(Note: After a long hiatus, this story is finally being continued. Thank you for being patient and enjoy the next chapter.)

11. THE MORNING AFTER

Queens, New York. December 25th, 2019 - 10:00 AM.

BEEB! BEEB! BEEB! BEEB!

The alarm clock on Peter's nightstand began to cry out that awful high-toned beeping. It was the same annoying sound Peter had heard every morning since his first day of high school, as he had never bothered to replace the clock with something less grating. However, he hadn't used the damn thing in months. Being Spider-Man meant that Peter's sleep patterns were often erratic and led to very disjointed hours of slumber. He had been so busy with his duties as Spider-Man that he could never find the energy, nor forethought, to set the time on the clock before bed. Which is why it surprised him to hear the alarm this morning. His head shot up from his pillow. He sat up on the bed, somewhat disoriented. The beeping continued until Peter found the strength to reach over and hit the snooze button. This was followed by him suddenly grabbing his side. There had been a burning sensation as he leaned over to touch the clock.

Ow! Did I get hit by a truck last night? And why is my alarm going- ? Did May set it- or-...?

Peter was so lost in a groggy haze that for a minute he had forgotten that he wasn't a fifteen-year-old kid, living in his Aunt's house, and waking up early for school. He shook off the old thoughts and reality came back to him as his eyes fluttered open. He looked down at himself. Covered in bandages. He was naked beneath a blanket. He licked his lips, rubbing his tired eyes as he stepped one foot out of the bed. He still felt sore. It finally came back to him; his little spill in the forests behind The Big Man's mansion. Or... former mansion. There wasn't much left of it after those charges Kasady set off.

Right. Kasady.

He groaned a little. Cletus Kasady was at large with his own personal militia. If there was one thing he wanted to forget, it was that. But, unfortunately, there was work to be done and a city to save. Peter stood up and slowly made his way to the mirror. He stood bare before it and took stock of his condition. He removed the bandages and cloths one by one, assessing the cuts, bruises, and scars made from the night before. As expected, most of the damage was healed. Sure, there was still some noticeable damage on his form, here and there. But, in general, the man had healed himself up quite nicely. He looked at his front for a long time, before turning his back to the mirror. He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. He noticed that there seemed to be scratches on his back. And he could tell the marks hadn't been made from the fall. They looked distinctly like human nails had dug downward against his back, not pushing hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave eight definable marks.

I don't remember those being there. I feel like Sable would have bandaged those if they had bee- Oh. Right.

A small smile appeared on Peter's face. He suddenly recalled why Sable had not bandaged those particular marks up. Because she had made them. He then looked down and noticed that his bed, and the area surrounding it, was a touch messier than he had usually kept it. He thought back to how he and Sable had shared the bed the night before. He replayed how the events unfolded and how the two of them had clearly been more *ahem*... "passionate" about each other than the two had let on. Peter's head began to race, as it often did in strange social situations, about what this meant for the two. Last night had been wonderful but, was it anything real? Did Peter even want it to be real? He couldn't discern if the night before had been empty or meaningful or just a fluke... His mind was spinning. Whatever the case though, one thing was for sure. Sable had already left before he arrived. That fact made him pause to consider that she had just as many misgivings as him. Maybe more. Peter shook his head. There was no time for this. The clock had already turned to 10:04. It was time to start the day. Peter put on a pair of blue boxers and an "Eddie's Pizza" t-shirt. He stepped outside his room, cellphone in hand, ready to call Silver. His nose was then attacked by the strong scent of something cooking.

"Good, you're finally awake," a voice came suddenly from Peter's kitchen.

Peter nearly jumped onto the ceiling as he peered at the figure standing just a few inches from him. He then relaxed as he realized... It was Sable. But she didn't look like herself at all. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing Peter's clothes: a grey shirt that said ESU and a pair of thin, grey basketball shorts. Peter stared for a moment before glancing at what she was making. There were eggs in a frying pan. He barely registered this before Sable lifted the pan off of the stove and used a spatula to scrape the eggs onto a plate with crispy toast on it. She turned off the stove, grabbed a fork from the pantry, and walked over to Peter, handing him the plate.

