Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miguel O’hara doesn’t consider himself to be a humorous person, a trait in which most Spider-People seem to share. Most Spiders always seem to have some kind of comeback up their sleeve, tucked away until the moment is right, whether it’s while dodging bullets, webbing up mutated and corrupt businessmen, or even just stopping petty thieves in the busy streets of their own special New York. The most common traits most Spiders share are their canon events (typically losing someone close to them, whether it’s an uncle, a police captain, a daughter-), and their sense of humor.

Miguel isn’t like most Spiders though.

If the general vampirism wasn’t enough of an indication of that fact, his lack of wit also contributes. While Miguel does possess sarcasm (too much, at times), general comedy just isn’t his thing, and it never was, even before his canon events.

Being surrounded by hundreds of Spider-People on a daily basis should probably mean Miguel would be used to the quips, but it seems as though with each passing day and each passing joke, they just become more and more insufferable.

The good thing about his position as the leader of the Spider Society is that he gets his own space, away from the pesky arachnids that loiter in the lobby and cafeteria. And though he is the leader and founder of the Spider Society, Miguel spends most of his time alone, surrounded by screens that monitor whatever universes he sets his sights on. Typically he monitors Spiders dealing with anomalies, or universes about to undergo canon events. Sometimes he rewatches the clip of himself, in another universe holding a daughter that isn’t really his.

No matter what other universes he’s observing though, there’s always one screen set to watch Earth-1610, to watch the one and only Miles Morales.

Though Miguel doesn’t really have a valid reason to dislike Morales, after the discovery that Miles being an anomaly himself means that canon events aren’t quite the same for him, he still doesn’t like the kid. He doesn’t hate him, as he’s much too level headed to feud with a fifteen year old kid, but he tolerates him at best.

And while he tolerates Miles, even views him as an efficient ally (for heaven’s sake, the kid was able to outrun and outsmart even him), he still doesn’t completely trust him. Not that the kid was bound to betray him or the Society, of course; he’s already proven his loyalty. He just doesn’t trust Miles to not screw things up, whether it be in his own universe or not.

Realistically Miguel knows he should probably cut the boy some slack, as it’s not exactly his fault he’s an anomaly, his universe just happened to create this whole circumstance.

He’s not proud to admit it, but whenever he sees Miles, hell, whenever he thinks about him, spite seems to cloud his judgment, and he always finds one way or another to criticize the young spider. He can’t even count the amount of times he’s found himself ranting about the kid, whether it be to his face or not.

He’s grown used to the disappointed looks Jess shoots his way when he critiques Miles, the despondent look on Peter’s face when he reprimands his mentee. He’s even grown used to Lyla’s banter about this whole situation, the AI finding it funnier than she should. He should probably feel more remorseful that he’s so harsh to the kid, or as Gwen likes to say, ‘has beef with him’, but he can’t help it. Intentional or not, this whole multi-universal problem is Miles’ fault.

That’s what he tells himself anyway.

Aside from monitoring what Morales does in other universes, which is usually visiting the other teenage Spiders, he doesn’t actually see the kid face to face too often. He’s been told Miles doesn’t really like hanging out in headquarters, or in Miguel’s universe at all, which makes sense. Only a few months ago did Morales have hundreds of Spider-People chasing him down in these very same hallways, thrashing the kid between Spiders and even tossing him into moving high-speed trains. He does feel a bit guilty about that, it was his orders that caused the chase, after all.

The only times Miguel actually sees Miles in the flesh is during monthly summons to HQ, which mostly consists of Jess grilling one infrequent Spider or another for information of any strange or odd happenings in their universes. Any hints of anomalies.

Miles just happens to be one of these infrequent Spiders.

The monthly visits are usually the same; Jess getting any information out of the anomaly, asking if he’s seen any other anomalies in his universe. (The answer is always no. At least when he answers Miguel knows he’s being truthful. It’s easy to read Miles). After the debriefing is when Peter B. Parker makes an appearance, each time pulling his young mentee into a bear hug. If Miguel didn’t know any better, he would think Peter was suffocating the kid with how hard he was hugging him.

During these visits Miguel always ‘hides’ in the shadows, lurking like ‘the true vampire he is’, Lyla once joked. He knows Miles knows he’s there, as Miles is one of the many, many Spiders with the sixth sense. Peter calls it a Spidey sense, which is stupid, that’s a stupid name for it, so Miguel just calls it a sixth sense.

Miles never really acknowledges Miguel’s there, though, aside from the occasional flicker of his eyes towards the corner he’s lurking in. A wise choice, as Miguel really does not have the patience for Miles. He’s only there because he has to be.

He’s only there because Jess would kick his ass if he wasn’t. It’s his job, she always claims, he should be the one questioning his employees, he should take the responsibility. Despite her words though, they both know that’s not a good decision. Miguel isn’t exactly a people person. Not one bit.

