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From the moment he joined the team, Miguel had anticipated Peter B Parker being a thorn in his side and a wrench in his plans. But he hadn't known in what way this would manifest.
He'd recruited this particular Spiderman because of his closeness to the Anomaly in hopes that he'd be mature enough to keep the kid out of the loop. And that had definitely worked so far.
That wasn't the problem.
Peter was aggravatingly unprofessional at best, and an emotional distraction at worst. He'd only gotten more unbearable once Mayday was born, though Miguel had to admit, if only to himself, that having the child around was heartwarming. Mayday wasn't the problem either, as much as he grumbled about having a newborn in the office.
This particular Spiderman was always showing up late, uninvited, or unserious, his infant daughter in tow, and halting Miguel's train of thought with some sort of nonsense. He was abhorrent at team meetings, unreliable when it came to keeping track of his shit, and unusually touchy, especially when it came to Miguel.
And that was the real problem.
Miguel hadn't intended for this part of his feelings to get in the way of any part of the job. If anything, he figured it would be his attachment to his old perfect universe that clouded his judgment. Instead, it was the heat that crept up in his ears and the quickening of his heart rate whenever Peter was around.
There were hundreds of Peters at Babylon Towers at any given moment. It was stupid, really, that he'd fixated on this one.
"Miguel, ya gotta see this photo," Peter cooed, balancing his phone in one hand and letting Mayday play with his fingers on the other. "She looks like she's reading a book." Miguel glanced up from his empanadas to watch Peter scroll through his phone for pictures of his daughter.
"That's great," he said distractedly, glancing around the cafeteria to see if any obligations could keep him from this conversation. Instead of letting him distract himself, Peter grabbed the top of his head and turned him to face the phone screen, switching his attention from barely on Peter to 100% on Peter.
"Isn't she precious?" Miguel took stock of the burger and coffee that sat in front of his colleague, as well as the oversized green jacket that hung over his hunched frame. He tried not to take stock of the way the pads of his fingers cradled his scalp.
"Sure." He caught Peter's bright brown eyes and noticed the way they wrinkled in the corners when he smiled. Instead of entertaining the unnecessary touch, he shifted his head to Mayday, who sat on the table babbling and grabbing at her feet.
"Oh come on, you love her," Peter chided. It wasn't something he could deny. The girl reminded him of his own daughter in a lot of ways.
"Shut up. You really shouldn't let her crawl around so freely," he said, opting not to respond to Peter egging him on. "She could get into something she's not supposed to."
"Relax, man. I keep careful watch of her." Peter nodded sincerely as he stuck a web to her back to keep her from falling off the table. "It's great that she gets to grow up around so many people like her. These powers can make you feel so alone."
Miguel chewed at the bottom of his lip, fighting memories of his family and his temporary universe. Crumbling buildings and glitching figures danced in the spots behind his eyes. Evidently, Peter noticed him tense up.
He felt his friend tap his ankle under the table, their knees brushing. "Try not to think too hard about it. You've got us now." To cheer him up, Peter grabbed Mayday's tiny fist and waved it gingerly, his eyes and nose peeking out from behind her head.
Miguel couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Yeah, that's how I know I'm screwed," he said, fighting a smirk. Mayday blew a raspberry at him, and Peter followed suit.
Adorable was a stupid word to use to describe Peter Benjamin Parker. And yet, he found himself using it more often than he'd like to admit.
It was unprofessional how used to his intrusions Miguel became. Now it was a common occurrence for Peter to drop by his office with leftovers from a meal he and MJ had made, an update on Mayday's abilities, or even just a terrible dad joke.
One day, he came into the office as Miguel was arguing with Lyla about how to handle the younger spiders.
"I really don't think the kids like Gwen and Pavitr are ready for bigger missions," he was saying as Peter walked in.
"Playing it safe only works for so long. They all go through the same canon events, we might as well recruit them to protect their timelines." Mayday giggled and tossed the toy she was holding through Lyla, causing her to stutter and reappear at his other side.
