"I can't keep taking time off work," I reason to Miguel after he asks me to take another sick day. "I'll get in trouble, and Jameson doesn't like slackers."
I catch the way he watches me from the bathroom door as I brush my hair. I huff in amusement at the reflection of his expression in the mirror and shake my head.
"The puppy dog eyes don't work on me, either," I say with a look over my shoulder. "Rosita's given me enough exposure therapy on that one."
Miguel drops his pout with a disappointed tsk. Not even a second later, he brightens with an idea. "Lyla."
Lyla pops up, disgruntled and yawning. She glitches through a morning stretch. "What's up, guys?"
Miguel narrows his eyes at me, challenging. "Give the puppy dog eyes to Y/n."
Lyla pulls a face. "What? Gross. Why?"
"It won't work," I remind. I slip past him and go to enter my room, where I set on finding myself an outfit for the work day ahead. Miguel and Lyla follow.
"I'm a Lyrate Lifeform Approximation, Miguel, AI - emphasis on the I," Lyla complains with her hands on her hips. "I'm not some over-the-top animated emoji."
Miguel groans. "Fine, then just- let's show her the Gizmo."
Lyla floats on her back and frowns. "What's a Gizmo?"
"The Gizmo- y'know, the Gizmo. The watch-thing. You named it!"
Lyla drifts past his face and crosses one leg over the other. "I dunno what you're talking about."
"Lyla." He snatches at her through the air. Her image glitches and restores itself, and she pats her hand in front of her mouth in a dramatic yawn. "You're the worst AI I've ever created."
"Thank you," she says smoothly. I close my cupboard and push Miguel out of the room so I can change. Lyla pops up next to me. "Oh, hey, Y/n, wanna check out my Gizmo today?"
Miguel makes a sound of frustration.
"No," I say, then give one last push to Miguel so he's past my bedroom's threshold. "Out."
Lyla pouts. "Party pooper."
I shut my door on them. Through the wall Miguel continues to complain to Lyla, who brushes off his words with nonchalance. Their voices fade as they head downstairs.
I press my forehead to the door and smile. I can't deny that this Miguel is growing on me, and a comfortable routine is beginning to emerge. Rosalina is happy. And I'm...
I'm getting there, I think.
He still sleeps on the couch. Maybe I should invest in a pull-out bed. Maybe we should convert the never-used study into his room. It doesn't seem like he's going to be leaving anytime soon, and it- it kind of makes me glad.
But my smile slowly falls, and I realise I'm alone once more in a room that used to hold two people. My Miguel smiles from a framed photo on the wall - a decade before, when he graduated with his PhD. Rosalina's only a baby, cradled in his arm. A hollowness returns to my chest.
"Forgive me, Mig," I sigh.
••🕷️••
"I've never been in here before," I admit, watching as Miguel turns the handle to the home office.
He'd managed to convince me to stay home - I succumbed after he annoyed me about it for an hour straight and threatened not to stop, so I relented and we returned home after dropping Rosa off at school.
Miguel sends me a smile like we're sharing a secret and opens the door.
"Oh," I say. "Oh. There is an entire lab in my home."
Miguel chuckles and leads me inside the small, decked-out lab. It's pristine but cluttered, with shelves full of containers with miscellaneous contents and a large microscope, a centrifuge, and - classic - a fridge full of serums and whiskey.
On the left wall is a large corkboard plastered with photos and gathered information about Spider-Man's enemies. On the right wall is a row of hero suits in protective glass tubes.
"Wow," I say shortly. Was I ever going to find out about this? My guess is no. Mig went this long without me finding out, after all.
Miguel takes a seat on the only chair in the lab. This place was clearly only ever intended for a single person. He crosses his ankles and watches as I slowly explore this unfamiliar section of my own house.
"The tech from this dimension is a little primitive compared to the stuff I'm used to, but it mostly works," Miguel adds when I wander up to the microscope. "I've had to bring over some of my own equipment from my lab to replicate my serums here."
I side-eye him. Primitive? This is probably the same shit SANA has, and he thinks it's primitive?
Ignoring that, I peer into the eyepiece of the microscope. I blink in surprise when something greets me - tiny, eight-legged robots scurrying about green liquid upon the specimen stage. My mouth opens in surprise.
"Is this your serum?" I ask.
"Yep."
"Did you seriously design your nanobots to look like spiders?" I ask monotonously.
"I have a brand to keep."
