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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader
Summary: After you reveal the truth of what your relationship really was between you and Miguel, everyone's keen on learning more. So what better way to give a little more insight than a dinner at your shared home?
Warnings: None~ Just back again with silly shenanigans and the softest of fluff :3
A/N: Hello, everyone! After the first part of 'What's In Between' blew up (you can read it here, thank you so much by the way, you're all so sweet), many people have asked for a part two, so here it is! Enjoy <3
The moment you break the news to them, the volume of the table booms to a fever pitch as everyone begins talking at the same time.
“W-WHAT?!”
“Married? No way,” Hobie says.
“How long have you been together?” Pavitr asks.
“I can’t say I saw this coming…” Miles says, eyes widening in surprise.
Miguel had been watching you the moment you snuck up on the group, but with the newfound panic from everyone he couldn’t help but make his way over to the commotion.
“You’re all being loud, what are you yelling about now?” Miguel asks, walking over and standing by your side.
“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL US YOU WERE MARRIED?!” Gwen shouts.
“You never asked,” he blinks, “and also, it’s none of your business.”
“Miguel, as your best friend I am deeply offended that you haven’t told me after this long, does our friendship mean nothing to you?” Peter says, hand on his chest in pretend hurt.
“You are not my best friend,” Miguel deadpans.
“After I opened up to you no less, I mean, you were the first person I told about Mayday! All the details-” he continues, ignoring the comment.
“Not by choice,” he mutters.
“Does no one know about this?? At all???” Pavitr asks, “I mean, you two are married.”
“I mean, Jess knows about it,” you gesture, and she only grins.
“And now all of you do too,” Miguel sighs. “Vida mía, I thought we talked about this,” he admonishes.
“Oh, c’mon, it was cute how they were all trying to figure it out for so long. I was starting to feel bad,” you say, smoothing your hair back. He only stares at you for a moment before sighing.
“Fine,” he relents, “Can’t do anything about it now anyway.” He smiles softly at you, and the group watches in awe as their cold leader softens in your presence, but his gaze quickly grows dark as he turns back to the group.
“One word of this to anyone outside of this group,” he says with a pointed finger before trailing off, allowing everyone to fill in the blanks as to what he might do.
Everyone’s faces pale like a sheet at the unnamed threat (well, except for Hobie, he only watches with blatant amusement on his face), but you only laugh.
“Miguel, don’t threaten the kids,” you giggle. “Don’t worry, he’s all bark and no bite,” you whisper to them with a wink.
“Hey, that’s what I say!” Peter says.
“You are his best friend after all,” you grin.
“I have never said those words a day in my life,” he scoffs, but you ignore him, eyes lighting up with an idea.
“Oh! I have a lovely idea, how about you all swing by our place for dinner later? We never have guests,” you suggest.
Gwen gasps, “Really?”
“This…maybe doesn’t seem like the best idea,” Miles says as he shrinks down in his seat at Miguel’s glare towards you.
“I have plans tonight…though I don’t think they’d mind if I cancel,” Hobie says nonchalantly, but everyone knew there was no way in hell he’d miss something like this.
“What am I, cat litter?” Jess asks. She was the only person to have been at your shared home, having joined around the same time as you, and being one of the few people Miguel fully trusts.
“You know it's not like that, Jess,” you turn to her with a grin.
“Absolutely not, it's already a liability that they know querida, now you want them traipsing into our home?” Miguel argues, and you narrow your eyes at him, never one to back down from a fight. While it got on his nerves, it's what he loved about you too. He needed someone that wouldn’t take his shit.
“Miguel,” you say, giving him a look. “All our enemies are literally in alternate universes who, aside from those small tears, have no way to go cross-dimensional, let alone find us in the expanse of a universe. Besides, I think it would be nice,” you say, and Mayday seems to agree since she climbs right up into your arms, babbling happily.
“And don’t think I don’t know you have a soft spot for this lil ragtag team,” you smile, bouncing up and down as Mayday laughs.
He huffs, “I am anything but soft, especially for them. They never listen, don’t follow protocol, are immature, and the list goes on.”
“He’s lying,” you whisper, covering your mouth from his direction as though that would stop him from happening. Mayday grabs your hand though, playing with your fingers happily. “See how his ears are turning red?”
At that, his ears turn more red and the group tries to stifle their snickers to no avail.
“Querida,” he warns. “Do you feel the need to share anything else about me? Or have you had enough,” he asks, poking your shoulder. You place a hand on his bicep with a gentle smile, and his expression softens much to his dismay.
“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you grin. “Alright, it’s settled then! You’re all coming over tonight.”
~
You hummed softly to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, preparing the food for dinnertime when everyone would be coming over.
Then, you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck as a familiar presence makes himself known, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his head rests on top of yours.
