game levels. "I am positive I didn't apply for this, and I got it just days after I said publicly that I can't afford college. It couldn't be more obvious unless you actually signed it yourself. Mira, look." He sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate it but I don't need your help with this. You don't need to keep meddling."
Warren rolled his eyes. "Meddling is what old women do. I am not meddling. If you're looking for scholarships, then you need help. If you can't go to college when you obviously want to, then you need help. I have no idea how you haven't managed to be accepted for a scholarship, but isn't it a nice feeling to not have to worry? Keep applying, keep looking at other options, I don't care." he paused. "And for what it's worth, it is a real scholarship. It only takes a few hours to set one up."
Miles crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly at his patron. "I'm not some charity case you get to help every time you need a PR boost. You're not Will Stacks and I'm definitely not Quvenzhané Wallis."
"Jamie Foxx played Will Stacks," Warren stated automatically. "You're mixing your references."
"That's what I said. Whatever, never mind. You didn't even ask me if I wanted this. You just went ahead and did it. That's just . . . it's not fair. I worked my culo off to get in. Only fourteen percent of last year's entering class was black, fifteen percent Latino, and less than a fifth are first in their families to go to college. That's all me. And it's not worth it if I only get to go because someone else intervened, you know?"
Warren sighed. He wanted badly to say the right thing but it was hard to turn off his defense mechanism of being witty and hilarious. Instead, anger came out. "Look, you earned the grades, right? You rocked your SATs. The only thing holding you back is money. Do you want student loans until you're 50? I don't think so. If the scholarship bothers you, then just take my fucking money. And if that STILL bothers you, you can pay for your own damn textbooks and supplies and I'll handle tuition. Just go to your dream school, be amazing and put me out of business one day, for fuck's sake."
Miles didn't reply right away, and his first attempt to say something was blocked by the sudden loud, cold gust of wind. He shivered, and his crossed arms became more for keeping him warm than presenting himself all rebel-like. "Wait, what?" he said when he found his voice again. "I don't get it."
"Jesus Christ," Warren exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. "What is there to get?! I BELIEVE in you! You! Miles! Not black impoverished random child. Miles Morales, my pseudo whatever that I somehow care about. So fuck this! I'm tired of this conversation! I'll just make your parents take my money or find a way to put it in your bank account. I can do that you know. I'm rich and white."
They both stood there for a moment, the only sounds those of the busy city below. Eventually, Miles sighed and looked down at his feet. "Is this the part where the music swells and we hug it out and apologize?"
Warren gave him a tired look as he reached up and rubbed his face. "No. Well. You can hug, and I can stand here awkwardly, if that floats your boat. This is the part where you accept the money, we can forget the bullcrap scholarship, and I go back to my audits. How's that?"
"Well." Miles uncrumpled the letter and quickly scanned it. "Maybe keep the scholarship. It'll be easier to explain to my parents. And definitely keep the conditions. I don't deserve this or your help if I'm failing. I'ma prove to you and everyone else how hard I work. I'll keep the 3.7 every semester, I'll do relevant internships over the summer, and Spider-Man's coming back full time now that I'll be living in the city again."
"And let me guess -- you're probably not going to let me help you with a place."
"Oh hell no. I'm living in a dorm. Ganke and I are gonna room together. And how else am I gonna make friends and get invited to parties . . . that I totally won't go to because they're a distraction from school work?"
Warren rolled his eyes. "Just don't knock anyone up. I don't want to have that sex talk with you again." He glanced around, as if finally realizing they were outside. "It's cold," he said with a bit of surprise. "Well, not for me. For you. Are you still patrolling or you want to come down and warm up? I have a shower."
"Nah, I'ma meet up with Peter in a little bit and brag to him that I'm going to college at the best school in the state." Miles pulled his mask on again and stuffed the letter into his waistband (he really needed to get a costume with pockets), but before he thwipped off on a web, he gave Warren as quick and unawkward a hug as he could. "I'll make you proud. And hey, Becky's not pregnant yet so I'm doing good already."
Warren pretended to be unimpressed with the hug, and gave a half hearted one back in return, but secretly, he was glad. "You always make me proud," he said honestly. "And you better brag. Smart ass kid. Make sure Peter gets good and jealous.". He patted Miles on the back and wiggled out of the hug. "Now get going. We don't want you to get pneumonia and die. That's no way to start a school year."
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