"Pavitr's already doing so well, and Hobie's catching on," Peter said, retrieving the toy with a web and plopping into a chair. Miguel groaned. He hadn't gotten enough sleep for this.
"I don't even want to think about Hobie," he muttered The kid got on his nerves, even if he was a good Spiderman. "Did you get a haircut?" Peter carded his hands through his freshly trimmed hair and crossed one leg over the other, spinning in his chair.
"No, I got them all cut." Miguel blinked at him a few times, then twisted his face in disgust.
"That's a classic," Lyla laughed, fist bumping Peter and glitching slightly when his hand passed through her.
"Don't encourage him," he said flatly. Mayday began to crawl up his chair, gunning for a piece of his hair. He made a half-hearted effort to hold her off while scrolling through upcoming canon events on one of the screens.
"MJ and I perfected our pita recipe, you gotta try it," Peter said. He opened his backpack and rifled through it for a Tupperware, unbothered by Mayday's attempt to climb Miguel. He hadn't exactly agreed to taste test all their meals, but he had yet to deny an offer.
"I highly doubt that. You don't season anything properly." Peter clicked his tongue.
"You're not supposed to season the pita, that's what the hummus is for." When he pulled out a container of pita and hummus, however, they both looked equally flavorless. Cooking wasn't one of his strong suits.
"I don't know why you keep bringing me food."
"Because you need to eat. You're always cooped up in this damn office, I don't trust you to keep yourself fed," Peter complained, shoving the container at him and insisting that he take a break. "Hey, what do you call a fake spaghetti noodle?"
"Really, who are these for? Mayday can't understand you."
"An impasta!" Peter slapped his knee and grinned, and his daughter squealed in response. Miguel hoped that Noir would be early for their briefing so that he could escape this visit. Even though it was inconvenient, he'd come to look forward to the man barging in from time to time.
"I have a meeting in ten minutes Parker," he complained, noting that the pita could use less salt and more parsley.
"You won't even notice I'm here. May and I will be nice and quiet." He plucked her off of Miguel's shoulder, and tickled her feet to make her giggle more. "How many tickles does it take to make a grumpy octopus laugh.?" Miguel had heard this one before, and didn't plan on entertaining it.
"She's not old enough to get your jokes. I'm the only one who has to-"
"Ten-tickles! Ten! Get it? Uncle Ben taught me that one." He rubbed his five o'clock shadow with a wistful look, and Miguel's eyes followed his hand movements, hyper aware of the lack of space between them.
"You're hilarious." He flicked Peter's arm, careful not to let his claws catch any skin. Even though he cursed himself mentally for leaning closer, he didn't stop.
Mayday pointed at him with a short, bubbly laugh, and Peter glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.
"I wonder how many tickles it takes to cheer up a grumpy spider?" Miguel froze. Letting Peter touch his arm to ask him a question or ruffle his hair at random was one thing, but this was a whole nother issue. "You ticklish, O'hara?"
"Absolutely not," he said, slapping away the hand that was already reaching for his neck.
"Oh, c'mon. You've gotta have some sort of weakness. I know you're not all muscles and brooding stares." He wiggled his fingers and reached out again, but Miguel caught his hand mid-air.
"Mirate, Parker. Don't make me bite you." A faint pink tint covered Peter's nose, and he laughed nervously.
"Woah, okay. At least take me out to dinner first." Miguel dropped his hand and spun his chair around to hide the mortified look he wore.
"Shut up."
He finished the pita and gave his friend the container, trying not to think about how close together their hands were when Peter took it from him.
These kinds of conversations were commonplace now, and it was… comforting. When he'd lost his family a second time, Miguel was sure he'd never feel safe again, sure he'd always be on edge in some way. But spending time with Peter was the closest thing he'd felt to safety in a long while.
"Say," Peter started, leaning an arm on Miguel's shoulder. "If I used that bread to make a winter coat, would that make it a… a pita parka?"
