TW: it gets a lillll spicy but not enough to make it 18+ so ig just watch out for that, guns

  "You're angry at me."

  I hesitate, my fingers pausing over making Rosalina's lunch. It's still early. She's not yet up. Miguel stands in the kitchen entrance and suffocates beneath the weight of my fury.

  Because when I woke up this morning, entangled in Miguel's arms, it had finally set in. The shock of learning about everything yesterday had faded during my slumber, and one facet of what I'd learnt left me bitter - Miguel was engaged to someone else and didn't tell me.

  I'd given him the cold shoulder since.

  I don't usually get angry. I used to, a lot. I used to cling to grudges like mould to old food and would sometimes kick Miguel out of my flat if he pissed me off too much. But he always made up for it, and I always eventually forgave him.

  Then, after we really got serious - after we married and had Rosalina, I changed, as all mothers do, as all adults do as they mature. I grew more patient. I grew more understanding. I stopped holding grudges, because who needs to retain negativity when I have a husband who adores me and a little girl who's the centre of my universe?

  But this is too much.

  I turn to Miguel and cross my arms. "I am."

  Yes, he's busy. Yes, he has an entire army of Spideys to organise and a messed-up multiverse to attend to, and yes, he's learning to be a dad and he's been helping me through the grief of losing my husband. But he still should have told me about her. My easy nature isn't something to be taken for granted.

  I'm not easy to be easy for other people. I'm easy to be easy for me - water over a rock, and all that. But a rock can still hold its own. A rock can still get pissed off with the water.

  Miguel doesn't complain or get upset that I'm still angry after I said I'd forgiven him. He nods in understanding and approaches the bench beside me to help make Rosita's lunch.

  "I should've told you," he says. He cuts her sandwiches into triangles and trims off the edges, just the way she likes them. "I'm sorry."

  "So you've said," I mutter. My rage grows wild. I slam the lunch box lid on and spin to him with a scowl. "Why is she still going to your place? Why haven't you told her to fuck off already?"

  Miguel turns his full attention to me and seems genuinely surprised by the point I've raised. The butter knife is placed in the sink with a quiet clatter. He holds his hands on his hips with focus.

  "I haven't had a chance to," he says, still a little stunned. "I spend all my time either here or at the HQ. I only know it's happening because Lyla reports visitors."

  "Oh, that's a good excuse," I scoff. His brows raise as I turn to shove the peanut butter back into the pantry with more force than necessary. "You couldn't send a text? I thought communicating would be even easier in 2099."

  "I blocked her contacts," Miguel reasons. "I'd hoped she would've gotten the message by now, but clearly she hasn't."

  "So you tell her to stop trying!" I slam the pantry shut. The look I give him is one of incredulity, and then I have to turn away, because he looks so lost that my anger falters. "God- you're a genius but you're still so stupid!"

  "I'll tell her to stop," Miguel assures. He places a his palm on my shoulder and I shrug him off with a huff. "Lo siento, cariño. I thought if I ignored it long enough she'd go away. I don't even live there, anymore."

  I spin back around to him with a hurt frown. "That's not the point!"

  "Then tell me what is, please!"

  I make a sound of frustration and claw my hands before my chest, ball them into clenched fists. I have to forcefully stop myself from kicking the dining chair beside me.

  "You call me your wife and let your ex-fiancée that you didn't tell me about think she still has a shot!" My eyes begin to sting. "Why didn't you tell me? Am I not important enough? Do you even care that much for me? Or am I just some replacement for your dead girlfriend?"

  Miguel's face falls in shock, and so does mine. I didn't even realise I was feeling that way until I said it out loud. My heart crashes through my feet in stunned clarity. My anger is swiftly consumed by anguish now that the words hang between us, and it spins a torrent in my chest. It hurts. I'm hurt.

  Just the thought of Miguel with another woman sends my stomach hurtling in circles with nausea. Naked with, in love with. This is not Mirilla. This is someone he loved, who he almost married. This is someone who's still hanging around, hoping for him to come crawling back to her. It makes me sick.

