Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been the run of the mill idiot robbers. The really dumb ones who didn’t even try to hide their face other than the Yankees baseball cap pulled down lower than required for regular wear. Honestly, how they expected to not even try and hide their identity and not get caught, Miles would never understand. Especially when they didn’t even try to stay out of the line of sight of the security cameras. Granted, it was a tiny local art shop and only had about two cameras in the whole store—one by the register and one in the back of the shop. But still, if your going to rob the register, the camera was right there. Not that he really cared of course, cause it just made his job easier, but it was sort of baffling to him how stupid people could be. But then one of the idiot guys had started knocking some of the art stuff off of the shelves and busting it up just for the fun of it. And that just hurt Miles’ soul.

Up until now he had been remaining invisible. He’d been doing that recently, observing the scene before jumping in. It was a lesson he had learned after taking a bullet in his knee a few weeks a go because he hadn’t been paying attention enough to see the guy had a back up gun. That had not been pleasant, so to avoid any future incidents, with the exception of life or death situations, he’d been taking the time to check for such things recently. Because really, he could turn invisible. He really should take advantage of that more and case the scene. But he’d had a full minute or so by now, he knew enough, and destroying the innocent art supplies was just plain uncalled for.

And so, that was when Miles webbed the gun out of robber guys hand at the register and swung it around to whack the merchandise destroying robber upside the head before releasing it—a few feet away from both robbers down one of the isles. It didn’t hit hard enough to knock the guy out, but it Did knock him off balance a bit and catch the attention of the first robber. Miles gave a short, loud whistle to draw the attention of both idiots in his direction before flickering back in to view.

“Hey guys,” he said, giving a cheerful wave. “What’s up?”

The second robber reached to pull a gun from his waist band, which Miles was proud to say he had noticed while observing, and the poor guy never had a chance. Before the dude could even properly raise the weapon, Miles was yanking that from his hand too, and with a quick flick of his wrist the second gun joined the first in the isle and Miles was up in the air, quick to swing back around and knock the second robber down with a well placed kick to the head. Apparently the hit with the gun had done more damage than Miles thought if that was all it took to keep him down.

“Don’t wanna talk then,” he deadpanned as he touched back on the floor. “Alright, that’s cool. Respect.”

At that moment, there was a sharp tingling shock at the base of his neck. Danger, duck!

And he did, just a split second before a pocketknife of the first robber slashed out right where his shoulder had been just a moment earlier. He was very ashamed to admit that he had not noticed that in his observations. He was going to have to work on that. Instinctually, he struck out with his legs and knocked him off his feet. Before he got the chance to get back up, he webbed him to the floor and then his fellow idiot robber, and webbed their mouths shut too, just for good measure.

He dusted his hands off, just for showmanship’s sake, and turned to face the store owner. “You good, Jerry?”

For a moment, Jerry just stared at him, seeming to be confused as to how the vigilante knew his name before glancing at the window, and seeming to remember that yes, his name was in fact on the front of the glass store window.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” the elder gentlemen stuttered out.

“Not a problem,” Miles said. “You want some help cleaning this mess up?”

He seemed rather surprised by the offer. “That would be much appreciated, thanks, kid.”

It didn’t take long, 15 minutes maybe, to get the store cleaned up and the shelves upright and stocked again. The cops had showed up in that time—thankfully not Miles dad—and Jerry and “Spider-man” both gave their statements while picking fallen and broken merchandise up. Half an hour later and the cops were shuffling out and escorting the two robbers into the back of the patrol car. Miles hung around for a few minutes longer, confirming that Jerry really was okay and not just brushing it off. Once he was convinced, he found himself drifting to one of the shelves, his fingers itching towards the 48 set of art pens he had been planning to come and buy before he saw the robbers shuffle in.

“Could, um, could I buy these, please?” he asked, taking the package off the shelf and fidgeting in place.

Jerry seemed surprised by the question, but he let out a laugh. “Course you can, kid.”

“Cool, thanks,” Miles said, smiling behind his mask and heading to the register, only to be stopped by Jerry stepping in his path. “What’s up?”

“You saved my shop and probably my life. No charge kid.”

Miles eyes went wide, and he nearly dropped the pens in his hands on the floor. “What? No way, that’s nice and all, but I can’t let you just give me the pens. And I got the money, so…” he trailed off, looking down at his feet.

“Alright, you win,” Jerry sighed, walking to the cash register.

Miles gave a little bounce in place, and hopped over to the counter, passing the pens over. He rang them up as usual, and then typed something in before placing the pens in a bag.

“Alright, kid. $12.99.”

“The sign said they were $25.99.”

