Archive of Our Own ^beta

Miguel walks into the kitchen where the love of his life is busy tying up a garbage bag. She starts to heft up one of the three bags at her feet grunting in the process and Miguel stops her, “What are you doing?” he asks.
“Taking out the garbage?” she asks.
He places his hand over hers and slips the strings out of her fingers, “I’ll take it out.”
She smiles up at him, “Well, I guess I’ll go ahead and get started on supper then.”
Miguel lifts up the other two bags easily lifting them all with one hand.
His wife turns the water on in the sink and stares at him sideways shaking her head at him, but still smiling nonetheless.
“You didn’t really think I’d let you carry all of this by yourself?” he asks.
“Well, hurry up and get back so you can help me with dinner,” she laughs.
Miguel laughs too, and then he turns towards the door to their apartment. He opens it and steps out and then locks it behind him. He almost always takes the trash out so he’s not sure why she was already in the midst of doing it herself. Especially since it appeared to be rather heavy for her, it’s not like he particularly minds this chore either.
He walks down the hallway and takes a right.
Come to think of it, she took the trash out last week too. He remembers he had just been heading back home when he turned the corner and saw her trying to lift a particular heavy garbage bag into the shoot opening. He had immediately rushed forward to help her and asked why she didn’t wait for him come home first if the bags were too heavy for her to manage by herself. She had seemed briefly startled by him and though he knows she’s not as strong as him, he’s never made her feel like she was less than him because of it.
Miguel takes a left this time and spots the trash shoot.
She did express wanting to do things herself sometimes, although oddly enough she didn’t protest him taking it out this time. Miguel hefts the first bag of trash and opens the shoot and sends it on it’s way. He lifts the second bag and as he pushes it into the opening of the shoot, the bag catches on one of the sharp metal edges and rips it open, spilling it’s contents onto the hallway’s floor.
Miguel groans, great.
He pulls the bag back from the shoot and more trash spills out, and he sets the entire bag down on the floor, before grabbing the third bag and carefully placing it into the shoot. Miguel then stoops and turning the bag upside down so that the drawstring part of it is now on the bottom, he starts filling it back up again.
“¡Carajo!” Miguel sighs as his fingers come into contact with something sticky.
Now he’s going to have to wash his hands when he gets back inside.
He tries to carefully put the gross bits of food back into the bag by grabbing old napkins and tissues and scooping it up. At least there’s a lot of bathroom trash in this bag so there’s not as much really gross stuff to worry about. Miguel scoops up another of handful tissues and an empty pink box clatters away from him. The bright color draws his eye and he reaches for it next, but just as he’s about to put it back in the bag, something about the label catches his attention.
He reads it.
And then he reads it again before it dawns on him what it is.
He looks inside the box to find it empty and then looks back at the front of the empty pregnancy test box. Miguel then sets the box down on the floor and starts searching through the rest of the trash on the floor and when he doesn’t find it, he searches through the rest of the bag. One of his neighbors opens their apartment door clearly dressed to go somewhere and when the old woman spots him, she eyes him still currently crouched on the floor in a pair of flip flops rummaging around through his own trash.
“Uh…I lost my ring,” Miguel lies even though his wedding band is still clearly on his finger.
The old woman shakes her head at him as she shuffles past him towards the elevator.
When she’s gone he sighs heavily and continues searching. And only when he’s searched the whole bag twice does he realize that the Actual Test is not there. That’s strange considering all of the bathroom trash is in this bag, and they only have one trash can in their bathroom. Miguel looks back towards the shoot and briefly considers going all the way down to the trash room just to see if one of the other bags might have the test, but he quickly thinks better of it. He stuffs the rest of the trash back into the bag, she’s probably wondering what’s keeping him. He saves the pregnancy test box for last and looks at it one final time.
He desperately wants to know what it said.
There’s a part of him that realizes it could have been negative and she didn’t want to get his hopes up, but another part of him is nagging at him and telling him that it’s not a coincidence that the test and the test box ended up in two separate bags. Then he remembers that she took out the trash last week and he about drops the trash bag as he drives the heel of his left palm into his forehead.
