I'd like to dub this chapter 'everyone wants a baby'
I hope y'all were telling the truth about wanting to give Miguel another daughter cause he wants to be a baby daddy so badly
TW: mentions of smut but no scenes (R16 only please), talk of pregnancy, birth
Miguel presses the patch onto my shoulder. It tingles as it takes effect, sizzling beneath my skin. It's painless - but still, it feels strange. It's like touching electricity without the shock.
"I can't believe you have a bridge to the moon and birth control still takes six days to become effective," I grumble.
"It's science, cariño, not magic," Miguel replies as he flattens the edges with a careful thumb. He slides the sleeve of the oversized white shirt I'm wearing back over the patch. His shirt, of course. It's got a weird neckline shaped like lopsided triangle that I'm not crazy about.
I fold onto the bed unhappily and bury my face into the duvet. "Still."
Miguel follows after me, crawling to my side with an amused smile. He's more patient now that he's blown a load into my mouth, and though my thighs ache from his bruising grip after he stuck his face between my legs, I'm still upset. I'm a woman with needs, goddammit.
"Six days will pass in no time." Miguel lies down on his stomach and slides a lock of my hair from my face. "We can set an alarm to remind us."
"I really don't think I'll need reminding," I grumble, but lift my Gizmo to input an alarm, anyway. The 144 hours mock me.
Miguel deflates at seeing the physical evidence of how long we have to wait. "It's fine."
"Your optimism is charming, if not entirely fake," I mutter. He sends me a halfhearted glare.
"I'm trying my best."
I turn my eyes to him and find myself briefly struck by how handsome he is, pouting with half of his face buried in the white sheets of his bed. His thick hair curls from his head and sticks up in messy tufts. His naked body splays across his mattress, his beautiful almond-dark skin contrasting against the endless white of his world. The red of his eyes are piercing. The distinct, sharp shape of his face is caressable.
My Miguel is so pretty.
"This is all your fault." I shove his shoulder so he'll roll onto his back and clamber on top. I sit on his stomach and glare down at him. "If you weren't so attractive it wouldn't be so hard."
"As if I don't have the same issue," he says pettily. His hands slide up my bare legs and rests them on my ass. "You really shouldn't be climbing all over me like this if you don't want to be tempting fate."
I tilt my head. "Please. You'd love it."
"Seeing you pregnant?" Miguel asks, and then sends me a look as though I'm stupid. "Of course I would. But you don't want another Rosita."
"I'd have another Rosita if I didn't have to go through nine months of hell," I correct, and bat away the biological reaction within me that wants to provide him exactly with what he wants. "Besides, it probably wouldn't work anyway. We're from different realities."
Miguel's roving hands stop their ministrations. He frowns with genuine gloom at my words. "You think?"
My prickliness softens at his downcast expression. "Probably not. I can't even exist here without needing the Gizmo to stabilise me. What would happen to a baby that's from two different realities?"
"I don't know," Miguel says quietly. He only seems more upset.
"Hey." I press my palm to his chin and lean down to kiss his cheek. "You're already a great dad to an amazing kid. All you missed out on are mood swings, dirty diapers and a terrible sleep schedule."
Miguel responds with a little smile, but it doesn't quite light up the dimness in his red gaze. My heart sinks further.
But what can I do? I don't really want another kid, and Miguel's so busy either being Spider-Man in my world or at the Spider-HQ that I'd probably have to do most of the work alone while he tries to keep the multiverse from descending into madness. My Miguel had to drop his PhD study to part-time when we had Rosalina, and that was before he was Spider-Man. We're not exactly in the right position to be having a baby right now.
Miguel sighs and hugs me tight. An unreasonable amount of guilt swells within me that I shouldn't feel but do, anyway. I bury my face into his neck.
If I could give him everything he wants I would, but it's just not feasible. I wish it was.
"We should probably get back to base," Miguel mumbles.
I squeeze him tighter. "Just a little longer?"
He huffs in gentle amusement and turns his head to kiss my hair. "As you wish, mi vida."
We stay there as long as we can, lounging on his bed and entwined, until Lyla demands Miguel's return at base. The multiverse has gone crazy again.
We quickly shower, brush our teeth and change. This time I'm prepared. There's a bag of my clothes sitting in the corner of Miguel's closet, and in it is a solid number of clean panties. I'm starting to wonder if Miguel's home is becoming our sex shack.
"We should go on more dates," I say, and grab Miguel's hand before letting him lead me through the portal. I grow a little dizzy from the transportation and shake my head. "We should do a date night once a week."
