Work Text:
Miles Morales is good at drawing. Very good, in fact. The strokes of different thickness, the attractive and coherent, but at the same time chaotic combination of colors. A peculiar and unique style. If Gwen has any talent playing the drums, then Miles is a sort of DaVinci on the rise.
With this in mind, Gwen can't help but be flattered to see that such a developed skill has been used to draw her, at least her heroine counterpart. The way she looks captured on the pages of that notebook is simply beautiful. She likes it, she likes it a lot. So much so that she can't help but want to be a little selfish about it.
"Can you draw me?"
It's a simple question. So simple that Miles can't help but choke on his drink; a few erratic coughs escape his lips and he needs a couple of seconds before he meets that pair of blue eyes again, looking at him expectantly. "What?"
"That if you can draw me." She repeats, with a confident, playful smile. To the Latino boy, it may seem like she just enjoys teasing him and getting on his nerves. She doesn't deny that this is partly true. However, this time it is an honest request. Maybe a little cheeky, but honest, all the same.
"Um, uh... Sure?" Oh, please, can't you just act normal around a girl for once Miles? "But... Can I ask you why?"
"Why what?"
"If you want some of my drawings, I can give you a few."
Gwen knows. She remembers how she was overwhelmed by the thought of how much time Miles would have spent doing those works, each with its own particular style and vibe. None were identical to the other, so much so that you might think they symbolize their own world on paper similar to the multiverse. A smile frames her face. She appreciates Miles' gesture, as well as the absence of a negative response to her request. But, as she acknowledges, she is selfish and not afraid to show it. "But you never thought of giving one of those away, did you?"
Giving her any of his illustrations as a gift means damaging the notebook and Gwen definitely doesn't want that. "Besides, I want a drawing of mine."
Miles raises an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean? You're in all of them."
A small laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head. "Spider-Woman is in them." She replies softly. "So... can you do it, can you draw me?"
It's not the first and won't be the last time he draws Gwen. And while he admits it wasn't the best start for her to find all those illustrations after long months of separation, Miles is somewhat used to? drawing her. He understands her physique, her bodily expression, everything that makes her up.
Or so he thought until a couple of hours ago.
"Well? What will you do?" curious as a little girl, Gwen stays too close to him, so much so that a part of him tells him he can feel her warmth radiating towards him. He doesn't dislike it, on the contrary, he rather likes that Gwen is so in trust with his person. That doesn't stop him from getting nervous about your sudden moments of bodily closeness. He feels overheated, and he's not entirely sure if that's a product of the temperature regulation between the two of them.
"Well, that's up to you." He doesn't look at her, not when he recognizes that his cheeks are most likely starting to tinge a very unobtrusive color.
"On me?"
Miles nods. After all, this will be a gift from him. One of a personal nature, if he thinks about it. So he doesn't want to let Gwen down, nor does he want to allow her to be dissatisfied. He needs it to be perfect, or at least as close to it as possible. For that, he must know what Gwen wants. Yes, a drawing, but what kind, what style, what is it that she wants to express? With a myriad of factors to consider, from color to aesthetics, the possible outcomes don't boil down to a small number.
So he ask her the most sensible question possible, point to a starting point. "What do you want me to draw?"
"Well, me." It's a dry, vague answer with such an absence of detail that Miles wonders if Gwen knows at least a fraction of the creative process before he starts creating. "You don't seem very happy with my answer."
"Can't you be a little more specific?"
"Um...would I like a portrait?" The hesitation is noticeable in her friend's voice. "Yes, I think that would be fine."
"Okay, at least we have the basis." Miles mutters, writing in his notebook. As he said before, he should have as definite as possible the drawing idea Gwen has asked him for. "Any ideas on colors?"
"If I'm honest with you, I don't have the slightest knowledge of color theory."
"What about style? Or stroke? Do you have any you like?"
The blonde closes her eyes, concentrating. She thinks about it for a few seconds until she looks at Miles again. "Nope. Nothing."
This is going to be harder than I thought. "I can show you a few, most likely biased by my personal preference, but at least you can start to get an idea of what you want."
"But I already know what I want."
"Really?" Relief escapes Miles, maybe he gave up too easily and Gwen actually does have his idea clarified? "Tell me, I'll write down all your preferences."
"Miles."
For a second, the air completely escapes her lungs. He has never, ever heard Gwen utter his name with such.. relief? Admiration? Affection? He turns his chocolate eyes to her, the blue plunging him into a vast sea, so large that he can only glimpse the horizon as a line dividing heaven and earth. This girl is beautiful—
"Just... draw me."