  Am I not important enough to know about her? I bet Y/n did. I bet she knew all about Dana.

  "No- no, Y/n, I never thought of you as a replacement." Miguel braves the space between us and wipes away my tears with a look of pain. "Is that what you've been thinking?"

  I swallow deeply despite my thick throat and step back from his touch. His hand falls. "What else was I supposed to think?"

  "Not that," Miguel insists softly. "I really fucked up, didn't I?"

  I wipe my sleeve over my eyes. "You think?"

  He's looks out the window with a stunned shake of his head. His hand drags down his face and lingers over his mouth. My eyes fall to the floor. The very swiftly blurring floor.

  The silence taunts me, suffocates me. When his gaze drops back down to me and he takes a step closer, I don't move. I don't let myself look up, either.

  "Y/n, I came here to protect you and Rosita. I had no motives other than keeping the two of you safe." Miguel reaches out again, tentatively, and rests his palm on my cheek when I don't lean away from it. "I fell in love with you because you're you. Not because you're the alternate version of my Y/n - because of who you are. You're funny, and sarcastic, and so kind." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Even when you're beaten down, you manage to lift yourself and the people around you up. It's incredible. I wish I could be more like you."

  It's a confession that startles me. I'd never fought over something like this with my Miguel, and I'd stressed over it so much since I woke, before he even said good morning to me, that I'd constructed a totally inaccurate representation of his reaction in my mind. I look up at him in weepy shock.

  I'd worried that he'd go defensive again, like how he'd been with Gabriel. I'd worried that he'd raise his voice and call me jealous or insecure or a number of other horrible things - things that I know he would never call me if I was thinking right. But I wasn't.

  Instead, after I called him stupid and shouted at him, he lists the ways that he loves me. And it totally blindsides me, it takes my pain and anger by surprise. The edge of my fury is sanded down to softness.

  My expelled breath is shaky. "Then why didn't you tell me about her?"

  Miguel sighs and lifts his other hand to cradle my face completely. He's so goddamn big and tall and broad but he holds me so carefully, so lovingly. It's a mission not to succumb, not to let myself lean into him.

  "I thought it was too soon to tell you when I first got here. You were going through so much, cariño, I didn't want to make it worse." His head tilts with regret. "And then I really did forget. Why would I think about another woman when I have you and Rosita? You two are all I am."

  I look away when my heart flutters. "You still should've told me."

  "I should've," he softly agrees. "I just didn't want to upset you even more." Miguel's face twists with guilt. "But I still made you upset."

  I can't look him in the eyes. "Do you still have feelings for her?"

  "Dios mío, no." Miguel pulls me into his chest and runs his fingers through my hair. My arms hang by my side. "Dana was a nightmare like you wouldn't believe. Makes you look like a goddamn angel."

  I laugh through a sob. "Really? Why'd you get back together with her?"

  "She kept pestering and I was lonely. I gave in," he sighs. "I was going to break up with her. What happened with you just sped up the process."

  That drives me silent for a moment. I blink hard and my tears collect on my lashes.

  "Why'd your engagement break off?" I manage to ask.

  "I was an asshole with a high-paying job who she thought she could fix," Miguel murmurs. "She got tired of me not being who she wanted me to be."

  "I love you even when you're an asshole," I point out with a sniffle.

  "And that's why you're an angel," he hums. "You make me not want to be an asshole in the first place."

  "And yet you still are."

  "Ahh." Miguel rests his chin on the top of my head, gently amused. "I deserve that."

  "You do," I say into his shirt.

  "I'll tell Dana to stop," Miguel promises. "I'll even get a restraining order if it makes you happy."

  I can't stop the snort that escapes me. "You don't need to go that far."