He sends me a soft smile. "Like a game night?"
My eyes widen. I stop him in the middle of his station.
"Not like game night," I say grimly. "We don't speak of game night."
Miguel's brows furrow at me. "Why don't we speak of game night?"
"Shh!" I push my hand over his mouth. "Because I'm super competitive and Rosita inherited the same trait from me. Game night becomes a slaughter house."
A look of understanding crosses his face. "I'd pay to see you and papita fighting over Uno," he says from under my hold.
"What's Uno?"
Miguel snickers beneath my palm. "Never mind."
Our attention is snatched when Peter's stressed face pops up from my Gizmo.
"Y/n? Y/n! Are you there? Oh, god - please pick up!"
Miguel and I share a confused look. I pull my hand from over his mouth and drop my wrist to my face.
"I'm here, Pete," I answer. "What's happening?"
"Thank god!" he exclaims with relief. "MJ's gone into labour and we're freaking out, man! I- I need you!"
I'm immediately inputting the coords the Gizmo's call gives me. "Have you called the hospital to let them know you're on your way?"
"They can't go to a hospital," Miguel says. At my baffled look, he elaborates. "Their baby has Peter's Spider-Man DNA. It could reveal his identity."
Shit. I turn back to my Gizmo. "Where's she now?"
"On the bed," Peter shakily answers. "Can you- can you just get here, please? I can't do this!"
"Calm down, Pete," I soothe. "Think about Rosita. I had her and I'm fine, right?" I glance at Miguel and find him talking to the holographic bust of another Spidey. "We're on our way. Hold MJ's hand and breathe with her. She needs you."
Peter's silent for a moment, turned away from the Gizmo. He returns with wide eyes. "She's just said that if we don't get her some hardcore painkillers, she's going to murder everyone in the HQ."
"That's normal," I say. "That's probably normal."
"Probably?!"
"I made the same vague threats when I was in labour." I grab Miguel's wrist and drag him through the portal that's popped up. It spits us out into Peter's bedroom, where he's bent over his wrist with the gizmo and holding his wife's hand with the other. He flinches at our entrance and I teeter into Miguel. "Nothing like a bit of homicidal rage to get you through giving birth."
MJ gives me a shitty, sweaty look from the bed. The grip she has on Peter would break a normal man's hand. She's sitting on a mountain of towels, belly protruding and low between her hitched-up thighs.
"Don't try to be funny," she pants. "I'll kill you."
"Oh," I say.
Peter sends us a desperate look. "Help."
Seeing as I'm the only one with a modicum of experience, I set into action. I order Mig to retrieve a towel and a bowl of water to wipe MJ's face with, and I get Peter to time the contractions.
"You're fast, little Parker," I murmur to MJ's belly. "When did your water break?"
"Like- like an hour ago?" MJ gasps. She grabs my offered hand and squeezes it so tight that I whimper. "Was it this quick for you?"
"No." I grimace, and try my best to speak normally. Peter pushes MJ's sweaty hair from her face. "Rosita took her time. She's always been fashionably late."
MJ thinly laughs before yowling with pain. I exhale sharply when her grip contorts my tendons together, but I don't dare complain. MJ might literally murder me if I do.
Peter sends me a panicky look. "Eighty seconds," he says.
Miguel enters the room with a bowl, a towel, and an unfamiliar Spidey in tow. The new Spidey exchanges a few words with Peter. Miguel dabs the damp towel on MJ's face and hands her the glass of water from her bedside table when she reaches a trembling hand for it. His hand rests on my back.
I take the glass from MJ when she's finished chugging it back. Her blue eyes find mine with weary ferocity that only a pregnant woman can give.
"If I see another Spider-Man in this room while I'm giving birth, I need you to shoot him," she says seriously.
I nod. "Absolutely." Absolutely not you crazy, wonderful woman.
"Should I be worried?" Miguel asks.
MJ's livid glare turns up to him. "You're first."
He raises his palms in surrender.
Unfortunately for MJ, Doctor Spidey comes with a midwife Spidey and an assistant nurse Spidey in tow, and the room turns icy when they enter. The look MJ sends me is withering when I don't, in fact, pull out my nonexistent gun and shoot them. I shrug helplessly at her. Miguel wipes away the new beads of sweat.
Hours on and Miguel has to leave to pick Rosalina up from school. He's been quiet the whole time, and I can't help but kick myself for the spectacular timing I had when I initiated the conversation this morning. How ironic, to be talking about the baby we might never have and then getting a call that MJ's in labour.