The wind blows gently, ruffling blonde hair. Gwen stands with her eyes closed, walking dangerously close to the ledge. They are over a hundred and fifty feet up and a fall would kill them instantly. Miles doesn't forget his spider powers or Gwen's, but watching her walk around so carefree, playing at balancing causes his heart to race. "Do it... right here, right now."
"I don't have my materials—"
"You have a graphite pencil, isn't that enough?"
Gwen smiles at him.
"Come on, Miles."
And her arms reach out and—
—she looks free. All of New York prostrates itself before her majestic, graceful figure. Youthful, playful, alive. Being a stranger in this universe, being a person whose existence doesn't belong here in the first place, Gwen Stacy dazzles with the lights of the city behind her.
Miles still can't find the exact reason why his heart beats so hard, how his world gains pastel colors when he's with her. Gwen is everything, but he himself can't describe what makes him up.
He is mesmerized by this girl's existence and is unable to explain a why.
"Let yourself go."
And he does. He lets himself be carried away, his mind ends and it is that tightness in his chest that begins to pull the strings. His movements flow just like the water of the river, strong and irregular, but with a destiny already decided.
The graphite wears away under the paper. The tiny fragments of the pencil intermingle with the semi-defined strokes. He could put them aside to have a neater and cleaner result. He decides not to do so, or more than that, he doesn't even consider the option of stopping in his state of inspired draftsmanship.
The colors around him, the ambient bustle of the big city, the feel of the autumn breeze brushing against his face and the sight of Gwen, there, swaying like a dancer on the edge of the structure. The thrill of danger lingers and, at some point, addicts him. Such a surreal vision, alien to the common approach of his works, with Gwen Stacy as the protagonist of her own story.
Miles doesn't think much about detail, at least not in the most realistic way. He just loads more of his only tool in certain moments and others he slides it with the softness of a feather. Her legs, her torso, her arms and—
—her face. A mixture of suffering and guilt along with joy after forgiveness and reconciliation. Gwen smiles every time brown and blue meet, the glow she emanates as well as the way her features fit together harmoniously, from her rosy lips to the sharp curve of her nose. Everything is in place and she only enhances it each time she looks at him and responds to him with an expression that says Isn't the rainbow beautiful behind the storm?
She is fine.
He is fine.
They are fine.
At some point, he realizes that he loves to portray this.
"Wow..."
The drawing is, to say the least, spectacular. Gwen can't understand how it's possible that every time she takes a new look at this work she finds a new detail, a new story, a new expression of herself. If it weren't for the fact that she knows it's her, she'd say this is the closest thing to a modern muse. Brilliant, dazzling, perfect.
Gwen is not perfect and never will be. That's why the shock after receiving her drawing made explicitly for her doesn't go away. The portrait shows more of what she knows her to be. "It's... It's beautiful."
"Like you." The blue gains a glow in particular, almost glassy. And Miles can't help but notice it. Ay, por Dios, why the hell did I say that! "I-I'm glad you like it!" the words escape hurriedly in a futile attempt to hide his embarrassment. "Like I said... You can keep it."
"Are you sure...? I mean, I'd be happy to keep it, but isn't it too much?"
"Too much of what?"
"Miles, I may not know anything about art at all, but this," her tone emphasizes on the last word, as she keeps her eyes on the sheet. "Is on the level of a professional." It's not flattery, but what she firmly believes to be reality. "It's too much for me - you put a lot of effort into it and I don't want to take that away from you!"
"Gwen, this is my drawing for you - a gift from me."
You're being too kind.
"Of course I would try my best! Besides, this wouldn't have turned out if it weren't for you, so let's just say it was a joint effort."
But it wasn't. She wants to retort.
"All I did was to capture you on paper, nothing more." A small smile appears on Miles' face, a hint of shyness escapes his expression. "So don't worry about keeping it."
Gwen stands still, the paper still in her hands, almost as if she is processing the information at an extremely slow pace. Her lips open and close a couple of times, searching for how to respond or what she wants to express. She is happy, very happy, but— "I don't deserve it."
I'm not a good person, it shouldn't be me in this drawing.
"But it's your portrait." Miles doesn't notice the seriousness in her words, but his response is a relentless counterattack against her mood. "It is you."
That figure so radiant, inspiring and beautiful, it's you, Gwen.
Those words don't come out of his mouth, but it's enough of an exchange of glances for her to understand what he wishes to express.
The girl blinks a couple of times, understanding. Her lips pucker and she only listens to her heart. In a fleeting instant, Gwen's arms wrap around Miles' neck tightly, while her face hides in his neck.
He reciprocates.
And finally, Gwen Stacy accepts that this may indeed be her portrait.