Miguel can tell Jess is getting a bit annoyed by her constant overtime, picking up all the tasks Miguel isn’t suited for, like actually leading. He can make all the difficult decisions a leader should make, but he doesn’t quite excel in communication. That much is obvious, looking back at the point in which he practically hunted down Morales, claws out and fangs bared.

He didn’t know just how annoyed Jess was however until one day she marches into his lab, a sharp look pointed up at Miguel, who’s too busy pretending to look at his monitors so that he doesn’t have to make eye contact. There’s a manila folder clutched in her hand, recently manicured nails (obtained from a recent spa trip she went on, an anniversary gift from her husband. One which she won’t shut up about) digging indents into the file. The folder is practically overflowing with how much paper is wedged in, some crumpled, some sticking out. He has an urge to snatch the folder, to reorganize the mess. But he doesn’t, because he knows exactly what folder that is.

Or who’s folder that is, he should say.

The file is on the one and only Miles Morales, the only Spider in this whole damn place with enough problems to fill a folder like that. The reports date back from even before the Spider Society was formed, containing information on the wayward spider from another universe that made its way to Earth-1610 and bit Morales. It’s filled with reports of the Spiders who visited Earth-1610, information on the first collider which actually worked, and the models of canon events that were supposed to occur in Miles’ universe, but didn’t.

He doesn’t even have to look at the folder to know what’s in it, he’s read Miles' file over and over again, until the information was basically tattooed on his brain. If he tries, Miguel could probably recite all the documents too. Not that he would want to, of course.

Miguel feels dread fill his body at the sight of the folder, peeking at the haunting beige from the corner of his eye, head still locked towards his monitors. He already knows why Jess brought it here. A sigh escapes past his throat, audible in the otherwise quiet room.

“You can at least look at me,” Jess drawls, and when he turns, he sees the same exasperated expression he’s so used to.

When they finally make eye contact, Spider-Woman waves the folder tauntingly. “It’s that time of month.”

“I thought women had a bit of time before their monthlies after giving birth.” Miguel’s voice is dry, and if he were any other person, his words could probably be taken as a joke. Miguel doesn’t do jokes though.

Even from the distance, Miguel can practically see her eyebrows furrow, her gaze narrowing. She grips the folder even tighter, somehow.

“Miguel, you know what I mean. Stop fucking around and get your ass down here.”

Miguel debates just ignoring her at this point, to let her go and interrogate Miles on her own. It’s not like he does much anyway. He just watches. If she wants him to observe he can just monitor from the safety of his lab, on his trusty screens. As if reading his mind, Jess’ frown twists deeper, and Miguel knows what he wants isn’t an option.

With one last final sigh, Miguel relents, the screens surrounding him flicking off with a single tap to his watch. Another tap to his watch begins lowering the platform he’s standing on, the hiss of the mechanics whirring filling the otherwise awkward silence of his lab. With Jess still glaring up at him, the platform seems to move slower than ever before.

Jess doesn’t wait up as soon as the platform touches the ground, turning sharply and beginning to stride from the room, boots loud against the metal flooring. Miguel has to jog to catch up to her.

Once he’s by her side, she says, “I’ve told you time and time again, this isn’t my job.”

She waits for a response, and when Miguel gives none, she sniffs. Continues speaking.

“I don’t see why you have such a problem with debriefing. It’s your idea. You’re the one who’s so stuck up we have to talk to every spider from every universe.”

Miguel’s silent for a moment. “We haven’t found every spider. There’s still plenty more we need to scope out.”

Clearly this isn’t the response Jessica was looking for, and she shoots him a dirty look out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, well before you find even more Spiders,” she pauses to whack the folder against Miguel’s chest. “You need to deal with the ones you already got.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“No, that’s what I’m doing. What you’re doing is avoiding them.” She hits him again with the folder.

“I’m not avoiding anyone. It’s not like I hide away from my men,” he sniffs when Jess looks at him pointedly. “And my women. And any other spider individual in this building.”

“Oh yeah?” Once more she moves to strike him with the file, but Miguel snatches it before she can. Once he takes the file she raises her hands in a mock surrender. “Why don’t you handle this one, then?”

A glance down at said folder has him scowling. “Maybe we should start somewhere else.”

“This is exactly what I mean, O’hara.” The female spider rolls her eyes. “You avoid things. You avoid your duty as a leader,” as soon as Miguel opens his mouth to dispute she holds up a single finger, shutting him up. “You avoid dealing with your past.” She raises another finger. “You avoid your Spiders.” A third finger is raised. “And you avoid Miles.” The sight of her lifting a fourth finger stings more than it should.

“I don’t know why you put Morales in his own category.”

“Because Morales is his own problem. Well, your own problem. If you single him out, I can single him out.”

