Chapter Text
[Earth 1610 | 10:23PM EST Brooklyn, NY | November 2014]
The Prowler would have assumed the most powerful man in Brooklyn dealt with all of his business in style. Maybe Fisk would host a recruitment dinner in one of those real high-end places, where every table was sitting another black-tie millionaire, and no one actually listened to the whispers floating around every table. Maybe Aaron would have to bring out the one suit in his closet, tucked away behind his trench coat and a leather jacket. His "work uniform" would lie in wait beneath a button-down shirt and blazer––just in case things went south, because, knowing his luck? The odds weren’t great––as he would try not to sweat through the fabric before making it to the table.
(It'd be worth it, though, especially with his stomach already acting up. He's pretty sure the only things in his fridge are a mostly-finished cheese pizza and unopened beer. Aaron is definitely picking up groceries tomorrow. Maybe he could get something to stir-fry...)
Looking back, Aaron realizes his 'understanding' of the mafia was derived from the reruns playing by the time he usually gets home. Of course, the actual mob would rather be more practical with business than Hollywood. That meant being discreet with meetings.
Aaron is disappointed to find that “discreet” meant “held in a dark alley on 42nd” because that is where he is right now with one of Fisk’s people.
They've been going back and forth for the last fifteen minutes, asking about business, about payment. Tombstone pulls a piece of paper that’s been sitting in his pocket and the Prowler gives him a look––not that he can really see it through the mask––and Fisk's man doesn’t press him any further, folding the contract in his hand neatly back into his pocket.
“The offer still stands if you change your mind," he grunts, rolling a toothpick across his grimace, "Fisk really sees potential in having you on the team.”
The Prowler scoffs. “I’m flattered,”––and he is, really––“I’ve just always been more about the whole freelancer scene. I get to set my own hours. It’s nice.”
He gets a chuckle out of Tombstone for that, but it’s curt. “Well, don’t be surprised if I’m back with more money in a few days, Davis.”
And Aaron hopes the mask hides his unease at that.
But next thing he knows, the goon is strolling out of the alley before he can speak, toothpick still in iron-clenched jaw.
Eventually, Tombstone's frame disappears into the bright light of the nearby street lamps by the mouth of the alley, and The Prowler holds for a final moment before leaping towards the nearest building, sinking his claws between the bricks.
Aaron thinks to himself, hyperaware of any prying eyes as he's scaling up the wall like an animal:
'Last thing the kid needs is an uncle under the thumb of Brooklyn's biggest crime boss,'
The Prowler makes it to the roof,
'even if Miles ain't never gonna find out.'
Aaron makes his way home.
—
[Earth 1610 | 9:12AM EST Aaron Davis' Apartment | August 2003]
It's the end of another New York summer. Brooklyn is as loud and hot as ever and Aaron's apartment window is open just to let the air circulate.
When The Prowler picks up the phone that day, he's expecting a call from his client's new burner. What he isn't expecting is Jefferson
DavisMorales.Aaron is on his feet before Jeff can get a word in. "What's the emergency?"
Apparently, there isn't one. There is, however, "a boy," and apparently, he's "about to have a nephew."
'Oh.'
Aaron's mouth goes dry. He didn't know Rio had been expecting.
'So it's been, what, nine months?' Aaron doesn't ask why he's only hearing about this now, almost a full year late. Sometimes, he forgets the Davis brothers aren't still throwing up tags and getting kicked out of the corner stores. But now that there's a whole kid, Aaron realizes time never stopped passing since they parted ways. They'd grown
apartup.His brother is a father now.
And that makes Aaron an uncle.
When he asks about the kid's name, he swears he can hear Jeff's smile, beaming: "It's Miles. His name is Miles."
—
[Earth 1610 | 11:28PM EST Aaron Davis' Apartment | September 2017]
The lights are still out when The Prowler steps into his apartment from the window, but Aaron freezes at the sound of light murmuring from a…a lump on his couch, which definitely wasn't there before he left the building.
'Shit.'
Thermal vision is on in an instant. Aaron wonders if he really had been careless enough to get caught. He should have known it was only a matter of time till someone sent their goons after him, and on the one day he left the window unlocked––
“...shit.”