“Vida mía, the food smells good,” he says softly before sighing. “But I’m not very happy with you today.”
You let out a sigh of your own as you turn off the stove before turning around in his arms to face him.
“Miguel, my love,” you say, smoothing out the collar of the pullover he wore before looking up at him. “I know you well, don’t I?”
“More than anyone,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest amount as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Then it’s safe to assume that you’ve been wanting to hang out with more people in the Society apart from work-related things?” you ask, placing your hand on his chest.
“I can’t afford anything like that in this line of work, you know that querida,” he sighs, that familiar hardened look in his eyes for a moment.
“Miguel, your only friends can’t be me, Lyla and Jess,” you pout.
“Vida mía, you are my wife,” he says.
“Yes, and it's miracle enough that I was able to grow close enough to you to get to that point,” you chuckle, “so my existence in your life is proof itself that you are capable of growing close to people. I’ve seen you, I think you’re ready and deep down I know you don’t always want to be perceived as the cold and unfeeling leader of the Society. Why not start with them?”
“That’s not a decision for you to make,” he says, glancing away from you.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” you apologize, feeling a bit guilty that you threw Miguel into this without warning. “I should have spoken to you about it first but who knows. Maybe this is a good thing, opening your heart a little more,” you explain. “Don’t think I realize you’re the hardest on them because you believe in them,” you smile.
He huffs before pausing to think for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder when you snuck your little way into my head, querida.”
“Admit it, you’re growing soft,” you giggle softly.
“Never,” he counters, tickling your side which makes you scrunch up your face as you laugh breathlessly.
“OKAY! Okay, you’re one soft fluffy teddy bear, happy?” you say which only makes him continue with even more fervour.
“That is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever heard you say, querida,” he snorts but finally relents.
“Yeah….I can’t even say that with a serious face,” you chuckle. “But you do have your moments, tough guy,” you smile, leaning up on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. That’s when the doorbell rings, and immediately your eyes light up.
“Oh! They’re here!!” you say excitedly, escaping from his grasp as you move to open up the door.
“Here we go,” he murmurs to himself, and you turn to face him.
“What was that?” you ask.
“Nothing, vida mía,” he replies, and you narrow your eyes in disbelief.
“Behave, Miguel,” you tell him.
“Wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he replies, and you grin before opening up the front door.
There, you find Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter (alongside Mayday of course), Hobie and Jess all standing outside, chatting amongst themselves before turning to you.
Miles almost looks like he’s in disbelief like he couldn’t really believe this was your home quite yet.
“Hi!” Gwen starts.
“Took you lot long enough,” Hobie says. “Was starting to think we'd have to build a fire and cook it ourselves.” Gwen punches his shoulder, to which he lets out a little “Ow!”
“Sorry about him,” Gwen apologizes.
You just find yourself laughing at it all though.
“No apologies needed, we were a little preoccupied. Come on in, make yourself at home,” you say, opening the door a little wider for them to make their way through.
“Not too at home though,” you hear Miguel say, leaning into the foyer from the living room, arms crossed over his chest.
“Ignore him,” you say, giving him a pointed look to which he just stares at you blankly. “Dinner will be ready soon, I just have to set the table and we can eat, alright?”
“It smells delicious,” Pavitr says, “I’m starving.”
Mayday seems to agree as she crawls up from the baby carrier onto Peter’s head, making grabby hands from the top.
“Someone’s hungry,” Peter chuckles. “Got anything she can eat?”
“I have a few things, don’t worry,” you smile.
“It really does smell really good though, but it always does,” Jess adds.
“It’s nothing special,” you say sheepishly. “Just some of Miguel’s favourites.”
You guide them all into the living room. “Settle in! I’ll be done in a snap,” you say.
As you make your way back to the kitchen (with Jess joining you to help out), back in the living room the squad of spiders settle in almost hesitantly, a watchful eye monitoring all of their reactions.
No one dares say anything, only sitting around nervously.
“So…nice weather we’re having,” Peter says, trying to lighten the mood but even Mayday gives him a deadpanned expression.
Miguel sighs. “You’re all acting like there’s a ticking time bomb waiting for you to speak before setting off,” he says, still leaning up against the doorway.
“We don’t know, mate. Is there?” Hobie jokes, but Miles’ face drops anyway.
“There isn’t, for the record. I can be harsh but I’m not evil,” Miguel scoffs before making eye contact with Pavitr who looks like he wanted to ask something but was holding back.
“One question,” he says simply with a nod.
“How long have you two been together?”
“…a little over 4 years now,” he replies.
“How did you meet?” Gwen asks.
“I said one question,” he says before your voice cuts in.
“My universe was one of the first he visited! He hated me back then, though,” you laugh as you walk back in. “Speaking of which!! I have some things you might all want to see after dinner,” you grin mischievously.
