Chapter Text
"No. Absolutely not," Miles says firmly.
Peter B. holds Mayday in front of him and shakes her gently. She giggles. Miles is so pissed about how cute he finds it.
"Please? Just for a few hours. It's been ages since me and MJ have been able to go out, just the two of us," Peter whines.
"I don't do kids, Peter," Miles says, crossing his arms in front of him.
"You won't have to do anything! Just make sure she eats and doesn't die while we're gone. Bonus points if you can get her down for a nap, but I'm not holding my breath on that one." Mayday stretches out her arms for Miles, who backs away.
"Oh no no no. Why can't Gwen babysit? Or Hobie? Or Pavitr or Miguel or literally anyone else? I can help set you up with a Care.com account."
"Gwen has band practice, Hobie and Pavitr on on a mission, and Miguel is supervising. Care.com doesn't have an option for finding sitters who'd be comfortable with a spider-child so I do try to avoid that one. I'd come back to her in a cage with scientists around her or something," Peter argues.
Which, yeah, sounds about right. But hang on—
"What do you mean Hobie and Pavitr are on a mission? Why aren't I on a mission? This is so unfair! Hobie's not even in the spider society anymore!" Miles exclaims.
"Freelance work is fine, apparently," Peter says. He looks at his watch. "Right, so MJ is going to be home in like 3 minutes, I sort of already told her you could watch Mayday, and she's all glammed up and ready to go. Mayday's diapers are on the cabinet by her closet, food's in the fridge, use the watches in an emergency, and we'll be back before her bedtime." Before Miles can say anything to that, Peter plops an enthusiastic Mayday right into Miles' unwilling arms, which doesn't stop her at all from climbing onto his shoulders like a koala. "You've got this, champ!"
"Hey, wait, no! Peter—I do not got this! Come get your baby or I'm calling the mad scientists to come do experiments on her," Miles threatens.
Peter laughs brightly. "MJ's here! Gotta run. Thanks so much, Miles!"
Before Miles can even blink, Peter's out the door. For a good moment, Miles just stands there in quiet disbelief while Mayday determinedly tries to climb atop his head. He reaches up and grabs her awkwardly, staring into her round face.
"Your dad sucks," he states.
Mayday giggles.
Miles sighs and sets her down. Immediately, Mayday is off, crawling through the house almost faster than he can keep up with.
He follows her into the kitchen where she's climbed up the counter and is staring at him with imploring eyes.
"Ahh!"
"Am I supposed to know what that means?" Mayday points to the fridge. "Right," Miles grumbles, feeling very silly. He has no clue what to do with kids. He always avoided the younger children and babies at the family gatherings for this very reason.
He opens the fridge to find a chaotic assortment of goods. There is, to his bafflement, a half-eaten birthday cake on the shelf, surrounded by an assortment of cheeses, produce, and leftovers. A lone slice of cheesecake covered in plastic wrap has a note sticking to it in MJ neat print.
Not Peter’s!!!
He looks to the shelf to find an assortment of bottles and pouches of puréed fruits and veggies, which he knows must be for Mayday. He scrunches his face at the butternut squash purée. "Gross," he mutters, looking back at Mayday. "I won't do that to you," he tells her, decisively grabbing an apple blueberry one. That feels safe.
"You want?" he asks, still feeling a little silly. He's not sure how much normal babies understand, much less a genius spider-baby. Mayday makes enthusiastic grabby hands and he quickly untwists the top and hands it to her. She sits right on the counter and eats it happily.
Relieved that she's occupied for a minute or so, Miles sets about looking for a snack for himself. He hadn't eaten beforehand, thinking he was just going for a quick stop in Peter's dimension. He shoots Peter a quick text.
hey, is the birthday cake up for grabs? i'm starving
Peter barely has to wait for a reply.
Go for it! Leave some for me, though.
Miles rolls his eyes. thanks!! also why does it say 'happy birthday peter' when I know for a fact ur birthday was like 4 months ago
Shhhh that's my Emotional Support birthday cake.
Miles snorts. fair enough
All good with the little terror?
in the five minutes since u've left? yeah, she's eating some sort of purée garbage.
They’re actually pretty good. You should try one. Enjoy the quiet while it lasts. Have fun!
Miles doesn't even grace that with a response. He quickly grabs himself a slice of cake and wolfs it down, feeling weirdly guilty about the way Mayday watches him from where she's eating her apple blueberry sludge.
"It's the exact same thing!" Miles tells her. "Really, it just looks different. It's not even that good."
Mayday's gives him a distinctly unimpressed look. Miles cleans the rest of his plate and quickly changes the subject.
"Right, so.... what do I do with you?"
Mayday sticks her tongue out unhelpfully and tosses her now-empty pouch aside. Miles sighs.
"What did I like to do when I was little?" Miles tries to think back but the problem with being a baby is that you don't remember being a baby because you're barely conscious. "I liked hide-and-seek, but I have a horrible feeling that you'd be a little too good at that one, so that's out. You're too young for TAG. Nothing with rules, because you can't follow them, which I'm sure Hobie would love."
Miles looks around the spacious house, idly appreciating the home MJ and Peter have created for themselves and Mayday. It's nice. They have a big couch, similar to one Miles' parents had when he was younger. He used to stretch blankets over the top and lay the other end on a nearby dresser to make a small cave to play in.
