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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 11 days ago

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It's Like Supernatural (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: You didn’t believe in ghosts, so you naturally ignored the warnings that the house of your dreams was haunted.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation, ghost sex

A/N: This is a quick one-shot inspired by some behind the scenes looks at ghost!Agatha (the hottest ghost around, truly), my lifelong dream to own a house like the one in Practical Magic, as well as my endless love for Supernatural by Ariana Grande. I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think! :)

Tag-List: @mrsines @chiar4anna

When you heard the house you were interested in buying was haunted, you didn’t think much of it. Locals loved ghost stories, and you assumed this was just another tall tale to spook off tourists.

Even if you believed in ghosts, which you didn’t, that wasn’t going to stop you from purchasing the home of your dreams. It was a beautiful Victorian house that was arguably far too large for just yourself, with three whole floors to decorate and make your own. There were sprawling gardens and even a large greenhouse already filled with a variety of plants you couldn’t even begin to name.

You wondered if the realtor had been tending to them.

It was perfect, and you couldn’t believe how cheap it was. The realtor seemed far too eager, and a bit surprised, when you settled on it, but you chalked it up to desperation to make a sale.

When you had moved the majority of your belongings in, you decided it didn’t matter if this alleged ghost was real or not, absolutely nothing would ever make you want to leave.

If only you knew how very wrong you were.

Things seemed normal, at first. The house was everything you dreamed it to be. From what you were able to get out of the very quiet realtor and even more closed off locals, the house had been abandoned since its last owner died. There wasn’t much information on her, but she apparently gained a rather interesting reputation, based on the horrified expressions on their faces whenever you asked about her.

Agatha Harkness.

There was a portrait of her hanging above the fireplace in the library. It was one of the things that caught your eye the first time touring the property. She was beautiful, with wild dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to follow you around the room. There was a locket around her neck that appeared to be a family heirloom, maybe. Her red lips were twisted upwards, forming an almost diabolical smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe there was a reason the locals all seemed to fear her.

Things changed a few weeks after you moved in. It wasn’t much, at first. You left your laptop on the kitchen counter one morning before leaving, and when you came back home that evening you found it on the dining room table. Maybe you moved it and didn’t remember, you decided as you started your dinner. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Only, things you placed around the house kept showing up elsewhere, and the more it happened the crazier you felt. You left a book in your bedroom and found it in your bathroom. The reading glasses you always kept in the sitting room wound up in the dining room. Clothes you swore you folded and set in your dresser were later found in a wrinkled heap in one of the spare guest rooms.

It finally reached the point where you wondered if someone was breaking in, but surely an intruder would do more than just play little pranks on you.

You didn’t even take the time to consider if the whispers and rumors of a ghost were real, you knew it was just your overactive imagination playing tricks on you. Work had been more stressful than usual, this was surely just a case of exhaustion. You most likely moved all of those items and couldn’t remember, that’s all.

It was around a month after you moved in when you decided to do some redecorating. You’d kept the majority of the paintings the previous owner, Agatha, had collected. They were interesting pieces, most of them seemed to be hundreds of years old. But there were a few you were looking to swap out, the portrait in the library included.

One rainy Saturday afternoon you grabbed a ladder, trudging into the library. Your eyes briefly flickered up at the portrait, and felt the strange sensation that the haunting blue eyes were watching you. Climbing up, you steadied yourself and made sure your feet were secure as you raised your arms, grasping onto the frame. Tugging lightly, you were perturbed when it didn’t budge.

Odd, but it did appear to be rather old, maybe it was stuck on one of the nails. Readjusting the position of your feet on the ladder you leaned forward, pulling harder than you did the first time. The painting still wouldn’t move. You tried everything, lifting and even trying to turn it, but it wouldn’t move.

Questioning your strength, you attempted to get it off the wall one more time, your feet nearly sliding off the ladder as you quickly grabbed onto the mantle of the fireplace stopping you from toppling backwards.

“Not very strong, hm?”

A sense of panic overtook you and you lost your balance, hitting the floor with a loud thud as the floorboards beneath you creaked. You whipped your head around, wondering who said that, whilst coming to the startling realization you weren’t alone.

Maybe someone had been breaking in.

Looking up, you felt your heart stop as you saw a translucent figure floating in the air. You did a double take, looking between the figure and the portrait on the wall while struggling to catch your breath.

It couldn’t be.

The figure looked down at you, a predatory grin forming on her lips. Her long hair was so pale it appeared to be white and it was draped over her shoulders cascading down her back. The longer you stared at her the more you realized that it was Agatha Harkness.

But that’s impossible. Ghosts weren’t real.

“I…I don’t,” you barely managed to get out, at a loss for words as Agatha let out a loud cackle, the sound bouncing off the walls.

“Not very clever, either,” Agatha mused, tilting her head to the side as she gazed down at you. “I would have thought my rather obvious haunting over the past few weeks would have been enough to make you notice.”

Your head spun as you listened to her talk, and every odd occurrence over the past month started to make sense.

“You’re less chatty than I thought you’d be,” Agatha observed, floating down until she was inches away from your face. “Although the silence is certainly better than that incessant singing you do in the shower. Ever heard of voice lessons?”

Your eyes widened as you realized she had been spying on you, and your cheeks grew hot at the knowing smirk she gave you.

Clearing your throat, you managed to stand up, taking a step back to create some distance between you and…the ghost.

“Is this the part where you send me running so you can keep the house for yourself?” You asked, shocking both yourself and Agatha.

“She makes jokes,” Agatha retorted, raising her hand to tap her index finger across her cheek as she stared at you. “And no, dear, if I wanted you gone I would have sent you away like the others.”

“The others?” You questioned, thinking back to your many conversations with the realtor and vaguely remembering being told you were the first person to have purchased the house.

Agatha appeared to watch the gears turn in your head as she came closer to you, slowly circling you. “There’s a reason no one else ever bought this house. They all wanted to renovate it, or tear it down and build some monochromatic slab. Modern architecture is truly a disgrace.”

She spat, frowning at the memory before looking back at you, an intrigued expression on her face. “But you’re different. I could tell.”

“So you’re a ghost because you want to keep your house intact?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha scoffed, as if that was the craziest question you could have asked her. She motioned to her wispy form. “This was a calculated risk that I plan on reversing. Eventually.”

“I see,” you said, taking in what she said, while also wondering why you were having a conversation with a ghost instead of doing what any sane person would have done. Moved. But there was the doom and gloom that was the current housing market, so maybe you were the sane one. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming up and down your body in a way that left you shivering. “I’m glad you asked, doll.”

You made a mental note to start listening to people more often, especially when they try to tell you a house is haunted.

Agatha Harkness was one of the most intriguing people, or rather ghosts, you had ever met. She was full of contradictions, and you sometimes struggled to decipher if she was lying to you or not. It was clear she wasn’t used to sharing her space, in this ghostly form or not, and had absolutely zero sense of boundaries.

It was also hard to establish ground rules when she could just float through locked doors.

After a while you got her to stop listening in on your concert showers, although you swore you’d sometimes catch a glimpse of her in the bathroom mirror as you were washing your hair. You didn’t want to explore why the thought of her lurking made you as excited as it did.

She was brilliant, clearly, and you had difficulty wrapping your brain around the existence of not only ghosts, but witches. After your conversation in the library, she instructed you on how to open the passageway behind one of the bookshelves, which revealed a room tucked away from prying eyes. It was filled with countless items you couldn’t begin to recognize, as well as dozens of vials filled with colorful liquids and various animal skulls.

After you nearly fainted from the overwhelming and shocking turn of the day’s events, Agatha casually informed you that she was a witch. A centuries old witch. What led to her current spirit state was unclear, and the light prying you attempted got you nothing but icy cold glares, so you let it go.

She did seem to have a rather interesting plan to get her corporeal form back, although you understood absolutely none of it no matter how many times she impatiently explained it to you.

You thought it best to leave all magical and potentially illegal activities to her.

Agatha wasn’t kept to the house, a fact you realized one morning a few weeks after her rather blunt introduction. She could come and go as she pleased, and you never questioned where she floated off to, choosing instead to enjoy the welcome peace and quiet.

She’d come back hours or sometimes days later more annoyed than when she left, so you assumed wherever she was heading didn’t do much to lift her spirits. Pun intended.

You chose not to linger on why you were beginning to enjoy her presence more than her absence.

After a while the two of you settled into a rather comfortable routine. You had learned Agatha was able to muster the energy to physically grasp onto objects, hence the rather annoying saga of ‘I thought I left this here but it ended up there’. She enjoyed showing off for you, making a show of stirring your tea or tending to the plants in the greenhouse (it was there you met her familiar Scratchy, the rabbit that was most definitely not a rabbit).

There was the one time you were getting dressed and your bra was unhooking after you were certain you secured it, but Agatha swore up and down she had nothing to do with it.

You both ignored the fact that you could feel her icy presence behind you as her hands delicately played with your hair.

It was nice, in a way, sharing the enormous house with someone else. Even if that someone else was a ghost, who was really a witch, who most definitely had murdered countless people. But, there was a different problem that had been brewing since she revealed herself to you.

You were embarrassingly attracted to her.

It was unclear where the supernatural pull came from, but she soon became the only thing on your mind. You were entranced, completely under her spell, and all you could do was enjoy having her attention. The feeling of her watching you, the almost hungry look in her eyes as she stared at you left you wanting more.

You couldn’t help but wonder how long she was able to use her hands before fading.

As much as you tried to hide your crush it was becoming increasingly obvious, if the way Agatha leered and smirked at you was any indicator. You had never been good at this sort of thing, and the added complication of pursuing a, possibly temporary, ghost left you reeling at how to make a first move.

It didn’t help that Agatha was a relentless flirt, saying endless cheeky one liners and innuendos, delighting in the way your cheeks would flush. It sometimes felt like she was testing how far you would let her go before squawking and retreating to the comfort of your bedroom.

Lately you decided to push her buttons in the only way you felt comfortable trying. Since outwardly flirting wasn’t your strong suit, you decided to take a more subtle approach. You were curious to see if she would take the bait.

After a particularly interesting dinner, which consisted of you eating and Agatha watching you eat, you had left more flustered than before. While Agatha watching you eat was a normal occurrence (she claimed she missed food), this evening was a bit different. You had tried a new recipe she taught you, and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at the taste of the vodka sauce.

Agatha’s reaction was different, though. As you were trying to determine if her eyes were darker than they normally appeared, the ghost had moved from her normal spot of hovering over the center of the table to settling beside you.

Swallowing your bite of pasta you glanced at her, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the way her eyes were locked on your lips.

“Can I help you with something?”

Agatha refrained from commenting, silently vanishing from the room in her typical dramatic fashion. Rolling your eyes, you finished your dinner alone, all whilst replaying her reaction to your moan.

Later that night you got settled in the bathroom, stripping down and turning on your shower. Steam filled the room, you’d always preferred the water to be just below scalding, and once you were satisfied with the temperature you got in. Lathering your body with soap, you peeked out of the shower to see if Agatha would appear. However, if the ghost was in the room, she wasn’t making her presence known.

You continued on with your shower, the steam starting to fog up the mirrors. It was then the idea hit you. Your hands roamed down, and you spread your legs. Initial hesitation and embarrassment pushed aside in favor of imagining Agatha’s heated gaze once more, you teased yourself.

Using two fingers you played with your clit, circling the sensitive nub until you let out a soft moan at the sensation. You were already on edge after dinner, and every time you closed your eyes you pictured Agatha staring at you. Leering as she licked her lips. Letting out another moan, you teased your entrance, pretending that Agatha’s fingers were your own as you slowly pushed your index finger in with ease.

You were soaked, and not from the downpour of scorching water flowing around you. Adding a second finger, you took your time, enjoying the slight stretch as your inner walls fluttered. You couldn’t help but think about how much fuller you would feel with Agatha’s fingers inside you, her lithe digits hitting the spots you had difficulty reaching on your own.

The name slipped past your lips before you were fully aware of what you were saying.

“Agatha,” you whimpered, the sound of your voice cutting through the downpour of water.

Closing your eyes, you cupped your right breast with your other hand. Using your thumb and index finger to lightly tug on your nipple, you imagined Agatha standing behind you as her hands roamed your body. It was far too easy of a fantasy to slip into, as you were lost in your pleasure, increasing the pace of your fingers as you fucked yourself.

Nearing your release, you tilted your head back, the warm water cascading down as you let out a louder moan. You were so close, you could nearly taste it; an earth shattering orgasm just out of reach. Chasing your high, you roughly pulled on your left nipple, as Agatha’s name escaped your lips once more, stronger this time.

“Agatha.”

There was a faint, cool sensation behind you and you didn’t have to turn around to know she was there.

Of course she was.

Any self consciousness you would have normally felt being exposed was absent, replaced by an overpowering desire for Agatha to have you in whatever way she was capable of. Your fingers slowed as you made your thrusts more intentional, curling them just right and letting out every gasp and whimper. The knowledge Agatha was watching you pushed you closer to letting go.

But there was still something missing.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as an uncanny feeling washed over you. It was then you heard her voice whispering in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You look so desperate like this, moaning my name like a filthy whore,” Agatha murmured, and you let out a low groan in response, every word she uttered making you clench around your fingers.

“Agatha…”

“Come for me,” Agatha whispered, voice so low you barely heard her.

The reaction was instantaneous, obeying her words as your cunt spasmed around your fingers. Your legs quivered as you rode out your orgasm, feeling the tight coil in your lower stomach send a sweet sensation you felt all throughout your body. Slowing your fingers to a halt, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling, Agatha’s presence still looming behind you as you came down from the high.

Pulling your fingers out they were coated in your cum, as the water began to rinse them clean. Agatha moved, hovering in front of you. Her pupils appeared to be blown out as she gazed at you in a way that had you squirming.

“Suck them clean,” Agatha ordered, a trace of amusement in her tone as she watched you eagerly follow her every command.

The strong effect she had on you was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, to the point where you were unable to think of anything besides the ghost.

What was she doing to you?

Raising your fingers to your lips, you sucked on them, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue. You swore you heard Agatha let out a low growl, but when you raised your head she was gone. Disappearing as quietly as she had earlier that evening.

A wave of disappointment hit you, and you tried to ignore the sting of rejection as your gut churned. Turning the shower off, you grabbed your towel, drying yourself off before wrapping the towel around your body, securing it so it wouldn’t fall.

You should’ve known Agatha wasn’t really interested in you. She was probably bored, trapped in her current spectral state and saw you as an easy distraction.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the creaking of the floorboards as you entered your bedroom, and you were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that it took you a moment to realize that you weren’t alone.

Doing a double take, you found Agatha waiting for you. The ghost hovering near your bed, arrogant smirk painted on her features as she observed you.

“Took you long enough,” Agatha said, appearing to be lounging on your pillows. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned.”

“Nice to see you’d care if that were to happen,” you deadpanned, shifting uncomfortably as a chill overtook you, and not the type you had grown accustomed to from being in the ghost’s presence.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, but she refrained from responding. As you took a step closer to the bed, you went slack jawed upon seeing what was most definitely not on the bed earlier. A collection of your toys were laying in a neat row, having been sorted by both size and color, and it didn’t take you long to deduce who put them there.

Cackling at your reaction, the sound pleasantly ringing in your ears, Agatha motioned to the toys.

“Well?”

Gulping, you nodded your head towards your most recent purchase. A purchase that was most definitely not inspired by Agatha’s apparent obsession with purple. The toy in question was one far bigger than what you’d usually use, and a lot thicker as well. It was a deep purple that caught your eye as you were scrolling through the website, and you may have pictured it stretching you out as Agatha cooed filthy praises in your ear.

“Dirty girl,” Agatha said quietly, gleeful as you joined her on the bed, your towel hitting the floor. Her eyes fixated on your naked form as she instructed you to lay against the pillows. “Work yourself up to take it, dear. I don’t want to break my newest toy just yet.”

You felt yourself beginning to ache again, and the anticipation of what was to come combined with the ravenous glances Agatha kept casting at you ensured you were bound to have another explosive orgasm.

Grabbing one of your smaller toys, a light pink finger vibrator, you watched Agatha settle in beside you. It was just enough feeling her beside you that you could picture what it would be like if she could actually touch you.

Teasing the toy, you turned it on, the vibrations against your clit nearly causing you to let go far too early.

Agatha let out a rather guttural noise, as she leaned in closer to you. “So eager. You’re just dripping to be fucked, aren’t you honey?”

Her words only served to motivate you, as you pushed the toy through your folds, quietly crying out as it filled you. This was a toy you used more frequently, and you knew the exact speed and way to make yourself unravel without much effort.

Agatha appeared to be just as entranced as she whispered absolute filth in your ear, watching you fuck yourself closer to an orgasm with every thrust. It was unsurprising Agatha was so skilled at dirty talk, and you were even less surprised at how every word that left her translucent lips had you more wet than before. Your cunt aching as you neared your climax.

“You’re taking the toy so well,” Agatha encouraged you as you let out another whine. “This pussy was meant to be fucked open. It’ll look so perfect stretched around my cock.”

You couldn’t stop yourself as your vision turned white, hips thrusting as Agatha cooed. You came on the toy, crying out even louder than before. The vibrations quickly became too much as you felt your walls quiver and legs shake from being overstimulated. Your arms felt like jelly but you managed to turn the toy off, leaving it inside you for a few more moments as you enjoyed the afterwave of your orgasm.

Unfortunately, Agatha was even less patient in the bedroom than she was at any other given moment. You felt something cold grasp onto your hands and with a startled gasp you realized Agatha’s fingers were grabbing onto the toy. With a gentle but quick pull, the toy was out of you and tossed on the floor. You couldn’t help but cry out at being left empty, which made Agatha far too pleased.

You watched with curious eyes as Agatha mustered the strength to be able to grab the original toy you selected, feeling another tingle between your legs at the sight of her holding the large dildo.

“You should feel lucky I’m not in my full corporeal form just yet,” Agatha said, voice low with want as she approached you.

“I wish you were,” you allowed yourself to say, words becoming more difficult to form from how desperate you were to come again.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Agatha warned, raising the toy to tease your entrance, gently rubbing it up and down and you squealed as it brushed against your clit. “I’m going to ruin you, pet.”