  "But if it means that you'll be reassured, I will." Miguel brings my head up to face him. "I don't want you ever thinking that you and Rosita aren't the most important people in my life." He kisses the spot below my eye. "You consume me entirely, amor." He kisses between my brows. "Whenever I'm not beside you, then all I want is to be with you." His lips press to my forehead. "Coño, Y/n, it's killing me that I made you cry. I love you so much it drives me insane."

  I finally let myself sink into his hold with a weepy smile. "You're so stupid."

  "I am," he sighs. He catches my tears with his thumb and rubs them away. "I promise there's nothing else I'm keeping from you. You know all my secrets."

  I press my head into his chest. "Thank you, Miguito."

  He kisses the top of my head and tugs gently on locks of my hair. My eyes close with relief. Overhead, little feet begin to move around. Rosalina's awake.

  "Here comes trouble," Miguel murmurs when her footsteps descend the stairs.

  When Rosalina rounds the corner and see us still in an embrace, she brightens. She charges forward to join and knocks herself into us without falter. Our hug expands to include her.

  "Good morning!" Rosalina chirps up at us with a blinding smile.

  An hour later, after we've dropped our daughter off at school, I nosily lean over Miguel's arm as he texts his ex to back off before blocking her number again without waiting for a response. He tosses his phone into the backseat of the car.

  My smile up at him is happy. Miguel shares it for a second before drawing me into a deep kiss and showing me just how much I really mean to him.

••🕷️••

  Miguel spends the morning giving me more attention than usual. I'm content as a cat in a sun spot beneath his doubled affection.

  I perch on a seat beside him as he shows me how to use the station's incredibly high-tech computer. Miguel flicks the screens through a few of the realities he watches over. My eyes take in the new kinds of worlds ravenously.

  "With every new dimension that we discover, I send Lyla to hack into their security cameras and emergency service radios," Miguel explains. "That information then gets collated into Lyla's AI and sent out into that world's sibling realities. Any discrepancies in canon events or any double ups of specific people is how we find our anomalies."

  "Wow," I say. I only understand half of what he's saying, but I appreciate the attempt to teach me, anyway. "That's amazing."

  Lyla flits around us, filing her nails. "Yeah," she says, unbothered. "I'm pretty cool like that."

  "Super cool," I agree.

  Lyla glitches to my face and kisses my cheek. "I know."

  "Have a go," Miguel offers. I eagerly lean forward and move the hovering, yellow-tinted screens around me, searching for the world where everyone was made out of plants that had piqued my interest earlier.

  His hand rests on my lower back. He watches me explore the multiverse with a content smile, happy to share this with me after the tumultuous start to the morning.

  I discover new worlds for a while before glancing at the man beside me. "Miguito?" At his hum, I continue. "I have a weird question."

  "Ask away."

  I purse my lips and hesitate. My hands fall from the screens. Miguel's attention sharpens when I send him a reluctant, embarrassed look.

  "What kind of birth control did Y/n use?" I pinch my hands between my knees and pray he doesn't find my question insensitive.

  Miguel's expression twists into a bewildered look. "What?"

  "I'm serious," I urge and turn to face him. "You're from 2099, the technology is way better, surely they've made birth control that won't make me feel like shit."

  Miguel blinks. "I... assume so?"

  "See, that's what I thought!" I say eagerly. I hold out my arm and point out where a little disc sits beneath the skin of my upper limb. "My implant runs out soon and I really don't want to spend another week and a half throwing up when I get a new one."

  Miguel peers at the slight bump of skin with interest. "That's how your world does birth control? It's archaic."

  "One of them. I was shit at remembering to take the pills." I lower my voice. "Rosita was a surprise."

  Miguel lifts his gaze back to mine. "Really?"

  I shake my head. "Not planned. I wanted to have kids when I was in my thirties - like, around now. Not at twenty-one. But Miguel and I wanted to keep her."  

  Miguel smiles softly. "I'm glad you did."

  I beam back at him. "Me, too. Anyway - after that, I decided to use implants. But god, they suck so bad."

  He chuckles sympathetically and pats my knee. "That sounds rough. We can ask Lyla about them." He turns to his screens and swipes through them. "When does yours run out?"

