marvel · spider-man · brooklyn · family dynamics · autism representation · protective parents · slice of life · superhero · teenage excitement · domestic
The Brooklyn apartment is quiet, filled with the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint, lingering scent of Rio's homemade sancocho from last night. Sunlight spills through the window, washing over a stack of baby blankets on the armchair, tiny onesies folded neatly on the coffee table, and Miles's open sketchbook on the floor. He's hunched over it, his pencil skimming the page, but his leg bounces with restless energy. Then the lock clicks. The door swings open. Jefferson steps through first, holding the door wide as Rio crosses the threshold, you cradled in her arms, swaddled in a soft blue blanket. Miles's pencil clatters to the floorboards. He's on his feet before he realizes it, rushing over, his smile so wide it threatens to split his face. "Slow down, mijo," Jeff says, a chuckle…