“I do not single him out.” These words feel like cotton in his mouth. They both know he’s lying.

Jess doesn’t answer, keeping up her quick pace as they near the ‘interrogation room’, as the younger Spiders call it. A ridiculous name for it, considering it’s nothing like an interrogation room. Unlike a standard interrogation room, a long couch and a low, wooden coffee table fills the space where a metal table and uncomfortable chairs should be. Two big armchairs sit across from the couch on the other side of the table, meant for Jess and Miguel. Jessica is the only one who sits there though, as Miguel likes to stand in his corner and brood, according to Lyla.

When they finally reach the not interrogation room, Jess sends him one last tired glance before she opens the door. Despite being early, it seems as though Miguel’s ‘problem’ in question is even earlier, which is surprising. Based on what he’s observed, Morales isn’t one for punctuality.

At the sound of the door clicking open, the kid’s head shoots up from where he’s staring holes into his lap, the eye lenses of his mask wide. Like the other two Spiders in the room, Morales is wearing his suit, with the addition of a red and dark green sweatshirt, hood pulled over his head. He’s pressed against one arm of the couch, right in front of the chair Jessica usually frequents. Miles’ wide lenses flicker between Jess and Miguel, his hands fisting into the fabric of his hoodie. He looks almost nervous, if Miguel was guessing correctly.

“Afternoon, Morales,” greets Jess with a pleasant smile, nodding towards the kid. He nods back, albeit more reluctantly. The woman steps forward, but doesn’t sit, instead glancing back at Miguel. She raises a brow and stares until he too steps forward.

“Hope you don’t mind, but the boss-man over here will be joining us today,” she points a thumb over her shoulder at Miguel, giving Miles a reassuring smile.

Miles’ gaze doesn’t stay too long on Jess, instead straying back to look directly at Miguel, who stares back unabashedly. Miles grips his sweatshirt between his fingers even tighter.

“Like always, we won’t keep you long,” Jessica continues, taking a seat in her usual chair. She jerks her head towards the other chair, wordlessly commanding Miguel to sit as well. He does. “We just want to check up on you, see how your universe is doing. Make sure nothing’s off. You know the drill.”

Before Miles can even acknowledge her words, Miguel butts in. “What’s with the mask?”

He ignores the annoyed look Jessica sends him, still staring at the kid. The mask’s lenses blink slowly. Once. Then twice. He doesn’t say anything.

“The mask,” he repeats, snapping his fingers. Once. Then twice. “What, you trying to hide something? It’s not like you have any kind of secret identity here, everyone knows you. Got a bad acne day or something, kid?”

If looks could kill, Jessica’s would’ve taken his life before he even finished speaking.

Morales’ eye lenses are even wider than before. Inelegant hands fly up to push his hood down, and the kid quickly pulls his mask off. He avoids eye contact and wrings the mask in his hands. There’s no acne.

“S-sorry, sir,” he stumbles over his words at first, looking like he’s either about to explode, burst into flames, or melt into the couch. Possibly a mix of all three.

“Don’t mind him,” Jess raises a hand, giving Miles an apologetic smile. Miguel clicks his tongue. She ignores him. “Again, this won’t take long. We’ll skip the formalities.”

Jessica turns in her chair, glares at Miguel, and turns back to face Miles again. Her pleasant expression is back, eyes holding a certain fondness to them. Weird.

“So, any abnormalities in your universe?”

“Aside from you,” Miguel’s voice is a murmur, but both Spiders look at him, both having varying expressions. Jess’ miffed, Miles’ uneasy. Ah right. Super hearing. Almost forgot about that. He rolls his eyes to urge them to carry on.

“Er…” Hesitation fills Miles’ tone, meeting Miguel’s gaze, he looks away quickly. Looks at the mug ring stains on the coffee table. At the dying houseplant on the floor between the two armchairs, meant to liven up the room (if people didn’t forget to water it.) “Well actually, there was-“

The young spider is cut off by a loud ding, followed by two more coming from Jessica’s pocket. She blinks, sighs and takes out the phone to blame. The room is filled with uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

“Ah shit,” Jess finally says, standing. She’s tapping away at her phone. “Husband texted. Baby problems.” She tears her gaze away from the device to peek at Miles, who’s brows are furrowed. She looks at Miguel next, who looks as though he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“I need to head out.”

At Jess’ words, Miles sits up straight. “Wait- you’re leaving?!”

Jess holds up her phone, shrugging, “like I said, baby problems. You were saying there was something up with your universe?” She peeks back at Miguel over her shoulder. “O’hara over here can handle it. Hell, he’s more capable than I am. You’re in good hands, Miles.”

With one final wink to Miles and one final pointed look to Miguel, she’s gone in a flash, the door audibly clicking shut behind her.