  My eyes drop awkwardly. I shift on my seat.

  "... today."

  Miguel turns his head to me with a disappointed look. "Y/n."

  I raise my hands in defence. "Hey, if I can't remember to take pills every day, then I'm definitely not gonna remember to replace an implant every sixteen months. Just be glad I remembered today and not in two weeks."

  Miguel grunts. "It's a miracle you don't have a herd by now."

  I nod slowly and stare at the console with wide eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, actually, it really is."

  "You shouldn't have to worry about being sick," Miguel says. He returns to watching his multiverse. "I don't recall Y/n ever having a reaction from the patches she used to get."

  "Patches?"

  "Goes on your shoulder for five minutes. It stings a bit, but not too bad." Miguel shrugs. "According to Y/n."

  I contemplate that for a second in awe. "That already sounds way better than throwing up for thirteen days."

  Miguel sends an amused, lidded-eye smile down at me. "You like my world now?"

  "Absolutely not," I say without hesitation. "It's still creepy as hell. But I'll give it a point for having improved woman-based science, and another for having the Spider-HQ."

  Miguel rolls his eyes and returns to his screens. "You're so hard to please."

  I lounge back in my chair and watch him be sentry to his multiverse. "I have high standards."

  "Uh-huh."

  I grin in amusement and return my attention to his scrolling screens. It doesn't hold my focus for long, however, as my mind wanders back to the nature of the conversation. Or - more accurately - the reason behind its need.

  My gaze flickers to Miguel and scans the frame of him - his relaxed, heavy stance as he surveys the screens that illuminate him in neon yellow, the navy and red of his suit that seem to glow just as bright. The dark shadows of his contouring make his muscles look only more distinct.

  Lyla pops up again, floating through the air with a leg hooked over the other. Miguel talks with her, but I don't hear their words. I'm too busy admiring the curved slope of his shoulders down to his pinched, slim waist.

  I plant my elbow on the arm rest and drop my cheek into my palm. My head tilts as I ogle him shamelessly. My beautiful, strong Miguito. My beautiful, strong Miguito with a great ass.

  I'd undress him in my head, but the full-body suit he wears only stokes my attraction. It sits on him so prettily, so dangerously well. He is danger.

  My thighs shift. That empty feeling between my legs returns. It worsens when I imagine him grabbing me by my hair and bending me over the console.

  Fingers snap in front of my eyes. I startle and look up.

  "No," Miguel demands.

  I blink up at him. "What?"

  "I recognise that look, cariño, and the answer is no."

  I quickly work past my surprise and lean back in my chair. I smile cutely. "What look, guapo?"

  Miguel turns to me and places his hands on his hips with a disapproving frown. "You know what I'm talking about."

  I close my eyes and shake my head. "Nope."  

  Miguel tilts his head dryly at my innocent look. He reads right through me. He plants his hands on the arm rests of my chair and yanks it close, the legs screeching against the metal of the platform, and I snatch the armrests with a jump of my heart. The spider emblem of his suit stares me in the face.

  Miguel leans over me. My neck cranes back to meet his dark gaze.

  "The look like you're wanting to play risky," he mutters.

  Demurely, I peek down at the way my knee sits between his legs. I lift my knee and let it drag against the strong muscle of his inner thigh. My gaze lifts back up. "Just me?"

  He dips his head lower. My back arches as I rise towards him, drawn on string.

  "Just you," he hums. 

  My arms loop around his neck. My fingers curl through the thick locks of hair at his nape. "I find that hard to believe."

  Miguel huffs with a crooked smirk. He presses his plush lips to my forehead before rising, and my arms fall to my lap. I frown in disappointment.

  "Where are you going?" I ask.

  "To do my job," Miguel says amusedly.

  I grab him by the waist and pull him back towards me. "You don't wanna do something else..?" 