I step away from the microscope and send him a dry look. He smiles back, unashamed in the teasing he knows that will follow.
Miguel hops up from his chair and plants his hand on the small of my back, sending an unignorable, warm tingle up my spine and blossoming across the base of my neck. He leads me to the opposite bench.
"But this is what I want to show you," Miguel says, oblivious to the way my entire sense of self has just frozen in horror at my reaction to his touch. He picks up a watch similar to his own and proudly shows it to me. "This is a Gizmo."
I manage to regain myself enough to smile. "A Gizmo."
"Not the best name, I know. Lyla came up with it," he defends. He holds out his palm. "Give me your wrist."
I glance unsurely between his face and his hand, before finally placing my arm in his grip. He presses a hidden button on the Gizmo and it breaks apart, hovering in three different segments, before snapping back together around my wrist with a snip of skin.
"Ow."
"Sorry." Miguel offers me a half-smile. "It's got a pinch. Ready for your tour?"
I look up at him. "Right now?"
Miguel nods. "We'll just start with my home, Earth-928. Besides, I've got someone I want you to meet."
My brows scrunch together. "Ominous," I comment.
He huffs and gestures to the tiny yellow screen on the face of the Gizmo. He shows me what buttons to press to open a dimensional portal, and when I type them in, sure enough, a hexagonal, red split between earth and space time opens right inside the very lab I didn't know my home had.
Miguel salutes me as he steps backwards into the portal and disappears.
I stare at the glitching atrocity of light and colour and hesitate. Is this really a good idea? I can only picture Miguel expecting more and more of me after this - he's attached, which isn't a bad thing. I'm inevitably attached, too, as I would be to any version of the man I married. Going to see his home dimension is a big step in any kind of relationship. It's a milestone.
I just hope he doesn't expect from me what his Y/n gave him.
"I guess we'll have to find out," I mutter, and step through the portal.
It's like walking through a sheer curtain made of static, sending buzzing all over my skin. My eyes close at the bright assault of light and my stomach feels like I just did a drop in a roller coaster. My feet don't touch the floor. There is no floor, and I'm thrown.
I stumble right into Miguel's arms. Blinking wildly, I squint against the pristine light of 928's Neuva York. There is no smog here to dampen the bright rays of the mid-morning sun.
"Welcome to Earth-928," Lyla's voice greets. "Properly, this time."
I lift my head and feel myself grow stunned once again. I forgot how the city is entirely tall, white, clean. The buildings just keep going up and up, as if challenging each other to reach for the stratosphere. The train to the moon still shocks me. I've never seen such blue in a sky before.
"Steady on your feet?"
Miguel's question makes my focus slam right back into me, and I realise I'm still leaning all of my weight into his chest. I pull myself away and stumble backwards. Lyla hovers atop his shoulder, sitting like a little angel - though the smug look on her face makes her resemble that more of a devil.
I turn my face to the city so Miguel doesn't notice how flustered I am by our prior proximity. My skin still burns.
He probably already knows, anyway.
"Yeah." I clear my throat and look around. We're back on the same balcony overlooking the city that Miguel took me to the first time I dimensionally travelled. "Where are we? Specifically?"
"My place," Miguel answers.
My eyes jump to him, before turning to look through the balcony's windows in interest. The inside, from what I can see, is just like the rest of the city; pristine, clean, neat, orderly. My intense curiosity to explore his place has a foot stepping forward.
Miguel hums in amusement. "You want a tour?"
I try to reel my intrigue back into something a little more nonchalant. "If you're offering."
He smiles at me, eyes lidded and head tilted. I turn away, but not before my cheeks begin to pinch with heat. Lyla notices first; she snickers and disappears, the sound of her laughter lingering. The balcony's doors slide open automatically for us to enter.
Hastily, as if time is of the essence (and absolutely not because I'm fleeing), I walk inside.
It's a penthouse. Miguel has a penthouse, and the living room is larger than the entire bottom story of my brownstone. A sunken floor holds long, cream-coloured couches that sit before a paper-thin TV that's as wide as a small theatre's cinema screen. The kitchen is all white marble and stainless steel, and an inside hot tub sits bubbling, overlooking the view of the city.
A spiral staircase leads upstairs, where I'm sure his bedroom is just as clean and ultra-modern and ostentatious.
My jaw is on the floor. Then I begin to cry with laughter. Miguel smiles bashfully.
"It is a bit much," he confesses. "But it has the best security the city can offer."