"Oh! There's an idea! What about a fort?" MJ just blinks at him and giggles before promptly webbing herself to the ceiling. "Okay, so maybe you're a bit too young to build a fort but what if I did the building and you did the crawling through it? That could be fun."
He has no clue whether or not Mayday is capable of having opinions on the matter, but it’ll give him something to do to pass the time, and he’s pretty sure babies like crawling through tunnels, so really, this feels like a win-win.
“Now, where do your parents keep all the blankets?” Miles asks rhetorically.
Or, he thinks it’s rhetoric, until Mayday promptly scurries over to a lone closet. Miles opens it to find an assortment of extra sheets, blankets, and comforters. “Huh, maybe you do understand me. Crazy.”
He gathers every last piece of bedding and carries it over to the living room and mentally mapping it out. Mayday, to his surprise, seems completely invested in what Miles is doing. She climbs onto his shoulder and looks around, as if she’s also surveying the room.
“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking: the couch will serve as home base. We’ll create a big cave there that encases the TV as well for movie time, and we can have a network of tunnels going to and from the main cave. Definitely one from here to the kitchen, right?”
“Bahhh!” Mayday pumps her little fist in the air.
“Your dad is gonna kill me. Serves him right, though,” Miles tells her.
From there, the afternoon becomes a mission to construct the most elaborate fort for a toddler. Miles starts at the center of it all, using his webbing to hold the blankets in place from the top of the couch to the wall above the TV. After some time, Mayday seems to pick up on what he’s doing and all Miles has to do is hold the edge of a blanket where he wants it to go, and Mayday uses her own webs to put it in place.
At one point, they become completely distracted by a classic game of Peek-A-Boo. Mayday is happily sitting in the dim little cave they’ve built while Miles is on the outside, figuring out the logistics of creating a narrow tunnel directly to the fridge. Mayday peeks her head out, and almost on instinct, Miles shouts, “Boo!” and makes grabby monster hands towards her.
Mayday gives a squeal of delight and quickly darts back inside, laughing brightly.
“Oh! Where did Mayday go?” Miles asks loudly? Is she…. Under the couch?” He makes a big show of stomping around and looking under the couch from outside the fort. “Nope, I don’t see her! Is she in the closet?” He pauses when he hears a little giggle. “Oh, I think I’ve got her now! She’s in the fridge!” He opens the fridge dramatically and gasps in disbelief when she’s not there.
Mayday is laughing openly now, and the blankets around her are shaking with it. Miles quietly sneaks up on where he knows she is and quickly sticks his head and hands in, tickling her fiercely. Her giggles light up the room, and Miles finds that afternoon has bled into evening without him noticing. He’s admittedly had a lot of fun.
Maybe Peter was right. Something about being with Mayday is rejuvenating.
As he continues building a sprawling network of increasingly haphazard tunnels, he and Mayday take turns peeking in and out, pretending to startle each other as they go. When they’ve got bedding thoroughly covering most of the first floor of the house, Miles steps onto the staircase with Mayday perched on his shoulders to survey their work.
“What do we think? Good?” Mayday gives an enthusiastical kick, which nearly catches him in the nose. “Glad we’re in agreement! Okay, last thing: now we just need snacks, lights, and crayons.” After some rummaging through their attic and garage, Miles finds a lantern and string lights. He puts crawls through the fort and puts the lantern right in the middle and hangs the string lights through a main tunnel. Mayday squeals with delight.
They then raid the kitchen—another slice of cake for Miles and some crackers and mashed potatoes for Mayday—and a cabinet for art supplies. Miles precariously carries their goods while crawling through the fort, and they settle under the dim light of the lantern, happily eating their snacks. MJ grabs a blue crayon and scribbles furiously.
“Is that your dad?” Miles asks. “It looks just like him! Great job, May May.”
As they draw, Miles can’t help but notice the little yawns escaping from the toddler, spreading to him as well. He looks at his watch and sees a missed message from Peter.
Running a little late, but we’ll be home in less than thirty.
Miles blinks at the time, not realizing how late it had gotten. He’s surprised by how much fun he had and how quickly the time flew. He settles back into the nest of blankets he’d left on the floor for them, and idly sketches an outline of Mayday drawing. He becomes so focused on the paper that he doesn’t notice Mayday moving until he feels her climbing into his lap, curiously watching him draw.
It’s sort of the best feeling in the world, and he’s so mad Peter was right. He carefully wraps his arms around her and continues drawing, smiling softly when he feels her head settle back on his chest. She’d fallen asleep.
Miles doesn’t hear when the door opens or when MJ and Peter step into the house.
He doesn’t hear MJ go, “What the hell? Miles?” and Peter bounce excitedly on his feet when he says, “A fort! This is genius, MJ! I want in.”
He doesn’t hear Peter’s complaints about his poor knees while he tries to navigate through the tunnels, and he doesn’t hear Peter’s gasp of surprise when he finds Miles asleep with Mayday passed out on his lap, one hand wrapped around her protectively even in sleep.
He doesn’t see the flash of Peter’s phone when he takes a picture.
He doesn’t notice the quick press of lips to Mayday’s forehead, then his.
Exhausted from a long day of entertaining a baby, Miles sleeps.