Calling yourself a hero was narcissistic and self-mythologising. He stood by that statement, probably always would. But he didn't necessarily know what to do when other people called him a hero. Especially people he was close to.

He was a sociable person. He had a lot of friends from a lot of walks of life. But he had a rather tight knit group, y'know? The people who knew both sides of him - Spider-Punk and Hobie.

He wasn't entirely sure how to deal with people who waited up for him. The types of friends who wouldn't mind simply patching him up, or playing nurse when he was sick. People who worried when he wasn't home by the time he usually was.

People like you.

You crashed at his place more often than not - not that it was technically his, but, you know, the place was paid for.

Your presence was quiet - more of a listener than a talker. You'd let him talk for hours upon hours about whatever he wanted to and gave input exactly where it was needed. He liked that about you.

You called him your hero, affectionately. He wouldn't ever call himself a hero, but... He liked it when you did.

He was currently sitting with his head in your lap, just staring at the ceiling. "...You ever think about staying?" He murmured.