The coincidence is almost comical. It's cruel.
It's late at night when Mayday Parker is born. She enters the world with a great big set of lungs, hammy fists and a tuft of red hair, and Peter bursts into tears when he kneels beside his wife and holds his child. I lean against the wall, out of the way, and watch the little family meet their baby for the first time.
My heart fills at the sight. I understand exactly why Miguel wants a baby, and how he must've despaired when he lost that chance along with his fiancée to-be. An entire future, an entire family, ripped away from him before he got a chance to pursue it.
MJ kisses Mayday's forehead as she gives tiny, adorable cries and wriggles in her mother's arms. Peter can't look away from his new baby girl. Baby fever kicks me up the ass so hard that I'm winded.
Maybe I do want another one.
Later, Peter and I sit on the floor across from the bed while the other Spideys fuss about MJ and the baby. He rests his weary head atop mine.
"Thanks for being here," Peter says quietly. "I kinda freaked out there for a bit. I think I still am freaking out."
I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. "You're going to be a fantastic dad."
He picks his head up and sends me a worried look. There's terror in his brown eyes that he doesn't do well to hide.
"Do you really think so?" he asks quietly. "'Cause for a long time I never thought I was father material. I'm... I'm still not confident that I am."
"No one's ever really confident," I gently confess. "I definitely wasn't. I'm still not, even now." I pat my hand through his messy hair to fix it up. "There's no right way to be a parent, Pete. You just gotta try your best."
He leans his head back onto the wall. "Leap of faith," he murmurs.
I smile softly. "Exactly."
MJ gasps with a smile when Mayday clasps her weak hand around her mother's pinkie in her sleep. Peter and I soften at the sight. He glances at me from the side of his eyes and matches my small grin.
"You remind me of someone I know," he says.
My gaze drifts to his. "Yeah?"
Peter nods. "Yeah. God - I wish I could see him again. He's the reason I fixed my life. Wanted kids." He glances up at Mayday. "Had her."
"Why can't you?"
"His dimension is considered, uh..." Peter struggles to find the right word, "'off-limits.'"
I tilt my head confusedly. "Why?"
"He may or may not be the person who caused the multiverse to go all kablooey."
My eyes widen. "Oh."
"But he's a good kid, really!" Peter insists. He sits up straight and sends me an imploring look. "He just got caught up in the wrong situation. Miles- man, Miles is amazing, Y/n. Give him a few years and he might be the best Spider-Man out of all of us."
The person who caused the multiverse to get all jacked up is just a kid? And he's a Spider-Man?
My shocked look fades into a smile. I'm only slightly wary. "He sounds nice."
"He is." Peter relaxes now that I understand him. He stares at his wife and child with a soft smile, and I wonder if he's picturing Miles standing alongside them. "He really is. I just wish Miguel could see it."
I send the side of Peter's face a puzzled look.
I stay at the Parker household until we're all confident that Peter and MJ have a handle on things for the night. I give them a hug goodbye (extra careful for the sleeping Mayday) and a promise to return in the morning.
"I'm just a call away," I vow when I hug MJ goodbye. She sends me a grateful, exhausted smile, and passes out before I even leave the room.
I portal into my kitchen and lean against the countertop with a heavy sigh. It must be the early hours of the morning, and Nueva York is in that not-quite-silent-but-still-quiet state that only 2AM can give. I weave on my feet, dizzy from transportation and exhaustion.
Between the moon date, Dana, and MJ giving birth, it's been a hell of a day. I itch to see Rosalina.
I grab a snack from the fridge to munch on for an impromptu dinner and midnight snack before heading upstairs. I open Rosalina's door and find her bed empty.
I shove the rest of my muesli bar into my mouth and swiftly cross the hallway to mine and Miguel's room. My shoulders slump with relief at seeing both him and Rosalina curled up in bed. I pause to ingrain the sweet image to memory before cautiously grabbing my sleep clothes and changing into them.
Rosalina wakes when I carefully slip beneath the covers beside them. She smiles sleepily at me and stretches her arms around my neck. I kiss her forehead. I remember when she was as little as Mayday.
"Hey, mija," I whisper my greeting. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Rosalina shakes her head. "Dad was sad."
My heart breaks. I peek up at his face buried in the pillow. Of course Miguel was upset, and I wasn't even available to comfort him - but at least Rosalina was. I'll have to make it up to him somehow. I can't quite take him to my moon, but I do have a few ideas of some spots around my Nueva York that he'd like.