  Miguel falters at the way I bite my lip in hope. And there must be something about the way my fingers cling stubbornly to his hips or the way I stare up at him with a pleading look, because he drops back down to my height and kisses me.

  I smile into the kiss with triumph until his thumb pulls my chin down so that my lips part. My body shivers when his hot tongue lazily strokes mine, and I pull myself up, deeper into the kiss. My stomach flutters so fast I almost feel as though I'm trembling with the need to be taken by him.

  But then he pulls back without warning and I'm left with whiplash. I blink dazedly, confused, as his mask slips over his face. The red half-moons of his eyes squint at me in humour. His thumb brushes along my swollen lip.

  "Don't think about me too much, bonita," Miguel purrs.

  I stare up at him in foggy shock. "Fuck you."

  His eyes narrow further. He leans in closer, and my chest leaps with the hope that he'll kiss me again. But he doesn't. Instead, he holds my chin and brings his masked mouth to my ear.

  "Later," he whispers, and a chill runs up my spine. His burning touch releases me and I crumble into the seat with a groan of agony. He steps back and chuckles at my despair. "Talk to Lyla about that birth control."

  I scowl up at him. "Fine."

  His head tilts. "I love you."

  I cross my arms and look away. "Whatever. Go save your stupid multiverse." 

  Miguel softly laughs and ruffles his hand through my hair as he passes my seat. I glare over my shoulder and watches as a red, hexagonal portal swallows him. When he's gone and the room is dim once more, I huff through my nose.

  "Jerk," I grumble. Now I'm all hot and bothered and antsy. "Hey, Lyla?"

  She zips into the space before me, lying on her stomach with her feet in the air. "Hey, girlie."

  I smile at her. "Can you hack into prescription records?"

  Lyla cracks her knuckles and types into a little laptop. "I already know what you're after, honey. I can get it sent right to Miguel's apartment."

  Lyla's AI is the only AI I've ever loved. Is that conceited if she was based off of an alternate version of me? Deep questions for another time.

  "You're the best, Lys," I say. "You're my favourite."

  Lyla sends me a smug grin. "I know."

  Jesus. She really is just like me.

••🕷️••

  I'm halfway through writing a new piece on harbour pollution for work when Jess's head pops up on my Gizmo. I greet her while typing out the bullet points for my conclusion.

  "Hey, Y/n, are you busy?" she asks.

  "Oh, yeah, kinda-"

  "Can you come get your crazy husband?"

  The rest of my attention turns to her. "What's he done?"

  "He's broken his arm," Jess says incredulously, and continues on before my shock can run its course. "And the idiot's not listening to me when I tell him to go back to base. But he listens to you, so please, girl, let me out of my misery."

  "Reel it back," I splutter. I shut my laptop and stand from my seat. "He's broken his arm?"

  "It's not that bad."

  "He's broken his arm!"

  "Yeah, yeah, I know, poor guy," Jess says. She's running through a scene that the Gizmo doesn't pick up. "I'm kind of busy trying not to get us both killed by this lizard-man, so can you pull up your big girl panties and get here already?"

  I inhale deeply and nod. "Yeah. Yeah. Send me the coordinates."

  When I step through the portal I'm met with a world that's black and white. My eyes strain beneath the total lack of colour, but at least it makes it easy to spot the blue-and-red blur that's thwipping one-handed through the tall buildings of an old-fashioned New York.

  I guess the massive humanoid lizard that's jumping from building to building is hard to miss, too.

  Ohhhh, wow. This feels weird. I've never been in another reality that isn't a sibling of my own and my body tingles from the different atomic makeup of this world. It makes my hair stand on end at the alienness of it - even the air is a stranger to me. My skin prickles. My head swims. 

  I look down at my green sweatshirt and find the colour almost fighting to stay, to not succumb to the greyness that licks at the edge of the fabric's folds. The fuzziness hurts to look at. I force my curious gaze away and try to peer for Miguel again.

  I startle when two figures land on the rooftop beside me. Jess gives my shoulder a firm pat. A monochrome spider-man donning a large trench coat tips his fedora in greeting. I raise my hand in stunned response.