You were soaked, completely dripping onto your comforter, at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you watched Agatha push the head of the toy inside you. You moaned, feeling yourself being forced to take it as she let out a groan as well.

“What I’d give to feel you clenching around me,” Agatha said, eyes glued to your cunt stretching around the girth.

Your head thrashed as the pain of being fucked with something larger than you had ever taken began to take over.

“It’s too much,” you whimpered, hips jerking as Agatha laughed again, forcing you to take more of it.

“You’ll take whatever I want you to,” Agatha informed you, her words causing your clit to throb. “And I want to watch this pretty pussy be stuffed full of my cock.”

When the toy was into the hilt, Agatha gave you a moment to adjust. You had never felt so full and your hips desperately bucked for more as you writhed from the sensation. The pain beginning to be replaced with a carnal desire for her to fuck you senseless. When Agatha deemed you ready, she moved, her hand fucking the toy into you hard and deep.

The only noise in the room was the sound of Agatha fucking into your sopping cunt, the wet slaps mixing in with both of your moans. Agatha seemed determined to make you come before she lost the ability to command the toy.

“I know you can give me one more,” Agatha urged you on, increasing her pace, and you knew you would have difficulty walking in the morning.

All you could do was cry out in agreement, meeting her for every thrust as you felt your head begin to spin. It was too much, and you weren’t sure how anything else would ever compare.

“You’re going to come for me,” Agatha breathed out, appearing more desperate than before. You wondered how much of an effect this was able to have on her, given her current state. “And when you do, I want you to scream my name as you soak my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Whimpering as you nodded, Agatha gave one more thrust of her hand as you came for a third time, nearly blacking out in the process as your eyes clamped shut. Your back arched upwards as you squeezed your thighs together, keeping the toy trapped inside you as you felt cum dripping down your thighs.

It was an otherworldly experience, to the point where you briefly wondered if she had killed you from the pleasure she had just granted you.

Coming back down to earth, you panted as you collapsed onto the bed. Your body was dripping with sweat and you felt sticky and filthy, but too exhausted to take another shower. It was unclear how long you remained there with the toy nestled deep inside you. Agatha had drifted back up beside you, offering you sweet praises as you enjoyed your afterglow.

Eventually, the sensation was too much and you managed to muster the strength to gently pull the toy out of you, letting out a satiated gasp when it was removed. Your entire body ached as you made a note to clean the toys, and your bedding, in the morning.

But now, as sleep became imminent, you tossed your comforter off the bed, wiggling under your top sheet as Agatha gazed at you.

“That was amazing,” you said sleepily, head hitting the pillow as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor.”

Agatha shook her head, an unusually soft smile on her face. “Don’t be. I enjoyed the show.’

Drifting off, you blinked, eyelids feeling heavier with each second you kept them open.

“Besides,” Agatha mused as you felt yourself succumb to sleep. “You can return the favor once I get my purple back.”

You made another note to actually listen to her plans for getting back into an actual body in the morning. Maybe there was something you could do to speed along the process. For no particular reason, of course.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader

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greensagephase · 7 months ago

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Nonviolent Communication - Part 14

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: Miguel continues to try and move forward with subtle changes in his life. He has some reflections about life and you. You cross paths with an old friend from the past. A rainy night at Miguel's penthouse. Word Count: 28K Warnings: This chapter takes place over the span of three days; Reader feels anxious and nerves; Miguel is so supportive here I want to give him a big kiss and hold his pinky finger until I fall asleep; Miguel Previous Part MasterlistMusic Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Adonis and Amara" - Ludwig Göransson "Ab Ovo" - Joep Beving "You Could Start A Cult" - Niall Horan "To My Son" - Daniel Pemberton "quiero sentirme bien" - Kali Uchis (thank you to the reader that suggested this song to me a while back) "Can I Call You Rose?" - Thee Sacred Souls "El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes" - Jeanette (thank you to the reader that said this song reminded them of Miguel and reader, I've been thinking about it ever since and 😭😭 I love this song sm, so it was perfect)

Enjoy and thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼❤️

Part 14

Miguel places two mugs of café de olla on a tray, steam rises into the air, reaching his nose. It’s one of those evenings in which you have both gone separate ways after dinner to give each other space. Miguel wasn’t planning on making any coffee, but he suddenly had the craving for it while he was reading in the living room, and knowing how much you love it was Miguel’s final and biggest motivation to get up from the couch and make it.

He turns to a glass dome-shaped cake stand and takes the lid off, uncovering fresh pan dulce he bought earlier for the two of you.

In a matter of seconds, Miguel has two dessert plates with pan dulce and the two mugs on the tray, along with some napkins. He doesn’t want to intrude on your space, so his plan is simply to give it to you and leave you alone.

He knows you’re either in your bedroom or in the office upstairs, the one he’s told you numerous of times that you can use. He reenters the living room, tray in hand, ready to go upstairs but halfway through the room, his red eyes stop on one of the walls, the one next to the stairs.

He can’t help himself, so Miguel stops and admires it. For the first time since he moved into the penthouse and Gabriel and his mother decorated the place, there’s a new change to the space. To anyone, this is probably a small one, insignificant even, but to Miguel, it’s a large change and one that warms his heart.

The once empty and vacant wall is now decorated with some photographs and not just simple, plain standard ones, like those that can be found on other walls around the penthouse that were once placed by Gabriel and his mother several years ago when Miguel first moved in.

No. Miguel’s living room, for the first time, is decorated with photographs of his loved ones.

It’s only been a few days since that morning on the rooftop when Miguel asked if you could help him redecorate his place, but already, this new change is a sign of it.

Together, the two of you have worked on this project over the last few days. Since he requested your help, Miguel and you have spent evenings on the living room floor, heads low and eyes focused on the tablet Miguel gifted you several months ago for Christmas while you helped him create a mood board.

“What is something you know for sure you want?” you asked him that following Saturday night, gazing at him with curiosity.

And though Miguel hadn’t thought much of it since he had only asked you the day before, he immediately had a response to your question, one inspired by you.

“This wall,” Miguel said, turning to look at it.

You nodded and gazed at it.

“A clean canvas,” you said, which made Miguel turn back to you.

He felt a sense of wonder and awe in that moment because for so long, he saw that wall, like the rest of his place, as a sign of emptiness - of the void in his life. And then, there you were, making Miguel see it in a positive light. A clean canvas, one that he can fill with happiness.

“Photographs,” Miguel said with a gentle smile. “Like, your wall with all the photographs. I’ve always liked it.”

And that was all Miguel needed to say because if he liked that aspect of your apartment, then that meant that Miguel wanted his family’s photographs in display.

The two of you spent some time shopping for picture frames, ones that go with Miguel’s new theme to begin the small project. As of now, there’s already a few adorning the once empty wall. You’ve taken a break, unwillingly, since the last few days at the Spider Society have been rather busy with anomalies causing chaos in other universes and the recruitment of new members. Due to that, Miguel and you have come home tired and with little energy to continue. Despite there only being a few photos, Miguel feels great about it.

It’s a new change.

Staring at the photos, Miguel can’t help himself from feeling like this is a new beginning. The thought scares him somewhat, his old way of thinking wants to creep back on him. The old Miguel, the one from two years ago, wouldn’t want a part of this. He would frown about this, about opening up to someone so much - about letting someone into his life, into his heart.

Shock, Miguel realizes, the old him wouldn’t even be here right now, standing in his living room holding a tray with café de olla and pan dulce for him and his best friend on a week day at 7pm. No, the old Miguel would be in the lab right now, preparing for a long night ahead of him reading data and reports through his marigold-colored screens. His red eyes would shut close for a few seconds every once in a while as an attempt to fight off sleep to avoid nightmares of Gaby. The old Miguel wouldn’t be here, right now.

Miguel wonders now, where would you be? Would he had offered his place for you to stay due to the fire at your building, even if the two of you were not close, and just mere colleagues? Would you had even accepted, or would you’ve stayed with someone else, in another universe?

These and other questions come up in Miguel’s head, going as far to the very beginning.

What if he never accepted your help to organize the lab? What if he never went to your apartment the day you were unwell? What if none of this ever happened because he didn’t allow himself to share a shred of a side of him he had kept locked away after losing Gaby that day, when everyone seemed to be unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t show up, and he was? He told himself it was merely concern for your universe - for the fate of the multiverse - but he realizes now more than ever, that his caring side had slipped from his grasp unknowingly that day. What if he had realized it, that he was not only concerned about the multiverse, but also about the young woman that failed to show up that day because it seemed so unlike her to not show up on time, to not give a heads up that she had something going on, and what if in realizing that he was about to let you see that side of him, what if he didn’t show up and simply had Lyla do a wellness check?

Would any of this have happened had he not made those decisions? Would it had mattered at all, or was Miguel, somehow, in a long string of loss and hurt, destined to be here, in this very moment, holding a tray with food, not just for him, but also you, his best friend?

Was it always meant to be like this, or was Miguel, for once in his life, merely granted a sliver of luck?

Miguel’s eyes turn away from one of the photos to another one, one of him and you, his best friend. The fact that he can think about it so easily, without any hesitation feels unreal. He actually admitted to you that you’re his best friend after fearing that fact for so long, and yet, his lips uttered those words only a few days ago. Not only out loud but to you, in person.

He has no regrets nor fear about it. And thankfully, Miguel thinks to himself, he also doesn’t have to live with the regret nor be haunted by those very questions - by the what if - because it’s already been done. He silently thanks something bigger than him, he’s not sure if it’s divine intervention or maybe something else, but he gives thanks nonetheless for being here now despite everything.

Miguel smiles softly at the photograph, this one being from New Year’s Eve consisting of you, Mayday, and him welcoming the new year. His gaze shifts to another one from the day he helped you put together the bookcase. There’s still more that he wishes to add of you and him, of Gabriel, Gabriella, and even his mother.

For now, however, the photos that have made it already make him happy.

There’s the photo of Gaby holding her soccer ball and smiling at the camera, her smile sweet and endearing. There’s Gabriel when he graduated from high school, his cheeky smile always present. Then, there’s one of Miguel and Gabriel after Miguel graduated from college, and of course, Gabriel had to make a silly face for it. Some of the memories make Miguel’s heart ache, for it reminds him of days when he used to have his brother around. And of course, he misses his little Gaby terribly. His gaze turns to the side, a single photo of both his mother and wife have also made it, to honor them.

Miguel’s heart aches, it does, and maybe it always will. He’s slowly begun to realize that it’ll ache in a different way, even with time. He’s learned that from you. The loss of loved ones will always hurt, but one learns to embrace the moments and the time that one had the privilege of sharing with them, and to hold on to that instead of the grief and loss. It’s how you honor them, by who they were in life and the moments they shared with us. Those are the things that one ought to hold on to when it hurts because it’s those very moments that lighten the heavy emotions.

For years, his grief and pain didn’t allow him to do such thing - to display photos of Gabriel and his mother, and with the loss of Gaby and his wife, even less - but looking at them now, Miguel is filled with a sense of warmth and happiness.

There's still loss and grief but unlike before, when that was all Miguel could feel, there's also warmth, happiness, and even more love.

It’s a small change in the large penthouse, but one that already makes the place feel much warmer, more like… a home.

Home.

With a soft sigh, Miguel smiles and continues on his mission to find you. He’s halfway up the stairs when he realizes you’re definitely in your bedroom.

Miguel briefly thinks about that - how it’s your bedroom. He used to call it Gabriel’s room, even the guest room, but now it’s your bedroom. It’s how he refers to it. Your bedroom. He knows even when you return to your universe, he’ll be referring to the room as such. As Miguel climbs the rest of the steps, he pushes away the heavy feeling that suddenly wants to spread across his chest, so he dismisses the last thought away, far from his mind. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Instead, he focuses on the now. Your bedroom door is open and light pours out onto the hallway, illuminating it. Music fills his ears and it grows louder with each step Miguel takes until his maroon eyes finally find you. You’re on the ground, your back against the bed’s side, and looking down at something - a photo album, Miguel realizes.

He gently taps the door with his foot to get your attention as he’s holding the tray with both hands, which immediately makes you look up. You greet him with a smile that only grows warmer as you spot the mugs, the kind that makes Miguel feel like it’s his reward for making the café de olla, filling him with great satisfaction.

“I hope I’m not interrupting too much,” he starts with a soft smile.

“Not at all! Come in,” you say happily, an invitation Miguel immediately accepts.

He steps in, crossing the short distance before he carefully hands you a mug. You thank him and take a small drink to avoid burning yourself before you pat the place next to you. “Would you like to sit? Unless you’re heading back downstairs?” you say looking up at him, hoping he’ll stay.

Miguel smiles. “I wouldn’t want to disturb you. You seem to be busy.”

“I’m just looking at some photos, it’s nothing too important,” you say. “I could even show you some?”

That makes Miguel smile even more.

“Alright but first, do you want some pan dulce? I bought you some,” he says placing the tray on a desk.

“You also brought pan dulce?” you say happily. “I’d love some, thank you!”

Nodding, Miguel grins and hands you a plate with a piece of bread and a napkin before he settles down next to you. You take a bite from your polvorón, a Latin shortbread cookie that Miguel is very fond of. The soft, crumbly, and sugary cookie melts in your mouth deliciously as you eat it before you take a sip of coffee. After you wipe your mouth clean with the napkin, you lift the photo album and show Miguel the page you were on. “Teenage years… Don’t judge too much,” you joke and Miguel chuckles softly.

“I would never,” he says as his red eyes take in the page, filled with curiosity and wonder to see and learn more about you. Sure enough there’s you as a teenager during some school function. He takes in every detail.

You turn the page and there’s suddenly a lot of photos of Peter and you as teenagers. You look at the pages fondly, something Miguel notices before he returns his gaze to the photos. He silently wonders if at this point the two of you were dating - a thought that reminds Miguel about how you and him have had a life before meeting each other. You’ve lived and laughed, spent days with people he’s never known - and probably never will - and that thought, for some reason, makes him feel like he’s missing something. It almost feels like Miguel longs to have been there, to have been in each other’s lives much sooner.

Miguel is in his early thirties and you’ve only been in his life for two years, a fact that suddenly feels heartbreakingly wrong to him, but if life treats him with more kindness than it has in the past, and if Miguel can help it, he’ll do his best to never push you away, so you can be a part of his life until his very last breath, whether that is tomorrow, or in forty years from now.

Miguel sighs silently as he comes to that conclusion. He’s no longer pushing anyone out of his life, especially not you, who he turns to look at now. You still have that soft look on your face as your eyes gaze at the photos.

“We were just friends at this point. He had already been at my school for a few months but we quickly became best friends and then, well, you know we started dating,” you share softly.

Miguel nods, scanning the photos. Your words settle in and just when something goes off in his head, something about your words that almost lead him to a thought, you turn the page.

“Oh, look! This is when we went on a field trip! Senior year of high school,” you tell Miguel, showing him a picture of a group of kids, Peter and you included.

Miguel blinks, unsure of what he was about to think about but now the thought is gone. He’s sure he’ll think about it later, in the future.

“Were these all your friends in high school?” he asks, tilting his head to get a better look at you and your friends.

“No, I only had two close friends, including Peter. The others were friends but in a different way. We were in clubs together and the such. I didn’t have a big friend group, you know?”

Miguel looks up at you and grins. “I was the same. Small group of friends. It was better.”

“I always thought so, too,” you reply with a grin of your own. “I guess now is the only time we have a large group of friends.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“You know, the spider gang. As adults, now we have a large group of friends. I like it.” You glance down at your photo album again. “And well, we have - each other, too,” you say with a soft smile forming on your lips.

It’s been a few days since Miguel verbally admitted that you’re his best friend, and every time you think about, every time you remember him saying it - your heart races. You’re filled with happiness and pride for Miguel. You know it must have taken a lot for him to admit it, but at last, though, the two of you said it.

It’s out in the open now and ever since then, you swear something has changed. It’s like things are easier, the air is lighter. You swear Miguel has been far more playful these past few days than he was before, throwing little smiles and smirks your way.

Even members of the spider gang asked what happened because according to them, Miguel has been in a, “great mood.”

“Are you sure that’s Miguel from this universe?” Hobie asked as the two of you walked to a meeting earlier this week. “I find him more tolerable these days for some reason.”

“Hobie,” you warned him with a soft smile, though not harshly. You know Hobie and Miguel have their own dynamic, but there’s still respect. The bickering has decreased especially since Miguel and you have grown closer. Somewhat. At least, it’s more on the playful side, you think. “Of course it’s our Miguel. Why wouldn’t it be him?”

“Yeah, I know, I know. You have a sweet spot for him, and him for you,” he replied with a little smirk that you missed as you entered the room first. “Our Miguel, huh?” Hobie said with a soft hum, as if pondering something, but you didn’t have time to think about it because Miguel was already at the head of the table with two cups of coffee, one placed in front of him and the other where you’ve sat for months now, next to him. No one even tries to take your seat, even when you arrive just in time due to emergencies at your universe. It’s as if that spot is your assigned place and now no one messes with it.

Miguel smiles at your words. Yes, you have each other now, have for a while despite how long it took him to admit it. He feels a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. He finally said it, what he’s been wanting to say for so long.

Miguel’s hand closes into a soft fist while he sits next to you as he thinks about the day he admitted you’re his best friend. It was hours later at his lab when you walked out to get something that Miguel truly realized what happened. The realization of what he did rushed through him and he found himself looking at his hand, the one with which he held yours the whole night. He didn’t meant to, all he had wanted to do was his pinky hug gesture, but it seems that at some time during the night, a sleeping Miguel felt comfortable with doing more.

He felt comfortable about it even when you were both awake. He did offer his hand to help you up, didn’t he? Miguel swallows softly as he remembers this, how you declined his help as an attempt to respect his boundaries regarding physical contact, but the truth is that Miguel wanted more, even if just for a few more seconds.

He yearned for it.

He did, otherwise, he would’ve easily activated his suit to avoid direct skin to skin contact but Miguel didn’t. He kept his hand out for yours and felt it. The sensation and the thought of it stayed on his mind the whole way upstairs until he got in the shower, only for the thought to return once again hours later as the two of you hung out in the living room that evening.

