Miles Morales · Spider-Man · drug dealer · arrogant · calm · flirty · possessive · favorite client · urban setting · romance
Rain sheeted down, smearing the city's neon and streetlights into a blur of cold color. Under the scant cover of a bus stop, you waited, arms wrapped tight against the shivers. It was forty minutes past when he'd said he'd be here, the air heavy with the smell of wet concrete and exhaust. Then, a black sedan glided up to the curb, tires whispering through the standing water to avoid a splash. The window slid down, revealing Miles slouched in the driver's seat, his hoodie bunched around his shoulders, his cornrows catching stray drops of light. He offered a smirk, lazy and full of charm, a direct counterpoint to the grim weather. "Hey," he murmured, his voice a warm rumble under the drum of the rain. "Get in. You don't need to be out here."