Weeks had flown by since the incident in Miguel's office and Vanessa had been trying her best to keep out of his way, wary of the man's ever changing emotions and impossible temper. During missions she acted cold, taking a harsh tone whenever she was required to communicate with him.
Though, she knew he could feel the discomfort radiating off of her whenever he was near, seeing the slight twitch in his features when he noticed it. She could feel his frustration and annoyance building because of it and knew it was only a matter of time before it boiled over. Missions together were becoming harder to bear and Vanessa had been spending as much time away from HQ as possible whenever she knew he was there, she'd begun to think that maybe coming back wasn't quite the right thing to do.
She'd been trying desperately to do something, anything to take her mind of the situation she'd found herself in. And it was growing to a point that Vanessa as injuring herself in the process, praying Miguel or any other spider-person for that matter would find out.
Though, unbeknownst to her, she did nothing without Miguel's knowledge.
Currently Vanessa found herself in the gym, daylight long gone as the sounds of her punches rang through the room. Music played through her headphones as she pummelled the bag in front of her, subconsciously going along to the beats as beads of sweat collected across her skin.
It was late. The halls of the facility were silent as most if not all spider-people were trying to rest, going home to their own universe while others remained within the handful of apartments within the facility. If not for the isolation around her Vanessa may have found someone to spar with, allowing her to improve upon her fighting in ways she couldn't alone. After all, you can hit a punching bag as much as you want but it's never going to fight back.
Taking a breather she pulled the headphones from her head and dropped them softly onto her gym bag. Grabbing a towel from the bench beside it she wiped some of the sweat from her skin.
"You know you're just gonna hurt yourself doing this every night."
She jumped at the sudden intrusion onto her peace, her head snapping in the direction it echoed from. Her wide eyes met with his deep gaze briefly before she began scanning his looming figure. He held his hands behind his back, his shoulders looking impossibly broad as he did. For once he wasn't wearing his suit. Instead a pair of grey sweatpants hung from his hips as a white t-shirt clung to his torso, the fabric giving away the definition and cut of his abs.
"What're you doing here?" She asked, her voice coming out breathier than intended.
Miguel's hands moved from behind his back as he took a few steps toward her, his eyes tracing her body as he did so. "Was just coming to get a last minute hit."
She eyed him carefully as she took a swig from her water bottle. "At this time of night?"
"Ironic."
"How so"
He gestured to the punching bag that was still swinging slightly back and fourth. "You've been giving that one hell of a beating Torres." She cringed slightly at the sound of her surname on his tongue. Though before she could snap back with some snarky response he was already too close. She could smell the faint reminiscence of his cologne mixed with his body wash. "You haven't been wrapping your hands properly," he remarked. She quickly looked down at them. The white cloth that covered her skin had begun to collect the blood that now ran down her knuckles.
"I was nearly finished anyway." She shook him off, her voice sounding cool and collected while her throat tightened as she picked up her gym bag deciding to leave the shower until she got home. She didn't want to spend another second she didn't have to in his presence. "Enjoy your workout."
"Wait," he said. His fingers ghosted the skin of her wrist as she passed him. Her body grew rigid, the tension she'd lost bundling back up within her shoulders as the touch registered in her mind. She glanced back over to him and raised an eyebrow, refusing to let him know how he affected her despite knowing he could most likely smell it on her. "You're clearly not finished, and that punching bag isn't doing you any favours." He gestured to the red splotches that now stained the cloth around her knuckles. "Let me treat it and we can train, together."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow, turning to fully face him now. "Why would I let you do that." She watched his expression, watched how to muscles in his face twitched.
"Because it'll benefit both of us. Isn't that how a team works?" He questioned as his eyebrows knit together. He couldn't read her. Her expression was cold, her tone icy as he looked up at him. He truly would've been more affected by it if the dots of blood that stained her cloth weren't growing by the second. He couldn't help but feel guilty, like it was his fault she'd been training so hard.
She looked him up and down before letting out a sigh. "I guess it couldn't hurt for you to look at it," she muttered moving to unveil her injury.
Miguel was fast. Before she knew it his hand was on hers, the warmth radiating off of him causing a shiver to run across her skin. He looked up at her, silently waiting for a sign that he could continue before he began slowly removing the fabric. "Siéntate, por favor," he murmured, gently nudging her over toward the bench beside them. Silently she obeyed and she watched as he knelt down in front of her, his gaze locked onto her injury.
Vanessa hissed slightly as the fabric pulled on her skin. His eyes immediately snapped up to meet hers as his hands froze. "¿Estás bien?" His voice was soft, the warmth she'd once relished in lingering beneath it as his eyes searched hers. She nodded slowly, staring down with tired eyes. "Good."