He literally Helped her throw away the evidence!
He was her unwilling accomplice.
And now she’s the only one who knows what it said.
He looks back in the direction of his apartment and then back at the box and throws it into the bag before tying up the torn edges of the garbage bag as best he can. He tosses it down the shoot finally and quickly strides back to his apartment. If she would go to these lengths to hide it from him, it must have been positive…right?
It couldn’t have been negative, so she would be pregnant.
Is she really pregnant? With his child? She’s always told him how much she wants to be a parent and they both adore her nephews. Miguel is certain that she would make a great mother…he’s just not so sure that he would make a great father. Miguel pauses as his hand hovers over the door handle and tries to calm his rapid breathing. Whatever the truth is, she clearly hadn’t wanted to tell him she even took the test. He can’t exactly blame her, even with all he’s talked about it and her helping him sort through his feelings along with his therapist, Miguel’s still not sure he’s prepared for her to tell him that she’s actually, genuinely pregnant. If he had the chance to hold this baby right now he still doesn’t know if he’d be prepared for the reality of caring for and raising another child. He blinks and wets his lips, his mouth gone dry and is oddly comforted by the fact that that’s a thought many first time parents have had even though…he is not. But his situation has been shared by others before him as well, perhaps not quite the same. The only difference in his case is that the questions are: Do I deserve this? And will I be good enough?
Miguel looks up towards the door as he makes out the faint sounds of his wife’s humming and chopping of a knife on a cutting board.
He wonders how she feels about all this?
If she truly is carrying his baby and shouldering the responsibility all alone, something she has warned him about time and time again being Spiderman, and all because he can’t handle it? Then he feels he isn’t being a very good partner to her.

Miguel takes a steadying breath and tries to steal his nerves and finally opens the door.
She instantly looks up at him and smiles that lovely, bright smile of hers that he adores so much. And for a moment he’s able to quell the painful churning in his chest.
“What took you so long?” she asks.
And Miguel is reminded of his discovery as she glances back down at the vegetables she’s chopping.
“Bag split open,” he says in an even tone, “Trash went everywhere.”
He watches her carefully and he sees there’s a small flicker of nervousness on her face as he says this, but then she turns away and dumps the vegetables into the pot. And when she turns back around it’s gone completely, “Eww, gross. I’m sorry, Miguel.”
He closes the door behind him and slips off his shoes and makes his way over to the kitchen sink, “I bet you’re glad you didn’t take out the trash now.”
“I mean…a little, but now I feel bad that you had to pick up trash,” she says throwing him a sympathetic smile over her shoulder.
Miguel washes his hands thoroughly glad to be rid of the sticky food substance on his fingers, but also still focused on the task at hand as he dries his hands on a towel and turns to stare at her back as she returns to her chopping. Setting the towel back down he steps towards her, busy with dinner preparations, and then lightly touches her waist first before wrapping his arms around her. She stops chopping for a moment or two when she feels him touch her, and as his hands rest themselves comfortably against her stomach, she begins chopping again. Miguel presses his chest to her back and leans down and presses his nose into her hair.
“You know…you were supposed to be helping me with dinner,” she begins, “But seeing as you had to clean up trash, I’ll let it slide.”
Miguel hums in response as he inhales her scent.
He can smell her shampoo and the spices that have wafted up into her hair from the soup she’s making, but other than that, she doesn’t smell any different. She smells like she always does…wonderful and like home. He strokes over her stomach, it’s too soon for her to start showing.
She giggles as her head turns slightly, “Baby?”
And Miguel realizes that she’s finished chopping as he continues to cling her.
They often say that pregnant women are glowing.
Is it just because they’re happy? Or is it hormones?
Miguel reaches around her and takes the cutting board for her, “Let me get that,” he says and then unwraps himself from around her and steps over to the pot on the stove and dumps the ingredients in.
He looks back over at her and she’s smiling softly and gazing at him very lovingly.
She always looks happy to see him.