  "Y/n, Spider-Noir. Spider-Noir, Y/n," Jess rushes through the introductions. She points at the passing blur of Spider-Man 928. "Go get your dog, girl."

  "Hold your horses," Spider-Noir says in a deep mid-atlantic accent, and raises his hands before we do anything. "Tell me." He reaches out and tugs the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "Is this 'orange'?"

  I blink at him. "... no."

  Spider-Noir drops his head with a curse. "Damn it!"

  Jess and Spider-Noir tug me back and behind them mere seconds before the lizard leaps to the spot on the rooftop where we were just standing. The concrete of the roof's edge is reduced to rubble beneath his clawed feet. My yelp of shock is delayed in comparison.

  The lizard launches to the next building. Miguel's hanging on with the talons of his good hand and feet dug into the creature's skin. One arm is noticeably unused. I lift my head over Spider-Noir's protective arms with an exhale of disbelief.

  "Any more o' that and Big Joe'll end up in a Chicago overcoat," Spider-Noir comments.

  "Boy, what are you even saying?" Jess asks. Before our new friend can answer, she waves him off. "Never mind. Hold tight, Noir." She pats my back and shoots a web after the disastrous pair. "Miguel! Your girlfriend's here!"

  "This is insanity," I mutter to myself.

  I flinch when the lizard is thrown into a window and lets loose a rain of shards onto the streets below. I peer over the edge of the rooftop we're on and find old-fashioned cars trudging along the roads. Pedestrians stop and stare at the racket overhead. What year is it?

  "That beau o' yours has got grit," Spider-Noir says. "He looks like he'd give a Nazi a good wallop to the noggin."

  I step back from the edge of the rooftop when I start to get vertigo from the height. What did Jess even bring me here for? To play bait for my disobeying husband with a broken arm?

  "Sure would." I do a double take when my eyes catch Spider-Noir pulling a pistol from a holster beneath his coat. "Is that a gun? Why do you have a gun?!"

  Spider-Noir stares at me as he cocks the pistol. "For blastin' Nazis."

  I nod my head with wide eyes. "Cool. Great." I didn't know there were Spider-Men that carried guns. Good to know.

  My baffled train of thought is cut short when Miguel's red webs pulls him up to our rooftop. His holding his arm weirdly, and my stomach turns with worry. He walks towards us like everything's totally fine - except for the fact that I'm here.

  "What are you doing?" Miguel asks me, voice a touch harsh. "It's dangerous!"

  "What are you doing?" I counter furiously. "I got a call from Jess saying that you've broken your arm and that you're refusing to go home!"

  "That's not something to walk into the middle of a battle for!" Miguel argues. "You need to go back to base."

  I grab his good wrist. "I agree! And you're coming with me."

  "I have to finish this," he says, tugging back from my grip.

  "Jess and Noir can finish it," I insist. I continue before he can argue further. "Miguel, you have a daughter, now. Stop throwing yourself deeper into danger than you already have to."

  Spider-Noir nods seriously. "It's a trip-for-biscuits, Big Joe. This was an ace bash but your bird's barkin' up the right tree."

  Miguel and I send Noir a confused look. At least we can agree on our new friend not making any sense. Unperturbed, Noir sets his pistol back into his holster and watches as Jess tackles the Lizard to a neighbouring building's rooftops while his coat flutters in the breeze.

  I shake my head and turn back to Miguel with an imploring look.

  "Come home, Mig," I plead. "Jess and Noir have it handled, and there's an entire society of Spideys they can call if they need help."

  It doesn't take long for him to cave beneath my worry- though I think he'd already caved the moment I mentioned Rosalina. He sighs and drops his red shoulders. "Fine."

  I smile with relief. "Thank you." I peek around to Noir, who's still watching Jess fight the lizard. "Bye, Spider-Noir. It was nice to meet you."