Miguel blinked at him for a moment before his serious look broke and he cracked a bashful smile. Before he could compose himself, Peter's eyes widened.
"I got him to smile! May, you see that? Lyla, put this one in the books! It's a freakin miracle." Miguel grabbed both of Peter's shoulders and shoved him to his feet with an exasperated sigh.
"Vete a la mierda, pendejo. Out. Now." He steered him towards the door and pushed him out, hoisting Mayday into her carrier.
The teasing really only got worse from there. Of course, Miguel could put a stop to it whenever he wanted. All it would take was bearing his fangs with some intent behind it, one accurately aimed toss at the man's head, and he could continue working unperturbed by Spiderman 616.
But he didn't. Because he'd started to care. It would probably become an issue later on. But for now he decided to let it slide. He put up with the soft touches and surprise visits, even as he did his best to convince himself that Peter was like that with everyone.
And he even contributed to the conundrum from time to time, giving in to his urges to let his hand linger on the man's side or to search the cafeteria for his silhouette hunched at their usual table.
It was stupid. But he'd gotten used to it.
It hadn't gotten in the way until the Carnage mission. A version of Carnage had gotten loose in another universe, and Peter insisted he tag along since this villain originated on his Earth. Miguel had thought nothing of it until he started to fall behind. He swore under his breath.
"Peter, I need you to round up the civilians. Jess and I can take care of Carnage." Jess revved her motorcycle to back up his point. But Peter wasn't listening.
"No, I can do this. You two get them to safety, I have an idea."
They'd all been briefed on the plan for Carnage, and this wasn't part of the plan by a long shot. Nor was Peter B Parker assigned team leader. But he sprung into action anyway, with Jess calling in vain after him.
"Is he okay?" She wondered aloud. Miguel flexed his jaw and took a deep breath. It was so like him to deviate from the plan so early in a mission. As long as he stayed safe it would be an issue he could work around.
"I dunno. He seemed fine this morning. Maybe Carnage is a sore spot for him or something." Jess shrugged and adjusted her goggles.
"He's your Peter, you should probably keep track of things like that before you put him in the field. Don't want him being a liability."
"He's not usually a liab-" Miguel furrowed his brow. "He's not my Peter. He's a Peter." Jess waved a hand dismissively.
"Whatever you say. A Peter better not screw this up." She rode off to collect people and herd them away from the danger zone.
This thought pried at him the entire battle, as much as he tried to clear his mind. There were hundreds of Peter Parkers, if not thousands, and this particular version being the one he spent the most time with didn't make him his Peter. It was a useless distinction, really. It didn't have to bother him.
But at the same time, he wondered if it was the right distinction to make. An onlooker could at least call them friends. And they could often be found around each other. Maybe the best description of him really was just his Peter.
Miguel was pulled out of his thoughts by a scream and the sound of a building crumbling. Jess was leading Carnage away from the crowd, and Peter was on his knees in the path of a falling chunk of rubble. All his previous focus was derailed, and he rushed to Peter's side to drag him away at the last second.
Once he was sure there was no more imminent threat, he looked down to see Peter covered in blood and scrapes, his suit torn and his face bruised. "What the hell happened?" He questioned sharply. Peter winced.
"Aparently I couldn't do this. Not alone, at least." He chuckled and then clutched at Miguel's arm and glitched. The watch on his arm sparked, and Miguel's eyes widened as panic set in.
"Goddamnit. Lyla, call for backup." At length, he hooked his arms under Peter's back and knees to lift him up.
Peter struggled to pull his mask off. "I'm sorry I screwed up," he mumbled. Miguel shook his head fiercely.
"Don't apologize. You're gonna be okay. Just hold on." His brain moved on autopilot as he activated his watch and carried Peter through the portal, reassuring the both of them all the way back to Earth 2099. It wasn't until they reached the hospital wing and he was able to stop glitching that Miguel let go of his friend.
Peter received a new watch as soon as they got there, and was patched up not long after. Even so, Miguel couldn't take his eyes off of him, and didn't linger too far from his side.