Thermal reveals that the lump is, in fact, a school uniform-clad Miles bundled up under a blanket from his bedroom. Asleep.
Is it cute? Of course it is. Is it the worst thing for him to come home to right now?
Of course it is.
Aaron has never been so quick to start stripping off the costume, dropping silently to the ground. He crawls until he's hidden behind the TV and struggles to pull off his fitted boots with clawed gloves––he has to remember to remove the gauntlets to keep from tearing through the leather, because they're good quality leather and also custom-made––and somehow works out of the cape too.
When the mask comes off, Aaron looks down and pulls at the rest of his suit. If Miles saw this outfit...
'...if I can cover this up, it won't matter if the boots stay on.'
Aaron moves slowly. There’s a false back to one of the speakers by the television. It's where he stores the suit because of how discreet it is. Aaron knows he's lucky that it's this close to the window; luckier to find the clothes he had changed out of still inside (he usually tossed them onto the couch).
Before he makes another move, Aaron listens. Intently.
He has to make sure Miles's snores are still coming from the couch despite the noise.
He counts the seconds between Miles' breaths, decides the kid really is out cold and starts slipping on the orange pullover while forcing his boots through the cuffs of his sweats.
Three minutes of fabric rustling later, The Prowler's gauntlets are placed beside the mask and cape, neatly rolled (and definitely not haphazardly shoved) into the shelf.
Aaron closes the back just in time to catch a small yawn from the couch and peeks his head out to check, almost forgetting he can’t actually see without the night vision. He still recognizes Miles’ voice calling out for him from across the room,
“...Uncle Aaron, ’s that you?” He sounds nervous. Aaron would be too if he woke up to noises in the dark, but that was because of the poor choices he had made up to this moment. There was a reason he had to make sure he wasn't followed these days, but Miles wasn't like that. Miles wasn't never gonna be like that (Aaron would make sure of it).
"It’s me, man, don't worry.” Aaron's hand grazes the wall and he brings himself to his feet, following it to the switch by the front door. He chuckles when his nephew grimaces at the sudden flash of light. “What you doin’ in here, Miles?”
“Sleeping." The kid lets out another yawn. "What are you doing climbing in through your own window? I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be my thing."
Aaron holds the calm facade. "It's my window, ain't it? Maybe I'll make it my thing too." That earns him some snickering as he heads over to sit beside Miles. "How long you been in here?"
"I dropped by around nine, but you weren't in yet." Miles rewraps his blanket around his shoulders as he sits. "Also: you left your window unlocked, and you never leave it unlocked so I got worried."
Ah, he had left it unlocked this time. Tonight's gig was only meant to keep him till the hour (he had really low-balled that time frame). "It's all good, man. I was just letting some air in while I went out for a walk."
"And you just got back now? It's almost midnight!"
"Yeah, well," Aaron pauses to think. "I...took the scenic route. Walked along the bridge a few times,"––which was technically the truth. The guy he was after had him in circles from Brooklyn to Manhattan. The Prowler even had to stop to refuel his bike. He recalls the cashier inside the store looked ready to piss himself. "If I knew you was coming, I would have just walked down it once."
"Uncle Aaron, if you're trying to get your steps in, you can just tell me. Dad started getting his in because it's 'too early for me to lose my 'cop-bod', Miles.' So there's really no shame in wanting to stay in shape at your age–"
Miles gets a light hit to the shoulder for that, but he has Aaron cracking up––"Does he really call it his 'cop bod' ?" "He does! Also, the first day of school, he drove me there in his cop car! Can you believe that?!"––It takes him a second to calm down before he notices Miles' sketchbook still in his lap. It's opened to a page Aaron hasn't seen before as he's taking it into his hands. "Yo, you been holdin' out on me? You throw these up yet?"
"Nah man," Miles eyes dart to the rest of the room, "...you know my dad, I can't."
But when Aaron takes another look at the page, the bright print of "no expectations," it's too late. He can already see Miles going to work on his next masterpiece, and he knows exactly where it's going to happen.
