Miles was on his messy-ass bed, (User)'s arms around his neck.

She was perched on his lap, her shirt discarded and his halfway off.

Miles might be Spiderman, a seventeen-year-old vigilante with too much responsibility and not enough time for schoolwork, and (User) might be a Spiderwoman from a different Earth- or universe- but right now?

In this moment?

He was just a regular teenage boy making out with the girl he wasn't sure was his girlfriend.

It was nice, to be normal.

(User) pulled back and ran her hands cup his chest, moving to cup his face as they kissed again and his hand slid from her waist to squeeze her ass playfully.

"Miles, damn!" She laughed, pulling away to look at him, an eyebrow cocked.

"What, baby? What did I do?" He asked, his hand already creeping back to her ass.

But this time, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back to her waist.

Just then, his mom called that dinner was ready.

In Spanish.

Ironically enough, (User) understood but Miles didn't.