her scent -+- miguel ohara -+- ~~~~Complete

21🕸️Moonlit Tides🕸️

It had been a few weeks since the chaos of their last mission, since that night of crimson bites and whispered confessions in dimly lit rooms. Since Callisto had told him she wasn't leaving — and meant it.

The base had settled into a strange, tentative calm. Missions still came and went. Canon events were monitored. But Miguel wasn't the same. And neither was she.

They hadn't exactly made an announcement. Hell, they barely even acknowledged it themselves out loud. It wasn't the kind of thing either of them were good at. But somehow, the lines had blurred, hardened walls softened, and more often than not now, they ended their days tangled in each other's orbit.

Which brought them to tonight.

The lake outside HQ was quiet — far enough from the base that it felt like another world entirely. Fireflies blinked lazily over the water, and the stars were so clear you could trace entire stories between them.

Callisto sat at the edge of the old wooden dock, toes brushing the water's cool surface. She wore one of Miguel's shirts — a soft, dark thing with fraying sleeves — and her hair was loose, tumbling around her shoulders like a midnight wave.

Miguel joined her a moment later, dropping down beside her with a low grunt, a bottle of something dark and stolen from HQ's stash in one hand. He offered it to her wordlessly.

She took a sip. "Sweet. Who knew you had a soft spot."

"Don't spread it around, mi vida. I've got a reputation to uphold."

She smiled at that — one of the rare, real ones that didn't carry any of her usual guarded edges.

For a long time, they just sat there, the hush of the water and the distant hum of crickets wrapping around them.

"I ever tell you you ruin me?" Miguel's voice was low, almost too quiet to catch.

Callisto's brow arched. "I'm sorry — you wanna run that by me again, Spider-Man Supremo?"

He huffed a laugh, leaning back on his elbows. "Not canon. None of this was supposed to happen. I fought it. Denied it. Told myself you were a mistake. That you broke something important."

She stiffened slightly at that — the old reflex — but then his hand caught hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"But turns out..." he looked up at her, a crooked, tired, so in love it almost hurt him kind of smile on his lips, "...it was just me. You didn't break Canon. You broke me. And I think I wanted you to."

A sharp breath hitched in her throat, the weight of those words settling somewhere deep in her chest. It was messy, twisted, bittersweet — and it was them.

She swallowed, fingers tightening around his. "I'm not going anywhere, Miguel."

"I know," he murmured.

And then — because there was no one else here to see, no rules, no orders, no one left to pretend for — he kissed her. Slow. Unhurried. A claim and a question and a promise all tangled together.

Neither of them noticed the rustling in the trees a little ways back.

"Are they—?" Gwen's voice whispered in shock.

"No way. No f*cking way," Miles hissed, crouched awkwardly behind a bush, his wide eyes fixed on the scene.

Jessica crossed her arms, smirking. "Called it."

Hobie grinned lazily. "Knew it'd happen. Didn't bet on it takin' this long though."

The others stared as Miguel's hand tangled in Callisto's hair, pulling her impossibly closer, the kiss deepening with the kind of hunger that spoke of weeks of unresolved tension and quiet ache.

Callisto pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips, "You know they're watching us, right?"

"Let them," Miguel growled, catching her mouth again like a man starved.

Jessica finally cleared her throat, stepping out into the open. "Alright, lovebirds. Hate to break it to you, but you're terrible at being subtle."

Miguel groaned against Callisto's neck while she just snorted, not bothering to move from his lap.

"Busted," Gwen teased, grinning wide.

"Bout damn time," Hobie added.

Miles looked mildly traumatized, which only made Callisto grin wider.

Miguel sighed, pulling her tighter against him. "Not apologizing."

"You better not," Callisto shot back, twining her fingers with his.

The team gathered around — teasing, smirking, and throwing the occasional fake gag — but it was all warmth. No one here cared about protocols or rules. Not tonight.

The moon hung high above them, silver and endless, reflecting in the water like a blessing.

Callisto leaned into Miguel's side, her voice soft enough that only he heard it. "We made it, huh?"

His hand found the back of her neck, thumb stroking a familiar, claiming pattern. "Yeah, mi vida. We did."

And as the others laughed and fireflies danced across the water, the two of them stayed there — broken things, healed in their own way, in their own time — beneath a moon that had always watched over them.

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