—
[Earth 1610 | 12:02AM EST Benson Ave Station | September 2017]
When Aaron says he doesn't want Miles ending up like him, he means it. He doesn't belong in this line of work. Aaron knows everyone thinks their kid is one in a million, but he knows Miles is special. The kid could go on to be a doctor, a world-class physicist, a professional artist...or maybe he'd be working at the convenience stores during the real late shifts like that one guy Aaron saw on his bike. And you know what? Aaron is sure the kid would make the most of that too. No matter where Miles Morales was going, he would be a light in this world and make his family proud (just like he already was).
But just because Aaron doesn't want Miles going into crime doesn't mean he's about to suspend his artistic inhibitions. "Art is a form of expression. Sometimes it's the only way we can let things out." That's how he's choosing to justify leading Miles to trespass in the subway tunnels. After all, can it really be a crime to be an artist in this city? ("I'm pretty sure trespassing is still illegal, Uncle Aaron." "Well it's a good thing your dad's not here to see it. Now come on, man.")
As they're making their way down the tracks, Aaron turns to look at his nephew with his hand held up to keep the flashlight out of his eyes. "So, what's up with school?"
"'Going great. I've got...tons of friends." Ooh, Aaron can feel the sarcasm dripping off that like wet paint.
"Man, you can't tell me it's all that bad out there." Aaron turns to face the tunnel again to be sure he knows where he's going. "Smart girls is where it's at. Place must be full of 'em!"
"No, there's-" Aaron is pretty sure he hears Miles catch himself after tripping on his shoelaces (again), but he keeps facing forward. He's pretty sure the place is the next one down. "-there's no one!"
Oh, there is definitely someone.
"I can't have no nephew of mine on the streets with no game."
"Hey- I've got game. I, uh, well..." Miles trails off after that, and Aaron risks glancing over his shoulder despite the flashlight directed at his back. There's a look on Miles' face that tells him all he needs to know.
Aaron has a guess: he's talked to her the one time, and Miles is already smitten. He definitely gets it from Jeff's side of the family.
"We're here, Miles."
The flashlight moves up the chainlink fence farther down the hall. "Hey, how'd you know about this place?"
"Did an engineering job down here," which was, again, technically the truth. Aaron found this place after a job where one of his gauntlets got busted. He was already in the tunnels and decided he could sit down to do the repairs. Lo and behold, the closest side tunnel had a wall just begging for Miles' to turn it into something incredible. Now, Aaron would have usually gone out to scout a new canvas for his nephew, but if one was just going to fall into his lap while on the job, he wasn't complaining. The area seemed safe enough anyways, and the surrounding walls had already been tagged, so it wasn't like Aaron was the only one who's found this spot.
They jump the fence (well, Aaron jumps the fence. Miles takes a solid ten minutes to even get to the top before he falls jumps down to the other side and joins him with a "Whatsup." Aaron really can't get enough of this kid.)
The paints come right out of Aaron's bag and into Miles' hands. There's no time to waste.
"Now you're on your own, Miles," and Aaron has the boombox going as the soundtrack to the creative process. His role here is to give some advice, but Miles needs to let his intuition guide him on this one.
Miles starts with the red. "Whoa, slow down a little...that's better."
Miles goes a little too broad with his strokes but he starts working with it like a champ. "See what you got now? Making mistakes is part of it."
Aaron's excited when he busts out the blue for the penmanship. "Real Miles, coming out of hiding. Now, you cut that line with another color...
"yeah, I've got a lighter blue in the bag. Hold on.
"Yellow on blue? Now that's a classic right there.
"I wish I could do cursive that clean. They still teach you that in school?"
Next thing Aaron knows, he's helping Miles onto his shoulders so he can do something higher up. "Did you want drips? 'Cause if you do, that's cool, but if you don't, you gotta keep it moving–"
Miles assures him it's intentional. And by the time Aaron's outlining his silhouette over the "a" in "expectations," his breath is taken away. This kid really was going to do something amazing with his life.
He lets Miles take a picture before they turn in for the night.
("Hey, wait, doesn't your school have a curfew or somethin'?"
"Uh, I mean, yeah, but I'm gonna head back now–!"
"At this hour? Nah, Miles, you're staying with me." Aaron packs the last few cans in his bag before he picks up the boombox. "If you think your dad's gonna get mad at me for letting you trespass and vandalize, you should know: he might actually kill me if I leave you unsupervised this late. You're still taking the couch, though.")