The two remaining Spiders in the room stare at the door in silence for another few moments, processing Spider-Woman’s sudden departure. Just as Miguel is about to stand, to follow her and demand she finish the job she dragged him to, Miles sighs loudly, slouching back into the couch.

The kid looks startled when Miguel twists back to look at him, eyes wide on his otherwise defeated expression, one Miguel doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. Eyes narrowed, he stares at Miles, who gulps under his attention. Miles breaks the eye contact first.

“Wha- you.. why are you staring at me?” Miles' voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. “In case you didn’t hear, I’m capable,” he stresses out the last word. “Capable of fixing whatever mess you caused for your universe. You said there were problems, didn’t you?”

“Wh-“ The kid’s eyebrows draw together in offense. “I never said I caused it! Why do you always assume everything’s my fault?”

Miguel blinks. Not the words he was expecting.

“I don’t assume everything is your fault, I know everything is your fault. You’re basically a walking multi-universal time bomb.”

Miles mirrors Miguel’s posture, crossing skinny arms over his own chest. He huffs.

“Well it’s not my fault, for your information. It’s not even, like, a big problem yet. It’s just a few worries here and there.”

Miguel raises a brow, but doesn’t answer. Miles takes this as a sign to continue.

“It’s just that… I’ve heard… that someone in my universe is trying to make a new collider.”

The older spider sits unspeaking for another minute, considering Miles’ very broad explanation.

“You’ve heard..?”

“Er, yeah I’ve heard.”

“From who? Was it from a reputable source?”

Miles’ silence speaks volumes, and Miguel just sighs and moves to stand, sick of this interaction already. Before he can stand, though, Miles is already up on his own two feet, waving his hands nervously.

“W-wait no, you gotta understand. You gotta believe me. I even checked it out, the old collider site. They’re doing construction there, since y’know, it blew up. And, like, all the old equipment is just gone.”

Miguel feels a headache coming on. “Yes, Morales, that’s how construction works. They’re getting rid of it.”

“No, no, you don’t get it. All that equipment was due to be destroyed, but everything’s gone, it just disappeared one night. Things just don’t add up.”

Miguel breathes deeply through his nose, pondering his words. He leans back into the armchair, which is actually quite comfortable. He has to give props to Jess at a later date, she really knows how to decorate a room. Maybe after he confronts her about ditching him with the spider brat though.

Miles is still standing nervously, hands fluttering about in front of him. It looks like a nervous trait of his. The kid looks a bit overwhelmed.

“This really is bothering you?” He receives a nod in response, and exhales slowly again. “Hm. Well, I suppose if it’ll calm you down, I can send a team over to your universe. Have them check it out. The site and the old Alchemax labs.”

Relief immediately spreads across Morales’ face, and he wrings his fingers together in front of him. He’s still standing. “Really? Man, thank you so much! I was kinda worried I’d have to go back to Alchemax alone, and I haven’t been there in, like, a year and a half when Peter and I went to get info for the goober, and to do that we had to crawl through the vents and it was, like, super dusty! It was like no one there cleaned the vents, which is actually kind of dangerous since that’s a fire hazard. But anyway, we ended up in some crazy lady’s office to get the goober ready, but the lady ended up being some kind of villain who chained Peter to a chair, and that’s actually the first time I turned invisible, which is crazy because Pete and I didn’t even know that was possib-“

“Kid,” he raises a hand to accompany his interruption. “You’re rambling.”

“Ah shit,” the kid groans. Miguel has the sudden urge to chide him for the inappropriate language. He pushes this urge down. “Sorry, man. I just tend to, like, ramble when I’m on edge.”

“You’re on edge? Why?” Miguel asks.

“Are you… really asking why I’m on edge..?”

Miguel gives him an unimpressed look, before nodding. A crease forms between the kid’s eyebrows.

“Well, it’s kinda... uhm… awkward? To be here with you..?”

“Awkward? Why would it be awkward? I’m your boss.”

Miles looks like he wants to say something about that last bit, but just shakes his head slowly, almost to himself. “Awkward because… of what happened? A few months ago?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“…You kind of… chased me through the entire city… and made all the Spiders chase me too…”

Oh. Right.

“You’re still bothered about that?”

“Uh, yeah, of course I’m still bothered about that.”

Miguel hums quietly, tapping a finger against his arm from where they’re still crossed over his chest. “Oh, well. Sorry, I guess.”

Miles’ face shifts, his expression incredulous. He’s quiet for a moment, before he simply scoffs, flopping back against the couch and crossing his arms again. He stares at Miguel. Miguel stares back.

“What? What’d I do?” the older man raises an eyebrow.

“I…” Miles hesitates. He just shakes his head after a moment. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

The two sit in silence for a while, just simply staring at each other. Miguel’s head is throbbing. Miles looks like he’s going to be sick. Finally, after another excruciatingly long minute has passed, Miguel lets out another sigh.