"You're such a kind girl." I smile at her gratefully. Miguel's probably woken from all our chatter despite our attempts to be silent - hell, he might have even woken as soon as the portal opened in the kitchen. His hearing is too good. "What did we do to deserve you?"
She just smiles. "Was the baby cute?"
"Super cute." I squeeze her nose. "But not as cute as you."
Rosalina giggles under her breath before snuggling into my arms and falling back asleep. I stroke my fingertips through her soft hair for a few silent minutes before speaking.
"I know you're awake," I say quietly. Miguel exhales slowly and opens his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." But he avoids my gaze and stares at Rosalina's sleeping face instead. I touch his chin and turn him up to me.
"Really?" I ask doubtfully. "Are you really okay, Miguel?"
"I'm good," he quietly answers. He shuffles closer and buries his nose into Rosalina's hair. "I am. I just got a bit wistful- it's stupid."
"It's not stupid," I say softly, sternly, and brush the backs of my fingers down the sharp line of his cheek. His red eyes flicker back up to me. "It's not stupid, Miguito. And it's not totally off the table, either."
He sends me a confused frown. "But you said that you didn't want to."
"I said I don't want to go through nine months of hell, not that I wouldn't," I correct with a small smile. I turn my soft gaze to my daughter and press my lips to her hairline for a kiss. "Besides, the outcome is worth it."
Miguel turns his head up to stare. A lock of her hair is caught around his nose. I send him a gentle look and pull it off with a fingernail.
"Maybe we can talk about it properly when things calm down at your job," I continue my whispered proposal. "And if it doesn't work then we have other options - you know more than me about how advanced science is these days."
Miguel sinks his face deeper into Rosalina's curls, eyes blown wide with disbelief, with hope that's restrained by a single thread of hesitance. "Really?"
"Really." I push my hand through his hair and scratch his scalp with my nails. "I love you, Miguito. But I will be-" I drop my voice to be even quieter "- I will be a total bitch when I'm carrying."
He huffs a laugh beneath his breath. A gleam's returned to his red eyes, visible even in the darkness of the room. "I look forward to being your slave."
My smile is small and sweet, though tinged with a reality check. "Don't get too excited, amor. You've got to get things stable at work first. I'm not raising a baby and papita on my own."
"Entiendo," he murmurs. He kisses the back of Rosalina's hair. "I wouldn't expect you to. You'll have to pry me away from them with a crowbar."
I soften. "You're so cute."
Miguel doesn't respond to that. I think I'm starting to wear him down about how adorable of a man he really is. "How are they?"
"Good," I answer with a tired smile. "Exhausted. Peter's still scared."
Miguel's begun to gently plait Rosita's hair. "He'll do a good job."
My eyes widen comically. "Sorry, what was that? Did you- did you just say something nice about Peter?"
His red eyes lift to send me a monotonous glare. I shake my head against the pillow in dramatic disbelief.
"Can you guys shut up please?" Rosalina quietly grumbles. We glance at her in shock. "I'm trying to sleep."
I catch Miguel's eye and we snicker.
"Lo siento, chiquita," I say amusedly, and kiss her forehead again. She huffs. "We'll stop talking."
Miguel takes my hand in his and threads our fingers together. He kisses my knuckles, peeking up at me. He doesn't need to speak for me to understand him.
I smile sweetly and squeeze his hand.
I love you, too.
••🕷️••
"Did you seriously not learn to do up diapers before Mayday was born?" I ask Peter dryly.
"I did!" he exclaims. "She's just so... wriggly. I'm scared she'll wriggle right off the table!"
"Peter, you're literally Spider-Man." I lift a freshly-diapered Mayday from the changing table and gently bounce her. She babbles nonsense into my shoulder. "Just catch her."
But Peter's not even paying attention to what I'm saying. He's playing with Mayday's outstretched hand and cooing at her instead.
"You're so talkative," he gushes. "Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" His brown eyes flick up to me. "Hey, why's Miguel here? I thought he'd be busy looking over the multiverse."
I look over at where my not-quite-husband stands in the doorway to the Parker's nursery, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. He's been silent this entire interaction. He watches Mayday and I intently.
Peter called me for help this morning and Miguel had insisted on tagging along after overhearing our call. I think he took our 'maybe-baby' talk far more seriously than I anticipated. It's a little alarming, and entirely adorable.
"He's... taking notes," I finally decide to say. He's always been a man who values research - it's the scientist in him.