"Here. Eat. I surmise we have a very long day ahead of us," Sable nodded. She then grabbed the pan and put it into the sink, turning on the faucet as she scrubbed egg remains off of the pan.

"I received a text this morning," Sable explained, speaking over the sound of rushing water. "The burner phone that Foswell gave me. He sent a message to it saying that the deal was still very much on. He said that I should be expecting his call soon."

Peter listened but was still a bit flabbergasted by the sights. Not only was Sable still here, but she was wearing his clothes. And she had made him breakfast. And... had she set the alarm?

"I set your alarm this morning," she continued, putting the clean pan back into the drawer she had originally pulled it from. "I wanted to let you sleep in. You looked dreadful last night. I thought you'd appreciate the rest."

Peter remained silent. This was a first for them. Sable was doing all the talking while Peter kept his mouth shut. Sable then crossed the kitchen and sat on one of the stools set up by the kitchen counter. When she was there, she picked up a mug of what was presumably coffee and sipped from it. Peter took a few steps forward, placed his plate down on the counter, and sat beside her.

"You're wearing my clothes," he finally spoke.

"Yes, I am. You didn't expect me to wear that dress around your apartment, did you?"

"No," Peter answered. "But I didn't really expect you to still be in my apartment. Or... making me breakfast. I kinda figured you'd go back to your hotel room, decompress, maybe get some of your gear for today..."

"Oh, I did. I didn't go back to my hotel room, but I did have one of my men drop off everything I will need for tonight."

Sable motioned to the front door. Peter looked to find a large briefcase and a duffel bag leaning against the wall.

"I figured I would just stay in one spot. I prefer to be completely available when Foswell finally calls me."

"Okay, I get that," he tilts his head to the side. "And... making me breakfast?"

"I already said, you need to be well-nourished for the day," she pursed her lips. "Is there some sort of problem, Parker?"

"What? No. No, I just—I guess I really expected you to have ran out already. I'm used to you just contacting me later with the deets. You sticking around is different. So, I- I mean I'm glad you are still here. And thanks for cooking. You didn't have to but- uh…"

Sable then lifted up one hand right in front of Peter's lips, silencing him. She let out a short breath before speaking again.

"Parker, I am getting the sense that your mind is hyper-fixated on what you and I did last night."

"Well, yeah. Of course," Peter's voice trailed off at the end of his words. "I mean, we fought terrorists and the mansion blew up. That's a lot of action for uh- for one night."

"I was referring to when we had sex," Silver expressed bluntly.

"Oh, yes. That. Now that you mention it. That might have crossed my min-…"

"Stop," Sable interrupted. "Do not bother."

Peter did stop, now sitting up in his stool. He offered a half smile to Sable. It was met with a sympathetic, but troubled expression.

"Parker, I would like to clear the air with you. Last night was enjoyable. You performed well and I'm glad we could find momentary comfort with each other. But I don't find it necessary to discuss it anymore. It was a brief moment of sincerity and weakness between us but… I believe it is best that we just forget it ever happened. There is a vitally important task at hand, and it will do us no favors to constantly be ruminating on a mistake."

"Mistake?" Peter repeated, after hanging on Silver's every word.

"A sweet mistake," Sable corrected. "But a mistake all the same. There is no true connection between us, Parker. You must know that. Right?"

Peter was silent for a moment, his neutral expression impossible to read. He then swallowed, nodding with a crooked smile on his face.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he says with a short laugh. "You and I make way better partners than we do partners."

Sable smiled back, seemingly happy to see that Peter understood where she was coming from.

"Thank you, Parker. I think it is important for us to make our feelings known if we are to trust each other."

"I agree," Peter bites down on his lip. He then pauses again. "On that note, can I ask you something?"

"I suppose."

"You said to me that I could never put a family or- or a life over being Spider-Man. Like, it would be impossible for me." Sable nodded along, looking concerned with where Peter was going with this. "Do you really think that? Do you really think… love and family is beyond people like us?"

Sable opened her mouth to speak, then stopped when she stuttered on her first word. She looked Peter in his eyes. He looked beaten down. Had she caused that?