“I don’t get you kids.”

“Huh?”

“You kids. The teenage Spiders. It’s always something with you guys. You’re jumpy, Gwen’s invasive. Pavitr’s… loud,” he narrows his eyes in thought. “I can barely understand Hobart most of the time.”

“Huh? Hobart? You mean Hobie?”

“Sure, whatever. Hobie. I can barely understand him most of the time.”

“Eh, once you get used to the accent it’s actually kinda easy to understand. Plus all the weird slang he uses. It’s easier to learn the slang first, though, and once you do you’ll be able to understand the accent more.”

“You lost me.”

“Oh, did I? Ummm… let’s see. Oh, I know. Here, I’ll give an example.” Miles clears his throat, lifting a slender leg to show Miguel his bright red and white shoe. “So, in my universe, a phrase you could use would be ‘Yo, dude, check out these sick sneakers!’”

“Why would anyone say that?”

“Just let me finish.”

“…alright.”

“But if you’re in Hobie’s universe, or… England, I guess, you’d say,” he pauses to clear his throat again. “‘Oy, mate, peep these wicked chucks!”

He completes his phrase with the worst fake accent Miguel has ever heard and holy shit. If he could barely understand the punk, then Miles was just straight up incomprehensible. In his many years of being alive, Miguel has heard many accents. Fake or not. He’s even faked a few accents himself. None have come close to how bad Miles’ was. It’s pathetic really. Miles is silent at this point, the realization that he just faked a British accent to his boss sweeping in.

But as Miguel opens his mouth to voice how bad it was, a single noise escapes past instead. A laugh.

It wasn’t a very loud laugh, but in the otherwise silent room, it’s practically deafening. If the laugh is bad, then what comes next is worse. He snorts.

He quickly uncrosses his arms to slap a hand over his mouth, hoping to muffle the sound. It doesn’t work. Miles stares at him with wide eyes, the kid’s mouth falling open. Miguel wants to taunt him, to tell him to close his mouth, or he’ll catch flies, but he finds himself speechless, his palm practically glued to his mouth.

“Did…” Miles starts slowly, disbelief painted across his face. “Did you just-“

The kid is cut off by the door slamming open, hitting the wall with a loud ‘bang!’. Both Spiders jump at sound, heads whipping to said door. There stands Peter B. Parker, who looks just as confused as they do by the sight. Thankfully there’s no baby with him.

He removes his hand from the door and enters the room slowly, his annoyingly bright pink bathrobe fluttering behind him. Peter looks at Miguel, then looks at Miles, before looking at Miguel again. He blinks a few times.

“Where’s… Jess..?”

Miguel clears his throat. “She had to step out.”

All three Spiders stare at each other, before Miles nods slowly. “Baby problems,” he finishes.

“Ah,” says Peter simply. He looks between the two casually. They stare back.

If Miguel’s brain was throbbing before, it’s practically hammering in his skull now. God, he needs to lie down. He stands abruptly, causing Peter to blink and Miles to jolt.

“I should go,” he says quickly, tucking Miles’ manila folder under his arm. “Much work to do.”

“Right…” Peter says slowly, giving him a weird look. Miguel ignores him.

“I’m off, then,” he turns to leave, brushing past Peter, but before he exits the threshold, he glances back at Miles, still slouched on the couch. “I’ll look into your universe’s… problem. Thanks for letting me know.” And with that, he departs, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Mostly because he wants to leave as soon as possible, but also because he’s worried if he moves it from where it’s resting against the wall there’ll be a hole from how hard Peter slammed it. He does not have the energy to acknowledge that right now.

The walk back to his lab is relatively quiet, only the occasional spider milling about the halls, which he’s thankful for. His annoyance at Jess leaving him alone with the kid has since been replaced with mortification at laughing at the kid’s stupid fucking accent. It wasn’t even that funny. It was bad. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s kind of thankful Peter walked in when he did. He definitely was not ready for the kid to confront him about the laugh and the snort.

Miguel exhales slowly and glances outside the hallway windows, the scenery of Nueva York calming him to some degree. It helps. As he watches the tiny specks of cars and hovercrafts in the distance, he decides he can deal with this later.

(As soon as he gets back to his lab, he calls a few trusted Spiders in, and sends them to Earth-1610 to look at the destroyed super-collider site, as well as Alchemax’s labs. Might as well get a jump start to stopping the problem before it begins. The Spiders do find activity brewing in the old Alchemax’s labs, the few remaining employees who weren’t arrested trying to come up with some way to rebuild the collider, which in reality, is much too damaged to even boot up, yet alone work. His crew deals with the problem quickly, and comes back to headquarters in a jiffy, before moving on to their next mission. Simple as that.)

Chapter Text

Miguel is not having a good day.