"Notes?" Peter takes Mayday from my hold and kisses her forehead. His eyes widen and glance between us. "You two-? Is that even possible?"
I shrug. "I guess we'll find out."
"Well, now I gotta see if he even knows how to hold a baby." Peter skips over to Miguel and holds out Mayday. She squirms in her dad's hands and kicks her pudgy feet. "Arms up, pal!"
Miguel pulls himself from the doorframe and looks unsure for the first time this morning. He reaches for Mayday and carefully takes her from Peter. I smile softly at his nervous caution as he manoeuvres her into the correct position to rest in his arms. His smile grows as his confidence builds. She's absolutely teeny against him.
"Hola, bebecita," Miguel murmurs. My knees weaken. There's nothing in this world more attractive to me than a man - my man, specifically - holding a baby.
Mayday coos and gurgles, blinking big, blue eyes up at him. And when Miguel lifts a hand to let her tiny fingers latch onto one of his, Peter and I both swoon.
"I always did say he was meant to be a dad," I dreamily murmur.
"Yep, yuh-huh." Peter nods listlessly. He slowly raises his phone and takes a photo of the two of them. "I can see it."
"Send me that."
My phone dings not a second later. Miguel lifts his gaze to send us an unamused glare, but really, it just makes him look hotter. It only gets better when Mayday puts his finger in her mouth and chews it like a dummy. I seriously don't think I'll be able to last five more days without taking Miguel to bed.
Peter takes another photo. My phone dings again.
"Oh, my god, is this her?" Jess' voice comes from the doorway. She enters the nursery and gasps at the sight of Mayday. "Oh, Peter, look at her! She's perfect!"
"Jess!" Peter greets, spell broken. "Y/n and I were just talking about how good of a baby daddy Miguel would be."
Jess sends Peter a perturbed look as she takes Mayday from Miguel's arms for her turn to fawn. "You know that word?"
"Don't call me that," Miguel seethes.
"Who are we calling what?" MJ rests her head against the door frame with a yawn. She's just woken up after a restless night.
"Miguel wants to be a baby daddy," Peter answers. MJ's brows raise in amused bafflement. Miguel bristles.
"Stop calling me that."
"Can I call you that?" I pipe up.
He goes silent, and in grumpy-Miguel talk that basically means a yes. Peter sends me an unhappy frown.
"Favouritism," he mutters. I stick my tongue out at him.
"Children, children," Jess chides with a snort. "Behave. You'll be a bad influence on the little one." She smiles down at Mayday and hums when her hands grab at her chin. "I suppose this is a good a time as any to let you know I'm pregnant."
The attention is abruptly snapped to Jess. Her grin grows elatedly in the shocked silence as she bounces Mayday in her arms.
"What?!" Peter yelps.
"Oh, Jess, that's amazing!" I gush.
Miguel pats her shoulder. "Congratulations."
"That's wonderful," MJ says tiredly. She raises a lopsided fist. "Wooo."
"Oh, my god, look at us!" Peter gathers his wife into his arms and squeezes her in joy. She closes her eyes. She might have just fallen asleep standing up. "We're all parents! We can start our own breakfast club! Our babies can all grow up together and be best friends!"
Miguel's not the most enthusiastic fan. He's probably still scorned by the whole 'baby daddy' thing. "... yeah."
Peter sends me a hopeful look, and I nod my head in agreement. He pumps the air triumphantly. MJ wakes with a start.
"I'm up," she slurs.
"It's okay." Peter pats back her sleep-messy hair. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."
MJ doesn't need to be told twice.
••🕷️••
Gabriel O'Hara stretches back in his seat and watches a cyborg Spider-Man pass through the cafeteria. Chairs are moved out of his way. Spideys squeeze against tables to let him pass.
The cyborg grabs a packet of chicken nuggets from the hot food section and trudges back through the crowd.
"I remember why I never visit this place," Gabe says as he turns back to me with wide eyes. "It's because it blows my mind so proficiently that I wake up the next morning with a migraine."
I blow on my coffee to cool it down and smile. "Yeah, it's pretty crazy here."
"So, how's my favourite out-of-townie doing?" Gabriel asks. "Miguel pissed you off yet? Begging for a refund?"
I snicker. "No, not yet. I'm good, Gabriel. How's your life going?"
Gabriel shrugs. His focus gets caught on a Spider-Man made of spiders, and he shudders. I'm willing to bet that Spideys like Spiders-Man from Earth-11580 are the real reason Gabriel doesn't come here often.