The day was an interesting one in regards to sleep. You both ate and drank coffee to replenish yourselves and fight off any sleepiness during the day. You were successful and even managed to create a mood board for the penthouse that evening, sitting side by side. An hour and a half later though, the two of you fell asleep while the telenovela played in the background after you both returned to your respective couches, hoping to not fall asleep so soon. You both failed the task, though you passed out first.

Miguel remembers thinking it was expected. You stayed up far longer than he did while you watched over him. He knows that because Lyla later mentioned it in passing with a soft smirk, as if the fact was amusing. Seeing you passed out, Miguel now remembers standing up to cover you with the same blanket you shared the night before up until that early morning. He wasn’t cold himself but he thought maybe you were, so he covered your body and with a soft smile, heard you make the softest and most endearing sound of content, welcoming the warmth. It made him stand over you for a little bit, watching your sleeping form through his own sleepy red eyes, his ears capturing your gentle breathing.

After a minute or two, Miguel returned to his own couch and fell asleep within minutes, watching you through heavy eyes while the telenovela continued to play in the background. As he began to doze off, Miguel thought of the night before and how you had both fallen asleep on the ground, just a few feet away from each other. And for some reason, which he decided was exhaustion at the time, Miguel wished that night would’ve ended the same way in that moment.

Miguel’s fist uncurls as he comes back to the present, his mind running with all these thoughts and memories. He glances at you again with a warm smile, thinking about your words about having each other now. “We do. We have each other,” he says softly and before he can stop himself or truly realize what he’s about to say, a single word straight from his heart slips past his lips. “Always.”

A heartbeat later and with your own smile, you reciprocate it. “Always.”

Smiling, you stare at each other. Something in your chests is ignited, like a soft gold beam of light, glowing for each other.

Miguel’s cheeks have a gentle pink hue on them and your smile is one of shyness, so you both take a moment to drink the rich, wonderful café de olla Miguel made while that single word echoes in your minds and hearts alike. An understanding passes between you, one that requires no further explanation, for that word alone makes an intention very clear.

You both intend to stay in each other's lives for however long you can.

There will be no pushing or turning away, especially not from Miguel, who used to do that with anyone who tried to get too close.

Until you came along.

As you take another drink, you both stare at the photo album, pinky fingers silently itching for contact, but you, as always, never want to push Miguel’s boundaries, even if physical contact between you has increased over the last few months; even if he held your hand while you both slept just a few days ago. Without even trying, you remember the way it felt to have his hand on yours all those hours, or the way his body’s heat reached out to you under the shared blanket before you push the memories away. All in due time, you tell yourself. Miguel has done some inner healing, and opened himself to you in more ways than you ever imagined in a short time. You have no doubt that one day he’ll be more open to physical touch, beyond hands, at least. Maybe one day you’ll be able to embrace him, not just for comfort, but maybe just because of sheer happiness, too.

One day, you tell yourself, one day in the near future.

For now, you hold your mug for a few seconds and refocus on the moment.

Miguel holds on to his mug, too, while he thinks about reaching over and offering his pinky finger, but he’s not sure that he should, not now. He turns his gaze to the photo album instead, trying to distract himself from his thoughts concerning physical touch. Maybe another time. He sighs softly, so gently you miss it entirely and Miguel himself doesn’t even register it, but if there was a third person present, they would’ve labeled Miguel’s sigh as one of longing.

You place the mug on the floor next to you, not between Miguel and you to avoid spilling, but instead on your empty side. It’s then that a small hint of color catches your eye from underneath one of your pillows. It's your sweatshirt, but it’s not the one you’ve been wearing these last few days to sleep in when you get cold during the night. No, this is the sweatshirt Miguel returned to you several days ago.

And yet, it’s not on your bed because you wear it to sleep but for another reason.

You turn to Miguel, his eyes are on the photo album, lost in thought, thankfully.

You discreetly push the sweatshirt further underneath the pillows, hiding it, while you keep an eye on him. You feel as though if he sees it, he’ll know the truth, which is that just like he finds comfort in your scent, you find comfort in his.

You know there’s nothing wrong with it. At least, you don’t think so. You’ve never had a negative feeling nor thought about Miguel finding comfort in your scent, or even the fact that the old audio recording of you sleeping helps him. If anything, you find it endearing, and knowing that such simple things from you helps Miguel sleep better brings you happiness because it means he’s sleeping properly these days.

Therefore, you’re not hiding the sweatshirt because of that but rather because you don’t want to risk making Miguel uncomfortable. You’re certain he wouldn’t react negatively to it but still, there’s that risk, considering only a few days ago Miguel admitted being best friends. You don’t want to take that chance, even if a part of you believes that you telling him might bring Miguel some relief since sometimes you can still sense some embarrassment from him when he accepts the new sweatshirt every weekend.

So for now, you’ll keep this little secret to yourself. Maybe in a few months you’ll tell him about it and how you came to the realization that his scent fills you with peace and comfort. You briefly allow yourself to think of that night, New Year’s Eve, when you took his scarf home with you after he wrapped it around your neck to keep you warm. That fact alone brings a soft smile to your face as you watch Miguel looking at the photos. It also ignites another rush of warmth through you, as it’s one of the most intimate moments Miguel and you have had. It was so unexpected but even more what he did later that night, when he dried your tears with it on the rooftop, just the two of you. He soothed your tears and feelings, and then you both joined the rest of the group, forgetting about the scarf entirely.

It was the next morning at your apartment when you realized you still had it. You remember finding and picking it up, feeling its softness. And then, maybe out of curiosity or sheer instinct, you brought it to your face to smell it and Miguel’s scent filled your lungs. Catching yourself in the act, you placed it back on the bed, where it had been, before you headed to the bathroom only to end up accidentally pulling it towards you when you were ready for a short morning nap since Miguel and you spent the whole night talking here, at his penthouse, after leaving Miles’s universe. You got settled into bed and when you noticed pulling it along with the covers, you didn’t put it away. Instead, you brought it closer to you and shortly after fell asleep, inhaling Miguel’s scent like it was the most natural thing for you to do.

That’s how you discovered that you find comfort in Miguel’s scent. And that’s the reason why you hold on to the sweatshirts when he returns them - simply to have his scent nearby at night because it lulls you to sleep like nothing else has in years.

You pick up the mug again and take a sip, glancing at Miguel. Maybe another time.

You smile at him as you hold your mug. “Thank you for the café de olla. It’s so good, as always,” you tell him, breaking the short silence at last.

“Of course… Always,” Miguel says looking up at you. He gives you a small smile in return, noticing yours.

“Next page,” you say, grinning at him before you flip the page on the photo album. “That’s my mom and dad, high school graduation day. They cried,” you share with Miguel.

“Understandable,” he replies, looking at the photos. “Their only child graduated. I would’ve cried, too,” Miguel admits quietly, thinking. “I would’ve cried watching Gaby graduate high school, but what a privilege it would’ve been to have seen it happen…” Miguel clears his throat and looks at you again. He gives you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand,” you say gently, reassuring him. You watch Miguel, thinking of a way to lighten the mood, of focusing on something much positive. “I have a feeling she would’ve been valedictorian, or at least top three in her class with how bright she was.”

That comment alone brings an affectionate look to Miguel’s face. He nods, knowing what you’re doing. Over the months and so many conversations, Miguel has noticed the way you always try to lighten his emotions, something he greatly appreciates. You always find a way to lift his spirits up. And somehow, you always succeed.

He offers you a gentle and warm smile. “She would’ve. I’m sure of it. She was very bright and loved learning.”

“Just like you,” you reply with a smile.

Miguel chuckles, his cheeks reddening just slightly as his gaze avoids yours for a few seconds in what seems to be shyness. “I - Thank you.” Miguel turns to look at you again with a sheepish smile. “You’re like that, too, you know?”

You chuckle and lift the coffee mug to your mouth to drink, feeling amused but also a bit of shyness yourself now. “I guess so.”

“You are.”

“Thank you,” you reply, lowering the mug. You gaze down at the photo album, feeling Miguel’s gaze on you the entire time. You mindlessly turn the page on the photo album. “I was thinking… It’s not too late. Not yet anyway,” you start.

“It isn’t,” Miguel replies, still looking at you, noticing the way you’re avoiding his gaze now. He’s turned the tables on you with the compliment and now you’re the shy one. He grins to himself, for some reason finding it amusing and yet sweet.

“Right, so I was thinking maybe we can work on the photographs? For a little while, at least. Only if you’re up to it, of course,” you say, finally glancing at him again. Your eyes instantly meet his red ones, making you wonder if he’s stopped looking at you even for just a few seconds. You have a feeling he hasn’t.

“It’s not too late, we can. If you’re not tired,” Miguel says, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of exhaustion as this week has been pretty busy at the Spider Society.

“I’m not. Plus, I have new energy thanks to this wonderful coffee,” you reply with a smile. “And I just know there’s more downstairs,” you add with a little smirk that makes Miguel chuckle.

“There might be some left.”

“I’m up for it then,” you say. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Miguel responds with a soft smile. “I’m in.”

With that, you stand up and retrieve your mug, finishing what’s left of the coffee so you can refill it downstairs. Miguel glances at the photo album one more time, his eyes landing on a photo of Peter, you, and one more young man all dressed in cap and gowns. He recognizes him from previous photos you had before you redecorated your apartment a year ago, but you’ve never talked about your old friends and well, neither has Miguel. He lifts the photo album and closes it before handing it to you, so you can place it back where it needs to.

You thank him and place it on the desk as Miguel stands up, ready to head downstairs with you. He silently thinks about the friends he had in high school. Maybe one day the two of you can talk about those days, recall old memories with people that are no longer in your lives.

“Ready?” you ask Miguel, grabbing the tray Miguel brought earlier to take it back downstairs.

“Ready.”

“Let’s go then.”

You gesture for Miguel to follow you and he does so without thinking about it. In a matter of seconds, you’re both in the living room.

“Do you want more café de olla?” you ask him.

Miguel looks at his mug and shrugs. “I guess I could go for more.”

“Here, I’ll refill our mugs then.”

“Thank you,” Miguel says as he hands you his mug before you head off.

You take care of the tray and dishes, and serve both yourself and Miguel more coffee before you return to the living room. Just as you enter the space again, you find Miguel by his record player and a second later, music fills your ears. Seeing Miguel use the record player always makes you smile without failure, especially knowing that he truly enjoys it despite the fact that he lives in a futuristic dimension where record players are not the norm. You’ve noticed that his collection of records has grown in a short amount of time, and at this rate he might beat you in having a larger one in just a few months.

“What are grinning about?” Miguel asks, raising an eyebrow.

You chuckle and shrug your shoulders. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asks, curiously.

You walk to the coffee table from which you’ve been working from, spotting a stack of photos and several frames ready for use.

“Your collection of records. It’s grown in a short amount of time,” you state as you place down the mugs on coasters and make sure that the stack of photos are far away from the coffee to avoid damage.

Miguel turns to look at his bookcase, eyebrow still raised, to take a look. He realizes it has. There’s a lot of records from artists Miguel enjoys listening to, records he bought right before the fire at your apartment. Miguel also realizes there’s a lot of Billie Holiday and other artists you specifically enjoy, records he often finds himself listening to - because of you.

“I guess it has, hasn’t it?” he asks looking back at you with a small grin.

“It has! I was thinking that at this rate your collection is going to be larger than mine,” you respond as you take a seat on the floor.

Miguel chuckles as he walks to the coffee table, too. He takes a seat next to you, leaving plenty of space so you can both stretch if needed before he picks up a few photos.

“Are we going to have a little competition?” he asks as he inspects a photo.

“A little competition?” you ask glancing at him, amused. “No, I just think it’s nice seeing you use the record player and your collection growing. It’s nice to share my love for records with someone again.”

Miguel turns to look at you when you say that.

“It’s nice to share my love for records with someone again.”

You smile at him before picking up a picture frame and inspecting the little sliding parts at the back, making sure they work fine.

Miguel continues to watch you, a soft and affectionate look on his face as your words stay with him. He’s that someone to you now - that someone you can talk to about records or share them with. It’s a thing you share now.

“I’m flattered,” Miguel says at last, smiling softly. “And by the way, you’re always welcomed to borrow any of the records. I can also buy them for you, if you’d like your own copy. Don’t hesitate to let me know,” he adds, meaning it.

“Thank you, likewise,” you reply softly with a smile. You place the frame down. “So, what other photos do you want to add?”

“I was thinking this one,” Miguel says, showing you a photo. “It’s Gabriel. His whole class did a play in the first grade to conclude the school year. He played a prince. I can’t even remember what it was about but he was a good one.”

You smile warmly as you look at the photo of Gabriel wearing a crown. “He looks so adorable,” you say, your eyes softening at the sight, something Miguel notices. “He was so little and look,” you say, leaning closer to the photo. “He had little curls, like you do.”

Miguel’s eyebrows raise at the fact that you’ve noticed and recall such detail about him but then again, he remembers you’ve washed his hair before. He smiles. “Yeah, his faded as he started to grow older.”

“That explains why I’ve never noticed them before in other photos of him where he’s older.”

“I think he was about seven when he lost them. Let’s see…” Miguel says looking through other photos. “This was some field trip and he still has them. Looks like he was in the third grade here. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have them by the end of elementary. I remember he was sad about it. My mom was, too,” Miguel adds, remembering that. “I think I want to add this one for sure.”

He places the photo he first showed you on the table to the side before he grabs more photos. Together, he shows you more photos, mostly of him and Gabriel. You don’t fail to notice that there are none of Miguel’s stepfather, George O’Hara. Rightfully so, you think to yourself. His mom, on the other hand, shows up here and there.

“Maybe this one.” Miguel holds up a photo. It’s of Gabriel and himself, holding up matching superhero action figures with a Christmas tree behind them. “This was a good Christmas,” he says softly. “Gabriel was so excited about those action figures. He said we were twins because we had the same one,” he continues, chuckling. “And he made sure to tell that to anyone who was willing to listen.” Miguel grows silent as he stares at the photo some more. He clears his throat. “I still have them. We both kept them even when we grew older. They’re downstairs with his things,” Miguel shares.

You stare at Miguel fondly, noting the way his voice has grown quieter. “He was so sweet,” you comment, glancing at the photo as well. “I bet he’s happy that you still have them.”

Miguel glances at you, smiling, even though his eyes show signs of sadness. “Maybe. Or maybe not, considering they’re packed away.”

“You can always unpack them. Maybe you can put them in his room, or even here in the bookcase as decoration,” you suggest gently.

“I might do that,” Miguel says, nodding. He looks back at the photo. “Definitely adding this one.”

“It’ll look lovely on your wall,” you reply. “I can go ahead and put it in a picture frame if you want. That one and the other one.”

“Yes, please,” he replies as he hands you only one of the photos. He keeps the other one and inserts it into a picture frame himself, so you’re not doing all the work. “There.” Miguel looks at the photo again, this time in its picture frame. He nods, satisfied.

He places it next to him on the floor and reaches for more photos. He doesn’t need much time to decide on the ones he’s going through now. They’re of you and him. He places each one down, remembering each moment as you get other picture frames ready. He can’t believe he has shared so many moments like these with you. It feels unreal, that he’s opened up so much to you, but he’s thankful for it - and for you.

He comes across another photo, this one is also from New Year’s but it’s a photo of the entire spider gang, you, and him - taken by Lyla, of course. He places it in the pile because why not.

Next, he comes across the few last photos he has of Gaby. He places all of them in the pile. Some of them are already on the wall in display and the remainder are on this stack now. He silently wishes more could’ve been saved but this is all he has, unfortunately.

He sighs softly. He’s thankful he has these many, at least.

“I think for now these will be it,” he says as he lifts the short stack of photos. “Once I hang them up, I’ll see if I want to add more.”

You nod in agreement and together, you work on the picture frames until all of Miguel’s selected photos have one and he can begin to hang them. He asks for your opinion on the arrangement, so you make suggestions, which he agrees with. At last, Miguel places the last photograph and steps back to take a look at the completed project.

You stand side by side about eight feet away from the wall and simply take it all in.

You personally find it beautiful and touching to see all of Miguel’s deceased loved ones present from Gaby to Gabriel, and even his mother and wife. Then, there’s photos of you and him, and even one from New Year’s Eve with the entire spider gang that you don’t have. You remind yourself that you’ll ask him about it later, so you can add it to your own wall when your building is done with construction. As your eyes shift from photo to photo, you internally hope that Miguel is happy with it - that he feels good about this addition to his penthouse.

You glance up at him, subtly, trying to gauge his reaction. It’s been almost two minutes of silence and he hasn’t said anything yet. You hope he’s not regretting it nor feeling overwhelmed with seeing all these memories all at once. Worried, you scan his face but thankfully, there’s no negative emotion etched on Miguel’s face.

Instead, you find a soft and warm smile as Miguel’s red eyes move from photo to photo. He nods to himself in approval.

“I really like this,” he whispers, his gaze still on the wall. “I like having their photos out.”

Smiling, you nod, returning your eyes to the photos. “It looks beautiful,” you whisper back. “It’s great to see them.”

Miguel hums quietly, unable to tear his eyes away. “It is. And I also like - seeing our photos, too. And the one with the spider gang.”

“I didn’t know that one was even taken.”

“You know Lyla,” Miguel says. “I have yet to find all the photos she has taken in the past. She keeps hiding them.”

You laugh quietly. “Her secret folder has probably tripled since the day she told us about it.”

“If not more.”

“True,” you say softly. “I like seeing our photos, too, by the way. It makes me truly realize…” you trail off.

Miguel finally shifts his gaze to you, curious. “It makes you realize…?”

“It makes me realize how much time has passed since I joined the Spider Society. Almost two years now. On top of that, I realize how much time and moments we - we’ve shared,” you say quietly, as if afraid that this truth will upset Miguel.

“We’ve shared a lot,” he says, agreeing. “It’s being almost two years and yet, it doesn’t feel like that much time has passed but it has.” Miguel glances at the wall, thinking. “The last two years have flown by for me, to be honest,” he admits. “Before that, time felt like it was dragging by.”