Without another word he continued his work, examining her wounds, cleaning them with a first aid kit she was convinced he'd pulled from thin air before applying several small little plasters that covered each and every knuckle.
What she didn't know was that he'd bitten back the urge to press a kiss to each wound after he'd applied them.
"You shouldn't do this so often Vanessa," he said remaining knelt before her. "It'll just keep reopening cuts over and over until they're infected." She didn't reply, silently looking down at him as he spoke. "I'll postpone our training. Let you heal properly this time."
Vanessa nodded, her eyes unblinking as she stared until she noticed his frame leaning further foreword, feeling his hot breath graze her cheeks. Suddenly, as if breaking from a trance, she blinked twice, eyes darting away from his as she reached for her gym bag.
"Thank you Miguel," she said moving to stand. "See you round." Before he could respond to her thanks she was gone, leaving him knelt on the ground as he gazed after her.
He swore beneath his breath as he dropped his head between his shoulders. Miguel could sense the discomfort that stretched the muscles within her, keeping them taught whenever he spent a beat too long in her presence. He knew she'd heard that dreaded recording, he saw it written across her face, heard it beneath her tone and smelt it in the air around her.
It was an even harsher reminder of the consequences that he lived with. It pained him so much more than the cold tone and sarcastic quips he'd been learning to live with over the past months. He'd take that relationship with her over the fear and panic that coursed through her veins and arteries whenever he approached.
"¿Qué puedo hacer?" He groaned wiping his hand down his face.
"Yanno I think I've told you over a hundred times what you can do."
He glared down at Lyla's projection beside him. "You think I haven't thought of that?"
She shrugged. "Well you still haven't done it so," she trailed off looking at him over the top of her glasses. "Hurry it along."
"I can't Lyla," he growled rising from his knees. "I can't do that to her. It's not fair."
Miguel moved over to the punching back Vanessa had previously pummelled. He noticed small spots of dried blood littering the fabric and a long breath left his nose. "I don't want to back her into a corner."
"You sure? Cause, you know you talk in you're sleep very frequently right?"
He growled in response, hands curling at his sides. "Drop it."
"Whatever you say Mig," she hummed.
Vanessa hummed softly as she allowed the hot water to wash over her bare skin. Her muscles melted beneath its warmth as she pushed her hair from her face, closing her eyes and relishing in the peace the water provided. Her mind spun as she reflected back on the interaction that occurred a mere half hour before.
She smiled slightly looking down at her hands, at the plasters that covered her knuckles. The both of them knew she didn't quite need them. Her spider bite made sure of that. In fact she was sure that if she peeled the covering back the cuts would have healed into nothing but a little red splotch on her skin. Though for some reason she felt she should keep them there, just for a little while at least.
As she reached for her shampoo her nostrils reminisced on the husky scent of Miguel's body wash. She paused for a beat, fingers curling around the cap as she thought. "Who in their right mind has a shower before going to workout?" Her brows furrowed before her mind quickly released the thought. Setting the bottle back down Vanessa lathered her hair in honey scented shampoo, breathing deeply and smiling and the smell.
She didn't wish to dwell on the absurdity of his visit, nor on the way his clothes clung to his body. Though her mind never seemed to remain on her side, straying into unwanted territory regularly as she again let the water rush across her scalp. She didn't want to think of Miguel under any sort of light though her brain enjoyed going against her will. She couldn't help but bite her lip thinking of the way his shirt exposed his chiseled physique in a way his suit never did. There was something so domestic about the way he looked that made her almost forget about all the pain and suffering he'd put her through.
Almost.
Her brain quickly diverted to a more angsty train of thought as she raked conditioner through the ends of her hair. She pondered that night in his office, her mind whirling to come up with a reason for him to keep a copy of her heartbreak, let alone to watch it back. Why would you watch something so agonising. Did he enjoy seeing her like that? Did he get satisfaction replaying the moment her heart finally stopped beating for him? Did he get some sadistic pleasure out of witnessing it on repeat?
No. He couldn't. She was so sure that she'd seen a tiny shred of evidence. Evident that led her to believe that he didn't keep it out of malice, that maybe seeing it caused him heartbreak too. But then why would someone force themselves to witness something so devastating repeatedly over a year after it happened?
"Tal vez esté loco," she murmured to herself after washing the soap from her face. "That sounds more plausible. Or maybe he's just pissed that I'm pissed and so he has to remind himself why I'm so pissed?"
She shook her head, huffing at her jumbled train of thought. "Or maybe I'm the one who's insane."
With a yawn she turned off the water, pulling back her shower curtain and stepping out and hoping to leave the wandering thoughts in the shower behind her.