Chapter Text
The more you agreed to watching Gabriella, the more your bills got paid (despite your refusal to accept any money from Miguel—it somehow ended up in your hands at one point or another). You were honestly considering dropping any other commitments for the summer because of it—and, of course, because looking after Gabriella was incredibly enlightening. She made you matching bracelets! (And also maybe because you were starting to enjoy seeing Miguel, too).
So, when Miguel asks you—having to plead with you less and less; yet never crossing the line between polite and entitled, he was always the former—to host Gabriella for a week (give or take a few days) while he attends a work conference, you make the arrangements after a bit of review and completely clear your schedule.
Your civilian schedule, that is. Spider-Woman would still be on the clock as soon as Gabriella’s eyes shut for the night—someone had to make sure these streets were fit for a princess to walk them.
”Leaving?” You flinch, blinking owlishly at Spider-Man’s ever-familiar, muscular back, “what do you mean? Where are you going?”
”I have a mission in another universe,” He tells you calmly, “I’ll be back once it’s finished.” You sigh, exasperated, then resigned as you curl in on yourself defiantly.
”Fine. No explanation or anything, as usual,” You mutter. Spider-Man’s shoulder twitches, indicating he’d heard you.
”You’ll be fine. Contact Lyla if you need me.”
A portal, a stride, and then he’s gone.
”Can you do my hair for me?” Comes Gabriella’s childish request the first evening of your week-long playdate after taking her shower, causing your heart to seize in a panic. Hairstyling was not your forte.
”I can try,” You find yourself saying, hands frozen over your keyboard mid-sentence. “What did you want…?”
”Daddy always gives me braids,” Gabriella tells you as she makes herself comfortable at your bare feet accompanied by her turquoise blue hairbrush and rainbow-themed rubber bands. Your panic doubles.
Braids?
You’ve never been good at those. A lazy bun or a haphazard ponytail was what you specialized in—but braiding? Spider-Man would probably laugh at you. You’re irked at the image of it.
”You can watch videos online how to do it,” Gabriella mentions in a murmur, as if sensing your disdain and unfamiliarity. Your gaze softens and resolution strengthens as you take her damp, beautiful curls in your hands. You take a deep breath and nod.
”Let’s do it,” You agree. She brightens.
Miguel’s phone goes off just as he’s about to sink his teeth into an alternative Doc Ock’s neck. The ringtone is immediately identifiable as yours, and Miguel practically flies off of his enemy to pull out the cellular device with full attention directed towards it. Half-expecting the worst, Miguel is simultaneously relieved and conflicted to find it’s only a picture.
Gabriella’s smiling like she’s just been awarded a lifetime membership to the ice cream parlor, hair in two braids and decorated with many colorful butterfly clips. Miguel saves the photograph, sends back a heart, and pockets his phone with peace and an appreciation and fondness for you that begins to deepen.
Miguel has a picture of one of Gabriella’s famous adventures for each day of the week come Friday, each photo impossibly more adorable than the last. Jess makes a comment on it, but Miguel just shoulders her curiosity off with a grunt.
It’s nearing midnight on his earth when Miguel checks his phone, frowning when no message notification is there to greet him.
You hadn’t sent a Gabriella picture yet.
Worry starts to settle in Miguel’s gut for two reasons: the first being for Gabriella’s safety, the second being for yours.
It was probably fine, though—you were fine, Gabriella was fine. Maybe you’d just forgotten or fell asleep watching a movie together.
”You keep pacing like that and you’ll burn a trail in the ground,” Jess sings, interrupting Miguel’s stewing. He stops and stands in place, opting to glare at the floor. Jess sighs. “Okay, what is the matter with you? You’re starting to creep me out.”
”Just ready to get home,” Miguel tries, a half-truth. Jess raises a very unconvinced brow at him, and he caves, face in his hands. “Mi princessa—my daughter. I haven’t received an update from her babysitter yet.”
”Okay,” Jess replies slowly, “have you tried, I don’t know, calling like a normal person?” Miguel falters. He shifts in embarrassment, straightening up with a clearing of his throat. His partner rolls her eyes. “That tells me all I need to know. So, what are you waiting for?”
