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Gwen hovers above her target, crouched in the shadows of the ceiling. She’s silent as she watches them. Her eyes narrow as she focuses on what she’s about to do. There can be no room for failure; she has to get this right. The entire mission is dependent upon her capturing the target.
She tenses her leg muscles and pushes herself off the ceiling, using a web to lower herself closer to the target. She moves smoothly, gracefully, her Converse pointed to increase her aerodynamics as she elongates her body into a straight line. Every movement is calculated and controlled.
As she gets closer, she uses her arms to pull herself upward and turn her body upside-down, clinging to her trusty web. She’s only a few feet away, looming over her unsuspecting victim, body poised to launch at them and knock them off-balance.
Spider-Woman prepares to go in for the kill.
She swings herself backward just a bit, to give herself some additional momentum, and she lets go of her web to leap at her target.
“Don’t even think about it.” Miguel’s deadpan voice rings out, breaking through the hum of video feeds he’s been examining for the past hour.
“Ah!” Gwen cries out, startled, as she desperately tries to adjust her trajectory now that he’s aware of her presence. She manages to shoot another web at the ceiling and yank herself upwards seconds before she crashes right into the back of his head, and the older man just eyes her with raised eyebrows. The teenager swings to a stop in front of him, hanging upside-down and blocking his view of the multiple holographic screens.
They stare at each other in silence for about five seconds before Gwen breaks it, tugging her face mask upward to show her sulky expression.
“How did you know I was in here?” She grouses. ”You don’t have a spider-sense!”
Miguel smirks a little at her irritation. “I heard you up there about fifteen minutes ago. You breathe too loudly.”
She huffs and crosses her arms. “I do not.”
Miguel shakes his head. Teenagers. “Why were you trying to sneak up on me anyway? The rest of HQ not interesting enough for you?”
His tone isn’t condescending, but it is borderline exasperated, which makes Gwen’s pouting morph into a crooked grin.
“Peter dared me to sneak up on you. Said it would be good training.”
“Of course it was Peter,” Miguel rolls his eyes and Gwen giggles, a happy sound that does wonders to ease his annoyance at being disrupted—not that he’d ever admit it. “Well you can tell Peter to keep training out of the command center. I’m very busy here trying to keep the multiverse from falling apart!”
“Okaaay, grumpy,” Gwen teases. Miguel narrows his eyes at her and moves suddenly, reaching forward to snatch her out of the air. The girl squawks indignantly as she’s ripped from her web and tossed over Miguel’s shoulder.
“Miguel, put me down!”
He keeps a tight grip on the squirming teenager as he walks over to the doors, depositing her in front of them. Miguel gives her his best scowl, which she is becoming increasingly immune to, much to his dismay. “Go train somewhere else, arañita.”
She rolls her eyes at him but gives him a smile. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to your brooding.”
“It’s not brooding—”
“See you at home!”
Miguel heaves a sigh as she darts out of the room. “I’m going to go gray by forty at this rate.”
“You could always dye your hair so you don’t see the grays.” LYLA appears next to him, smirking. “But I recommend embracing it, DILFs are in right now!”
“...Do I even want to know what DILF means?”
“Mmmm, nah, probably not. But you have a wife so you don’t have to worry about that anyway! Joia thinks you’re hot no matter what your hair color is—”
“I would hope so, since she agreed to marry me.”
“—and it’s a good thing too because you are a handful.”
“Hey!”
“Anyway,” LYLA glitches next to his various screens and summons a new feed. “There are reports of a level 1 anomaly in Earth 89, but it looks like that universe’s Spider variant has it covered…”
Miguel steps back onto the platform and listens to the newest anomaly report, cataloging it into the system as LYLA explains.
“Ready to head out?” Joia asks as she walks into the command center, Gwen trailing behind her. She had taken a shower earlier after her training was finished, so she’s dressed in sweatpants and a band tee. Her hair is still damp, the faded pink ends curling around her jawline.
Miguel glances backward at his wife and nods once. He saves his work and makes sure the emergency anomaly tracking algorithm is active before shutting down the screens and lowering the platform.
Gwen blows air through the gap in her front teeth, making a faint whistling noise, as they wait for the torturously slow platform to reach the floor.
“You should really fix that thing,” she shakes her head.
Miguel steps off the platform while it’s still a few feet above the floor. “Or maybe you should learn some patience.”
“Pot, meet kettle,” Joia quips, grinning teasingly at her husband as he draws near. He presses a kiss to her cheek and then her lips in greeting, and Gwen averts her eyes at the romantic display.
“Let’s go home.” Joia opens a portal for them and Miguel lets the two women walk in front of him, a hand hovering protectively over each of their backs out of habit.
For Gwen, it feels nice to have him do things like that. She knows her dad loves her (or well, maybe loved, past tense, but she doesn’t like to think about that), but as a single dad who’s a cop, he wasn’t able to be there a lot growing up. She had to learn how to take care of herself early on. When her best friend was still alive it was easier—she spent a lot of time at his apartment and his aunt and uncle checked in on her and brought her meals while her dad was working long shifts, but after Peter’s death she stopped seeing his family other than the occasional dinner. It was too painful for all of them.
She’s never realized just how much she misses being hugged, or how nice it is to have someone run their fingers through her hair, or stroke her face, or just put a comforting hand on her shoulder—all casual touches she’s gone years without. But now that she’s been living with Joia and Miguel for a couple months, Gwen has grown accustomed to such casual affection, soaking it up like the cookies in tiramisu soak up coffee—sweet and refreshing. Sometimes it almost feels overindulgent and she’s momentarily afraid to have it taken away. But Joia continues to offer and Gwen can’t resist such a special treat.
Miguel started out a little prickly because he was trying to hold onto his “fearless leader” persona (as LYLA refers to it) but since moving in with him and Joia, Gwen has seen him make waffles, mow the lawn, and fall asleep on the couch during no less than three movie nights. One of those times, Gwen had fallen asleep too and she woke up later curled into his side with his heavy arm draped around her. Since that night, he’d been more inclined to initiate touch. He had invited her on a late patrol through Nueva York a week ago, and after they’d apprehended a villain, he’d given her a brief hug and told her she’d done well. She had ridden that high for several days.
Joia has quickly become a maternal figure to Gwen, and she’s much more affectionate in general. Gwen will come to HQ after school and patrol, taking a portal to her universe and back to avoid running into her dad, and the first thing she’ll do is find Joia. She’s always greeted with a smile and a warm hug. The older woman offers to braid Gwen’s hair back on days it doesn’t cooperate, and if Gwen accidentally falls asleep on the couch in her office after finishing all her homework Joia will gently stroke her face until she wakes up. The three of them also have dinner together almost every night, save for the days Miguel is on a late mission.
When Gwen moved in with them, she was given only two rules: she has to let them know where she is going whenever she leaves, and she has a curfew. It surprised her a bit but she agreed easily enough. She wasn’t used to having a curfew since her dad was typically working late, but Joia explained she needed to get at least eight hours of sleep since she’s still in school. Miguel backed up his wife’s reasoning, telling her that if anything required Spider-Woman’s attention while she was asleep, LYLA would let him know and he’d go and take care of it. It had been strangely touching.
Sometimes when she wakes up in the morning she has to take a few minutes to contemplate how much her life has changed over such a short time. Gwen misses her dad so much it’s a physical ache, but the idea of confronting him again after how badly things went at the Guggenheim has her stomach twisting into knots and a panic attack building rather quickly. She doesn’t know how she would have made it without Joia and Miguel. She doesn’t think she can ever truly put into words how much they’ve helped her, and still are helping her.
“Gwen, will you put a record on?” Joia's voice brings her out of her thoughts, and Gwen hums an affirmative.
“I’m going to shower,” Miguel informs them, stretching his arms above his head and heading to the master bedroom.
Gwen carefully picks a record out of the box; she’s not familiar with the music scene of Nueva York, but the record selection they have is full of ones that have similar sound to Gwen’s universe’s oldies—hints of rock, blues, jazz, soul ballads, and the like. After putting the record on the player and dropping the needle, Gwen lights the candle on the coffee table and toes off her Converse, putting them by the front door. She walks on silent feet into the kitchen. Joia already has an apron tied around her waist and is pulling ingredients from the fridge.
“Need any help?”
“Oh, sure, cheri, here—” She places a few bell peppers on the kitchen island. An onion and several stalks of celery sit next to a cutting board as well. “—could you chop all these up for me?”
Gwen nods and washes her hands at the sink before beginning to cut the vegetables. While she does that, Joia starts heating a Dutch oven on the stove and washes some rice. The two work together on dinner, Gwen following the instructions Joia gives her as they prepare shrimp étouffée, rice, and roasted okra.
At some point Miguel comes back out from showering and he tidies up the rest of the house and starts some laundry while the other two are cooking. Once dinner is finished cooking Gwen sets the table for three as Joia plates up the food. They sit down to eat, Miguel thanking the two for cooking, and they chat throughout the meal. Joia and Miguel ask Gwen about school, and she tells Joia about training with Peter earlier, with Miguel adding on her failure at surprising him. Gwen makes a face at him across the table and Joia laughs at the two of them.
After dinner, Miguel washes the pots and Gwen loads up the dishwasher, the two of them working side-by-side in amicable silence. Joia goes to take a shower while they clean up the kitchen. Miguel takes a seat on the couch, sprawling out and sighing deeply. Gwen curls up against the armrest, scrolling through her social media on her phone. Miguel fixed it so it works in their dimension as long as it’s connected to the internet.
When the record slows to a stop Miguel gets up and puts a new one on, and then goes to fold the laundry.
It’s all so domestic and peaceful and Gwen’s heart swells in her chest.
She tucks her favorite throw blanket around herself—the big fuzzy one Joia wrapped her up in the very first night she stayed with them.
Joia comes back in, dressed in lounge shorts and one of Miguel’s shirts (which is ridiculously oversized on her, seriously the man is huge) with her hair tucked into a green silk bonnet. She settles in next to Gwen and cracks open the book she’s currently reading, humming along to the record under her breath. Miguel follows a few minutes later.
“Laundry’s on your dresser, kid.”
Gwen nods, “Thanks.”
Miguel sits back down on the couch and tugs Joia closer to him. She huffs playfully but slides over to press herself into his side. Gwen takes the opportunity to shift her position, stretching out so she’s laying across the cushions, her chin propped up on her folded arms. Joia glances at her and then pats her leg in invitation. Gwen wriggles toward her and lays her head on Joia’s lap, burrowing under the blanket. Joia begins to run her fingers through Gwen’s hair, her other hand still holding her book. Every couple minutes she’ll use her second hand to turn the pages, but then she’ll continue playing with Gwen’s hair.
Miguel eyes his wife and the teenager in her lap with an uncharacteristically soft expression. Having Gwen around isn’t nearly as bad as he was dreading it to be. She’s a good kid, smart and quick on her feet, and admittedly very capable for a sixteen-year-old. She takes being Spider-Woman seriously and doesn’t flout any rules they’ve given her, both within the Spider Society and their home. He’s noticed how drawn she is to Joia, and how she practically glows under the attention and care his wife gives so effortlessly. Miguel didn’t say it earlier, but Gwen had impressed him in the command center when she tried to surprise him. If not for her being just a tad too loud in a room that echoes, he wouldn’t have noticed her until the last second. Even after he did notice her, he was impressed by her patience and determination. A few more years of experience under her belt and she’ll make a top Spider variant, he’s sure of it.
He takes comfort in the tranquil atmosphere and the warmth of his wife against him. The stress from the day melts off his shoulders and Miguel tilts his head to rest on the back of the couch. This is the reason he does what he does, and takes on so much responsibility as the leader of the Spider Society. This is the reason he fights so hard to protect the multiverse.
His wife…and now his daughter.
Later on, Miguel carefully lifts a sleeping Gwen into his arms and cradles her against his chest. He brings her to her bedroom, pulling back the blanket with one arm and then laying her down on the sheets. She doesn’t wake up, instead inhaling deeply and relaxing into her pillow. Miguel pulls the blanket up around her and turns off her bedside lamp.
After a moment of consideration, he bends down to press a feather-light kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, mija.”