She then turns and puts the knife in the sink and holds out her hand for the cutting board, and Miguel hands it to her and she rinses them both off before stepping over towards him by the stove. She seasons the food and then takes the nearby wooden spoon she set out and stirs everything together. He smiles at her and presses himself to her back again and bends down to pepper her neck with kisses.
She giggles softly, “Miguel. I’m trying to cook.”
“Mmm and you’re doing a wonderful job of it, Mi Amor,” he hums.
She reaches up her free hand and runs it through his hair.
He closes his eyes gently and enjoys the soothing strokes against his scalp.
This is going to be harder to figure out than he thought.
Of course when this day started this is not even close to the dinner he’d thought he’d be having tonight.

After supper is done and they’ve finished eating they spend some time curled up together on the couch and continue watching the movie they started yesterday. Miguel had kept a close eye on her at dinner to see if she had any changes in appetite that might be another indicator on whether or not she was carrying his child. But she ate about as much as she usually would although she did complain about a little bit of heartburn after their meal. But that could also be contributed to the fact that it was a spicy dish, and she did add just a little bit more of the peppers she was using than usual to make it spicier. It wasn’t too spicy for Miguel’s taste of course and it didn’t overpower or cancel out the other flavors in the soup, and it was her idea to add more not his, and she didn’t even drink more to douse it. Right now he’s having a hard time following the plot of the movie they’re watching because he’s too busy hyper-analyzing her every move. He tries to pull his focus back to the film, by assuring himself that she would tell him. But not even a minute passes by before the seeds of doubt take root once again.
“Miguel?” she asks softly.
“Hm?” he hums.
“Did you hear what I said?” she asks.
Shit.
Miguel’s mind races as he tries to remember what she said and failing that he tries to guess, but his mind is blank, “Um…” he mutters instead.
“Did you just not think it was funny?” she asks, disappointment creeping into her voice.
“No, Mi Vida-¡Carajo!” Miguel curses, “I meant no, I didn’t Hear you.”
He glances up at the tv and notices that it’s paused.
How long has it been like that?
She turns in his arms and stares up into his eyes, “You seem very distracted tonight, Miguel,” she whispers and then she reaches up a hand to stroke his cheek with her knuckles.
Miguel’s eyes slip closed and he ponders for a moment.
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” he answers meeting her gaze again.
She studies his face for a few moments, looking him over and then locking eyes with him again, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She can read him like a book and knows better than anyone when something’s eating at him, especially when he’s afraid to tell her what it is.
And normally he would tell her.
He would cave to her soft eyes and voice and they would lay here and he’d tell her all about what’s bothering him and his anxieties for the future and she would listen. But his words get caught in his throat just as he opens his mouth and he can’t. He can’t say anything, because the fear takes hold in his heart of everything that could go wrong, and nothing comes out. There’s too much and it all gets caught in the tightening of the dam in his chest and nothing gets past it. She blinks slowly as she looks at him and then her eyes close and she leans up and gingerly presses her lips to his.
Miguel closes his eyes and softly moves his lips against hers.
And as they part he can’t stop the pair of tears that slip from his eyes. And even though she doesn’t know why, she still swipes them away with her thumb anyways.
“Let’s go to bed,” she says gently.
She slowly rises from the couch, takes his hands in hers and pulls Miguel up with her. The movie is turned off and the tv forgotten as she ushers him to their bedroom. They brush their teeth silently next to each other and then Miguel strips out of his clothes to sleep in his boxers as she picks out one of his shirts from the dresser to change into. The light is turned off and the covers are pulled back and Miguel wraps himself around her and presses his face into the crook of her neck. He focuses on her heartbeat under his lips at her pulse point and listens to the sounds of her breathing for a long while. His fingers stroke over her stomach lightly before he pulls them back sharply and then places his hand overtop hers, suddenly fearful of his sharp claws somehow sinking into her abdomen against his will. Which is a ridiculous thought he realizes almost as soon as he has it because he has great control of his claws and this isn’t even the first time today he’s held her. So why would he now? But the longer that he’s awake the more the anxiety gnaws at him.