Granted, good days seem more and more rare these past few weeks, months, years; but today is an especially bad day. It starts as soon as he wakes up, like all bad days do, with a hammering pain in his head. The aching in his muscles materialize as soon as he sits up. On days like these, it takes an excessive amount of effort to even get out of bed, to suit up and make the short walk to his lab. It was tempting not to at this point, but he has things to do. People to lead. (People to avoid.)

He knows if he stays in bed for too long his ‘peace’ won’t last. Jessica never lets him sleep in, never lets him spend the day locked away in his room. Never lets him hide away from his responsibilities. He’s thankful for this, of course, but on these bad days, he detests her help.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to leave the comfort of his bed, and even longer to get his spider suit on. After a moment of hesitation, he moves to his closet to pull out a thick, zip up hoodie, tugging it on over his suit. The warmth helps. He debates covering up even more, to pull on last night's sleep pants carelessly tossed on the ground, but he holds back. He has standards, unlike some people (Peter immediately comes to mind.)

It takes Miguel another few minutes to complete some half assed breathing exercises to try to calm himself down to start the day. They don’t work. Accepting that he’s already going to have a shitty day, the man leaves his room, worried if he stays any longer Jess will find her way over.

He’s thankful the walk to his laboratory is short, and admires whoever designed the HQ to have his room and lab so close to each other (Him. It was him who designed HQ).

Once he makes it to his lab, his bad day is immediately made worse just by the sight of Peter B. Parker standing there waiting for him. Luckily he’s not tinkering with any of his shit, a habit of the man’s, but he does have the baby with him. As cute as she is, she’s just as much trouble as her dad is, if not more (which says a lot).

Peter bugs him about one thing or another; about how he should be more social, and they should get drinks sometime (he’d rather die), or how Miles is visiting HQ today, and Miguel should pop by to say hi (why would he do that?); just general annoyance.

To make matters worse, whilst Peter rambles about which universe he’s been to has the best beer tap, he doesn’t pay attention to his fucking daughter, and the kid crawls out from Peter’s stupid baby carrier and escapes in his lab. Miguel himself doesn’t notice until the kid spills the juice she has with her all over his work table, which has prototypes for new web-shooters.

Miguel kicks them out of his lab.

The damage on the web-shooters isn’t too bad, salvageable at least, but they are sticky with apple juice, and he knows some of the smaller parts will have to be replaced. After inspecting the damage, he tosses them back on his desk, not having the energy to deal with them right now.

And so, with a throbbing headache and a body that seems to be out to get him, as well as sticky web-shooters (stickier than they should be), he concludes that yeah, today is not a good day.

For bad days, Miguel doesn’t really have much of an outlet. Usually he tinkers on his projects, but his latest project is his web-shooters, which are out of the question, so he just resigns to sitting angrily in the swivel chair that came with his desk but is never used. He prefers to stand while working.

Miguel spins himself around in his chair absentmindedly as he thinks. He can always spend another day monitoring the state of the multiverse, but things have been slow lately. Less and less anomalies have been detected recently, and with his biggest problem (Miles) apparently being in HQ, he doesn’t really feel the need to make sure the kid is staying out of trouble either.

His next option to calm down would be to get some food in his stomach. It was a little past nine in the morning at this point, much too early for lunch, but a good time for a snack if he so desires. Breakfast isn’t really his thing.

Now that he thinks about it, a snack does sound appealing. His stomach feels too uneasy for something greasy, like chips, or something sweet, like candy. He ponders his options of what he could find in a vending machine, not having the social strength currently to go to the actual cafeteria. The vending machines in this building were tricky, containing snacks from a variety of different universes, so while things may look similar, they could have very different tastes.

Miguel blinks as he recalls the perfect snack to have, one to fill him while still being light for his nausea. Trail mix. In most universes, trail mix is typically the same, keeping the same mix of nuts, pretzels, and chocolate candy pieces. It’s simple, yet very satisfying, too. Miguel doesn’t have fun doing things (definitely not) but he does enjoy eating it, too.

Miguel has a method, of sorts, for eating trail mix. First, he pours the package out onto his desk (clean, of course). He’ll have to wipe down the spilled apple juice before he leaves. He can just toss the web-shooters in a drawer for now and deal with it later. Once he has the spilled trail mix laid out, he likes to sort it into piles, keeping each ingredient separate. Sometimes if feels like it, he sorts the chocolate candies by color too. He then eats the ingredients one at a time. First the nuts, then the dried fruit, then the pretzels, and finally, best for last, the candies.

Of course, he only does this when he’s alone. He can barely handle the teasing from Lyla when he does it, who he created, so he doesn’t even want to think about another person seeing his method.

Coming to a final decision, he stands up and quickly clears the mess on his desk, grumbling under his breath the entire time. Damn kids. Damn apple juice. Damn Peter B. Fucking Parker.