"Parker…" she began.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Peter looked towards the door; his eyes crinkled. Who the hell could that be? Who would be visiting on Christmas morning? Unless…

"Hey," he turned to Sable. "You didn't hire an actor to put on a Santa suit and surprise me for Christmas morning, did you?

"No. I did not. But I'll remember that for next year."

Peter chuckled. He then stood up from his stool and walked over to the door. He looked through the peephole. He was then stunned to hear the banging of a fist against his door.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

"Hey, Pete," a voice calls. "You home?"

Peter looked through the peephole again, this time making out the shape of Miles Morales. He wondered what Miles could be doing there, before turning back to Sable.

"Oh, it's Miles. Not sure why he's here though. I guess he-…"

Peter turned to see Sable not far behind him. She was now hunched over and there was a pistol clutched tightly in her hand. Peter could hear the whirring sound that indicated the weapon was fully loaded. Peter waved his hand at her, mouth agape.

"What the hell are you doing?" he mouthed to her.

"I wasn't sure if…" she whispered, shrugging.

"Put that away, psycho. He's a friend!" He whispered back.

Peter rolled his eyes while Sable placed her gun back inside of the silver briefcase. Peter turned back to the door, opening it slightly. He looked out at Miles with a friendly grin.

"Miles, whaaa- What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to bother you. Just thought I'd stop by to say hi. And a Merry Christmas."

"Oh, well thanks. Merry Christmas to you too."

"Thanks! Thank you very much," he wiped his lip. "Oh, while I'm here, can you explain this?"

Miles then held up a newspaper from The Daily Bugle. The story on the front page: "Spider-Man Present During the Burning of the Foswell Mansion." Miles held the paper up with a judging look on his face. Peter shifted his weight, staring at the headline.

"Yes, I can explain that. That is a newspaper, Miles."

"You know what I mean, Pete!" Miles whined. "Why did you keep me out of the loop on this one? I mean, you lied right to my face."

"Miles, I-…"

"No, seriously! You crashed a party where the guest list was exclusively criminals. Isn't that kind of big Spidey stuff that I should be present for? I mean, I know you want me to be friendly neighborhood but… This is getting sad now."

"Miles, please. I can't—"

"You can't? No, I can't. I can't fight super-villains! I can't stop the mob! I can't patrol without finishing my homework! I feel like all you've done since we started this is give me a bunch of rules. I'm sick of it!"

"Miles, I'm trying to help you. You need to pace yourself. You shouldn't be running headfirst into every single disaster!"

"Why? That's what you do! Pete, has it ever occurred to you that you're being a real hypocrite? Also… Who is that?" Miles finished, lifting up one finger to point behind Peter.

Peter turned around to see that Sable was now behind him, looking out at the boy in the hall with curiosity. He realized that while he was arguing with Miles, he stupidly had opened the door wide enough for Miles to look into his apartment. Peter was ready to make up some excuse to get Miles to leave without asking further questions, but before Peter could come up with an appropriate lie, Miles squeezed passed him and stepped inside.

"Miles," he warned, closing the door behind him.

"Seriously, who are you?" He asked Sable, ignoring Peter. "You look very familiar."

"Silver Sablinova," she replied, stretching her arm out to shake his. "I take it that you are Spider-Man's ward. I was wondering if I'd meet you while I was in New York."

"Ward?" Miles chuckled as she shook his hand. "I don't know if that's the right word. It's way better than sidekick though."

Miles looked over his shoulder at Peter, motioning to him with his free hand.

"So, how long have you been working with Silver Sable and when were you going to tell me?" he asked, looking slighted.

"Miles, look… It's complicated, alright?"

"Well than… uncomplicate it, Pete."

Peter than walked up beside the two, his arms crossed. He looked down at Miles, taking on the familiar appearance of an upset parent. He then took a deep breath before explaining it all to Miles. All of it. He explained how Silver snuck into his room, how they agreed to work together, how they infiltrated the gala, how they escaped… He even offered Miles a brief lesson on his history with Kasady and his plans for the device. There were only two details he decided to leave out from his story. Number one was why Silver had slept over the previous night and was now wearing his clothes. Miles did not need to know the logistics of that. In fact, Peter himself was still fuzzy on just how the hell it had transpired. Number two revolved around a question that Peter hoped Miles would not ask. But, of course, it was the first thing out of his mouth once the explanation was over.