I wave my hands. "That's not it-" I break to laugh again. "This is such a bachelor's pad!"
Miguel blinks, lost. "Bachelor's pad?"
I circle the room again, shaking my head in amusement. "You know, a bachelor's pad! Where the eligible rich man takes all of the women he seduces for a steamy night." I snort again. "Dr. Miguel O'Hara, millionaire playboy."
Miguel looks even more confused. "I'm not a playboy."
"Really?" Lyla pops into existence. "Then why does your bedroom have a romance feature?"
I send Miguel a wide-eyed smile over my shoulder. "A romance feature?"
"That was back when my Y/n and I-" he shoots Lyla an irritated look and swats at her like a fly. "Are you ever not annoying?"
"No."
My amusement sizzles out when my wandering gaze lands upon a framed painting upon the wall. It's ginormous, spanning across one side of the entrance's hallway. It's artistic, in black and white, and the effect of it is so eerie that it makes me shiver.
This single painting makes it transparently clear that this is not, in fact, a bachelor's pad.
It's a painting of me.
I feel Miguel's presence approach. He stands behind my shoulder, admiring the painting as I do. The waves of sadness coming off from him are so heavy and potent that I can feel my eyes sting.
"How long ago did she..?"
"Two years," Miguel quietly answers.
My stomach feels hollow. My throat grows thick. I turn to look at him, and the despondency on his face almost knocks the wind right out of me.
"Does it get easier?" I ask.
Miguel's red gaze drifts to me. He smiles sadly. "No."
I'm caught in his eyes for a few long, quiet seconds. For the first time I think I properly understand who this Miguel O'Hara is. Our grief is the same.
He just... had more time to process it.
The moment is broken when Miguel's Gizmo beeps before generating a small, holographic image of a man in a classic Spider-Man suit - not like Miguel's, but like the hero of the same name that existed in my world almost half a century prior.
My eyes widen. Is that a Spider-Man from another universe? Is beneath the mask another Miguel? The holographic man begins to speak before I can ask.
"Hey- hey, Miguel," the small Spider-Man says, sounding nothing like Miguel and rising my intrigue. "I need you down at HQ. There's something wrong with the doohickey machine. The signals keep jamming and all I'm getting is a 1940s radio show rerun of the same episode - and I really don't need to listen to Mr. Gustavo get shot by a secret agent again."
"On my way, Peter," Miguel answers. The small man gives two thumbs up before disappearing with a glitch.
"Was that another Spider-Man?" I ask. "Does your universe have two?" I guess one, now, considering Miguel's relocated realities.
Miguel shakes his head. "No. He's from another Earth." He smiles at me, and the sadness from before is almost gone, but not quite. "Let's go visit the Spider-HQ."
Doohickey machine. Spider-HQ. "So is it universal that Spider-Man is terrible at naming things, or..?"
Miguel rolls his eyes and gently shoves my shoulder. "Let's go."
I stare after him as he begins for the exit. My shoulder is on flames from where he touched me, contact seeming so familiar and comfortable. My skin sizzles. My breath releases with a tremble.
With one last, lingering look at the painting, I follow Miguel out of his penthouse.
••🕷️••
Spider-HQ is located in the centre of Neuva York, and almost rivals the height of the Empire State Building. I stare up at it from the street in awe. It's almost blinding, like looking directly at the sun.
"This place is massive," I comment.
"Big plans," Miguel replies.
I raise my brow, but he doesn't elaborate.
The entrance is relatively normal for something called a Spider-HQ, with a single reception desk manned by an AI similar to Lyla. I go to approach it, but Miguel places a hand on my back again and steers me towards an elevator tucked away in the corner. My heart stumbles.
"We're up top," he says. "The bottom four floors are just an accounting firm."
I don't say anything. My mind is buzzing, static fuzz from his contact, and his palm lingers upon the back of my sweatshirt when we enter the elevator. One floor, two floors, three. My eyes track the ascending numbers above the door. Only then did his hand slowly - so slowly - fall back to his side.
I can hear my heartbeat pounding against my ear drums. I don't think I've breathed.
The doors slide open. What greets me is a plain, white lobby where a few Spider-Men are standing on the ceiling and having a conversation as if gravity doesn't affect them. They glance down (up?) at us when we enter, and then stare. I can't help but stare back.
When we reach the end of the lobby I have to stop in my tracks. The centre of the building is entirety hollow, with hundreds of paths connecting between different sectors. I can't count the amount of people donned in spider-themed garbs that swing about on webs or walk on surfaces inhumanly possible, typing into their own Gizmos. My eyes widen as I take it in.