He strides out of the lab as soon as he’s done cleaning to find the closest break room, which is only a few floors down. He passes very few Spiders on his way down, and sensing his mood, they only acknowledge him with reluctant nods. He glares at the floor the entire way down.

When he makes it to one of the break rooms, it’s empty, except for one lone person. There, loitering in the room, stands Miles Morales. Miguel didn’t mean to bump into the kid, but it’s an odd coincidence that the two just happen to find themselves in the same break room out of the dozens in the building.

Morales doesn’t notice him walk in, which isn’t really too much of a shock. Even with his sixth sense, the kid tends to space out sometimes, and it’s not like his super sense is needed in HQ. There isn’t any danger here, and even if there is, there are hundreds of Spider-People at the ready.

Morales is standing in front of the single vending machine in the room, hunched over his phone as he stares intensely at it. At this angle, he can’t see what he’s looking at. Miguel has to hold back from speaking up, to tell Miles to fix his posture. He doesn’t tell him though, because then he’d sound like a dad, and what’s worse than sounding like a dad is sounding like Miles’ dad. Not that he has anything against Miles’ dad, of course. Well, other than being completely okay with letting him die a few months ago, but that’s different. He had his reasoning.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by a voice echoing throughout the room, and his gaze focuses on the back of Miles’ jacket. The voice continues, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that it’s not Miles speaking, but a voice coming from his phone. He should’ve come to that conclusion based on the heavy accent the voice holds.

Miguel’s gaze shifts behind Miles’ arched form and lands on the vending machine, where he sees the delectable treat he’s been craving all afternoon; trail mix. He’s so close to his prize, the only obstacle standing in the way being the other spider in the room.

The young spider in question still doesn’t realize he’s there, completely focused on his phone. It’s disappointing really, how invested kids these days are in their devices. Sure, Miguel himself finds himself attached to screens for the majority of the day, but that’s different. Those are his multi-universal observing screens.

Miguel can’t really hear what the still talking voice is saying on the kid’s phone, but it keeps going on and on, he’s beginning to think Miles’ is maybe just watching a video on repeat. If only the volume was up just a bit higher, he’d know for sure.

Despite being one of the many Spider-Men, Miguel finds himself lacking certain traits other Spiders have, one being enhanced hearing. Sure, his hearing is much better than that of an average human’s, but it’s still not much compared to most others in HQ.

He stands behind Miles as he waits for the kid to finally look up, to finish his business in the break room so that Miguel can finally get his snack, but the kid doesn’t move, doesn’t react to the looming presence behind him. He doesn’t really care if Miles loiters here, really, as most Spiders do, but standing right in front of the vending machine? Really?

Miguel has to hold back a sigh, and once he realizes Miles isn’t looking up any time soon, steps closer to peek over the kid’s shoulder to see what’s so distracting.

The video on Miles’ phone isn’t really a video, but a video call instead. On his screen is the very zoomed in face of Pavitr Prabhakar, who’s rambling about one thing or another, Miguel can’t really hear. He’s looking somewhere off camera, but when Pavitr glances back at the screen, to look at his friend, his eyes go wide, spotting the towering man standing right behind Miles.

He cuts himself off, eyes flicking from Miguel to Miles, over and over again. Miles jolts a bit, coming out of a mini trance he must’ve fallen into during Pavitr’s rambling (Miguel doesn’t blame him really, Pavitr does talk a lot). He stands up a bit straighter.

“Huh? Pav, what’s up?” Miles cocks his head.

“Uhh, bro,” Miguel can finally make out the tinny voice of Pavitr through Miles’ shitty phone speakers. “You may wanna look behind you.”

“Behind me? What are you talking about?”

Miguel honestly feels a bit disappointed by Miles’ current lack of survival skills, not even being able to make out his presence standing less than a foot away.

“Just look behind you,” repeats Pavitr, exasperated. Miguel feels him.

Miles finally lifts his head and turns it, peeking over his shoulder. His eyes land on a very broad chest as he looks back at eye level, and when he raises his gaze, his eyes go wide. He’s still for a moment, but suddenly he jumps to attention, stumbling away from Miguel.

“Guh- you- what??”

Miguel blinks.

“Dude, why are you just standing there?” Miles asks breathlessly, clutching his chest. He angles his phone away from his face, mostly so that Pavitr doesn’t make fun of the expression painted across it, probably. The kid’s eyes flicker down to Miguel’s body, looking confused at the jacket he has on, clearly not expecting even a touch of casualness from the older spider.

“You’re the one who’s ‘just standing there’,” he says, making air quotes before shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. “In case you didn’t notice, you’re in my way.”

“In your way-?” Miles blinks, looking baffled. Pavitr is blessedly still quiet. The young spider in the room follows Miguel’s longing gaze to the vending machine, and scoffs quietly. “Sorry to break it to you, man, but it’s broken. My snack got stuck.”