Phone in hand, Miguel brings up your contact information, but the pad of his thumb hovers over the ‘call’ button. He stares at your phone number like it’s going to start moving unexpectedly and attack him.
”Well?” Jess presses.
”I’m getting there!” Miguel hisses, fangs bared. He pulls back, pinching the bridge of his nose while trying to collect himself with a deep breath. “Sorry, Jess. I am trying,” He corrects himself, “to call her. I’m just… figuring out what to say.”
“Uh, how about, hey, how’s my daughter today?” At Miguel’s prolonged silence, Jess suddenly realizes something. “Ohhhh, this isn’t just about your daughter.” Miguel does not like the indication in her words.
”What are you talking about?”
”Miguel, can you stop being you for just one second?” Jessica groans, eyes rolling. “Come on, you obviously like this babysitter to some extent to be so worried about a phone call.”
”I—“ Miguel pauses thoughtfully, “I suppose I don’t dislike her.” Jess grimaces.
“That’s a start…”
You’re startled awake by your ringtone, a snort escaping your mouth as you sit up with urgency. You fumble for the device, heart doing barrel rolls as you read over the caller ID. Miguel. You’re convinced it’s just nerves, expecting something to be wrong.
”Hello?” Comes your sleep-ridden croak, phone pressed to your ear. You have to blink to keep your eyes open.
”Hello,” Miguel responds, and you imagine his eyebrows pulling together based on the tightness of his voice. “Did I wake you? What time is it?”
”Uh,” You glance around for a clock, finding the bright red numbers underneath your television, “two-forty AM. What time is it there?”
A pause, then, “almost twelve. Ay, sorry, [Name].” You hum, finding the way he clicks his tongue in embarrassment endearing.
”No worries, Miguel,” You yawn. “Is everything alright?” On the other end of the call, you think you hear Miguel blow out a sigh. Whether it was frustrated or amused, you could not tell.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
”Huh?”
”You didn’t send a picture of Gabriella today,” Miguel clarifies. “I was worried something happened.” Your eyes blow wide open, now fully awake.
”Oh, my gosh,” You gasp, palm covering your forehead in shame, “I totally forgot, Miguel! I’m so sorry.” He chuckles, the sound a cocktail of pleasant, foreign static and bells to your ears.
”No hay problema,” Miguel mimics, low and sincere, causing your mind to buzz and your heart to settle. After a beat, he says, “I should probably let you go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you up.”
”It’s okay,” You sigh. “I promise I will send you pictures of Gabriella tomorrow.”
Another laugh, then, ”gracias, [Name]. I look forward to them.” I always do, his tone implies. You smile.
“Bye, Miguel.”
”Buenas noches, [Name].”
”Was that so hard?” Jess quips as Miguel brings his phone down from his ear, arms crossed triumphantly.
”Yes,” Miguel mutters, not admitting aloud to the unpleasant jitters he’s experiencing—though he probably doesn’t need to. Jess is plenty observant.
”Come on, fearless leader. We’ve got some spiders to catch,” Jess goads him on with a playful punch as she passes by, hands reaching for her bike.
Miguel grunts passively, absentmindedly stroking the slim side of his phone with the edge of a claw. He mulls over Jess’ previous commentary with a frown.
He does care for you—you’re a wonderful ally and an incredibly reliable asset when it comes to Gabriella (whom he knows adores you). To have romantic feelings for you, though? That went strictly against his code—especially when it came to your Earth. Miguel had to play very close to chest to avoid any casualties within the multiverse.
That doesn’t answer the question of whether you do have feelings for her or not, a voice much like Jess’ nags in the back of his mind, which Miguel shoulders off. His feelings in this situation did not matter.
”Ready to go?” The real Jess asks from where she’s perched on her seat, the vehicle’s engine purring idly. Miguel nods, allowing his mask to form over his face while a portal simultaneously builds in front of them, beginning to make up his mind.
He would stay true to his mission, all while protecting Gabriella and you from the insidious ways of the Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse. Miguel would just have to be careful not to dwell, and to tread cautiously.
Confidence solidifying, Miguel eagerly launches himself into the portal, the roar of Jess’ motorcycle right behind him.