The glitching people and toppling buildings flashed before him everytime Miguel closed his eyes. No matter what he did to calm himself, despite all the slow breathing, journal entries, and hesitant consolation from the other spiders, he couldn't shake the flashbacks, couldn't wipe the slate clean from the screams ringing in his ears, and couldn't get over the fear of losing those he loved.
Seeing Peter glitch scared the shit out of him.
When the backup team came back with Carnage in tow, Miguel had offered to take over cleaning the rest of Peter's scrapes to allow the bots to tend to other injured spiders.
"Do you wanna explain what you were thinking going off plan like that?" Miguel asked, pouring hydrogen peroxide on a pad and keeping his eyes focused on a particularly large gash. Peter sighed.
"I dunno. I was sure I could handle it, honestly. But when I saw Carnage in front of those people I thought…" He winced at the stinging feeling of the soaked cotton pad. In the silence, his broken scream echoed in Miguel's ears, coupled with the cries of the people he'd met in his perfect universe.
"I'm surprised you thought at all, that's new for you." That made Peter crack a smile.
"Ouch. Gotta kick me when even when I'm down? Thats brutal, O'hara." He threw an arm over his eyes. Miguel looked over his torn suit and noticed the way his usually strong shoulders hung limp. "I thought I could beat him this time. I thought I wouldn't let anyone get hurt this time."
From this angle, he could see Peter's adam's apple bob when he swallowed heavily. Miguel let his thumb brush over Peter's knuckle. Hands shaking, he pressed a kiss to his middle and pointer fingers and touched the wound he'd just cleaned.
When Peter opened his eyes, he reached up to flick his forehead. "Noble, but stupid." Peter's eyes crossed to look at his forehead and Miguel laughed to himself.
Adorable was a stupid word to describe him, but he thought it anyway.
There was one more wound to patch up; it was a crescent shaped cut in between his dimples and facial hair. He was hoping the bots would have gotten to that one first but, as luck would have it, they'd skipped over that scrape.
Miguel turned to grab a bandaid. Visions of his daughter calling out to him blurred together with visions of Mayday calling out for her dad. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he clenched a fist and refused to give in.
"Is something wrong?" Peter asked dumbly. Miguel worked his jaw and scraped at the counter, chosing his words carefully.
"I'm glad you're okay," he mumbled. He felt like he was back in grade school, struggling to confess to his crush. The right words didn't seem to find him, the right way to explain how scared he'd been or how relieved he was somehow evaded his grasp.
"Oh." Peter was quiet, and Miguel knew that he was starting to understand that frustration. "Me too."
Miguel chuckled. He grabbed a fist full of bandaids and set to work patching up his face while making as little eye contact as possible. He pressed down hard on the cotton pad, and Peter yelped and tried to push him away. Miguel caught his hand and held it steady.
"Ow! Enough of the peroxide, it hurts like hell." Miguel hushed him and brushed some hair out of his face.
"Déjame cuidarte, pendejo. It's all I can do." His heart rate quickened, and he became increasingly aware of how the heel of his hand brushed Peter's face.
"I've lived in Queens long enough to pick up some Spanish, I know what pendejo means." Miguel smirked and pressed harder on the cotton pad, making Peter squirm.
"Oh, is that so? What about descuidado?"
"I've heard that one in like every storefront ever."
"I'll have to think then. Do you know gordo?" Peter stuck out his tongue indignantly.
"I've been working out." Miguel unwrapped the bandaid and pressed it to his cheek, their eyes finally meeting. He looked torn and tired, but his wide eyes still smiled at him with a look that could drive anyone to reluctant agreement. It was hard not to love him.
"How about tesoro?" His voice was raw.
Peter frowned. "Don't think I know that one," he said, his forehead creasing. Miguel's heart panged, and he turned away again. Now that the last of the damage had been taken care of and everyone was back to the tower, the mission was over. He had to hold it together.
He patted Peter's shoulder and sighed. "Let's keep it that way."