“Broken?” Miguel sighs. “Of course it’s broken. You just started hanging around HQ, and you’re already breaking things.”

“Wha-“ Miles gasps, offense lining his expression. “I did not break it!” Still on the call, Pavitr laughs. “My snack got stuck. Well, not my snack, it was for someone else, but still, it’s stuck. Tried shaking the machine and everything.”

“Shaking… the machine..?” Miguel’s words are slow.

“Yes!” The cheap sound of Pavitr’s voice rings out, and Miles lifts his phone and turns it towards Miguel so that the older spider can look at Pavitr. Up close, Miguel realizes that the screen wasn’t zoomed in, rather Pavitr is just really damn close to his camera. “What a shame it is too, that snack is meant for Hobie! Oh, he’ll be so upset he can’t have it…”

Miguel resists the urge to roll his eyes at Pavitr’s dramatic sigh. “So, you got your snack-“

“Hobie’s snack.”

Miguel ignores Pavitr’s interruption and continues, “stuck in the machine, and your next bet was to loiter around and video call.”

“Uhh, I’m not loitering. I was Facetiming Pav for advice.”

“Advice?”

Pavitr hums on the screen, “yes, I give excellent advice. Just now I was telling Miles he should reach inside the machine and get the snack himself!”

“That advice is far from excellent.”

“Ouch, that hurts, boss-man.”

Miguel actually does roll his eyes this time, and looks at Miles. “Tell me you weren’t actually planning on sticking your arm up the vending machine.”

“Uhm,” Miles hesitates. “I wasn’t planning on sticking my arm up the vending machine.”

God, this kid was like an open book.

Miguel doesn’t grant the kid a verbal response, instead dropping his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as he lets out a long, deep sigh. Dejectedly, Miles turns his phone back towards himself and gives Pavitr a baffled look.

It takes Miguel a few more seconds to calm himself down, sending one last glare up at the ceiling before he turns to the vending machine. There’s a packet of fruit flavored candies dangling from one of the large coils in the machine, bright and colorful. Two rows above the packet of candy sits the jackpot, a small bag of trail mix.

Miguel stalks towards the machine slowly, feeling Miles’ wary eyes on his back the entire time. Pavitr has gone silent again, noticing the tension in the room despite not actually being there. The elder spider raises a clenched fist and rests it upon the glass separating him and his snack, glaring at his reflection. He can see the reflection of Miles too, who gulps behind him. Taking another deep breath, the man pulls his arm back and shifts.

He punches the side of the machine. He holds back, of course, but he uses enough strength to shake the entire machine, and the room practically rattles at the force.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Miles flinch.

Nothing happens following the punch, and Miguel drops his fists to his sides, shaking slightly. He hears Miles take a step away.

“Wh-“ the voice of Pavitr is cut off by the sound of snacks falling from their springs, not just the candy and not just the trail mix, but basically everything the vending machine has to offer.

“Holy shit!” Miles gasps behind him, bringing a hand up to his mouth. His eyes are wide, and while he still looks nervous, there’s a certain kind of awe in his gaze. Almost akin to admiration.

“What?” Pavitr asks quickly, the sound of his chair squeaking in the background as he seemingly sits up straight. “What was that noise? What happened?” He sounds a bit panicked. “Miles, are you okay?”

Miles pulls his gaze away from the daunting form of Miguel to glance back at his phone. “What? Yeah, dude I’m fine. But holy shit, you just missed the craziest thing!”

“What?” Pavitr’s nearly whining now. “What’d I miss?”

“He punched it!”

“Punched it? You?!”

“What? No, not me! I said ‘it’, I’m not an It, man.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Miguel groans internally at the kids’ conversation behind him. They continue.

“But really, what just happened?”

“Miguel! He uh-“ Miles eyes flicker up to Miguel’s back before dropping back down to his phone. He lowers his voice. “He punched the vending machine!”

“Huh? Why would he do that?”

“Bro, it’s crazy! All the snacks, they just fell out!”

“Fell out?!”

“Fell out!”

Miguel grits his teeth together, now annoyed. All he wanted was a simple snack, that’s all he wanted. Embarrassed at the little scene he caused, he turns back to look at Miles, who’s engrossed with talking to his friend.

Miguel needs to leave, now.

Miles looks up when he senses Miguel walking closer to him, and his head shoots up, only for Miguel to brush past him to calmly leave (stomp out of) the room.

Miguel’s jaw is locked as he trudges his way back to his lab, a feeling almost like shame welling up in his chest, distressed that he lost control like that, especially in front of the kid. There’s no doubt the other teen spiders will find out soon, if not from Miles, then definitely from Pavitr.

He takes a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the teasing, before he stumbles to a sudden stop in the middle of the empty hallway, realizing something.

He forgot his fucking trail mix.

Today fucking sucks.