“You wanna pay, that’s fine, but it’s not gonna be full price.”

Miles stared. “That’s a 50% discount.”

Jerry shrugged. “You earned it, kid. From now on, Spidey is guaranteed a half-off deal on anything in the store, for as long as we’re open. Got it?”

“That feels like you’re losing money.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll start telling people Spidey shops here. It’ll be good for business. Fair?”

Behind the mask, Miles rolled his eyes. He leaned his head back with a groan. “Yeah, sure. Fair.”

Miles passed over the $12.99 with a laugh and a shake of his head, and Jerry passed over the paper bag with his purchase as he put the money in the cash register.

“Thanks Jerry!” Miles called over his shoulder as he left the store.

“Come back anytime kid!”

As the door shut behind him, Miles flickered back out of sight, so he didn’t attract too much attention on his way home in the Spider suit. He loved this place, and he loved Jerry. He would absolutely be coming back, and as much as he hated to admit it, the discount was super nice. Would he be a terrible hero for taking advantage of that discount? Probably. But come on, he was 13, after all.

Chapter Text

In all fairness, when Miles decided to start taking advantage of his “Spider-Man discount,” maybe it hadn’t been his best idea to stop shopping as Miles Morales all together. But honestly, how was he suppose to know that Jerry paid that much attention to his customers? Didn’t most store owners just want to make the sale? But he knew Jerry, knew he wasn’t like that. He should have known that Jerry would notice sooner rather than later, and now that he thought about he was surprised it had taken as long as it had. It had been almost two months since he’d saved Jerry’s store from the robbers, and Miles—as Spider-Man—had probably been in the store at least twelve times between then and now. Miles Morales hadn’t gone in even once.

He had just finished his evening patrol and stopped by the shop before heading back to his dorm at Vision's to grab some poster board and some paint (actual paint this time, thank you) when Jerry decided to drop the ‘I know who you are’ bomb on him.

The store was empty, and as far as he could tell, it was just the two of them in there. Which wasn’t too unusual for the locally owned art store, especially at this time of night. He had just barely managed to make it in before Jerry locked the doors and closed up for the night. At 7:55 PM, he’d made it with five minutes to spare. It was a good thing that he knew the store so well and only needed a few specific things.

“Sorry for cutting it so close, Jerry,” Miles told him, passing the merchandise over the counter. “It’s for a school project. Couldn’t put it off.”

“What’s the project, kid?”

Miles' shoulders sagged. “Book report presentation on Catcher and the Rye.”

“Hated that book when I was your age,” the older man told him. “Hate that book now.”

“Yeah, me too,” Miles laughed. “Stupid, depressing book.”

“$15.50,” Jerry said with a fond smile.

It took him a minute to get the money together, and $2.50 of it had mostly been paid in nickels, dimes, and pennies, but in the end he had managed to get him the exact change. He managed to collect his bag of paint, slip a rubber band that Jerry gave him around the rolled up poster board, and maneuver it under his arm successfully before anything weird happened to break up their usual friendly chatter.

“Have a good night, Miles,” Jerry called to him as he headed towards the door. “And good luck on that presentation of yours.”

“Thanks Jerry,” he laughed. “I think I’m going to need it. Adios! Have a good night.”

And Miles had made it out the door and half way down the street—walking, still visible, because this was New York after all, and people could be pretty oblivious when they wanted to be—before he really registered what had just happened.

Have a good night, Miles. Jerry had said. He had called him Miles. Which meant that Jerry knew.

It didn’t take long for Miles to make it back to the shop and burst through the front doors. “Did you just call me Miles?”

He didn’t care if he sounded frantic or crazy, because he was feeling pretty frantic and he probably was going crazy. Jerry, for his part, just tilted his head back and started laughing. A real, shoulders shaking and belly aching kind of laugh.

“Sure as hell took you long enough to notice kid,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “You’re my favorite customer Miles. You were in here a couple times a week and I haven’t seen you in almost two months. It wasn’t all that hard to pick up on. You know for such a smart and talented kid, you’ve got your moments where I wonder about you.”

Miles just stood there, poster board tucked securely under his arm and paint in hand, staring at the man with his mouth gaping open like a fish—which he was sure Jerry would have commented on if he could have seen his expression behind the mask.

Jerry finally got his laughter under control, though he still had that amused grin on his face which Miles was presently finding rather annoying, and sighed. “Relax, Miles. Figured it out a month ago, I’m not saying a word.”

For a moment, he just kept staring in total disbelief, and in the end all he managed to get out was a rushed and quiet “Thanks” before popping out of view—floating merchandise not included—and running back to his room.