That he won’t be able to take care of her. That he won’t be a good father, that he’ll ruin everything again, that he’ll do this or that, and a thousand other things. Miguel lifts his head up and carefully extricates himself from her. And only when he’s sitting up in bed does he realize his chest is heaving. He swallows and the lump passes painfully through his chest. So he gets out of bed and starts putting on his suit.
But when he starts to put his arms through it a soft voice calls out, “Miguel?”
And it would seem she wasn’t as sound asleep as he thought she was.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
He finishes putting on his suit and turns to face her, and with his heightened senses he can make out her features perfectly and the confusion in her eyes is as plain as day.
“Lyla called me in to check on something,” he lies.
She starts to sit up and pull the covers back, “Do you need my help?”
“No,” he says quickly, “It shouldn’t take long, go back to sleep.”
She hesitates for a moment, but starts to lean back into the mattress and he watches the confusion be replaced by disappointment.
“Okay,” she relents, “Miguel?”
“Yes, Querida?” he asks.
“Be safe,” she says.
A smile tugs at his lips as he places his palms on the bed and leans over to her and kisses her desperately…and then he pulls away.

He feels guilty for leaving her like that and he feels angry at himself for lying about it as he swipes through footage from across the multiverse. There’s nothing pressing that requires his attention, but he knew there wouldn’t be.
“Lyla, can you get me a better view on Hobgoblin-2103?” he asks.
There’s a flicker of yellow light in his peripheral and he continues swiping away at his screens. He’s sure there are bags forming under his eyes and his feet ache from standing for so long, but working is the only thing keeping his mind off of his anxieties. He needs to keep busy or it’ll just consume his thoughts again. Usually work is the thing that’s stressing him out and spending time with his wife is what eases his mind and heart.
But not this time.
He realizes then that there’s been no response from his chatty A.I. assistant which is very unlike her, “Lyla-“
But as he turns to look at her, Lyla has her arms crossed and has fixed him with her strongest glare.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Miguel ask raising a brow.
Lyla looks at him for a moment and then looks at all of his open screens, nearly a dozen in total, and waves her hand at them and closes all of them.
“¡Oye!” he exclaims trying to reopen them.
Lyla immediately closes the two he opened again forcing him to look at her, “What gives?!” he demands.
“What Gives?!” she repeats indignantly, “What gives, is that you’ve left her wondering where you are and when you’re coming home.”
Miguel winces as the guilt washes over him, “I just needed some time to think.”
“You’ve been here four hours, Miguel,” she says narrowing her eyes through her heart-shaped sunglasses, “I think you’ve done enough ‘thinking’,” she says bending her index and middle finger for emphasis.
Miguel rubs the back of his neck, “Has it been that long already?”
“Look you’re tired, she’s worried, just go home already,” Lyla says her face softening.
Miguel sighs, “What do I do if she’s really-And I’m going to be-“ he stops and then wets his lips as he turns his gaze downwards and shakes his head.
“Look, I can’t answer that for you. I just know that whatever you do, you’ll do it together,” Lyla says.
Miguel looks up at her flickering image.
“That’s what a partnership is all about, yeah?” Lyla asks with her usual optimism returning.
“I tried earlier to talk to her, but I just…couldn’t get the words out,” Miguel says lifting and lowering his shoulders in defeat.
Lyla seems to think for a moment, “Well, just start by telling her that you found the box. If it turns out she is pregnant, chances are she’ll have a lot to say to you too.”
Now Miguel is thoughtful for a moment, for an A.I. with no family and only programmable feelings, she certainly has picked up a thing or two about interpersonal relationships from him and other members of the Spider Society.
“But what if-“ Miguel begins
“Blegh!” Lyla exclaims throwing her hands up and blinking out of and back into existence for a split second, “MIGUEL! You’re stuck trying to solve Only Half of an equation,” she says holding up one hand in front of her, thumb pointed towards herself, “Hm?” she hums and then she lifts her other hand and does the same and then slowly joins her palms together, and then she gestures with her clasped hands towards him, “Hm!”
“You’re right,” Miguel says.
