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You cast a downward glance at the man who was pacing up a storm, biting your lip as you fought with the idea of confronting him or not.
It was Miguel. Of course it was Miguel. He had come back from whatever mission to protect the fabric of reality he’s been on this time in an even fouler mood than he’d left in; somehow that was even possible. You’d been waiting to welcome him back to his room when you saw him come in, claws out and fingers twitching. Your better judgment had made you think twice about the surprise hug you were planning on giving him. A tense Miguel was a reactive one, after all, and you didn’t exactly feel like tailoring your suit today.
So now there you were; sat on the ceiling; mask on; waiting in a suspended silence for an opportunity to reveal yourself. You watched Miguel pace around the large room and eventually make his way to the platform, slamming his fist onto the buttons much harder than he needed to. You feared the machine would break under the stress, and that would just make Miguel more unreasonably upset. His claws flexed in and out as he began his mission report. Even from this distance you could see the subtle shaking of his tense shoulders and flex of the eyes on his mask.
He hasn’t even taken it off. Usually he can’t wait to get that thing off after a mission, you thought. Sighing softly in concern, you stood up, taking off your own mask before shoving it in your pocket. You stood there for a moment more until Miguel’s flat voice echoed through the empty room.
“I know you’re spying on me. I don’t need ‘spidey-sense’ to hear your shuffling.”
“Is it actually spying if I’m just standing here? If I were spying then I’d actually be trying to stay out of sight and earshot. Really I’m just watching you,” you say back with a small smile.
Miguel turns to look up at you and groans, holding his temples through his mask. “ Ay, sin bromas . I’m not in the mood.”
“When are you ever in the mood?” you ask playfully, swinging down to stand next to him. “Who better to cheer you up than your friendly neighbourhood Spi-” You pause, sensing a genuine feeling of exhaustion and stress from your partner. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“… Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No,” Miguel said quickly, turning back to his report.
Gently placing your palm on his shoulder, you swallow with concern as he tenses up further. “You always say you don’t want to talk and then act surprised when talking actually helps you get over whatever is bothering you. Hey, with how much I help you, they should rename me to Therapy-Man.”
“I said no jokes,” Miguel muttered, but you couldn’t miss the small chuckle that came out of his lips. He sighed and glanced over at you. “It’s just… it was a shitty fight, that’s all.”
“They’re all shitty,” you sympathize with a smile, gently pulling Miguel away from his screens, and surprisingly he lets you without a fight.
“I had to call for backup again. Estoy perdiendo mi toque - I fucked up.”
You frowned, not fully understanding his quick-spoken Spanish. “You’re upset because you had to get help…? It’s not that serious, Miguel. Everybody needs a little help so-”
“It was Parker who came. 616 Parker,” he snapped, his claws flexing in and out again. “The idiot never takes anything seriously. Oh el es tal… ” Miguel cuts himself off and curses a string of unintelligible words under his breath.
You laugh lightly at his display and bring a hand to his wrist, softly running a thumb over it to calm him down. “He’s not that bad, Miguel. He’s just… excited to show off his baby, that’s all.”
“He was distracted the entire time. That anomaly Shocker messed me and my suit up while he was shoving his shocking phone in my face the entire fight. He’s the reason I nearly got knocked out.”
“You got knocked out?!”
“Nearly,” he reiterated.
You looked him over quickly and eventually shrugged. “The suit looks fine to me.”
“It fixed itself,” Miguel snapped. He paused and sighed. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you.”
You pat his shoulder gently and smile, leaning your body on his for a comforting pressure. “I know, you’re just stressed. But when are you not?” Looking at his mask, you narrow your eyes and give him a jokingly disappointed glare. “Take it off.”
“Don’t want to,” he replied childishly, putting his hands on his hips in that silly way he does.
The air thickens with tension as you rest limply against his side, your hand slowly inching its way up his shoulder to his neck. If he had a traditional suit, you would have already dug your fingers underneath the mask and yanked it off; but he didn’t. He turns his head to watch you, and even through the electronic suit you could sense his sad anger. Not anger… he’s just stressed again. And his capacity to deal with his emotions is worse than Mayday’s.
Your eyes meet the best they can through Miguel’s mask. His shoulders tensed before he relaxed and gave in, undoing his mask while looking at the screens, not meeting your gaze. Your heart drops at the sight of his bruised face and split lip; his frizzled hair and sad, tired eyes. He looked even more miserable than usual.
“Sweetheart,” you muttered, softly reaching up to rub a thumb against his chin. You frowned as Miguel flinched slightly.
He grabbed onto your wrist, holding your hand in place where it caressed his cheek. “I didn’t do anything in the fight. I was a liability- inútil !”
“Hey,” you said sternly, turning his head to look down at you like he was a child being scolded. “Don’t give me any of that. We’ve all got our own weaknesses, you don’t always have to be the most skilled Spider-Person on the team, especially against someone like Shocker. He’s like- handmade to be shitty for you to go against.”
Miguel kept frowning, but you swore that you could see a tiny smirk at the corner of his bloody lips. “What a pep talker.”
“Oh you know it.” You grinned and pat his cheek. “Hey, there’s no Shocker here, right? Is that because his name would be be Fucker ?”
That got a stifled chuckle out of the stoic man. He nodded. “Yeah. You wouldn’t believe how hard I laughed when I saw my first Shocker. A fitting name for such a motherfucker.”
“You? Laughing? The Miguel O’Hara? Laughing ?”
“Okay okay, Chiquito, I get it,” he said flatly with a small smirk on his face.
You sighed softly, glad he was calmed down. You took his hand in yours and began to walk him away from his platform and down towards the path to your shared high rise. He protested softly, but you weren’t having any of it.
“I need to do my report.”
“And I need to clean you up.”
“I’ll heal soon.”
“I don’t want to get blood on me when I kiss you. Mission reports can wait.”
Miguel smiled, relenting and letting you lead him away. “You promise I’ll get a kiss?”
You paused and looked at him with a gentle glance. Rolling your eyes, you bring your intertwined hands up to your face and plant a small kiss on Miguel’s bruised knuckles. “You’ll get the real deal later once I clean you up.”
Miguel cocked his head and gave a tiny smile. “You’re insufferable. Te amo .”
“Te amo,” you echoed, tightening your grip on his hard hands.
“ Realmente debería hacerte mi esposo ya .”