  "Abyssinia," Spider-Noir says with a salute, before shooting a web and swinging towards the battle with his coat flying behind him.

  I input the coordinates back to base and grimace when the portal's intense colour renders me briefly blind. I blink hard to get used to saturation again. Miguel lets me lead him back through to his station and this time I only stumble a little. I'm getting my portal-legs.

  Miguel holds his arm to his chest as we walk towards the medical bay. His mask's folded back down, but his face doesn't show any sign of pain. I keep peeking up at him just to make sure that the familiar valleys of his resting expression isn't hiding anything.

  I can't quite comprehend it. He's broken his arm and he's not even showing a grimace. How is he okay?

  "How'd you hurt yourself?" I ask.

  "Got thrown through a building wrong."

  I eye him suspiciously. "Is there a right way to be thrown through a building?"

  "Yeah." He glances down at me with a hint of a smile. "When I don't break my arm."

  My look is dry. "That's not funny."

  "It's a little funny."

  I roll my eyes and give up.

  The medical bay is a massive sector of the Spider-HQ that's constantly revolving through patients. It comes in handy for those with secret identities that don't want to explain to their families why they have a second concussion in weeks. I've only seen this place once during my tour. I forgot how busy it gets.

  The place is bustling with Spideys with various injuries. A few stare as their boss enters and heads towards an area where five large, white machines have been set up. Each of them have a gurney where Spideys rest upon. Small, rotating heads on manoeuvring arms on each of the machines focus on a specific body part. The one on the far left focuses on its Spidey's leg. The one beside it concentrates on the ribs.

  Miguel takes a seat at one of the fancy high-tech machines when the Spidey on it is finished. He passes by with a smile at us. The machine whirs to life and moves the head of its contraption over his outstretched, swollen forearm.

  "What does this do?" I ask.

  "It's called a doofer. It knits bones back together." He hisses through his teeth when two blue lights strike down to where his radius sits beneath his skin. Ah. So he can feel pain. "S' why I said it was no big deal."

  I card my fingers through his hair. "Dumb and macho isn't a good look on you, amor." He huffs, half amused, half insulted. "Is Noir part of the society?"

  "No," Miguel replies. He leans into my hand that curls through his hair. "He knows of it, though. Said something about 'loyal dogs only have one team' or whatever."

  "Strange."  

  Miguel hums. The machine stops, the blue lights fading, and he experimentally flexes his hand and twists his arm. He stands and offers me a smile.

  "So, you're just all better?" I ask doubtfully. "That was fast."

  "Almost." He places his good hand on my back and steers me away from the doofer so the next Spidey holding his shoulder can use it. "The bone still hasn't healed fully. It'll need another week."

  "Another week of not using it," I remind. Miguel sighs. "Hey." I grab his good arm to turn him to me. Spidey's wander past us through the hall. "You have to take better care of yourself, Mig. I know you had this mentality for a while where you didn't care what happens to you in a fight, but Rosita and I need you, okay?"

  Miguel exhales through his nose. "Okay."

  "I'm serious," I say sternly. My throat tightens. "I've already lost my Miguel. I don't what I'd do if I lose you, too."

  Miguel's face falls. He reaches out to hold my cheek. "You're not going to lose me, cariño. I'll be more careful."

  I smile weakly. "Thank you."

  Miguel smiles, too, soft with care. He brushes his thumb over my cheek. "Vámonos. We need to get ready for our guests tonight."

  My energy lifts with excitement. I'd forgotten that our friends are coming over for dinner - or as Peter calls it, doing 'normal adult stuff.' His smile grows at my improved mood.

  Miguel squeezes my cheek before taking up my hand and starting back towards his station. His voice lowers for only me to hear.

  "Did Lyla help you find the patches?" he asks.

  I nod. "She's getting it sent to your place."

  His hand tightens around mine. His voice dips further, dark with promise. "Good." 

  My cheeks blush deeply at his obvious insinuation. I don't think I'll be able to even wait for them arrive if he keeps this up.