“Good, now don’t come back until you’ve talked to her and had at least eight hours of sleep,” she says turning her back to him and opening a screen in front of her. He goes to open his mouth again, but she stops him by lifting her hand, “Up, up!”
“Gracias, Lyla,” he says as he steps off the platform.

When he quietly creeps back into his bedroom, her back is to him.
He slips out of his suit and peels back the covers and shifts over to her. Wrapping an arm around her waist he tries not to disturb her too much, but she stirs anyways.
“Baby?” she asks voice heavy with sleep.
“I’m here,” he whispers into her hair before pressing a kiss to her temple.
Her body goes lax again and she more than lets him slip his hand under hers to rest against her stomach. Miguel rests his face in the crook of her neck once again and breathes a deep sigh. And when he wakes it’s to the sound of retching.

He quickly throws back the covers and leaps out of bed, taking only a moment to notice that the sound is coming from the bathroom, and as he reaches for the door the toilet flushes.
Turning the knob slowly, Miguel peers into the bathroom.
She’s sitting on the floor with her cheek pressed to the cold surface of the nearby tub with the toilet lid up. She’s so dazed, she doesn’t even notice him come in.
Miguel grabs a washcloth and runs it under some cool water before wringing it out. She looks up finally when his shadow passes over her and he pulls her hair aside and places the rag on the back of her neck. She sighs in relief and Miguel takes a moment to press the back of his hand to her forehead. She’s very warm and obviously still reeling from her upset stomach. He sits down on the floor next to her, making sure not to block her path to the toilet.
“Not feeling well?” he asks even though the answer is obvious.
It takes a moment for her to respond, “…yeah…”
Miguel pushes the hair that had fallen away from her face and she adjusts her cheek pressed against the tub. He stays like that with her for a few minutes, rubbing her back soothingly until she’s ready to stand. He helps her up, keeping one arm wrapped around her middle. She lets out a sigh and he takes the washcloth off of the back of her neck as she heads for the sink. Miguel carefully lets her go, keeping a hand on her back to make sure she’s steady on her feet before setting the washcloth down on the edge of the tub and lowering the toilet lid. She washes her face with cool water and then rinses her mouth out by cupping water in her hands.
“Do you need to go to a doctor?” Miguel asks brushing his knuckles over her cheek and she leans into his touch.
“No, I don’t think so,” she says slowly.
He feels like he’s holding his breath as he stands on the edge of a building not knowing if he should take the leap and ask her if she’s pregnant and if this is morning sickness.
“Do you want me to make you breakfast?” Miguel asks instead, “Or do you not feel like eating anything yet?” he winces, realizing his mistake.
She looks up at him quizzically, “Miguel, that was breakfast. It’s almost two p.m.”
“Oh,” he mutters.
“What time did you get in last night?” she asks.
“I don’t really remember,” he admits, “Just late.”
She dries her hands and face with a towel.
“You don’t remember me crawling into bed next to you?” he asks.
“Vaguely…I know I woke up to you holding me so tightly it was hard to wiggle out of your grasp so I could go to the bathroom,” she laughs placing a hand on his cheek.
“Sorry,” he chuckles.
He then bends down and presses a kiss to her forehead.
After Miguel gets dressed they make their way to the kitchen and after she gets something to drink, she starts snacking on plain chips not even five minutes later. While Miguel sets the soup pot back on the stove to warm up for lunch and as he’s waiting he sees her perk up when the smell wafts through the apartment. She looks a little less weary and her movements stop being sluggish by the time Miguel turns the heat down and fixes himself a bowl of soup.
“Can I have some soup too?” she asks stepping next to him with a bowl already in hand.
Miguel smiles at her and spoons some soup into her bowl for her, “I see you’ve got your appetite back.”
She smiles sheepishly, “Yeah.”
And as they sit down to eat, while last night where her appetite had been fairly normal, today it is voracious. She almost scarfs it down and only slows down after she goes back for a second bowl. And he’s almost convinced she’s going back for a third bowl, but she places it into the sink instead. And then she does something that surprises him, she places her hand on her abdomen and caresses it, even letting it linger there for a good second or two too long. Miguel stands up from his chair and walks towards her, but she stops when she hears his chair scrape across the floor. She smiles up at him lovingly and he hands her his bowl and she places it into the sink too. He moves to cover the soup pot with the lid and remove it from the burner.