"Yeah, good," he replies distractedly. He picks up his cup of tea and takes a nervous sip. "I got my unofficial sister back, which is nice."
"Really? Who?"
Gabriel sends me a dry look. "I see that your terrible sense of humour is multiversal."
I smile, self-satisfied. "What can I say? If Miguel isn't the funny one, then naturally I am."
"I'm sure he loves that."
"He adores me, terrible jokes and all." And then I soften at my own words because they're true. I take a sip of my coffee.
Gabriel sets his mug onto the table and taps the ceramic side with his nail. He stares at it, contemplative. My focus drags up to him and I wait for him to compile together what he has to say.
"... can I ask a sensitive question?" Gabriel asks.
"Of course, you can. Always."
Gabriel leans back into his chair and sighs, silent for a moment longer. His brown eyes lift to mine. I patiently wait.
"Don't you hate him for what he did?" he cautiously prompts. "For- for replacing your Miguel?"
I smile small at my drink. It was only natural that Gabriel would ask this - our relationship isn't exactly an easy one to comprehend.
"I did," I answer. "I knew he wasn't my Miguel pretty much straight away, and it scared me. When he told me that my husband died-" my throat tightens "- when I found out, it was like my entire world broke apart. He's everything to me."
Gabriel's face falls at my devastated expression. Even nearly six months on, his loss is still so fresh and raw. Miguel's right. It really doesn't get any easier.
"... how did you forgive him?"
I blink back tears with a shallow laugh. I don't know when I forgave him. It must've been sometime during the process of my assimilation to this new Miguel. Sometime while I was slowly beginning to feel safe with him and his companionship, slowly falling in love.
"I didn't for a while," I say quietly. I hold my warm mug to my chest. "I hated him. I didn't want to forgive him. But he was just scared that Rosa and I would be unsafe, and I can understand that."
"It's a little overwhelming, being the only me left," I continue. I draw my legs up to my chest and hug them tight. "I forget about it, sometimes. But I don't think Mig ever does."
I think this conversation was a long time coming. It's heavy, it drags at my heart and my shoulders, but it's needed. Gabriel's always been engrained in Miguel's life. All they really had was each other.
Gabriel crosses his arms and runs a hand down his face in thought. His exhale is low and drawn-out.
"You know that I still don't think it's a good idea for you to be together," he comments.
I smile. "I know, Gabri."
"There's really nothing I can do to convince you?"
My head shakes. "Not a thing."
Gabriel closes his eyes in reluctant acceptance. I sip at my coffee contently.
"I suppose I should thank you," he says. I glance at him, puzzled. "Which is weird, considering that I'm still not happy about all this." He gestures to me vaguely. "But thanks. I haven't really had my brother back since... well, you died."
I remember what Miguel was like when he first arrived. He was so closed-off and guarded, so stoic, so hurt. He was a lonely man thrust into the role of a loving father, and he wasn't used to the amount of affection his predecessor received. He was out of his depth.
But he loved it - I could see it in his eyes. He loved it the moment Rosalina first hugged him. He loved it the moment I said he could stay. There really never would've been any getting rid of him, and I'm glad. I'm glad I said he could stay.
I don't want to think about how he was when Y/n died. I don't like thinking about the emptiness he would've felt. But Gabriel didn't get a choice. Gabriel experienced that side of Miguel.
I don't get a chance to respond to Gabriel. Miguel approaches us, finally taking a break from his station, and smiles in pleasant surprise upon seeing his brother. He slides into the booth beside me and instinctively takes my hand in his.
"I didn't know you were coming today," Miguel says.
Gabriel nods at me. "Catching up with Mrs. O'Hara." He pauses. "Saying that feels weird. Are you even really married?"
"Yes," I answer, just as Miguel says "not really." We glance at each other. "No," I correct. "Yes?" Miguel says.
Gabriel looks between us. "... right."
"Legally we're married in my world," I elaborate. "But it's hard for Miguel to get married to, uh... me, here."
Gabriel slowly nods. "Ah."
"It's complicated." Miguel squeezes my hand and nudges my temple with his nose. "But it works for us."
"Alright, I get it, I get it." Gabriel waves us off and shields his eyes. "I don't want to see you guys all gooey and sappy. It's gross."
Miguel rolls his eyes. I giggle and press a kiss to the corner of his lips, and Gabriel groans in brotherly disgust. When my Spider-Man's gaze drops to me, molten and soft with warmth, I preen with love.
Gabriel's right. We are so, so gross.