"Why didn't you let me help you?" Miles asked.

"Because," he swallowed, thinking of how to express himself. "It's getting so close to Christmas and you're a kid. You should be enjoying yourself, not worrying about some super weapon."

"Are you kidding me?" Miles scoffed. "I'm angry you didn't warn me about this. I mean, this EX9808-WHATEVER-THING sounds like some serious # !" he yells. "You have got to let me help you guys."

"No," said Peter.

"Alright," said Silver at the exact same time.

Peter turned to Sable suddenly. He looked confused, shocked, and irritated.

"What? Are you crazy?" he asked Silver, realizing that he normally wouldn't be bold enough to use this tone with her.

"Crazy? I've seen videos of what this boy can do. From my standpoint, he has many useful abilities and untapped potential. Though, I've noticed his fighting techniques are sloppy but with the right formal training-…"

"Ha ha! You see! She agrees with me. I should be out there with you guys. I should be helping."

"No!" He looks at Silver, his eyes narrowing. "No. He should be at home, with his family, preparing for the holiday. Period."

"But, Pete-…"

"Miles!" He snapped back. "When I offered to teach you the ropes, what was the first rule I laid down?"

"No dunking?" Miles answered smarmily, only to be met by Peter's glare. "First rule is that I follow your lead, always."

"Right. Now, if I need your help, I will call you, okay? But otherwise, I don't want you anywhere near this. Understand?"

"Yeah. Sure," Miles responded sheepishly, looking defeated. "Nice meeting you," he mumbled, looking back up at Sable.

Miles then turned around and headed for the front door. Before he left, Peter's expression softened. He did not care for the defeated posture Miles was carrying in his walk.

"Wait, Miles…" he spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"I just want you to know… I am proud of what you've done so far," Peter spoke in a softer tone than before." I really am. You're a true hero. I just think we should keep things slow. For now. Just… friendly neighborhood it for a little while longer. I promise things will be different real soon. I promise you that."

Miles just smiled, giving Peter one final nod before opening the door. He said goodbye and was out of the apartment. A brief silence filled the room. The two stood there motionless for a few seconds before Peter turned to Sable.

"You've been watching videos of him?" he asked.

"Well, videos of both of you, technically. It's quite impressive how many of your exploits end up archived on video sharing sights."

"I know, right. And yet, I've never once been featured on Youtube Rewind," Peter laughed awkwardly.

"I don't know what that is."

"Of course you don't."

The two made small talk for a few more moments. However, the chit-chat was put to rest when the burner phone on the nearby table finally started to ring. Silver and Peter quickly locked eyes before rushing to the table. Silver grabbed the phone and flipped it open, immediately placing it on speaker.

"Hello?" she answered in the faux British accent.

There was silence on the other end. Nothing but white noise for several seconds. Peter held his breath. And then a deep, masculine voice finally spoke up. It clearly wasn't Foswell. Must have been one of his goons.

"12 PM. By the waterfront. Warehouse 65. Bring all the money."

Silver looked down to see that the unknown caller had immediately hung up after relaying the message. She looked up to see that Peter had quickly grabbed a pen and paper.

"Warehouse 65. 12 PM," he repeated, meeting her eyes as he looked up from the paper.

"Perfect," she smiled. "We're ending this."

The two then began discussing their plan of attack. Sable would go in alone, playing the part of The White Rabbit once again. Peter would sneak into the warehouse through a vent, just out of sight. His job was to do recon around the area and keep Sable safe while she made the drop-off. Both of them expected they might have to fight if Kasady had somehow figured out where to find the device, so they each filled their suits to the brim with weapons and gadgets to help them incase of a scuffle. The time was set, the plan was made, and the heroes were prepared for anything the day might throw at them. Anything. Except for maybe the sixteen-year-old kid that had been standing outside the front door with his ear pressed against it, listening intently for the last ten minutes.

"Warehouse 65. 12 PM," Miles whispered to himself.

There's no way I'm missing this.