He should say something.
Anything at this point.
He can’t keep going on like this not knowing, but he looks to her and instead of saying anything at all, just stares at her in awkward silence. She purses her lips as she places her hands on her hips and shifts uncomfortably.
“Did you…want to try watching that movie again?” she asks.
And Miguel is mostly certain the suggestion is just to break the tension.
“Yeah,” he nods, “That sounds nice.”
She smiles up at him and he smiles back at her. So they sit back down on the couch and start the movie again from where they left off, and Miguel is very confused by what’s going on in the movie and ends up asking several questions. He really wasn’t paying attention to it last night. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder as she leans against him and after answering yet another question from him, she’s quiet for roughly a minute or two. But then she leans forward to grab the remote and she pauses the movie.
Miguel looks down at her as she shifts in his hold to stare up at him.
“Is everything alright?” she asks concern lacing her tone.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Miguel asks.
She narrows her eyes at him, not very convinced, “Because…you were really distracted after dinner last night and then you left me in the middle of the night.”
Shit, that does sound concerning.
And to be fair he is having a crisis.
“You need to talk to me, Miguel,” she says, placing her hand on his chest, “I can’t help with whatever it is you’re dealing with if you don’t tell me, Sweetheart.”
He takes one of her hands in his, “I’m sorry for making you worry. I didn’t even leave this dimension, I just watched screens until Lyla told me to go home.”
He can see in her eyes that this new information raises alarm bells in her head.
She knows how prone he is to locking himself away and only focusing on work as a means to cope with the rampant thoughts in his head.
“Miguel, talk to me,” she whispers insistently, “Por favor, dime lo que está mal.”
Miguel swallows , “I…” he pauses to exhale a breath, both of his hands now gripping hers tightly, “Yesterday when I took the trash out…one of the bags split open…”
And she nods at him.
“And I found an empty box for a pregnancy test,” he says watching closely for her reaction.
Her eyes grow wide and her lips part as she stares up at him in complete shock, a similar kind of shock that he had felt yesterday when he made this discovery. But her silence is making his heart clench painfully as the seconds tick by.
“Mi Vida, are you pregnant?” he asks.
She subtly nods, “Yes.”

Miguel inhales shakily as all the nerves of the past two days catches up to him. And he’s relieved somewhat to finally have an answer to his question, but then a dozen more pop up in it’s place. Questions he’s been trying to hold at bay when he didn’t know for sure and now they’re all rushing to the surface. But one in particular sticks out above the rest.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks unable to keep the hurt from creeping into his voice.
Her eyes grow watery, “I-I didn’t know how to tell you,” she answers quietly, “I’m sorry.”
“How far along are you?” he asks next.
She takes a shaky breath and Miguel cups her face in his left hand and tilts her chin up to meet his gaze from where it had slipped down to his chest.
“Almost two months?” she questions almost uncertain herself, “I just know I should have had my second period by now.”
Miguel clenches his jaw and inhales sharply.
Two months? Two Months?! Almost-
He blinks as the tears start to form in his own eyes, “I’m sorry, I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me-I didn’t mean-“
She clutches at his chest bunching up the fabric of his shirt in her palms, “No, no, no, Miguel Baby, I don’t want you to blame yourself.”
“But it is because of me?” Miguel asks quietly, “Isn’t it?”
The tears fall freely from her eyes as she shakes her head at this, her eyes squeezing shut, “I didn’t want to get your hopes up is all, in case…I wasn’t or couldn’t…and it wasn’t just about how you felt about it, it was also how I Felt about it, because I’ve wanted this for so long and what if I mess it up or I’m not good enough or-“
She’s rambling at this point so Miguel leans forward to press his forehead to hers and he strokes her cheek with his thumb to try to quiet her sobs, but his own tears finally slip past his closed lids and he cries too, “It seems like we’ve both been thinking the same thing, I just wish you hadn’t tried to do this on your own and for so long too."
She presses a kiss to his palm, “I didn’t know right away, things have been so busy, but also so good,” she sniffles.
He brings her in close to his chest and then presses his face to her hair, “I will admit I am scared shitless though. I’ve been spiraling since yesterday, because I didn’t think a good thing like this would happen to me again.”
Her fist tightens on his shirt, “Are you happy?”
“So happy, Amor,” he whispers, “Now that I know for sure.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you,” she says with her cheek pressed over his heart.
He pats her hair and tucks her head under his chin, “We have to remember to be there for each other and part of that is opening up and talking about what’s bothering us. You taught me that.”
She nods against him, “You scared me, when you left last night.”
His arms tighten their grip around her and he pulls her fully into his lap, “I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry for that.”
She sniffles again.
“You know Lyla actually yelled at me,” he says.
“She did?” she asks picking her head up to stare at him, “She never yells at you, roasts you sure, but?”
“She does when I fuck up. Remember when I was trying to propose to you and I couldn’t work up the nerve?”
She laughs lightly, “She’s right though you can’t do a proper proposal over what is essentially an inter-dimensional phone,” she says a smile finally finding it’s way to her lips.
“True, but that’s how nervous I was you would say no,” Miguel says.
He then leans down and kisses her softly.
As they part she brushes her nose against his fondly, “I was going to tell you, and I finally figured out how I was going to do it too.”
“How?” Miguel asks curiously.
She smiles and extricates herself from his embrace and stands. He watches her walk over to one of the bookshelves by the tv, the one that houses her romance novels and moves a few of the paperbacks out of the way. And behind one of the rows that Miguel didn’t even notice was askew, she removes a small silver box with a white ribbon tied around it. She steps back over to him and sits in his lap again and hands it to him.
He looks from the box to her and then gingerly pulls on the ribbon.
Lifting the lid, Miguel stares inside the box at the pair of absolutely tiny baby socks with the classic Spiderman’s mask design printed on them. He chuckles breathlessly as he picks one up and rubs the fabric between his fingers, before looking up at her again.
“There’s a little note too,” she adds, nodding to the box.
Miguel turns his attention back to the box and underneath the other sock is a little piece of paper. He picks up the handwritten note and on it reads: “Miguel, I’m pregnant, and pretty soon our home is going to be filled with the pitter patter of our very own little Spiderbaby!”
Miguel smiles and swipes more tears from his eyes.
“I know it’s kinda corny,” she says covering her mouth with her hand.
He sets the note back inside the box and then holds both of the baby socks in one hand, in awe of how tiny they both are in his large palm. And then he looks at her, “I like corny. And this? This is perfect,” he says softly.
“What would you say to getting a little matching onesie?” she asks.
“Is this your way of telling me you already bought one?” he asks.
“No,” she says indignantly, “…but I did consider it.”
“Hmm…it might be a bit too much,” he says.
“Oh come on, you know you’d love it,” she says poking him in the chest.
The corners of his mouth tug upwards the tiniest bit, the only indicator that he is sort of on board with going all out on silly outfits for their infant.
Her smile drops suddenly along with her playful demeanor, “I hope you know I’m not trying to replace her,” she says seriously.
Miguel nods his head, “I know you’re not, Querida. But this child you’re carrying isn’t just mine or ours, it’s also yours. I don’t want you to feel guilty for something so beautiful as giving life to another being.”
She leans in and quickly presses her lips to his.
And though Miguel still holds guilt in his heart for his daughter and perhaps always will just as easily as he still loves her, he’s also so incredibly happy to be able to soon welcome a new child into his heart. After all, the love of his life is carrying his child and there’s so much to prepare for and do, and so so many new memories to make. And even with his fear of the future looming in the distance, it’s been banished from this particular moment. He wants to live in the present with his wife who is his home and the child she’s carrying for him.
And as the two finally dry their tears and curl up on the couch once more, with Miguel laying on top of her, he rests his cheek against her stomach and with his enhanced hearing, and the close proximity…he can can hear two strong heartbeats.