"Oh," I breathe. "I get the name, now."
Miguel smiles softly down at me, watching my expressions. "You get the name."
My eyes drift to him. I get locked in his stare for a second time.
"Finally." A classic-suited Spider-Man drops from a web and lithely lands on the floor before us. The spell's broken; my attention snaps from Miguel and to the stranger. "I was beginning to think you forgot about me."
Miguel tilts his head. "You wouldn't let me."
Spider-Man laughs before lowering his shoulders awkwardly. "I really can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult." He turns his attention to me and grabs my hand to shake. "You must be Y/n! Wow, it's not often we get non-spidey people around here. Name's Peter Parker."
I smile, taken aback by his enthusiasm. "Hi."
"This is Earth 616's Spider-Man," Miguel continues the introduction. Peter pulls off his mask and offers me a warm grin. He looks nothing like Miguel for someone who's an alternate version; where Miguel has almond-dark skin and brown-black hair, Peter is pale with mousy chocolate locks. "He's one of the best."
"Can you say that again? I- I just need to record it so I can have your so few words of affirmation to get me out of my slumps."
Miguel scrunches one side of his nose. "No."
Peter sighs. "Darn. Hey, anyway- about this doohickey machine playing up-"
"There's countless spideys here, Peter, why can't you ask one of them for help?"
"Because I miss your team-player attitude," Peter sarcastically remarks. "Because, Miguel, you're kind of the leader here, pal. You need to make leader decisions."
I look at Miguel in surprise. "You run this place? What do you do?"
Peter sends him an equally shocked look. "You haven't told her about our mission?"
My confusion deepens. "What mission?"
"She doesn't know anything?"
"What else haven't you told me?"
Exasperated, Miguel places both of his hands over our mouths. "You two talk too much."
Peter yanks off Miguel's hand. "First of all, rude. Second, what lotion do you use, because your hand smells great." Then he sends me an unimpressed look. "And third; you married this big grump?"
I pull Miguel's hand down. "Well, actually-"
"Miguel!" Lyla pops into existence. Miguel groans and rubs his forehead. "Jess is requesting your presence in the operations room - whoa, you look terrible."
"Nunca termina," Miguel complains beneath his breath.
Peter side-eyes me. "Did he just call me something rude?"
"Peter, go over the doohickey with Ben," Miguel orders, ignoring his quip. He nods for me to follow. "We should go see what Jess wants."
"Oh! Y/n, quick question before you go," Peter interjects as he begins to follow alongside us. Irritation rolls off of Miguel like a bad odour, but we both ignore it. "You've been pregnant before, right?" At my surprised look, he rushes to add; "Miguel won't shut up about Rosalina, that's how I know. I'm not weird, I promise - anyway - my wife just found out she's pregnant and I'm kinda freaking out because everything on the internet about it is terrifying."
"Multi-vitamins, healthy eating, exercise," I automatically list off. He begins writing it down on a Spider-Man branded notebook. "High fibre foods is a must. Avoid raw fish and soft cheese. Also she'll need to go to the dentist, pregnancy does weird shit to your teeth."
Peter nods as he jots down my advice. "... weird... teeth... stuff..."
"Yoga! Yoga's really good," I add. "Join local expectant groups." At the frazzled look in his eyes, I smile softly. "And try not to worry so much. If you're anything like this guy, you'll do a great job at being a dad."
Peter jerks his head up. "Miguel's a good dad? He shows emotion?"
Miguel huffs.
I blink in shock. "... yes? Doesn't he usually?"
"No!" Peter exclaims with wide eyes. "He's a total hard ass! Are you saying he's really a softy?"
Miguel interrupts us before I can answer. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"This is so much more important than the doohickey machine, Miguel," Peter says seriously.
Miguel's jaw tightens. "Go."
Peter raises his palms. "Alright, alright, Mr. Grumpy. Consider me gone." He shoots a web elsewhere and deftly swings away. "Nice meetin' ya, Y/n!"
I smile to myself as I watch him disappear into the many sectors surrounding the open-air paths. "He's fun."
"Yeah, yeah, hysterical," Miguel mutters. We stop outside a set of large doors. "You want to learn about the mission?"
My gaze jumps to the man beside me. "Yes."
He softly smiles at my enthusiasm. "Then let me give you the rundown about the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse."