Chapter Text
Miguel has never felt a stronger sense of empathy with the few Spiders from the monochrome multiverses.
The Spider Society is still Miguel’s home, a place he has an immeasurable amount of pride and love for, but it barely feels like it most of the time. Once warm and comforting, the labyrinth of a building has turned cold and hostile, deservingly so. Once a respected leader and- he likes to think- model Spiderman, Miguel knows he’s just about feared by many and abhorred by more.
“All the Spiderpeople I’ve ever met are funny- why are you so serious?”
He finally turned into the monster he refused to become after escaping his home, burying Spiderman in that timestream. The old chants of devil and mutant echo through his head with fervor, his amplified abilities making it nearly painful. It doesn’t help that the walls of the Spider Society are so similar to the white of Alchemax and most of the buildings in his world.
There’s no excuse for what he’s done- he screwed up, big time, and he knows it. If given the chance he thinks he could admit it but his pride keeps him from trying to, fear nagging that if he offers even a shred of an apology it’d be spit on, trampled, burned, and shoved in his face before throwing him out of the Society.
To everyone else, the Spider Society is exactly the same as it was before his screw-up, spare for a new member. The near-daily bonding activities that Miguel secretly loved to partake in every once in a while are now something that he occasionally watches from security camera feeds. The cafeteria serves the same foods and has the same test kitchen rotation, the taste of their empanadas a ghost on his tongue.
Miguel rarely walks the halls of the Society anymore- when he does, it’s either for an emergency or because he’s getting a migraine from going too long without the pleasant buzz of being around others like him. And when he does decide to curse everyone with his presence, conversations die, all eyes are on him, and his senses scream DANGER until he’s exited the room.
His mask rarely comes off, even when he’s the only one in the dark room he likes to monitor the multiverse from. All this contributes to strengthening the rumors that he’s not even a Spider but a vampire, widening the chasm of his own making between him and everyone else.
It’s been three months since he’s had a friendly interaction with anyone, enough that a sort of anxiety at the thought of having to talk to anyone starts to settle in. The only times he’s allowed to talk to people are limited to short professional briefings about actual emergencies and to order take-out; Lyla had removed herself from his personal technology, truly isolating him.
“Um, heeeey- O’Hara, you in here?” A sliver of light interrupted by a single shadow spills into his “lair”. Even though his senses don’t ring, Miguel flinches and instinctively finds himself as far from the door as he can go, squeezed into the small curve between two walls and the ceiling, heart pounding hard enough that he’s sure the other Spider can hear it. “Miguel?” Shuffling. “Damn, it’s dark in here. Smells like my spare closet. Ugh, I thought he’d be here.” A light stomp and the ray of light grows larger, another shadow joining the one in the doorway. Miguel feels his talons dig into the metal walls, the chill from the metal settling into his back. Wondering why this panic has suddenly overtaken him, he tries to calm himself down, channeling the fear into something more familiar like anger or upset or constant loneliness- nope, not going there.
“Jeeessss” A petulant whine. “You said he’d be here!”
“He damn well should be Parker- you’re not looking right.”
And just like that the fear begins to subside. His senses are still throwing the now normal danger at him but it’s joined by a buzz that used to be both comforting and pleasant but now feels foreign and ephemeral.
“Jessica?” His voice comes out quiet and raw but it’s enough for anyone like them to hear. The light quickly turns on and Miguel can’t help but be pleased at the sight of both Peter B. Parker and Jessica Drew. They stare at each other for a few moments, an eternity on either end. Both of them look so different, for obvious reasons. They’re both in their full outfits sans masks, Peter no longer sporting any of his soft robes and the baby carrier. Jessica’s belly is gone. A strange mixture of joy and sadness goes through him. She gave birth.
“Miguel?” Both of them say nearly in tandem when they finally spot his hopefully intimidating figure definitely not cowering in a corner.
“The fuck are you doing up there?” Jessica crosses her arms and needlessly squints at him. There’s pity on Parker’s face, though, and Miguel will prefer that to animosity any day.
“Just, um, relaxing.” It’s an easy jump to the ground. They look good- everyone’s doing good without him. The lingering sense of fear keeps the talons on both his hands and feet from retracting, forcing him to cross his arms to keep from potentially scaring away his guests. Shock, he should’ve dusted at least.
“Haven’t seen you in a while man, how have you been?” Peter begins rambling, penetrating the awkward atmosphere with familiarity. “I should’ve brought Mayday- she loves you so much, you know. Does she still remember you? I’ll ask her. But then again, who can forget you- my phone recommended me a photo of her crawling across you, lemme see if I can find that again- oof !” Jessica ends the rant with a smooth elbow to the gut, clearly more willing to take action and return to being the physical woman Miguel first met now that she no longer has a constant guest with her.
Under the mask, Miguel almost smiles. He itches to go closer, to somehow urge Peter to do his former usual routine of bumping shoulders and slinging an arm across Miguel’s shoulders. The Spider Society has only existed for a few years, and in those few years he had gathered the respect of many but the friendship of only a few. He knows he comes off as standoffish, intimidating, and scary, but he’s still human at heart. He always loved the little touches and hugs that friends only give friends, even if it never showed. But just like everyone else, he’s had his moments of weakness, and those who know him best even after his voluntary absence can somehow easily decipher what he needs and an estimation of how he really feels.
A rebellious part of his brain summons memories of his past interactions with the two, flooding him with a want akin to a child looking for his family. He wants Jessica to playfully rub her knuckles into his head. He wants Peter to swing in with Mayday, trusting him enough to keep her delicate little being safe and comfy. He takes a single trance-like step forward and a talon glances against the floor, the ugly sound sending a shudder up all three of their spines. Jessica eyes the talons for a moment, brow momentarily furrowed before she looks up to try and meet Miguel’s eyes.
“You good dude?” Jessica asks.
The interaction is like a bad movie sequence, with Miguel taking too long to respond for how little he says. “Absolutely. What do you two need?” He has some snacks in the little wooden bedside table Pavitr dumped in here for no reason shortly after he entered the Society- it’s right next to the sad-looking web he made a few weeks ago for the days he didn’t feel like walking or swinging to his sleeping quarters. Are they hungry? Do they like Cheez-Its and chocolate-covered espresso beans?
“Nothing- just wanted to check in on you.” Peter raises an arm and sends out a web, snatching one of the empty energy drink cups Miguel has been downing like water. “Jess, remind me to get this scanned later. Miguel, pray that we don’t find more than a gram of caffeine ever being in this cup.”
What?
Confusion becomes the prominent emotion, edging Miguel to move closer. He quickly notes finding a new hiding spot since he’s recently increased the caffeine amount to two grams a cup.
“Check in on me? I don’t need checking in on- I’m fine. Now, if you don’t need anything from me-”
“Girl,” Jessica interrupts, hip cocked with one hand casually resting on it. “If you say you’re “fine”,” she finger quotes with her other hand, “I don’t wanna know what you’re universe has in the dictionary for “fine”. As far as I know, you haven’t seen sunlight in days- no one has seen you in days. Hell, I haven’t been able to talk to you because you keep on scurrying around and disappearing on me. You forced me to force you to miss Gerald’s meet-and-greet!”
“Her son!” Peter quips before any confusion could occur. Jessica gave birth to a boy - there’s another baby, and just being reminded of the thought of his friend being able to experience such happiness brings honest joy to him. “He’s a cute little guy- got eyes bigger than Mayday had when she popped out. They’ll be having play-dates that I just can’t wait for!”
“Oh. Okay.” What else can he say? What else is worth hearing? He walks to his collection of displays, turning them on, lighting up the room. “Do you guys need a mission? There’s nothing that pressing happening, but some worlds could use some observance” At some point Jessica has closed the door, a bit of webbing stretching from the door to the adjacent wall. The two are advancing on him, and there’s nowhere he can go, and nothing he wants to do about it except hold onto a bloom of hope.
“We actually want to ask you something, Miguel.” Peter goes up and down on his toes, visibly excited. “We want you to teach the kiddos.”
Miguel stiffens, hands falling from where he’s been setting up the displays to hang tense at his side.
“Can you say that again? I don’t think I heard you right?”
For once, Parker doesn’t ramble. His face is all serious, brown eyes boring into Miguel’s red.
“I’ve been chatting around and from what I’ve been able to figure out is that even though everyone’s got mixed feelings about what happened we all agree that you’re a damn good leader, Miguel. Everyone keeps on trying to do things on their own and it’s not working out. Missions have become chaotic, training’s falling apart, and no one thinks they can bother you with asking for help about anything. Our newest recruits also haven’t been making that much progress with their mentors without you there pushing and, well, being you.” Peter moves closer, the sound of his soft steps hidden under words.