You process his words, a thought coming to your mind but you tell yourself that surely that’s not what Miguel means.

“They haven’t been easy years,” Miguel admits. There’s no way he can deny that. Losing Gaby shattered him. “But they’ve flown by. I blinked and now we’re here, and it doesn’t feel like two years have almost gone by. It feels like - only a few months. What I’m trying to say is that…” Miguel shakes his head. Is he even making sense? Or, is he just so excited about the finished wall that he’s just rambling and not making his point clear? “I don’t feel like the last two years have dragged in the sense that it feels torturous. They’ve flown by and I actually find myself wondering where has time gone? It’s like, I don’t have enough time but in a good way, if that makes sense. Shock,” Miguel says in disbelief. He’s probably making no sense to you right now. “You’ve made these years better. More than better,” he tries again. “I’ve enjoyed these years because of you despite everything I was, and still am, navigating - and because of that, it feels like it hasn’t been two years already. I hope that after all my rambling I made sense.” Miguel looks at you with a sheepish look on his face.

You smile at him and nod, touched by Miguel’s admission. It may not feel like two years have gone by already but they have, and it’s evident by Miguel’s words themselves. The man you met almost two years ago wouldn’t have share those words with you, either because he didn’t want to show his feelings or because he wasn’t able to speak them out loud. Now, here he is, saying them.

Time has definitely gone by.

Yet, you agree with Miguel. It doesn’t feel like it has, not with him and your other friends around.

“You did, I understand what you’re saying. I feel the same way,” you respond, thinking. “There were many days, before the Spider Society, that felt like that, as if time was dragging on. My days blended into each other, but ever since I joined and I became friends with you and everyone else, I’ve had no days like that. Not anymore. The last few years have been amazing, truly. Thanks to you,” you continue.

You settle into a peaceful silence, staring at each other for a few seconds with smiles on your faces before turning to the wall again. Unknowingly, you both think about earlier upstairs.

You have each other now.

Always.

Half an hour later, you’re both sitting on the couches. It’s still early in the evening when you remember that you’re going grocery shopping tomorrow, so together, you make a grocery list because it’s your turn to buy groceries.

Miguel watches you as you jot down things, wishing you didn’t insist on this, but it was a condition you established from the start when he offered you to stay with him while your apartment building is under construction. He has to respect it despite his discontent. He has no choice but to do so, even though he’d be more than happy to pay for groceries every week for the two of you.

“Okay, what about snacks?” you ask softly, looking up at him from your list.

Miguel tilts his head to the side, thinking. “Those cookies you always like, those are amazing.”

“I’ll get those then,” you say with a smile as you add them to the list.

You stop working on your list when you receive a notification from your gizmo. You glance at it, noticing it’s from Peter B. asking if you can babysit Mayday for a few hours tomorrow since something came up for him and MJ. You quickly reply and tell him you can.

“Seems like I’ll have a little companion for my grocery trip.”

“Who?” Miguel asks.

“Mayday,” you say as you add something else to the list that you just thought about.

Miguel smiles softly, watching you. He can already see you walking the streets of your city with Mayday on your chest in her little carrier. He shakes the thought away when you glance at him again.

“Seems like I have everything but if you think of something else, even if I’m already there, just send me a quick message.”

“I will,” Miguel replies with a small smile. _☆_

The next day you walk the streets of your city with Mayday just like Miguel imagined it. She’s grown a lot over the last few months, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You have two reusable bags on your arm in which you’re carrying the groceries and at this point, you only have two more stops before you head back to Nueva York.

“Snack!” Mayday says, pointing to some food stand eagerly.

A laugh escapes from your lips as Mayday proves to have Peter B’s appetite each day. You decide to find a place to stop and sit down to give her a snack since Peter and MJ packed some safe snacks for her. Once settled, Mayday happily eats and looks around, pointing at things that catch her attention, so you reply back and tell her about those things she points to. Her vocabulary is expanding more and more each day, and these days she can say things that are understandable, even if it’s just single words.

You can’t help but enjoy this moment with her. It really is sweet when you have the opportunity to look after her, something that has become more frequent as Mayday is also beginning to show superpowers. Her strength is already like that of a ten-year old, and you can only imagine it will increase as she grows older. On top of her strength, she’s also started to experience spidey senses like the rest of you. And so, because she’s already displaying these powers, some of you from the spider gang have offered to help, as mentors, including Miguel.

You can’t deny that knowing this about Mayday has made you wonder. If you and Peter had the opportunity and time to have children, would they have powers, too? The thought always makes you smile, especially when you imagine Peter trying to catch a child swinging around. That would’ve been a sight to behold for sure.

You sigh softly and gently hug Mayday closer as you offer her another piece of her snack. In a multiverse of universes in which Peter Parker doesn’t always get a family and happy ending, you’re more than happy that Peter B. has had this beautiful opportunity. He has MJ and Mayday after everything he’s gone through. And of course, he has the spider gang, too.

“All done?” you ask Mayday with a warm smile, noticing she’s done. You wipe her mouth and her hands, making sure to keep her clean before the two of you carry on to the other shops. It doesn’t take long for you to finish since you have the list you put together last night with Miguel.

At last, Mayday and you are on your way with everything. Your eyes search for a good place to sneak through so you can get on a rooftop and travel back to Nueva York to avoid raising any suspicions or questions. As you look around, you feel Mayday begin to wiggle around in your chest. She starts pointing at something, a flower stand that’s just up ahead.

“Flowers. Do you want to look at the flowers?” you ask her but you know the answer to that already just by her enthusiasm, so you walk up to the stand. You inspect some of the flowers like many other customers, with nothing in mind since you had no plans to buy flowers today. “Should we get some flowers for Miguel’s place? It would brighten up the kitchen, I think,” you tell Mayday. “What do you think? Should we get these?” You pick up a bouquet and show it to Mayday but she doesn’t seem too excited about them. “Alright, so not those… These?” you ask, raising a bouquet with an assortment of colors with red, a pastel yellow, and pink.

This one seems to have Mayday’s approval because she reaches for it.

“I see we have a winner, then,” you say, inspecting the flowers beyond their colors to make sure they’re in good condition. Satisfied, you continue to look at the other flowers. You notice there’s a line of people anyway, so you might as well enjoy the other flowers with Mayday in the meantime, so she doesn’t get bored waiting in line.

“Romance, friendship, and admiration,” someone says about a minute later as you glance at the bouquet you’re holding.

Startled, you look up only to find the owner of the flower stand staring at Mayday and you.

“That’s what the colors usually mean,” she says, explaining. “Red is for romance. Yellow for friendship. And pink for admiration. It can also be playfulness and innocence. It’s a bouquet I usually arrange with lovers in mind.”

“Oh,” you reply softly, glancing at the bouquet again. You chuckle softly as you think about the fact that this is for Miguel’s home. “It’s a lovely arrangement.”

“I’m sure your partner will love it,” she says. All you can do is nod at the statement instead of correcting her about the fact that you don’t have a partner.

“Yes!” Mayday exclaims with a little clap that makes the flower stand owner grin.

“Seems like the little one agrees.”

You smile and nod. “Yes, she seems to agree. We’ll take these, please,” you reply, handing her the bouquet so she can ring you up. The flower stand owner hands it back, wrapped in another protective paper. You pay and get your change back from the lady, who thanks you for your business.

“I hope you and your partner enjoy the bouquet, miss,” she says before another customer approaches her.

You sigh, taking a few steps away from that area to show Mayday more flowers. It seems she’s really enjoying them as her attention is still on them. You decide to indulge her, it’s a lovely day after all and you’re genuinely enjoying shopping around and showing her the flowers now that it’s warmer out. “Look at these, Mayday,” you say, pointing at some flowers but those fail to get her attention, so you try showing her others.

“Not your cup of tea?” you ask as she still seems uninterested. You wonder if she’s just bored of looking at flowers now, or maybe she’s just tired from the trip just as she starts patting your body. “I guess we ought to go home,” you say realizing Mayday seems impatient now.

“Go,” she says, still patting your body.

“Alright, alright. We’re going home,” you reply.

“Go, go,” Mayday repeats pointing to the street.

“We’re going. Don’t worry,” you reply, reassuring her while readjusting her carrier to make sure she’s secured. It’s then that you notice, she’s giving signals of her spidey senses going off. A second later, yours do, too. You’re about to look around to see what’s going on but you have no time.

“Y/N?”

You freeze.

It’s been several years since you’ve heard someone use your first name in your universe. For years, all the social interactions you’ve had have been with people who address you formally by your last name, such as your landlord or the people at the bank when you have to take care of financial matters. Now, here’s this voice, saying your name full of recognition. It’s one your brain immediately identifies, and how could it not? You’ve known this person since elementary, all the way until Peter’s funeral. With a gulp, you turn and face him.

“Y/N,” he says again, this time with more confidence as he realizes it’s truly you.

You manage a nod. “Harry,” you reply, saying a name your mouth hasn’t uttered in years.

—☆

Mayday sits on your lap, probably the most still you’ve ever seen her. In fact, she remained quiet during the entire walk as Harry Osborn and you made your way to this small coffee shop he apparently visits a lot. You don’t even remember saying yes but you did. After addressing each other and stating awkward “what a surprise’s,” Harry invited you for a cup of coffee. And, you said yes because your brain froze due to the shock of seeing him standing in front of you.

He offered Mayday and you a ride, pointing to his parked car on the side of the street, his valet waiting with the door open, but you politely declined. That didn’t seem to bother Harry a bit and even after telling him that he could ride his car and meet you there, he refused and opted to walk with you.

You glance out of one of the coffee shop’s window now, sitting next to it. You saw the table open when you first came in and chose it, thinking that the window will provide some relief from the awkwardness that might come from this conversation. You also figure it will sooth some of your nerves. You didn’t expect to feel nervous about seeing and talking to Harry again, but here you are, your hands slightly trembling. Your eyes spot Harry’s car across the street, his valet waiting inside it for him.

You look away and stare at the table, wondering how it’s possible that years later you stumble into him. It’s the first time you’ve seen and spoken to him since Peter’s funeral. It feels surreal.

Your thoughts are interrupted as a coffee cup comes into view before it’s placed in front of you. Harry takes a seat across from you, his own cup in his hand. You meet his gaze and manage to offer a small smile, one you hope doesn’t show how shocked and off you feel about this encounter.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” you reply softly, not sure where to start, not sure what to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry replies, offering you a small smile as well.

You can tell that he’s equally unsure of where to start. His eyes continue to flicker towards Mayday, who remains on your lap peacefully, no doubt wondering who she is to you, but you don’t feel like offering any answers or explanations right now, especially with Mayday being from another universe. The less Harry knows, the better.

“So…” Harry starts, still holding on to his cup, as if finding assurance from it. He smiles nervously before he shakily sighs and looks down at the table for a few seconds. trying to gather his thoughts. He raises his head again. “You look beautiful, as always. You look well, Y/N,” he says gently.

“Thank you,” you respond. “I’m doing well*,* too.” You nod, knowing this statement is true. You’ve been good for a while - you’ve been happy since you joined the Spider Society almost two years ago, and even more so since you’ve made close friends. And not only that, you now have a best friend. A smile forms on your lips at the thought of it.

Miguel, your best friend.

“I haven’t seen that smile in so long,” Harry says, taking notice of your smile immediately. It’s a much different smile from the one you offered him just now. It’s real and happy, not awkward at all. “It’s the smile you always had for Peter.” Harry realizes this and he can only wonder what or who you’re thinking about, what or who is the reason for that smile now.

His comment about your smile and it being the one you always had for Peter while thinking about Miguel makes you freeze just for a few seconds but you simply nod. You’ll think about his observation later when you’re home. You blink at that, still smiling gently, as you realize you’ve unconsciously called Nueva York “home,” even though you are home, at least in your home universe. You’ll think about that later, too, you tell yourself.

Harry smiles, much warmly this time, and continues, unaware of your scattered thoughts. “I’m more than happy to hear that, truly. I’m happy you’re doing well,” Harry continues. “You deserve to be doing well after…” he trails off, a look of understanding crossing his features, not wanting to say it out loud but you know what he means - that you’re doing well after Peter’s death.

You nod again, focusing on the conversation and on Harry. You don’t want to come across as disrespectful.

“Thank you. I hope you’ve been doing well, too, Harry,” you say, genuinely. “I mean that.”

He sighs softly, his eyes on you. “Thank you…. I - I know this must be - strange and I don’t even know where to start,” he whispers suddenly, but loud enough for you to hear. “After all this time… I have so much to say to you, and yet I cannot find the words to convey everything I’ve felt and continue to feel.” Harry pauses and exhales heavily this time, continuing to meet your gaze.

Below, on your lap, you feel Mayday’s hand grip your fingers. You hold her closer, your arms tightening around her just slightly for comfort.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says, his tone pained. “I’m so sorry for just - disappearing. For leaving you... When you needed me the most. I failed you and Pete,” he whispers, his gaze heavy with sadness. “I failed the two of you.”

“Harry,” you start, sensing his genuine regret and something else. Sorrow, pain. You sigh and look away. This is certainly not what you were expecting to be doing today - running into an old friend, into Harry, and hearing his apologies for disappearing.

“No, please. Please just let me,” Harry says. “I need to get this off my chest. I know it’s not fair to just dump all of this on you right now, but I haven’t seen you in so long, and now that you’re here, I just - want to say it. How sorry I am. You deserved so much better from me, but I failed you and Peter. I was never worthy of being called your friend, of Peter calling me his brother.”

You return your gaze to him. For years, you’ve been hiding the hurt from his sudden disappearance, but you also know that you were going to do the same to him. You were going to cut ties with Harry eventually, just like you did with other friends and acquaintances. It was your plan all along after Peter’s death. Your mind was made up only a few hours after you found Peter and held him in your arms before he passed away.

In your grief, loss, and pain, you found a guilt that you carried for a long time. You felt that you had failed Peter, in saving him, and wondered. If you couldn’t save one of the most important people in your life, how would you protect anyone else, including your friends - including Harry? They were better off without you, at least you believed that then.

It was that mentality that led you to cutting ties with everyone. Your plan included Harry, who you always saw as a bit of a brother as well. You anticipated that it would be harder to disappear from his life. You believed he was going to try and stay in touch, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from him. You had known and being friends with each other since elementary and that friendship only grew as the years went by, especially when Peter transferred schools and he became friends with Harry as well. The friendship became a deeper one.

But then, Harry simply disappeared after Peter’s funeral. He gave you a hug at the end of it, holding you tight, before he excused himself, marking it the last time you saw him or heard from him. On one hand, he made your goal easy, and yet, it still hurt.

You gulp the emotions away. “All of that is in the past,” you reply gently, meeting Harry’s gaze. Your hurt from his disappearance has lessened over the years and at times, you told yourself that he must have had his own reasons for doing so, just like you had yours. “You had your reasons, I’m sure of it.”

Harry nods and looks away, as if suddenly being unable to meet your eyes.

“I - Thank you for being understanding,” he says, clearing his throat. After a few seconds, he turns his gaze back to you. “… I’m so sorry. I truly am. For disappearing… For leaving you alone. I hate to think of all this time,” he says, eyebrows knitted in regret. “I learned from the others after some time that you slowly started to distance yourself.”

You look away from his eyes now, brushing aside a strand of Mayday’s hair from her face. “I had my reasons,” you reply, giving him the same excuse for his own distance. He hasn’t provided any reason or excuse, and you haven’t probe for more, so you hope he’ll do the same. You glance back at him, his eyes meeting yours.

He nods. Harry Osborn is smart, always has been. The words you’ve used and the way you’ve both avoided discussing the reasons for distancing, doesn’t elude him. There will be no discussion of such things, at least not today. He clears his throat and nods again, understanding.

“I haven’t talked to them in many years,” he says. “It’s crazy to think some of them have children now.”

“Yeah, I learned of one of them. It’s definitely… crazy to think about. How much time has passed that they have kids now.”

“I went to look for you,” Harry suddenly reveals.

“You did? When?”

“I found out your apartment building caught on fire. I immediately recognized it, of course. How could I not?” he says with a small smile. “It’s where we spent so many evenings with everyone. So many celebrations. Birthday parties for friends, your baking and Peter’s cooking. You guys always made the apartment feel like a second home.”

You smile at that. “Yeah, I remember that - those days,” you reply softly, thinking. It’s been a while since you thought of those days, except for Peter’s birthdays. It’s the only time you think about those happy evenings when the apartment was filled with excitement and happy conversation.

Harry nods. “As soon as I saw it, I was worried about you. I didn’t know if you had moved somewhere else, or if you… had stayed there. I asked around and found out that you still live there. I wanted to make sure you were okay after the fire. Wanted to know if you needed help, or somewhere to stay, but I haven’t had luck in locating you until today by pure chance. I just happened to look out the car’s window and your figure seemed familiar, so I asked my valet to pull over and well, it turns out it was you after all.” Harry pauses. “Where - if you don’t mind me asking - where are you staying right now? If you need a place, you’re more than welcome to stay with me,” he offers, concern laced in his words.

“Thank you, that's kind of you but please don't worry. I’m already staying somewhere.”

“Are you safe? Do you have everything you need?” Harry asks, for the first time leaning closer, trying to gauge if you’re telling the truth.

“Yes, I'm safe,” you reply, reassuring him. You smile gently at him. After all these years, you can hear genuine concern in Harry's voice. “I’m staying somewhere safe.”

“It isn’t a hotel, is it?” he asks. “Or, are you staying with someone?”

“Mig!” Mayday exclaims, thankfully being unable to say Miguel’s full name correctly.

Harry turns to Mayday.

“Mig?” he repeats and Mayday nods, clapping her hands, excitedly. He turns back to you, an eyebrow raised but he doesn’t ask more questions. “As long as you’re staying somewhere safe, that’s all that matters.”

“I am.”

Harry nods. No further details are provided from you. He doesn’t even know who this child is. He turns back to Mayday, his gaze filled with curiosity.

“She’s a friend’s daughter,” you simply state, giving no names. “I’m looking after her today. My friend and their spouse had something to do.”

“I see,” Harry replies, still staring at Mayday. “She seems sweet. And very fond of you,” he comments, taking notice of the way she holds your fingers. The child seems more than content with you, as if she has known you her whole short life, which only makes him wonder more. He has a lot of questions about your life. Where have you been? Who are your friends now? So many questions, but Harry knows he can’t ask them. He has no right to, not after disappearing from your life so abruptly when you needed him the most. He’s glad to see that you seem happier these days, at least. Your smile from earlier is a sign of it. He wonders about it again, unable to stop himself from associating the “Mig” with your happiness.

“She seems so,” you reply, holding Mayday. Not knowing what else to say, you lift your coffee for the first time and take a sip to fill the silence. You glance subtly out the window again, your eyes spotting Harry’s parked car once more. Looking back at Harry, you place the cup down. “So… How have you been?”

The question throws Harry off guard for a second. The awkward silence that fell upon you made it feel like this conversation was over but you’ve asked him something, and maybe that means this random encounter isn’t over just yet.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’m working with my father now at Osborn Industries.”

“Right. Osborn Industries. How is your dad? I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“He’s - older,” Harry replies with a sheepish smile. “He talks about retirement but then again, he’s been talking about it for years. I don’t think he’ll ever retire, to be honest. It seems impossible to him to not work. He’s worked his whole life. I think he’ll grow bored from not working, but who knows.”

You nod. “I can imagine.” You chuckle a bit. “Tell him I say hi and that I wish him well, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. He’ll be happy to hear from you,” Harry says. “He’s asked about you over the years.”

With a smile, you nod and pick up your mug again. You wonder what Harry told his father, if he ever shared with Norman Osborn that he cut contact with you, or if he told him something else to excuse the sudden lack of contact between you. “Well… You can tell him I’m alright, still living here in the city.”

“I will,” he replies, not knowing what else to say for a few seconds before he thinks of something. “I know this is unexpected, but - would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”

You blink in surprise. Harry’s lunch invitation is definitely unexpected. You meet his gaze, pondering about what his invitation and your acceptance might mean for the future.

“Just lunch,” he says gently. “That’s all. I know it’s probably too much too soon after so many years but I just… I’d like to see you again, even if just one more time. I’ll understand if you want nothing more with me afterwards. I’ll respect it but just… Please. For old time’s sake,” Harry continues.

Mayday glances up at you, her blue eyes wide, as if waiting for your response. It’s always been intriguing to you how she seems to understand the mood of the situation - of the environment - she’s in despite her age. You sigh silently.

For old time’s sake, Harry says. A part of you feels like you should accept. Not just for old time’s sake but also for Peter, who you think would be happy about this, even if it’s just this lunch and concludes at that. Maybe this is a form of closure for both Harry and you, and in a way, for Peter, too. You nod.

“Tomorrow.”

Harry beams at you. “Tomorrow. I can have my valet pick you up, if you’d like. Or, I can simply give you the address, whichever you prefer.”

“The address is fine, thank you,” you reply, politely declining the ride once more.

Harry nods, understanding, before he gives you the address. You both confirm the time, making it official.

You’re having lunch with Harry Osborn tomorrow after years of not seeing him. __☆

“I thought about Peter and how this might be a closure for everyone. For Peter, Harry, and me,” you say softly, leaning on one of Miguel’s lab counters almost an hour later after you parted ways with Harry. Your meeting with him left you feeling a lot of emotions and the time it took you to put away all the groceries at the penthouse served as a moment to think about it a bit before you returned to HQ to tell Miguel what happened. “So, I said yes.”

Mayday sits on the floor over a blanket you placed for her. Some of her toys are scattered around as she plays with them by herself. You’ve been keeping an eye on her the whole time while telling Miguel about your encounter with Harry, along with providing some background information, such as the last time you saw him.

Miguel has been listening to you and nodding his head in silence so far. He realizes now that the man he saw last night in your photos is Harry Osborn.

“You said yes,” he repeats, nodding.

“I did…” you reply, trailing off.

Miguel leans back on the same counter, his back to it. He crosses his arms across his chest, thinking. “And how do you feel about it now?”

You shrug slightly. “I don’t even know, to be honest. I think I’m still processing the fact that I even ran into him.”

“That’s understandable. It’s been many years,” Miguel comments, trying to ignore what you’ve told him about the man - about how Harry Osborn disappeared from your life right after Peter’s funeral, a time when you could’ve really used someone to lean on. Miguel can’t help but feel a grudge towards him, even though he’s never met the man.

“It has.” You fidget with your gizmo, looking at it.

Miguel can tell you seem off by this entire encounter, you seem nervous. Anxious even. He’s about to say something when he sees you turn away. In the blink of an eye, Mayday is in your arms. He quickly realizes you sensed Mayday swinging towards you and it’s why you turned away.

You smile as you hold Mayday in your arms and sigh. “She made the encounter better,” you tell Miguel, looking at him. “By the way, she called you ‘Mig’ at the coffee shop.”

“Mig?” Miguel repeats, smiling softly, placing his thoughts about Osborn aside, for now. He glances down at Mayday, noticing she brought her action figures of you and him along with her. He’s instantly reminded of the time she made both action figures kiss that one day you babysat her. He remembers hiding his face by lifting Mayday up to keep you from seeing the heat in his cheeks and how embarrassed you seemed about it afterwards. The memory makes his face feel warm now.

“Miggle!” Mayday says raising Miguel’s action figure so he can see it.

You cover your mouth, stifling a chuckle at Mayday’s new nickname. He glances between you and Mayday, a grumpy look on his face, but it’s a playful one. “Alright, I was okay with ‘Mig’ but this - that’s a no.”

You laugh, which causes Mayday to giggle. “Miggle!”

“Great,” Miguel mumbles, covering his face with one hand for a few seconds. He drops it and sighs, looking at Mayday and you, your laughter makes him chuckle, too. He shakes his head in disbelief and lets it go, it’s just a silly nickname. One day Mayday will grow out of it, he’s sure.

“Hey guys, I’m back,” someone says.

The three of you turn at the voice.

“Peter,” you say, greeting him with a smile.

Miguel gives him a nod of acknowledgment, crossing his arms over his chest again as he stands next to you, Mayday still in your arms.

Peter B. stops a few feet away, looking at the three of you.

“Hm,” Peter B. hums softly, a gleam in his eyes. He smiles to himself, as if fondly thinking of something but he reveals nothing. “Just came to pick up Mayday. MJ and I got out of our meeting just in time for her nap. Thank you for looking after her for us,” he says to you with an appreciative smile.

“Of course. It was no problem. I think she enjoyed her time with me. We looked at the flowers, didn’t we?” you ask Mayday, holding her higher. “And she had her snacks and got to see around my city again. It was a fun grocery trip,” you say, leaving out your meeting with Harry for now. You’ll tell him and the rest of the spider gang later when your mind isn’t so scattered nor conflicted about it. “It was a busy trip, so I think she’s definitely ready for her nap.” You walk over to him and hand Mayday over.

“Thanks,” Peter says again with a smile. “I’ll see you guys in a bit. This little one definitely needs a nap.” Peter looks at his daughter, noticing signs of sleepiness even as she continues to hold her action figures, lazily showing them to him.

“Let me collect her toys,” you say, gathering her items with Miguel’s help. The two of you place everything in Mayday’s backpack before you hand it back to Peter, helping him put it on. “There.”

“Thanks, guys. I’ll see you around. Say bye, Mayday,” Peter B. says with a grin.

“Bye-bye,” Mayday says waving one hand, the one holding Miguel’s action figure.

“Bye,” you say warmly, waving as well.

“Bye-bye, Mayday,” Miguel says standing next to you.

You glance at him, noticing that he said “bye-bye” as well, just like Mayday. You turn away and smile, finding that endearing as Peter and Mayday head out of the lab.

Miguel watches as they vanish from sight, his thoughts going back to your encounter with Harry once again, but he keeps that to himself for now. He knows that this sudden contact with him and the lunch tomorrow is weighting on you right now, and the last thing he wants to do is add to your stress by bringing it up so soon.

What Miguel wishes to do is make you forget about it, even if just for an hour. Miguel wishes to do what you always do for him, lift his spirits when he’s feeling down or tense. He thinks for a few seconds, planning and remembering something

“Mira [look], I wanted to show you something,” he starts, hoping this will take your mind off it for a little bit. He was planning to show you this later today but now seems like the best time to do so. He gestures for you to follow him to another lab bench. “I’ve been working on something with Lyla, doing trials and such.”

“What is it?” you ask as you stand next to him, looking at the surface. There’s a few lookalikes to the gizmos, a closed box, and tools all scattered about.

“Ever since last spring when I got injured and my gizmo was broken by that variant of the Green Goblin, I’ve been thinking about working on a new one. A more durable one,” Miguel says as he opens the box and retrieves something. He lifts it up and shows it to you, another gizmo. “I started doing some research on better materials - stronger ones, which this one is made out of. Up to that point there were no incidents like that, in which the gizmo was directly targeted. It was built to be durable in fights, to take hits and scratches but not that kind of impact. So for months, I’ve been testing other materials but they’ve all failed until I came across a new one. I started building this gizmo a few weeks ago once I found the new materials needed. This seems to be the best one in regards to that,” he says, offering it so you can take a closer look at it.

You take it carefully and inspect it. The trial gizmo looks similar to the current one with some differences. For instance, you can immediately tell this one is sturdier but also much more sleeker than the current one.

“It has a few more features, including those like that of a smartwatch. It can track vitals and the sort,” Miguel says, watching as you look at the gizmo. “I’m not concerned for that but it’s something other members have talked about in the past, so I added it. It might be helpful, who knows.” Miguel adds, shrugging.

“It feels sturdier,” you tell him. “I’m sure the others will like it, especially with those new features,” you add with a grin. “So, I can track my heart rate?”

Noticing your grin, Miguel returns it. It seems that his little plan has worked so far. “Why don’t you try it on?”

“It’s ready for that?”

“Yes. Now I just need to test it out - to make sure that everything is working as it should. I’ve made two, so far, so…” Miguel trails off. “You can test this one for me. I’ll test the other one.”

You nod, not questioning the fact that Miguel specifically made two of these gizmos. You slide the new gizmo on your other wrist and start it up. The familiar marigold colored screen appears immediately.

“I’m glad you kept the same color. It’s easy on the eyes.”

“It is, isn’t it? It helps a lot, especially with me staring at the screens for so long. Oh, look, there’s the vitals icon,” Miguel says pointing with his finger.

You click on the icon and the gizmo immediately shows a screen, asking if you want to measure your heart rate among other things. You approve the heart rate feature and it begins instantly, not taking long to show the results.

“Ninety-three beats per minute, and it��s within the general range,” Miguel reads. “That seems normal. We’ll keep track of that and make sure it doesn’t fluctuate to crazy numbers. If it does, it means I’ll need to work on it more.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for that then and report it to you,” you reply. “Unless it’s already synced to the network?”

Miguel nods his head. “These are but just because I want to make sure they’re working correctly. The final ones, those distributed, won’t though. I don’t want to breach anyone’s health privacy.”

“That sounds reasonable,” you reply. “I personally don’t mind since it’s you but it’s a nice thought for the others.” You give Miguel a smile. “You think about everything. This is amazing as always, Miguel. I’m excited to try out the other features.”

The compliment makes Miguel smile shyly at you. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re excited about it. I’ve been working on it little by little and I was excited to let you see and try it out. I guess it’s also time for an upgrade. It’s been a few years now since we’ve had these. Also, I do want to ask you to keep your original gizmo on you, especially for missions while we test these new ones. I don’t want you having any issues with glitching,” Miguel adds with concern.

“I’ll keep it on, don’t worry. Definitely don’t want any glitching,” you say, remembering the time you experienced it yourself. It was painful and if you can avoid feeling it again, you will.

“Good,” Miguel says with a sigh, satisfied with your answer.

You play with a few other features until at last you remember you have some work to do. “I’m going to go ahead and work on the report for next week, if you don’t mind,” you tell him, nodding to the desk where you always sit and work.

“Alright. I’ll be here,” Miguel says as he watches you walk away to your desk. Maybe working on the report will distract you for a while before he continues with his little plan.

It’s not much in his opinion but he hopes the gesture comforts you regardless. After a few seconds of watching you, Miguel finally walks back to his platform, where he tries not to think about your old friend.

It’s an hour later when Miguel looks at his gizmo to check the time. He steps off his platform and walks over to you. You’re so concentrated on the report that you only notice him until he’s next to the desk.

“I’m going to head out for a moment. About ten minutes or so. I’ll be right back,” he informs you.

“Oh, alright.”

“Wait for me here,” Miguel says softly. “I won’t take long. Promise.”

With a smile, you nod. “I’ll wait here. Promise.”

Satisfied with your answer, Miguel nods with a smile before he heads out with a determined look on his face. You silently wonder where he’s going off to but you don’t question it. You continue to work on the report and wait for him.

Just like Miguel promised, you hear his footsteps about fifteen minutes later. You glance up at him just as he appears in your line of sight. He approaches your desk again.

“Come on,” Miguel says softly, nodding his head to the side.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Let’s go,” Miguel tries again with a small smirk.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere. Just follow me,” he says, not sharing much.

You continue to stare at him, eyebrow raised. He just came back from wherever he mysteriously went off to and is now asking you to follow him. You feel the need to ask what’s going on but based on how little Miguel is sharing, you have a feeling he doesn’t want to tell you about it, but rather show you.

You save your progress on the device and nod before you stand up. “Alright.”

You follow Miguel, walking a few feet before he stops and looks up. He shoots his web up to the ceiling and climbs up. With furrowed eyebrows you do the same. You have no idea what’s going on, but you meet Miguel on the ceiling, noticing that he’s holding himself up with his talons.

“I always forget about this,” Miguel says. “No one else knows about it but there’s a secret window up here.”

“A secret window?”

Miguel nods and moves his hand around the ceiling, trying to locate something. “There. Watch out for the sunlight,” he warns before you hear a clicking noise. Miguel pushes it up and suddenly there’s light coming through the ceiling.

“There’s really a window on the ceiling,” you say, amazed.

Miguel chuckles before he pulls himself up. He continues to hold on to the building with his talons since you’re both stepping out onto one of the building’s peaks. If he doesn’t, he’d slip down. He crouches on the rooftop and offers you a hand, which you take without thinking. You cover your eyes, shielding them from the sunlight as you take in the fact that you’re both outside now, straight from Miguel’s lab.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” you say.

Miguel chuckles again and shrugs. “I had it installed many years ago. It was supposed to be another way for me to leave the building during emergencies but I hardly use it. I forget it even exists.”

“But you remembered it today,” you say with a smile.

“It proved to be useful today, so I remembered it.”

“You can’t even see it,” you say looking at the ground. It blends right in.

“I had it designed that way. It’s why no one has found it, thankfully. Or, I’d have spider members literally dropping into the lab,” Miguel says with a grumpy face, just imagining how some members might abuse it for their personal fun.

You laugh. “I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“I knew I could trust you,” Miguel replies, his grumpy face gone. The soft smirk is back. “But I didn’t bring you up here to show you the secret window.”

“No?”

“Nope. We’re going somewhere else, so follow me, please,” Miguel says.

“Alright, I’ll follow you,” you say and with that, the two of you swing off the building.

You follow Miguel and take in the sight of Nueva York. Living here for the last few weeks has made you grown used to it, a thought that brings back the realization from earlier when you were with Harry. You now see Nueva York as a second home and you don’t know when that even happened, but it has.

This universe is a home to you now.

Miguel makes a quick right and you follow right away, heading straight for a building’s rooftop. You land on it within seconds, your mind stirring with questions as Miguel looks behind his shoulder, as if making sure that you’re following along. A few more steps and you spot a box. You turn to Miguel, confused.

“Lunch,” Miguel says. “I thought I’d get some lunch for us from somewhere else other than the cafeteria.”

You smile, nodding. “I’m up for lunch.”

“Yeah?” Miguel says glancing at you as he takes a seat on the ground. He pats the ground next to the box with his hand, silently inviting you over.

“Yeah,” you reply as you take a seat, not wasting a second.

Miguel opens the box in which he’s kept the food secure, once again, thinking about everything. He takes out boxes with food and two to-go drinks. As he hands you a box, you instantly recognize the amazing scent. Tacos. You smile and remember the last time you had tacos with him on another rooftop here in Nueva York, which reminds you of what Gabriel used to say about them.

It’s then that you realize it. Miguel is trying to cheer up you after what happened this morning. You glance at the new gizmo, thinking. Did he show you the gizmos as a way to distract you?

“I got your favorite kind of tacos. And favorite salsa, too,” Miguel says as he hands you small carry-out containers with your favorite salsa. “And we have agua de horchata.”

You accept everything with a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it… A lot.”

Holding his box with food, Miguel stops passing out items to look at you. You stare at each other, soft smiles grazing your faces.

“Always,” Miguel responds gently with no doubt in his mind that you’ve pieced together his plan because he recognizes that knowing look on your face right now. “I hope you enjoy your food.”

“I will. It smells amazing,” you comment as you finally open your box. The sight of food makes your stomach grumble. You look at Miguel, who is already looking at you with a soft smirk on his face but he says nothing and instead hands you napkins.

You eat side by side, enjoying the view of the city in a comfortable silence. Below, you can hear the midday traffic and see the people of Nueva York out and about. It’s a peaceful moment, one that truly makes you forget about your lunch meeting with Harry tomorrow. It’s just Miguel and you, nothing else.

You eventually finish eating and together, you collect everything, minus your cups, to avoid leaving a mess. You take a sip from yours, the sweet horchata hitting differently now. You sigh and place your cup down on the ground.

Miguel glances over at you. That sigh is not out of exhaustion. It’s one of frustration. He sighs, too. He tried to keep your mind off it for a little bit but of course, the gizmo and the lunch isn’t going to make you forget about it. In about twenty-four hours, you’ll be in your universe having lunch with Harry Osborn.

He clears his throat, wondering if he should bring it up. A part of him feels that he has no right to, especially when it’s about someone from your past - someone who meant a lot to you. Then again, it worries Miguel that you seem so tense about this situation, even anxious, and he truly hates seeing you like this. He sighs again, wishing he could do more.

“I know you’re not asking anyone for their thoughts or advice and I don’t want to intrude,” Miguel starts, getting your attention. “But… you don’t have to meet with him, you know?” He continues, his voice gentle and with an unwavering gaze. “At least not tomorrow. You can always arrange another time if you’re not ready.”

You nod, holding his gaze and feeling reassurance from both his words and gentle tone. It soothes your nerves.

“I feel nervous about it, not as much as I did earlier, though. It’s just that it’s been so long since I last saw him but… I think I need to. I feel like it will do me good,” you reply.

Miguel nods. “I understand that. If you’re certain about it, I’m glad you’re doing it. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here,” Miguel states, genuinely. “Supporting you. “

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I really appreciate it, Miguel, truly. I know you did this to cheer me up, and it means a lot. It helped me,” you tell him.

He smiles warmly at you. “It’s not much but I’m glad it helped you, even just a little,” he replies.

“It helped me a lot,” you correct him. “I do feel better, less nervous now.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Miguel says sincerely, still smiling.

“Your brother was right,” you state, still holding his gaze.

“Was he?”

“Yes, definitely. There’s nothing like tacos to lift someone’s spirits.”

Miguel chuckles before taking a sip from his drink. “He would be very proud to hear you agree with him, you know. He’d probably turn to me and say something like, ‘told you so,’ as if I ever disagreed with him.”

You chuckle at that, thinking about Gabriel. It would’ve been amazing to have met him.

“When did he come up with those wise words?” you ask, causing Miguel to snort softly.

“He was in his junior year of college during finals season, so I guess he really needed a pick-me up.”

“Understandable,” you reply. “Finals season is brutal.”

“I know,” he says, curious now that you mention college. “How did you manage those days? I’m curious.”

“You are?” you ask.

“Well, yes,” Miguel replies, thinking once again about how there’s so much about your life he doesn’t know of, and the truth is, Miguel would like to know more. “I’d like to know if you were the kind of student that rested properly those nights or if you pulled all-nighters. That says a lot about a person, you know.” Miguel gives you a playful smile.

You laugh softly. “I drank a lot of coffee.”

“I feel like I knew that already,” he replies, smiling. “What about my question though?”

“Well… I tried to rest as much as I could but there were times I did pull all-nighters. Other times I opted to sleep early and wake up at like 4am to begin studying.”

“So a little of both. I pulled all-nighters. A lot,” Miguel shares. “What was your favorite place to study?”

You smile and take a sip of your drink before you answer his question, one of many, as Miguel continues to ask about your college days and sharing about his own. In the end, the conversation itself boosts your mood, something that relieves Miguel. _☆_

The next day, you sit in the kitchen. It’s a rainy day in Nueva York and the weather forecast says thunderstorms are expected tonight.

A glass with agua de Jamaica is placed in front of you, along with half a sandwich Miguel prepared. You have about thirty minutes before you need to head to your universe to meet with Harry, but Miguel insisted in you having something to eat before you meet up with him.

“Uno nunca sabe [one never knows]. You might not like the food you order and then you’ll be hungry for the remaining time. You might get a headache, or something. At least you’ll have some food in your system if that’s the case,” Miguel said trying to convince you earlier today at the lab. He left out the part about him sensing your growing tension as time ticked by, and that he’s worried about you not eating properly in your nervous headspace. He even proposes splitting the sandwich between you in hopes that you’ll agree, which you do to his relief.

You can’t turn down the idea. Miguel does have a point, and you also think to yourself about your nervousness. You may eat very little even if the food is great just because of your nerves.

You take a bite of your half sandwich, looking up at Miguel as he takes a sip of his drink, his half of the sandwich almost gone. The fact that you’re sharing a sandwich feels very funny all of a sudden, but it’s also sweet that Miguel worried about you eating something, just in case.

It’s also sweet because it’s midday and Miguel is here, at the penthouse, instead of at HQ. The two of you left together and while you got changed into regular clothes upstairs, Miguel prepared the sandwich and glasses of agua de Jamaica.

You finish the sandwich and drink from your glass. You tell yourself it’s fine, that this is just - lunch. You’ll probably talk about Peter and maybe about what the two of you have been up to. That’s when you realize you’ll need to come up with some story about working somewhere, and about doing something other than what you’ve been doing all these years, or Harry might become suspicious.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asks, noticing the worried look on your face. He straightens up, standing across from you, alarmed.

“I just realized I might have to come up with some lie about working somewhere. No one other than Peter ever knew about me being Spider-Woman, so if Harry asks, I guess I’ll have to lie.”

Miguel nods and thinks about that.

“You can tell the truth, just keep it vague. You do work at the Spider Society and do a lot,” he says.

You nod thinking about the tasks you help with at the Spider Society. “You’re right. Okay, no names. Just keep it vague.”

Miguel gives you a reassuring smile, feeling bad that you’re worried. This situation has caught you by surprise so much and he hates that because you seem nervous and tense, something he’s not used to seeing. He dislikes seeing you out of your usual self - calm and happy. He leans on the counter to be your height, hoping he can ease some of your nerves.

“It’s going to be okay,” Miguel says gently, his gaze soft as he meets your eyes. “It’s just lunch. It’ll probably last about an hour and a quarter of that time will be spent eating and drinking. It’ll be over before you even realize, trust me. And don’t worry about answering all his questions, if he asks any. You don’t have to answer them nor give him explanations for anything. It’s not an interview,” Miguel adds. “You’ll be okay, I know it.”

You smile at Miguel, his words sinking in, calming you. “Thank you, that - that really helps,” you say, sighing softly and feeling reassured.

“Always. Just remember to breathe,” Miguel adds. “Everything will be okay.”

You nod, repeating those words. Everything will be okay. It’s just lunch and it’ll be over before you realize. You don’t have to answer all of Harry’s questions nor give explanations. You’ll be okay. You stare back at Miguel, letting his words continue to calm you.

A random notification from your gizmo reminds you it’s almost time. You look at the screen to confirm. You now have about fifteen minutes until lunch with Harry.

“I should head out now,” you say, glancing back at Miguel, but you really don’t feel like leaving.

“Yeah, it’s almost time,” Miguel replies, not moving an inch and still leaning on the counter, his gaze set on you.

You nod. “I should finish my drink first though. I don’t want to waste the agua de Jamaica.” You lift your glass and take a sip.

“I can serve you more if you’d like,” Miguel offers, looking at the pitcher. “It’s very refreshing.”

“It is,” you respond. “I think I’ll have just a little more, please.”

“Of course.” Miguel moves at last and reaches for the pitcher.

You hold out your glass and he serves more of the maroon liquid, refilling it entirely.

“If you want more, just let me know,” he says placing the pitcher down.

You thank him and drink some more, Miguel’s gaze back on you.

You take your time drinking the water, not rushing at all. Miguel doesn’t seem preoccupied with the time either, as if he doesn’t have any work to do at HQ - as if it’s normal for him to be at home in the middle of the day on a weekday.

It’s about five minutes later that Lyla pops out of nowhere.

“Oh, you guys are still here? I thought you were gone already to your lunch,” she says looking at you before turning to Miguel. “And I thought you’d be doing some work somewhere in the multiverse. Shouldn’t you be going? You have - like eight minutes left,” Lyla continues, displaying a countdown for a few seconds before she disappears.

“Right. I should get going, or I might be late,” you say before downing the rest of your drink and standing up. You glance at Miguel. “I’m heading out now.”

Straightening up, Miguel nods in understanding. “Yes, alright… You don’t want to be late.”

“No, that would look bad.”

”And it’s unlike yourself to be late,” Miguel says, exhaling deeply. He unconsciously taps his pinky finger on the counter. “Do you have everything you need?”

Miguel’s question reminds you to check, so you quickly make sure you do. Today, you’re taking a handbag with you to store all your items, specifically your gizmo, so Harry doesn’t see it. You were lucky yesterday to be wearing something that hid your wrists, but today you’re wearing clothes that don’t easily conceal the device. You nod once you confirm. “Yes, it seems so.” You sigh softly and look back at Miguel, giving him another nod. It’s time to go, you tell yourself, curling your hand into a soft fist at your side. Your pinky finger flexes slightly but you ignore it. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Miguel nods, his tapping pinky finger going still at last. “I’ll be at HQ… I’ll see you there.” Miguel pauses, wanting to say something else. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need assistance of any kind,” he says, summarizing all of his thoughts with that sentence alone, even though he wants to say more, like how he’d meet you somewhere - anywhere - if you need to talk, or if you need a moment far away from everything.

You smile softly and nod. “I will, thank you. I’ll see you at HQ in an hour or so, then.”

“In an hour or so, then,” Miguel repeats, nodding.

Time is ticking and you remember that Lyla said you have about eight minutes. At least two more have gone by, which means you must have about six minutes left to leave and make it to the location. And yet, you feel rooted to the ground, right there in Miguel’s kitchen.

You remind yourself that you don’t want to be late, that you don’t want to seem disrespectful. That’s what makes you take a step back at last. You break your gaze away from Miguel and look down at your gizmo, preparing it to open a portal.

“Alright, I’m heading out now, or else, I’ll really be late,” you state, sheepishly.

Miguel nods, knowing you really must go now or you’ll definitely be a few minutes late. So, together, you walk to the living room where you finally open the portal to your universe.

Miguel’s pinky finger begins to flex over and over again as he walks just a few feet behind you. You turn to face Miguel.

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. It’ll be alright. Just enjoy yourself. Remember,” Miguel pauses.

“It’s just a lunch,” you say, remembering his reassuring words from earlier.

“It’s just a lunch.” Miguel nods. It’s just a lunch with an old friend. You’ll be fine. You won’t be in harm’s way, he tells himself. Miguel’s gaze turns to the living room’s windows for just a fraction of a second, which reminds him that it’s pouring outside and that usually, the weather matches across universes. “Wait.”

Miguel turns and walks back to the kitchen before you can say anything, heading straight for the door that leads to the hallway where the laundry room and second office is located. You see him enter the laundry room for a few seconds before he walks out again with an umbrella in his hand. He walks back to you, reaching you in no time due to his long strides. He hands it to you. “Just in case it’s raining there, too. If it’s not, you can just leave it somewhere in the meantime, but please take it. I don’t want you getting caught in the rain without an umbrella and getting sick.”

Smiling, you accept the umbrella and nod. “Thank you. I actually forgot it’s raining and that it might be the same at my universe. I’ll keep it with me, just in case.” You tightly hold the umbrella in your hand, feeling a physical itch in your pinky finger that you try to ease by pressing your fingers together. “I’m ready,” you say, even though it’s not the truth because you suddenly feel like you’re forgetting something. You ignore the sensation and at last, turn around and begin to walk into the portal but before you fully enter it, you look over your shoulder to look at Miguel. “I’ll meet you at the lab!”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you there!” Miguel replies, watching as you disappear fully from his sight. “In an hour or so,” Miguel says out loud to himself.

He stands in the same spot until the portal fades completely and it’s only then when he notices his pinky finger flexing. He raises his hand and holds it out where the portal was just now.

Pinky hug, Miguel thinks to himself, but it’s too late now because you’re already gone.

Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before he shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He walks back to the kitchen, deciding to wash the glasses you both used before he returns to HQ.

“Done pouting?” Lyla asks, appearing once again, as he picks up your glass from the counter.

“Who’s pouting?”

“You were just now.”

“Do you have nothing else to do?”

“I always have things to do.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Miguel replies as he washes the glasses.

Lyla shrugs, watching Miguel. She notices the frown once again, the one that’s been present ever since a certain someone stepped into a portal and left Nueva York looking like they were being forced to. After a few seconds, she sighs. “She’ll be fine.”

“What?” Miguel asks distractedly, his mind somewhere else, in another universe that’s not his but one that feels like home regardless.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much about her. She’s Spider-Woman, you know.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow with a stern look on his face before he returns his attention back to the sink. He wants to argue that he’s not worried but that would be a lie. Miguel finishes washing the dishes before he dries his hands. He sighs and places the towel down. “Yeah… She’ll be okay.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lyla says even though there was little enthusiasm in Miguel’s words. “How about you head back to HQ? You have about three spider members looking for you.”

“I step out for an hour and everybody needs me,” Miguel says rolling his eyes.

“Well, to be fair no one is used to you leaving out of nowhere.”

“I leave all the time.”

“Not in the middle of the day to head to your penthouse. It’s always for a mission or something in regards to the Spider Society but today you’re here,” Lyla says. “It’s strange.”

“Alright, alright. Ya [Ok], I’m going back to HQ,” Miguel says heading to one of the windows to slip out of the penthouse. Outside, Miguel glances back inside the penthouse with a sigh. He finally closes the window and leaves, his mind still whirling with thoughts.

He reaches HQ in no time and sure enough, when he arrives there’s people waiting for him. Miguel takes care of the tasks, feeling like at least these distractions will keep him from thinking about where you’re at right now. Or rather, who you’re with.

It’s not even ten minutes later after the last person left when Miguel hears multiple sets of footsteps. He’s definitely not in the mood for visitors but his eyebrows raise when he sees who it is.

Hobie, Pav, and Miles.

“Miguel,” Hobie says, hands in his pockets, in black and white.

“Hey, Miguel,” Pav says much softer as the three spider members approach him.

“Tío [uncle],” Miles acknowledges him with a little wave.

“Hobie. Pav. Miles,” Miguel addresses them, standing on his ground level platform. He does a glance over, noticing they seem to be in a somber mood, which sends alarm bells in Miguel’s head. “Has something happened?” Miguel asks, now noticing that Hobie is in black and white, a sign that he’s not in a good mood. He learned about Hobie changing colors depending on his mood and who’s around him a while back. Hobie’s appearance makes Miguel wonder.

“So this guy,” Hobie starts. “Harry Osborn.” __☆

Upon stepping out into your own universe, you’re grateful to Miguel for being so thoughtful. Droplets of cold rain splatter on you before you immediately open the umbrella to shield yourself. Under Miguel’s umbrella, you waste no time and make your way down the building you chose as your location, saving yourself a lot of walking and even swinging to avoid any suspicions since you’re not wearing your Spider-Woman suit. You didn’t even bring it with you, so you hope there’s no need for it, or else you’ll have to travel back to Nueva York to retrieve it.

As you approach the entrance of the building where you’ll be having lunch, you briefly think about how convenient a holographic suit option could be in times like these. You could’ve easily thrown the little chip in your handbag, or sewn a secret pocket into your clothes and keep it there.

Maybe you’ll tell Miguel about it later. He did offer one a few months back when he accidentally made some rips to your suit when he was in the infirmary. You sigh as you make your way to another floor, thinking about how your suit is quite old. You’ve had it since before Peter died, maybe a year or two before his death, and you’ve refused to change it because he helped you design it.

You can tell these days that the fabric feels differently from so much wear. It has seen better days for sure, yet, you feel like you’d be parting away from a part of Peter if you change it. You know you’ll save it like every other suit you had before, so it’s not like you’d be throwing it away, but this one feels different because it was the last one he helped you design.

As you enter the designated floor, you think about it. Maybe you’ll ask Miguel about it, at least get his opinion. You’re sure he’d like to help you.

You glance at the umbrella again, now closed, and think of Miguel and how thoughtful he is. Not only that, but he’s been so comforting and assuring of this whole situation, so openly and without hesitation, too.

Just as you’re about to slip off your gizmo to put it away, you see a bunch of notifications come through from your other friends, all wishing you luck with your meeting.

You told them about Harry and today’s lunch a few hours after Miguel and you returned from lunch yesterday. Just like Miguel, they were able to tell that you were nervous even if they didn’t say anything about it. You smile as you read the encouraging words from them now before you activate the “Do not Disturb” mode and place it in your handbag.

You enter the main room and search for Harry as you take in the setting, noticing it’s a bit on the sophisticated side and filled with individuals in business attire. You imagine they’re probably some of the richest people in the city, considering Harry is one himself.

At last, you spot Harry when he stands up to greet you, so you head his way.

“Hey, you made it despite the weather,” Harry says with a smile.

“I did. It’s definitely raining out there,” you reply, giving him a small smile.

You both stand there for a few seconds, not knowing how to properly greet each other. Do you give him a handshake and make it formal? A hug, on the other hand, feels far too personal.

“Allow me,” Harry finally says before he pulls the other chair for you.

You thank him before sitting down, wondering how awkward this will be if neither of you were able to figure out how to greet each other. You calm yourself with Miguel’s words as Harry returns to his seat. It’s just lunch and it’ll be fine. Time will fly and it’ll be over before you realize.

“I’m relieved that you came,” Harry says adjusting his suit’s jacket. “I must admit… As I saw the time, I thought you had changed your mind - which I wouldn’t blame you for.” Harry looks down at the table. “But I’m glad you came. Thank you,” he says softly.

You nod. It didn’t occur to you to cancel on him. It was Miguel who suggested that you could meet him another time until you were ready since he noticed your tension.

“It never crossed my mind, to be honest. I’m glad I was able to make it, too, despite the weather. Thank you for the invitation,” you reply.

“Of course…” he responds giving you a brief smile before a waiter approaches your table.

You both order drinks to start and take a minute or two to look at the menu. Looking over it, you feel thankful that this alone will take some minutes.

You subtly glance up at Harry, his eyes on the menu. He also seems to not know what to do.

Turning your attention back to the menu, you realize you’re honestly not hungry after the half sandwich Miguel made and drinking so much agua de Jamaica, but you must order something. You finally find something that sounds light and hope it’s good.

“My dad loves this place,” Harry says placing his menu down. “They have great food and it helps that it’s close to Osborn Industries.”

“Yeah, I bet that makes it very convenient for a busy man like him.”

“I think so. And of course, he runs into old friends, too, so that must be another pro to the place,” Harry says glancing around, which makes you wonder if he recognizes anyone.

You nod. “It’s very beautiful, too. Lovely view,” you say glancing towards the windows.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You nod at each other, falling into a silence that’s somehow alleviated by the waiter who arrives with the drinks. He provides a small buffer between you as he takes your orders but all too soon, he’s gone.

