“Seriously, cariño, I’m fine.” Miles chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he let you fret over him like a mother hen.

“It was just the Rhino. I’ve fought heaps of supervillains before!” His sheepish smile widened at the look you gave him.

“Okay, maybe that’s not exactly the most comforting thing I could have said. But really, corazón. Don’t worry about me.” Miles gently, even reverently, slid his fingers over the inside of your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to your palm.

“It’s only a scratch.” He murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

He knew he had no right to tell you not to worry about him — not when you were one of two people who knew about his secret identity. Being Spider-Man meant that he was almost always getting himself into life-threatening trouble.

And if he was being honest, he did have a really sore spot on his side. The Rhino probably cracked a rib.

But no matter how much he wanted to whine and complain like a baby, he forced himself to keep his mouth shut and be strong.

Miles would, evidently, do anything to see you smile. And if he had to hide his pain to keep that smile on your face, then that’s what he would do.