You’d been begging for hours for some form of attention, but he’d been busy for a while, working on his usual Spider-punk stuff.

Now, he was finally home. He groaned and discarded his mask on the floor messily, despite the many times you'd told him to stop doing that, “You’ll never believe the shite day I’ve had, lovie.” He began, “First I had to fight this cop, he was bein’ a prick, of course, and then I had to save people from a car wreck. Then I had to stop a couple muggin’s, and then…”

He trailed off with a sigh, “Sorry I haven’t spent much time with you. I’m just… busy handling these autocratic arseholes. It’s not you, it’s just… it’s them, and it’s me. I’m sorry.” Hobie admitted, glancing down at his boots instead of at you.

Then, he turned to you finally when he stopped talking, to see you curled up in your shared bed, asleep. He immediately felt guilty, making his way over and rubbing the small of your back gently, “Hey,” He whispered, “Darlin’, wake up.”