As Miguel would say, shock, you think to yourself while taking a sip from your drink.

__☆

“Alright, so… You’re all unhappy about this lunch meeting?” Miguel asks after listening to the three spiderlings. It seems that they just wanted to vent, even Hobie.

“… Yes,” Pav replies.

“Yep,” Hobie responds at the same time as Pav.

“It’s just - I don’t know why Y/N accepted,” Miles asks in sync with the other two.

“Why?” Miguel asks.

“Because… Why is this guy now showing up?” Hobie replies. “So many years have passed since Peter’s death. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Or, me,” Miles adds and Pav nods.

Miguel raises an eyebrow. He can’t deny that he’s thought about that, too, about how sudden this all feels, but then again it happens, for better or worse. Plus, there's something else in Miguel's mind - something about Harry Osborn's sudden reappearance in your life that's gnawing at him. He can't pinpoint it right now in the presence of the three spider members.

He sighs and leans on his platform. It’s at least nice to know he’s not the only one having thoughts about this encounter between you and Harry, however, he’s not going to add to their worries with his own. No, Miguel is going to try and calm their worries as best as he can, they are, after all, still so young. And whether he realizes it or not, the paternal side of him feels the urge to ease their concerns.

“Look, guys,” Miguel starts, looking somewhere else, trying to gather his thoughts. After a few seconds, his red eyes shift back to theirs. “As much as we’d like to be there with her right now and question Osborn about his decision almost five years ago - question what kind of person does that to their friend,” Miguel says with a sharp tone. His relaxed face turns stoic at the thought of Osborn ghosting you right after Peter’s funeral - a change the other three Spider-Men notice - before Miguel reminds himself to calm down. “Believe me, I have many thoughts about that,” he says irritated but as he continues on, his voice and face expression become softer as he speaks of you. “But Y/N - she - she’s incredible. She’s a brilliant woman and I think we all know that. If she made the decision to meet him, we must support it. She knows what she’s doing - knows what she needs - and maybe this is a closure for her. As her friends… what matters is that we respect it and support her, the way she’s always supported us.”

Miguel meets everyone’s gazes, trying to drive his words home to make the younger members understand. He understands where they’re coming from but at the end of the day, they all need to respect your decision and support you. At last, they nod.

“It’s a good thing we’re not there, or we’d give this guy an earful,” Miles says, frowning.

Miguel nods in agreement. Harry Osborn is lucky it’s just you and not the entire spider gang, otherwise, he’d be receiving glares left and right.

“More than an earful,” Hobie says with a sigh.

“Personally, I think that guy needs a chat,” Pav says, nodding. “But we must respect Y/N.”

Miguel smiles a bit, glad to hear that the younger members have settled down a bit. He sighs before he straightens up and presses a button. His platform rises just enough so that Miguel can sit on it and have his long legs dangle from it. Three seconds later, Miles joins him with a sigh.

“So, I guess we wait,” Miles says.

“We wait,” Miguel repeats before all four Spider-Men fall into a silence.

Pav ends up taking a seat on Miguel’s other side. Meanwhile, Hobie stands, looking off to the side, still in black and white. About a minute or two passes when Miguel’s stomach grumbles, causing everyone to look at him.

“Did you have lunch?” Pav asks.

“No,” Miguel replies. “Well, I had half a sandwich.”

“Half a sandwich?” Hobie asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I split it with Y/N. I made it so she could eat something before she left, just in case.”

The younger spider members stare at each other at that. Miguel O’Hara made a sandwich and split it in half with you?

“That’s - kind of you,” Hobie says at last looking down at one of his boots, thinking.

“Very thoughtful,” Pav says smiling.

“I’m sure she really appreciated that,” Miles says with a little smile, sharing a look with Pav as Miguel looks at the floor.

“What time is it?” he asks, a question that Miles answers. He closes his eyes for a few seconds. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes.

“I think I saw a new batch of empanadas being put out,” Hobie says looking up.

Miguel looks up at Hobie and nods. “I might go in a bit and check, thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging before he slips his hands into his vest, pink spots appearing randomly in his appearance.

“Where’s everyone else at?” Miguel asks curiously.

“They’re all spread out around HQ. Waiting for Y/N to come back,” Hobie responds.

“I see,” Miguel replies with a nod, thinking about your comment from two nights ago and how true it is.

Not only do you have each other, but the spider gang, too. __☆

“So…” Harry starts, clasping his hands over the table.

“How is work?” you ask, deciding to take control of the conversation.

Harry blinks in surprise, taken a back. He composes himself quickly though. “Good - it’s going good. Busy, which is good. It keeps me occupied,” he says, nodding.

“That’s great to hear,” you reply nodding. “Busy is good. And I’m sure Mr. Osborn is more than happy with that - with him always being so happy to work and staying busy.”

“Oh yeah, he loves it,” Harry says with a smile. “He’s happy having so much to do. I always have to remind him to take a moment, otherwise he’d be running around the building - wanting to be involved in everything. By the way, I told him we ran into each other. He was very happy to hear that you’re doing well.”

You smile warmly at that. Mr. Osborn was always kind with Peter and you, so much that he even offered internships at Osborn Industries at one point. Growing up, you saw him look after Harry like a father should despite being a single working parent. He always made time for every single school function Harry was involved in.

“Well, he’s a working man,” you say. “And I’m touched, thank you. I’m happy to hear he’s doing well, too.”

Harry nods, lifting his glass to take a sip. He sighs and looks at the windows. “This rain. It reminded me of the time Peter…” he trails off, looking back at you.

“You may talk about Peter,” you say. “I’m not going to fall apart listening to a memory about him.”

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like that.”

“I’m just letting you know,” you reply. “Almost five years later, I’m still learning to move forward, but I’ve grieved and healed some. It may not seem like it, but I have. Slowly but surely.”

The reminder of how much time has passed, almost five years in a few months, hits Harry. He stays quiet for several seconds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to - I don’t know what you’ve been through all these years and I didn’t want to potentially upset you by bringing up a memory of him. I’m thankful that you’ve tried to move forward. Peter… Peter would’ve wanted that.”

You nod at Harry’s last statement. You never told Harry about Peter’s last words but he is right. Peter asked you to try and move forward. You sigh. “Thank you for trying to be considerate, but you don’t have to worry about upsetting me. So… what were you going to say?” you ask him, genuinely wanting to know because the truth is, Harry is one of the few people in this universe that can tell you stories about Peter. Everyone in your life as of right now never knew him, so for years, your memories alone are what you’ve held on to.

With a small smile, Harry continues. “I was thinking about this day when we were in college. It was raining so hard when we got out of a lecture but Peter simply pulled his rain jacket’s hood over his head. He didn’t want to wait. When I asked him where he was off to in a hurry, he said home. He told me he’d send me a message later and said bye before he headed into the rain. I remember standing outside under the roof and watching him take off, that Spider-Woman enamel pin on his backpack standing out in the rain. It was later when he told me he went to see you,” Harry says softly.

As Harry shares his memory, you smile, remembering that day. “I remember that day. He was soaked. My parents and I had to find him dry clothes,” you say. “And the Spider-Woman pin,” you pause and chuckle, remembering it now after so long. “He kept it all the way to the end of college. I still have it with his belongings.”

“I swear he was the biggest Spider-Woman fan,” Harry says with a soft chuckle. “Do you remember when…” Harry continues as more memories flood his mind.

The two of you continue to talk about the old days even when your food is brought to the table and thankfully, that’s the topic of discussion until the end. An hour later, and feeling much more at peace, you’re both standing in the first floor’s lobby. The rain hasn’t stopped at all.

“Do you want a ride home?” Harry offers.

“I’m alright, thank you though. I have my umbrella,” you say holding it up.

“Right,” Harry says with a bit of a disappointed look on his face. He clears his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to have lunch with me. I really enjoyed… Talking to you after so long.”

“I did, too,” you say gently, finding it to be true. After so many nerves, you ended up calming thanks to the memories of Peter. You silently thank him and wonder what he thinks of today from wherever he is. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course.” Harry nods. He stares at you for a few seconds, debating. “I was hoping - I want to ask you something,” Harry says. “It may be too much, but I can’t help myself from asking. Talking to you… It felt like the old times when we used to talk. I didn’t realize how much I missed that until today. I was wondering if - if we could meet again. For lunch, or dinner. Or, anything, really.”

You stare up at him, holding your umbrella and your handbag.

“You don’t have to say yes now. Think about it. I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again, but just think about it,” he says with a sad smile before he retrieves his wallet. He pulls out a small piece of paper, a business card, and a pen from his top’s pocket. He scribbles quickly and hands you the business card. “My personal number, outside of work. If you’re open to it, call me whenever you want. I’ll get back to you if I miss your call. Just - think about it, okay?”

Holding the business card now, you glance at it for a few seconds, reading the scribbled phone number. You nod before placing it inside your handbag, unsure about your answer. “Thank you. I’ll - think about it.”

Harry nods. He wasn’t expecting a quick yes. “May I call you a ride, at least?”

“I’m alright, Harry. It’s just a little rain. I’ll be fine, truly. Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Please be careful on your way back,” he says, his eyes taking in the sight of you before you part ways. It might be the last time he sees you, after all.

“Likewise,” you reply. “Stay safe,” you add before you give him a small wave and exit the building, feeling his gaze. __☆

Miguel reads data from a screen. It's the fourth time he's read over a paragraph and the information doesn't stick. He slides the screen away. Maybe he should focus on something else that requires less attention.

“Your roommate is back. She's outside the lab asking if she can come in,” Lyla says popping up next to Miguel.

“She's back? I'm gla - Tell her yes. She can come in,” Miguel replies, his face lighting up.

Lyla nods and disappears. A few seconds later, Miguel can hear your footsteps before you step into view. There you are, already in your suit and with a smile.

“I did say in an hour or so,” you say, approaching his platform.

Miguel chuckles quietly, a soft smile grazing his lips. “You did. Did you - Did you enjoy your lunch?”

Stepping onto the platform, you nod and look at him. When you first joined the Spider Society, you never imagined stepping on Miguel’s platform but it’s no longer a strange feeling. You now know how to operate everything on his platform these days after he taught you and a few other members when he was injured last year during the spring. Sometimes you even use the screens when you wish to see what you’re working on in a larger scale, sharing the platform with Miguel. And it’s why you feel comfortable stepping on it now, even leaning back with Miguel facing you. He leans to the side, watching you tentatively to gauge your reaction, trying to detect any negative emotions in you but your smile is a true one. You seem at peace and that makes Miguel relieved.

“It went well - after a few minutes of awkwardness. I’ll admit, at the beginning I was disappointed when the waiter left too soon after taking our orders.”

Miguel grins in amusement. “That sounds like a rough start.”

You chuckle and make a face at him, a playful one that inspires a short exhale of air from Miguel out of amusement and ternura [fondness, endearment]. “It was, but thankfully, it slowly got better. He brought up a memory of Peter, from our college days, and that was how we were finally able to get past the awkwardness. I think he was nervous, too. From that point on, we talked about other memories. As you said, it was over before I even realized, thankfully.”

“I’m glad to hear that - that you found something that eased your nerves and his,” Miguel replies, feeling glad that you didn’t spend over an hour of discomfort in Osborn’s presence.

You sigh softly, a sign to Miguel that there’s more. He watches you carefully as you glance at a screen.

“He gave me his personal phone number by the end of it - said that he’d like to meet again, if I was open to it.”

Miguel nods, absorbing these news for a few seconds. He’d like to ask what your thoughts are on that but he refrains from doing so. He believes you’ll tell him once you’re ready to share. Right now, he has a feeling you haven’t fully given it thought considering you just came back.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know the answer yet,” you say at last, turning to meet his gaze again.

With a look of understanding, Miguel replies, “You have time to think about it. There’s no rush to make a decision today.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You nod to yourself, thinking. You’ll take a few days to consider it, but in this moment, all you want to do is settle down for the day - have some normalcy. All day, since morning, you’ve felt nervous and now that the lunch is over, you feel as though it has taken a mental toll on you. “Have you seen the others?”

“According to Hobie, they’ve all taken posts around HQ, waiting for you to come back,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“Really?” you ask, your face softening.

“Yeah… Including myself,” Miguel admits quietly, looking away.

You smile, feeling like all the tension from the day is slowly melting away. “I was more than ready to come back,” you admit as well. “You’re all so sweet,” you add, wishing you could lunge yourself at Miguel right now to give him a big hug but alas, Miguel is not there yet. “I really am lucky.”

Miguel’s gaze turns back to you at that, a hint of a smile on his face that grows into his usual smile for you. “We are, too,” he replies softly, sending a warmth through your body with his words.

As you both stand there, you think about how you should go see the rest of the spider gang to let them know that you’re back, but for the second time today, you don’t feel like leaving Miguel’s presence. So, you both stand there in each other’s presence until you both hear thunder.

“I guess we are having thunderstorms,” you say, still leaning back. “But hopefully we’ll be at the penthouse by then.”

“I’m sure we will,” Miguel replies, suddenly wishing that it was later in the day already. “I think - I’m going to leave around the time you usually head out.”

“Yeah? You have something to do?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head but then nods. “Actually, yeah. I was thinking for dinner we could have burritos de tinga, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m always up for burritos de tinga.”

Miguel grins and straightens up, his head tilting to the side. “Really? I had no idea. I thought the reason you smile every time you have them is just coincidence,” he says with a soft smirk now, his voice playful.

You chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ah, I see how it is now. In my defense, it’s not my fault you’re amazing in the kitchen. It’s your fault I love them so much, you know.”

Now Miguel chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. “So now it’s my fault, eh? Very well, I’m guilty then, your honor.”

“Who is guilty?” Peter B. asks.

“And for what crime?” Jess asks.

Miguel and you turn, your eyes finding the spider gang. You straighten up as they all approach the platform.

“We heard you were back,” Pav says looking at you. “From Lyla.”

“I got back about ten minutes ago. It went well,” you reply, adding the last bit to ease any concerns from your friends. “It was just lunch,” you add, glancing at Miguel with a knowing look. He gives you a small smile before everyone surrounds the platform to ask you questions until the conversation turns to other things, like how it’s been raining all day and then to how your school age friends are not in school when they should be only to be told that you didn’t need to worry about that, at which Miguel and you shared another look.

Half an hour later, with everyone still in Miguel’s lab, Mayday swings to you to be held. You hold her, standing near Miguel as everyone else has their own conversation. The two of you watch in silence as your friends talk happily amongst themselves. You smile at the sight, thankful to be surrounded by friends once again.

The sight makes you wonder. Do you have space for one more, an old one, that is?

You fix Mayday’s wristband, the one she wears in order to travel through the multiverse with Peter as you think of Harry. Time will tell, sooner rather later.

“Miggle,” Mayday says looking over at Miguel.

“What did she say?” Peter asks, turning his attention to his daughter.

“Por favor no [please, no],” Miguel mutters next to you.

“Did she say ‘mingle?’” Peter asks coming over to his daughter with a bright smile.

You glance over at Miguel who looks like his face is about to turn into a grumpy one. “She said mingle,” you reply, with a smile to Peter. You hand her back to him.

“Another word! Mingle. Wow, where did she hear that? We haven’t taught her that one yet,” Peter says. “Good job, sweetie. Daddy is proud of you.”

After Peter walks away, still praising Mayday, you turn to Miguel, who is looking more than relieved. He glances at you. “Thank you. I know Peter would start calling me that if he heard it.”

You chuckle. “No worries. I got you cover.”

“Thankfully,” he replies relaxing.

After a few seconds and very quietly so only Miguel will hear, you speak again. “So, we are eating burritos de tinga, right, Miggle?”

“Yes, we are. We have all that we need to mak-” Miguel stops mid-sentence and turns to face you, eyes narrowed. “I see how it is.”

“What?” you ask, shrugging innocently.

“You said the m-word.”

You look away to hide your smile. “The m-word… All I said was your name. Miguel.”

“Yeah, okay, uhuh,” he replies. “Might not make the burritos after all.”

“Wait, no - please?” you say, turning to look at him. “Please, Miguel?” you add, emphasizing his name.

Miguel’s lips quiver as he fights the urge to smile but he gives up and almost rolls his eyes at himself. He’s too easily persuaded by you.

“Fine. Burritos de tinga for dinner,” he says with a smile. “But never call me that again with Peter within earshot, please,” he adds quietly for you to hear only.

You grin. “Alright, alright. I got it. Just don’t threaten my burritos de tinga, please. I can’t wait to get home,” you say happily.

Miguel chuckles, something inside him fluttering when he hears you say you’re ready to go home, to the penthouse. “Honestly, this weather makes me want to be home now. Maybe we can head out earlier…” he says softly as his eyes look around at your friends.

“I’d be down for that,” you reply.

“We’ll do that then, if nothing else comes up.”

To Miguel’s relief, and yours, nothing interferes with your plans. At the penthouse now, Miguel has a pan on the stove in which he’s cooking the tinga. The two of you are sitting side by side with your photo album laid out on the counter so the two of you can look at the photos. You brought it downstairs, wanting to look at more photos since the lunch with Harry unlocked memories you’ve been storing away.

Outside, the rain hasn’t let up and thunder has only increased since earlier when you were both in the lab. Thankfully, you are both at home now, shielded from the rain and in the comfort of the penthouse with Miguel’s record player on and delicious homemade food being cooked.

You lean back on your seat, still looking at the photos. Miguel’s eyes scan each one with close attention. You’re both in lounge clothes now, with plans to relax for the rest of the evening. You wonder if tonight you’ll go separate ways, or if you’ll hang out in the living room. You secretly hope it’s the latter, especially on an evening like this.

“Here we were at the student center,” you say softly as your eyes land on one photo of Peter and you in college. “It was some event for a student organization. I honestly can’t remember what it was called but somehow we got involved.”

Miguel chuckles quietly and nods. “So you joined clubs and organizations in college?”

“Yeah, I tried to,” you answer, remembering that that wasn’t something that came up yesterday when he was asking you questions of those days. “I got into honor ones and others.”

Miguel turns to look at you, a smile on his face. “I’m not surprised.”

