Chapter Text
Miles leaped out of the portal and landed on top of a high platform in the middle of bustling Nueva York sky traffic, almost crashing into an incoming hover car. The driver let out blaring, angry honks.
"Sorry!" Miles yelled.
He still couldn't get used to dimensional travel, and the fancy watch strapped to his wrist didn't help much beyond keeping him from disintegrating. If he had to describe it, dimensional travel probably felt like being sucked into a blackhole with a straw–compressed and moving so quickly that it was as if parts of his body had lagged in the travel, some arriving slower than the others and haphazardly slapped together again on the finish line. It always left him in an unpleasant limbo, in the aftermath.
Miles cast his web out and started to swing. The wind hit his face as he swung through the city. He breathed in the humid summer night, warm and sweet, easing the nausea from dimensional travel with every sip of fresh air. It helped some, but there was still this nagging feeling in his gut, which had been there since Miguel’s abrupt departure from their mission.
It was a fairly simple and straightforward mission. A minor villain got dimensionally displaced and needed to be sent to his correct dimension. Easy, right? It had been going smoothly too. Miles had the villain caught in his webs, subdued, and ready to be brought to the HQ when he heard a familiar cracking sound. Neon red flooded the dark alley, blinding him momentarily, as a dimensional portal appeared out of thin air. In the blink of an eye, Miles saw a blur of red and blue disappear into the portal before it was dark and quiet once more. Stunned, it took him a few seconds to realize that Miguel had ditched him, and another few to realize that their villain had ditched him, too.
The event left him in equal parts confused and pissed. Sure, he and Miguel didn’t have the best relationship. But hey, they had something tentative going on. They had their grievances resolved, bridges mended, and olive branches offered. They were fine-ish now. They even gave each other a nod when they passed each other in the HQ, like real colleagues. So he felt a bit hurt too, being ditched like that, out of the blue, with no warning whatsoever.
*
The HQ were rather deserted when he got there. The usually bustling hallways were quiet, without the chatter of hundreds of witty spiders, the grand building felt sterile, almost eerie, and disorienting. For some reason, a good chunk of spider people were busy today. Gwen and Hobie had their show, Pavitr had his quiz, and Peter had his date night with MJ. And they still didn’t allow him to go on missions unchaperoned, which led him to be paired with the big guy himself.
Lucky him.
Miles spotted Ben in the lobby, though, leaning against the wall, muttering something intelligible.
“Hey, man. You know where Miguel is?” Miles asked.
“The Boss went that way,” Ben said, pointing in the general direction of Miguel’s lab.
“Super. Thanks, Ben.” Miles hurriedly walked to the lab, not giving a single glance to the blinking, sleek machinery along the way, too wrapped up in his haste.
His senses were suddenly alight as he rode the elevator up to Miguel’s Lab, a jolt in his gut and anxiety lodged in his chest. A warning, but of what?
He took off his mask and closed his eyes, willing his senses to make sense, but he couldn’t come up with a reason. There was no alarm or sign of a breach in the HQ, and that could only mean there was something wrong with what lay ahead of him, Miguel.
Miles' heart was pounding, his mind was racing. A series of increasingly worse scenarios flashed before his eyes. The elevator ride seemed like it was going on forever.
*
The place was dark when he finally reached his destination. The usually dim room, courtesy of Miguel’s light sensitivity, was even dimmer than usual. Though from where he stood, Miles could make out Miguel’s figure in the dark, illuminated by the blinking screens surrounding him. He was standing on his hover-platform with his back to the entrance, head hung low. And it seemed that … his shoulders were shaking?
Miles wasn’t quite sure if he should go ahead with his original plan, asking about Miguel’s odd behavior and making sure the older man was okay. It was clear from his tense posture that Miguel would very much like to be left alone. He was a 6’9” of pent up anger issue on a good day, who knows what was in store when his vibes glaringly radiated a 'fuck off or I'll bite your head off.'
Murder, most likely.
But Miles couldn't just let him be, could he? Not when Miguel could be in danger, and Spider-Man didn’t kill people anyway.
He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve to tough it out and just bit the bullet.
“Hey, Miguel! Are you okay? You left in a hurry back there,” Miles said.
Miguel's shoulders jumped; he whipped his head so fast it made Miles wince in sympathy for his neck.
"--I mean, it's no big deal or anything! A heads up would be nice, but I'm just worried, I guess," Miles continued.
"Miles," Miguel said. His voice was low, raspy, and had a somewhat breathy quality to it that made Miles shiver, but he quickly brushed it off.
"And the villain guy escaped, by the way. I swear I just took my eyes off of him for seconds–"
"Miles!" Miguel shouted. It stopped Miles dead in his tracks.
"Listen, Miles. Look, I'm sorry for leaving you like that, but you have to go. Now," Miguel said, spitting every word behind gritted teeth. And it was the straw that broke the camel back for him. Here Miles was, genuinely worried for Miguel’s well-being, after being ditched right in the middle of a mission, too, if he might add, and Miguel just brushed him off like that?
"No, you listen to me! What the hell was that, man? What's happening? Don't even try to be cryptic with me. I thought we were past that; I--I thought we're a team!"
Miguel cursed under his breath. Something in Spanish Miles couldn't quite catch.
"This is why I told you to lock the lab, Lyla," Miguel sighed.
"Well, I didn't think he'd come this fast! And I have other tasks, you know! I’ve got my hands full!" Lyla retorted animatedly.
Then Miguel jumped off of the platform. There was a stagger that marred his usually fluid movement, landing not quite right with a stumble on his knees. He stalked towards Miles, removing his mask as he did so, and–
Oh. Oh .
"I'm compromised, as you can see. And it was best that I quickly removed myself from the mission, as time was essential under circumstances like this to avoid unnecessary complications. Are you following me?" Miguel said.
Miles opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind went haywire with the sudden onslaught of the scent of an omega in heat.
Warm. Sweet. Fertile .
Miles licked his dry lips and nodded.
"Then you know why I need you to leave the lab, right? Go home, Miles. See Jess tomorrow, she'll know what to do, and don't speak a word of this to anyone else. You got it?" Miguel asked, his tone soft, persuading.
"Y-yeah," Miles stuttered. Still, he didn’t move an inch. Rooted in his spot, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the older man. Captivated by his scent and the rise and fall of his chest as he spoke, silky smooth voice spilling out of lush, full lips.
The room felt uncomfortably warm, a bead of sweat rolled from his temple, down to his neck, before disappearing into the hem of his suit, which was now unbearably tight around his body.
"Good. Now, go!" Miguel said, barking the last part with a surprising assertiveness that betrayed his flushed face and desperation in his voice.
It jolted Miles out of his daze. He scrambled backwards, tripping over his feet on his way out of the lab, but not without giving one last glance over his shoulder. A pair of hungry, glowing red eyes was the last thing he saw as the door slid shut behind him.