“I thought you said I was the one that had to behave, mi corazón,” Miguel says, a warning tone in his voice.
“And I am, aren’t I?” you say, poking his side playfully. “Anyway, dinner’s ready,” you say, leading them to the dining room. “I know it's not much but-”
“How in the hell is this not much??” Hobie exclaims, and you just shrug. “You should see dinner with my family, then you will think that it’s not much,” you say with a chuckle.
On the table sat a wide expanse of food, all of Miguel’s favourites from Mexico. Empanadas as the appetizer, alongside pozole, ceviche, enchiladas, and chicken with mole poblano all served with a side of rice, beans, or homemade corn tortillas depending on each person’s preference.
You can see Miguel’s eyes visibly brighten as he looks at the food, settling in at the head of the table with you by his side.
“Come eat!” As you say that, everyone sits down before beginning to eat, everyone heading straight to what appealed to them the most.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Miles says, eyes closed in bliss.
“Oye, don’t let your Mother hear that, kid,” Miguel says, but the corner of his lip was upturned in the tiniest of smiles. The most he would allow himself around this many people.
“Thank you, Miles,” you smile.
“This, uhh, how do you say it again? Poh-zuhl?” Gwen asks, and you laugh out loud as she turns pink, meanwhile both Miguel and Miles cringe slightly.
“I’m sorry for laughing, sweetheart. You’re almost there; it’s pronounced like ‘poh-zoh-lay’,” you say kindly.
“Ohh, okay gotcha. Pozole. It’s really good! Feels…comforting, almost,” she says.
“Yes,” you say, glancing at your husband with a soft smile, “it’s Miguel’s favourite. Says it ‘tastes like home’.” A chorus of ‘awws’ go around the table, while Miguel only holds the bridge of his nose with a sigh.
“Alright, alright. Enough with the cheesy stuff, let’s get back to eating, yeah?” Hobie says before shoving his fork back into his mouth.
~
Once dinner was finished (and after both Miles and Gwen insisted that they did the dishes despite much argument from you), everyone was settled again in the living room laughing and talking together, and while Miguel only said a few things here and there and sat by your side like a lost puppy, he did seem to be enjoying himself.
“Alright! Now, before everyone goes back home, I have one more thing I’d like to show you,” you say once it quiets down a bit. Standing up, you make your way over to a large bookshelf you and Miguel had built together when you first moved in together.
“I’ve gotten tired of having only myself to show these photos to, so this is the perfect opportunity,” you smile.
“Querida-” Miguel says, holding out a hand to block your way but you look at him with pleading eyes, and he can’t do anything but relent. He couldn’t say no when you looked at him like that.
With a triumphant ‘haha!’ you grab a photo album labelled with a date and a single word; ‘Ours’.
Everyone crowds around as you place it down on the coffee table, and you open it up to the first page.
Gwen is the one that gasps first, eyes wide with awe.
“You both look so beautiful,” she says softly.
There, front and centre was a photo of you and Miguel on your wedding day. You were smiling wide at the camera, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand while Miguel only looked at you with an expression so in awe it was as though you painted the stars in the sky.
“You clean up nicely, big man,” Hobie comments, and Pavitr nods.
“Weddings, my favourite,” Jess says, a fond expression on her face as she thinks back to her own husband.
“I had a bird fly into my face at my wedding…but they are nice,” Peter says, rocking Mayday gently as she naps away after the hearty dinner even despite the commotion.
You continue to flip through the photobook, pausing periodically for a little anecdote about each one. Miguel had long stood up to make room for everyone else, but he looked at you in the same way he did on your wedding day.
Like you were the light of his life, the one good thing he had amongst the millions of universes parallel to his own. Like you were his everything.
~
“Admit it, you like them,” you smile, the house finally quiet after everyone headed home. He only rolls his eyes before pulling you into his lap, his face going into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.
“There is a big difference between ‘liking’ and ‘tolerating’, sweetheart,” he says, rubbing circles into your hip soothingly.
“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Whatever you say,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and settling into his touch with a happy sigh.
You both sit there for a moment in silence, the two of you weren’t ones to fill silence with mindless chatter. If words needn’t be said then they weren’t.
“That was…nice, though,” he admits softly after a little while.
“I know,” you whisper.
~
~
~
“That won’t happen again for a long while though,” he says, pulling away to look at you, crimson eyes pleading with you wordlessly.
You can’t do anything but laugh.
Taglist (for those who requested a part two): @lotustv @mars-ifuknowmeirlplsgoaway @elliewilliamsactualgf @randomhumans-blog @iluvkonig @phillygraves @gothgirlziez
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bonus comic
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Talks to himself
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Interrupts himself
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“Oh wow is this curry powder?”
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Sorry
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Has to get the last word
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