“I know what it’s like to feel responsible for something, to feel like you have to punish yourself for every wrong that others have and haven’t pointed out. If you want to continue hanging in here,” Peter chuckles at his own joke, “you can go ahead and do that. But they need you out there- we need you. Even if some of them don’t want to admit it so be it but we want you back, even if it’s just as a leader at first.”
Peter’s less than a foot in front of him, taking advantage of Miguel’s internal turmoil. This can’t be right. He thinks about how he’s been avoided and shunned, the glares and disgust blatant on the faces of everyone around him. Even though Miguel continues to walk like he has purpose and certainty, he hasn’t felt either of the two in far too long. Until now. He’s certain that nobody wants him around, much less to train. Peter and Jessica are holding onto frayed threads of friendship, threads that Miguel doesn’t want to cut and add to the large connection of severed relationships. Unhesitatingly, Peter’s hand comes up and slowly slides Miguel’s mask off, thumb gliding over his chapped lips.
“There he is,” Jessica drawls softly, having come up behind Miguel’s shoulder at some point. The pleasant buzz in the back of his head increases, almost drawing a forbidden purr from his chest when her fingers start running through his hair, scratching the base of his head. “I told you he’d look absolutely exhausted. I’m sorry, Miguel.” Why is she being apologetic? None of this is her fault- there’s nothing to be concerned about.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Miguel murmurs, fangs stopping his tongue from lolling out like some drugged-up dog while his eyes go half-lidded. He fights the urge to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder, embarrassingly knowing from experience how comfortable it is. “I should be able to take care of a few brats. So what- what do you want me to do first?”
“So you’ll be helping out with training some of the kids” Jessica summarizes. “We’re stuck in this weird lull in training, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can break it and help them get better. I know I’m becoming too soft on Gwen, and Peter’s always too soft on the kids. You and your wanna-be army training routines,” she jokes, “will do wonders.”
“Yeah, just a few kids,” Peter adds before he joins Jessica in somehow knowing what Miguel needs, just like they’ve done so many times before- but it’s been so long, it’s almost too much. “Maybe chaperons them on some missions, just light work. Help them individually but also guide them into working as a better team.” Peter’s hands are firm and grounding, running up and down Miguel’s arms. Just like every other time the logical part of him wants to pull away, wants to growl and snarl at the two for even daring to touch him. But they’re his closest friends, they are still the two he trusts the most even if they don’t feel the same anymore. But just like the too few times in the past, the two have barged in when his walls are already down, when both he and the animal in him are pitifully craving the utter destruction of those walls. Even though he’s strong and powerful, a part of him he can’t control has chosen Peter and Jessica to unwillingly be what he can only call family. It’s frightening how with the months-long absence and silence he’s ready to pull them back into his life, to roll over and let instinct override his mind more than it ever has before.
“It’ll probably just be Miles and Gwen’s band- six kids is probably not even enough to distract you just a bit, yeah?”
“Which ones?” Miguel manages under the two’s ministrations.
“Peni, Pavitr, Hobie, and Noir.”
Them and the troublesome two that he’s probably hurt the most? Should be simple enough. He can easily think up some activities they can do so he can discover their weaknesses and which missions they can go on as soon as possible. Hobi will probably be easier to deal with in a group, and Noir will probably help keep everyone under control.
He still holds some doubt about their plan but he knows that it’s an easy out from this isolation he’s put himself in, a way to start the slow journey to reconnecting with all the Spiders and taking control of his life again. He’s Miguel O’Hara, the one-and-only Spiderman. He’s been called a leader, ninja, and hero. He’s taken down villains the likes that many worlds have never seen. He’s defeated greater things than a spot of unwarranted nervousness.
It’s then that the exhaustion hits him, no longer pushed away by the energy drink he finished three hours ago. His head falls onto Peter’s shoulder, nuzzling into the man’s neck, drawing a chuckle from the older Spiderman. His eyes shut and Jessica continues scratching his head even as Peter picks him up and walks them to Miguel’s web. The three lie down and Miguel is lulled to sleep with a pair of arms around him, fingers in his hair, and apologies and promises in his ear.