Turning to face him, you smile, feeling a little shy. “Yeah, I was in a few.” You shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Hmm.” Miguel turns back to look at the photos. “And look at those cords and medals,” Miguel says, gently tapping on a photo.

You look at the photo. “I earned a few.”

“Just a few, right,” Miguel says rolling his eyes playfully before he stands up. “Let me check on the food real quick.”

He checks the food, making sure it’s not burning and satisfied, he prepares everything to start heating tortillas before he returns to your side.

“Next page,” you say softly in a bit of a sing song voice as you turn the page. The photos on the new pages consist of both Peter and you, either photographed alone or together but one in particular catches Miguel’s eyes.

Peter and you are on a couch, sitting side by side. You’re both smiling but you’re the only one looking at the camera because Peter is looking at you. With his gaze glued to that photo, Miguel thinks about how there’s no doubt that Peter loved you. He can see it in the man’s eyes, the pure love and affection in them. You were the love of his life.

And Miguel knows you reciprocated all that love and affection. Despite the years since Peter’s death, your voice and face says it. You speak of him with love and fondness.

You both loved each other. So much.

Miguel gulps softly as he continues to stare at the photo. “You were so in love,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

You look at Miguel, following his gaze and realize what photo he’s focused on. You smile tenderly and nod. “We were.”

Miguel nods, his eyes still on the picture. “It looks like the kind of love that you only find once,” he comments. “The kind that a lot of people search for their entire lives.”

Still staring at the photo, you process Miguel’s words. You remember what Miguel told you about his wife and marriage a few days ago. You’ve been thinking about it since, how Miguel felt that he was in a loveless marriage, and that both him and his partner had only married to have a sense of family. By his words, Miguel has realized over time that he wasn’t truly in love with his partner. He loved her but not in a romantic way.

You reflect on his statements from just now - about searching for love and not finding it. Is that how he feels now? That he’s searched for it but hasn’t found it? That makes you wonder. Is Miguel still open to it? Or, has that door been shut?

You sigh softly and trace the photo with your fingertips, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve had the privilege of experiencing it - feeling it. To receive and return it,” you start, your gaze on the photo. “It’s truly a beautiful thing. All kind of love is, I believe, and our love, Peter’s and I… It was a beautiful one. I was - I am - fortunate to have experienced that kind of love,” you say, finally looking up at him. “However, I don’t believe that it’s a once in a lifetime thing.”

Miguel’s eyes turn to you, questioning. You shake your head.

“I think there are people who have the privilege of experiencing it twice, sometimes even more.” You give Miguel a soft smile. “That’s the thing about love, at least, that’s how I see it. I’m not a love expert,” you say, shrugging slightly. “But, I think love is so complex it can be found again. Perhaps it’s felt differently considering no relationship is the same but that doesn’t mean it’ll be felt with less intensity and connection - it wouldn’t be any less meaningful. You know - one time I remember reading something about this. It was something along the lines of how one can find the love of their life in one partner, and discover their soulmate in another one. I don’t know,” you say softly. “Maybe that makes no sense but… I think it’s possible. Love is love, as long as you love with your heart.”

Miguel nods slowly, your works sinking in just as a loud rumble of thunder fills the penthouse. It seems that over the last few minutes, the rain has grown stronger, and thunder and lightning have become more frequent. “You have a much positive perspective on it than most people do.”

You offer Miguel a small smile. “Maybe I’m naive, and there will be people who disagree, but that’s what I think. Especially, if you’re open to love again.”

Miguel nods, still staring at you as a question comes to mind. “And are… you?” He’s wondered this before - whether you’ve ever even considered the idea of a relationship after Peter, at least one in the future.

You hold his gaze and smile, another loud rumble filling the silence before you reply. “… I am. Just not now. I think I’ve been open to it for a while, the idea of it. One day, maybe. And that’s if I find someone that - you know.”

Miguel nods in understanding. He looks down at the album again. “Maybe one day,” he repeats, now staring at a photo of you alone, smiling at the camera. He silently wonders if Peter was the one who took the photo before he clears his throat, the penthouse’s lights flickering. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts,” he says sitting still for a few seconds before he stands up, remembering to check on the food. “It’s ready, how many burritos do you want?” he asks softly as he retrieves plates, thoughts of your reply in his mind.

You politely tell Miguel how many you’d like and while he prepares the burritos, you gather everything else that’s needed from glasses to napkins. All the while, the sound of rain against the windows grows. You notice the lights flicker a bit more but neither Miguel nor you think much of it, or at least, neither of you say anything about it. You put away your photo album, somewhere where you’ll see it and remember to take back upstairs to your room later on.

“Your burritos are ready,” Miguel says as you look out a window from a distance, watching as lightning scatters around the sky in bright flashes.

“Thank you,” you say turning back to the kitchen again, ready to serve drinks for both Miguel and you just as Miguel heads over to the counter, one plate in each hand.

Miguel has barely placed the plates down when the lights flicker again. You finish pouring the drinks, glancing up for a second.

“At least we still have-” you start.

“Power,” Miguel finishes your sentence, nodding.

Except, the lights flicker once again and this time, the penthouse goes dark. The music from the record player has cut off, so now it’s just the sound of the thunderstorm filling the air. After what feels like ten seconds, Miguel and you chuckle.

“We spoke too soon,” Miguel says, shaking his head in amusement. “Let me go and retrieve some flashlights. It usually doesn’t take long for it to be restored but we can’t have dinner in the darkness.”

“I have some candles upstairs,” you offer. “I’ll get those.”

“Okay, let me just - cover the food so it doesn’t get cold,” Miguel replies before the two of you head off in different directions to get what you need.

You come back downstairs with the candles and quickly light them up to get some lighting. You set them around the kitchen and dining room area, making sure to place each one in a safe area. As you place the last one, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, catching your attention. He steps back into the space, holding three flashlights, and looking around, he realizes your candles are more than sufficient for dinner. Either way, he places them on the counter to the side.

“The candles light up the place pretty well, what do you think?” you ask, meeting Miguel back at the countertop.

“I was just thinking that. No need for flashlights. I’ll leave them here either way, just in case you need one. Feel free to grab whichever. They all have new batteries,” Miguel says, tapping the flashlights before he gestures to your chair. “Come on, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

With a smile, you nod and quickly reach his side before taking a seat. You both begin to eat your food, at last, over candlelight and thunderstorm sounds.

“Oh, yeah, I found this,” Miguel says as he reaches into his pocket. He places a device on the countertop between you and then a few rectangular pieces.

Cassette tapes.

“No way, cassette tapes?” you ask with excitement, which Miguel immediately detects.

“Yes. They became trendy a few years ago - back when Gabriel was still alive, actually - so, many years now. Gabriel is actually the owner of this one. Some of these tapes are his, and some are mine. I saw them once I got the flashlights and figured, why not, since we can’t use the record player right now. I hope it works though, I haven’t tried it.”

“I hope so, I’d love to hear your music taste from back then. And Gabriel’s, too,” you say with a grin.

“Well, I hope you’re not disappointed. I don’t remember a thing from these things,” Miguel says, nervous that the music might not be to your taste, or his at this point in his life. He sets the device up and to his surprise, it works. “This one is one of Gabriel’s tapes. Let’s see what the vibe was for it since he never labeled them,” Miguel says shaking his head in sibling disapproval.

You take a bite from your food as you wait for the music to start and seconds later it does.

“It worked,” you say.

“I’m surprised it did. It hasn’t been used in forever.”

You chuckle and lean back as the music continues. “This is nice. I like the vibes,” you say. “Seems like Gabriel had good taste in music.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, glancing over and noticing the way the candles lit up your face in a gentle manner. “You’ve only heard half of this song. You should wait before you make a decision because sometimes he’d play music that wasn’t pleasant to the ears.”

You laugh softly. “Really now? And what did he think about yours?”

“Probably the same thing,” Miguel replies with a grin before he takes a bite from his food.

You laugh again before you continue to eat, listening to the music and talking with Miguel, enjoying the conversation. You thank him for dinner once you’re both done and together, you clean up by candlelight.

You’re happy when you both head to the living room afterwards, neither of you wanting to part ways tonight. The cassette player comes along with you, which Miguel places on the coffee table before he settles on the couch, opposite of you. The candles, which you both moved to the living room, now light up the space as there’s still no power over an hour later, but neither of you seem to mind. If anything, you’re both enjoying the randomness of this moment.

You pull your blanket over your lap and grab your book, one you left a few days ago on the coffee table, next to Miguel’s. You’ve noticed that he’s been reading lately, a hobby he mentioned a while back but one he hasn’t made the time for, especially because it reminded him of Gaby. You wonder if seeing you reading has inspired him to start again. Either way, seeing Miguel reading anything other than reports and data makes you happy, especially because he’s reading one of the books you gifted him for Christmas.

As you get settled to start reading, Miguel picks up his, joining you in reading while soft music plays in the background despite the thunderstorm going strong.

You both read for what feels like an hour, at times stealing glances at each other from across the coffee table, until Miguel closes his book and places it back. He stretches his legs and glances at you just as you flip a page, finishing a chapter. You look up at him and give him a small smile.

“Tired of reading?”

“Kind of. My eyes are, at least,” he replies before he rubs them, a sight that you find endearing. He lowers his hands and glances at you. “What about you?”

You tilt your head to the side. “I think I’m done reading for tonight, too.” You repeat Miguel’s actions, closing and putting away your book, next to his again - spine to spine. “It’s still early,” you comment.

“It is,” he responds, looking around, thinking.

You look around yourself, spotting your tablet on the coffee table. “Do you want to look at new ideas I have for the penthouse? I found a few ideas you might like.” You look up at Miguel, waiting for his reply. “Unless, you want to do something else, then I can show them to you later.”

“No, no, let’s - look at them now. Please,” Miguel replies, looking at you. “I’d like to see what you found.”

You grin and prepare yourself to stand up.

“I’ll go to you,” Miguel says, making you stop before you even really began moving. He’s up and in front of you in the blink of an eye, taking a seat on the ground near you. He grabs the tablet and hands it to you before he pushes the coffee table away so he can stretch his long legs comfortably.

You feel a little in awe with how fast he moved but shake it off. You get off the couch and sit next to him on the ground, pulling your blanket along with you, which unintentionally ends up covering part of Miguel’s lap. Finally settled, you pull up saved photos and begin to show them to Miguel, who gives you his full attention. He nods and hums in approval, telling you when he really likes something. You feel a sense of satisfaction when you’re done showing him everything you saved because not once did he show disapproval.

“I like all of those ideas. Do you think we can work on it this weekend?” Miguel asks.

“Definitely. I’m up for it, if you are.”

“I’m up for it,” Miguel replies, still sitting next to you. He smiles softly as you scroll through other saved pictures. “You seem to have more ideas.”

“These are not that great,” you say, making a face of disapproval. “I found better ones later on.”

Miguel hums in response, still smiling. He watches as you make a movement in your tablet, moving pictures around. Despite being done with the photos, both of you remain in place, not moving. After a few minutes, you suggest finishing flipping through the photo album from earlier, something Miguel says yes to.

So, you find yourselves, once again, looking over your photo album. You flip through each page, telling Miguel the stories connected to the photos.

And Miguel? Miguel listens to every word you say, his gaze shifting between you as you talk and the photos.

Before either of you realize it, you close the photo album. “That’s it for this one. I have more, maybe I can show them to you later,” you say.

“I’d like that,” Miguel responds as he watches you place the album on the coffee table before you lean back on the couch, still sitting on the ground with Miguel. You sigh softly. “You tired?” he asks you softly, wondering if the day’s exhaustion has finally caught up with you.

“Nope,” you reply with a smile. “If anything, this weather and the music makes me want to stay up and simply enjoy the evening for a little longer, especially… In the presence of great company.”

That makes Miguel smile. “We can do that.”

You nod, getting more comfortable. You glance at the flickering candles, thinking about what a lovely evening this has been despite having no power and the day’s events. Miguel and you are simply enjoying each other’s presence over his brother’s music in the dim lit living room while it rains. There’s something about it - it’s so homey.

You slide lower, resting your head on the couch’s cushion.

“Do you want to lie down?”

You glance at Miguel. “Hmm, I might. I think - I think I’m going to stay up for a while longer. You?”

“… Same. If you’ll have me,” he says, which causes you to smile.

“It’s your living room.”

“And? It’s your living room, too.”

You look away at that, your cheeks suddenly feeling warm.

“It’s the truth,” Miguel says quietly. “You’re living here, for now, so… I said it before. My home is your home.”

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“Always.”

A few seconds of silence later, you lay down and stare up at the ceiling. “This is kind of a moment - a vibe.”

“Is it?” Miguel replies, glancing down at you for a second. He reaches behind him and pulls something. “Lift your head,” he says and once you do, you feel him slide one of the decorative pillows under your head.

You thank Miguel for the kind gesture, unable to stop yourself from smiling about it. You lay there for several minutes, Miguel sitting at your side until he eventually lays down, too.

You both listen as a new song starts to play. It’s the kind that’s perfect for a rainy evening such as this one - soft and slow, and yet sweet and groovy.

“I wanna plant you in my heart, oh, so love can grow…”

Miguel lays there, listening to the song. Gabriel always found gems when it came to music, Miguel will give him that. He continues to listen to the song but his mind shifts to other topics without wanting to, such as his comment from a few minutes ago.

“You’re living here, for now, so… I said it before. My home is your home.”

For now. You’re living here for now.

Once again, Miguel thinks about how great it’s been to have you here, staying with him. He doesn’t want to think about the day you return to your universe. He’s tried to avoid thinking about it and for the most part, it has worked. Until now.

“May I tell you something?” Miguel asks as you both lay on the ground.

“Of course.”

“I’ve been thinking about your apartment - when construction is completed and it’s livable again.”

You glance at him but Miguel is staring right at the ceiling, unable to meet your gaze.

“You have…?” you ask gently, wondering where Miguel is going with this.

“Yes… I’ve been thinking about it. Is it crazy that I,” Miguel pauses, wondering if he should really say what’s on his mind but ultimately, he says it. “I’m going to - miss you,” he says at last with a sigh. A few seconds later, Miguel turns his head to face you, his red eyes find yours. And like always, there’s no judgement from you. Instead, Miguel finds a smile.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you say softly, your heart swelling with pride, affection, and love for Miguel because you know sometimes it’s hard for him to share his feelings and thoughts and yet, he’s done it tonight.

Miguel’s eyes widen a little at your words, as if there was doubt in his mind that you would miss him, too.

“A lot, actually,” you say, looking away now.

Miguel’s lips twitch upwards into a small smile. “You are?”

You glance back at him, finding his smile. It brings one to your face, too, because Miguel seems genuinely happy to hear your words. “Yeah,” you reply. “You seem happy.”

“I’m just glad I’m not the only one feeling like that,” he confesses, still smiling.

“You are not. I… I’ve actually thought about how quickly I got used to living with someone again - with you.”

“Me, too,” Miguel says before he rolls on his side, supporting his head with his hand, staring at you. “I think we’re… We’ve been great roommates.”

That statement makes you smile a little more. You nod before you copy Miguel’s position, so that you’re both facing each other now. “I think so, too.”

Miguel gives you a little grin, satisfied to hear that you agree, but a part of him still feels untranquil. You’ll be leaving at one point, even though you’ve both enjoyed this temporary arrangement, that is a given and you both know that. Unless…

Miguel and you look away from each other as a similar thought crosses your minds, one that neither of you dare say out loud.

It’s crazy to think about a long-term possibility, right?

You sigh softly after several minutes of silence, thinking about something else to avoid other thoughts.

“You know, you asked me a lot of questions about college. I feel as though I don’t know the same about you. Yet.”

“Yet,” Miguel says with a small grin, his thoughts scattered. “What do you want to know?”

“Well…” you start with the first question and as always, Miguel listens intently. He answers your questions and satisfies your curiosity like you satisfied his the day before. Each time you ask something different - something he didn’t think about asking already - he returns the question, wanting to learn even more about you.

All the while, there’s a bright look on Miguel’s face as your conversation continues. His eyes light up as he hears your questions and genuine interest in his life before you ever crossed paths.

There’s a happiness in them, one that has grown over time with and because of you, replacing a sadness that had settled in those beautiful autumn eyes for so long.

At some point, without realizing it, Miguel stopped being el muchacho de los ojos tristes, the young man with sad eyes.

And at some point, you started to find safety in those maroon eyes - the same ones you gaze into while falling asleep on the living room floor, but before fully succumbing to your exhaustion, you offer something to Miguel. It’s what you’ve both wanted since you repeated “Always” to each other on your bedroom floor two nights ago. It’s what both your bodies longed for earlier today, before you went out for lunch with Harry.

A heartbeat later, your pinky finger is gently held by Miguel’s and just like that, his warmth, presence, and scent lull you to sleep while those warm eyes guard your sleep.

Translations:café de olla - coffee made in a pot pan dulce - Mexican bread polvorón - description provided in text; for my friend @faretheeoscar !! telenovela - Latin soap opera Mira - look agua de horchata - rice water agua de Jamaica - hibiscus water Uno nunca sabe - one never knows Ya - used in place of "ok" Tío - uncle ternura - endearment; fondness burritos de tinga - I feel like you know this by now. I had some Wednesday and they were bomb despite not being made by Miguel *sigh* Por favor no - please, no el muchacho de los ojos tristes - the young man with the sad eyes; brb gonna go cry from HQ's rooftop now that Miguel showed us the secret window

A/N: I'm gonna make this quick since at this point you've read like three or four chapters from an actual book! 🫣 Some of you may have seen a post I made last Sunday but just in case you haven't: I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. Last month was a bit off for me and I didn't feel like writing. It might sound silly but I feel like I get seasonal depression but for spring. 😂😭 I'm a fall and winter gal, so I always feel down around this time for some reason. I also had other life things going on, so I hardly got on here or other social media. Anyway, I'm better now :) I hope you guys enjoyed this update! Thank you for being so patient with me and for supporting this fic. I say it again and again, so much I probably sound like a broken record, but it truly means so much to me!! I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and please stay safe ❤️

-Alondra

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