Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There it is again.

Miguel is at the point where he wants to rip his hair out. What the SHOCK?!

Miles tiredly glanced at the alpha for the umpteenth time from where he was slumped in his seat across the table in the meeting room, his mask’s eyes slitting in an emotion he can’t decipher. Miguel was giving Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie the rundown on their next mission. After defeating the Spot, and a few very regretful apologies, Miles and Co. came back to the Spider Society on the terms that Miguel lets them keep their own watches and help any Spider-person that needs their aid, whether it be an anomaly or a villain native to their universe, to which the older man gladly accepted. Almost two years into their training, they’ve become seasoned members, allowed to go on missions without supervision and even lead some themselves. With the influx of new Spiderpeople everyday, it’s good for Miguel to have couple of things off his shoulder, no matter haw small. They’ve grown into themselves nicely, Miles especially; the omega didn’t get any taller, but his body got leaner, his voice deeper (just a little), his mind sharper. His scent—citrus, vanilla bean, and cinnamon—matured fully into his own. 

Miguel loves that scent—loves to breathe it in after a long day, tired and aching and knee-deep in work; when he’s tucked under the blankets of Miles’ nest, being lulled to sleep by that warm, all-encompassing smell; when he’s fucking into him, drunk off that sweetened fragrance like honey on his tongue and drugs in his lungs; when he’s spiraling into a sea of doubts and insecurities, remembering his losses and failures, smelling that sweet warmth always brings him back, reminds him of the bright present he has now and the shining future he has ahead. That smell has come to mean so much to the man, and so has the maker of that scent. 

But now that sent is off, changing in a way he can’t describe. It’s not a bad change; it’s a faint, sweet undertone, along with something else he can’t describe. Shock, maybe he’s in pre-heat. It has been a full month from their mating. But…he knows what Miles pre-heat hormones smell like, and this isn’t it. So what the shock is it?

He seems to be the only one to notice so far, if everyone’s lax scents and positions are anything to go by; so it has to be a hormonal thing. From what he’s learned, very few dimensions can detect both pheromonal and hormonal changes in scent, Miguel’s dimension being one of those few. He usually detects changes in people health before they even know about it, like when he knew Jessica was pregnant two weeks before she found out. So when his omega is smelling off, of course Miguel is going to be the first to know. Not even Miles realizes yet, by the looks of it. But then again, he doesn’t look good enough to notice anything lately: sluggish, moody, sore, pissing every five minutes. Not to mention that he’d been avoiding the alpha like the plague for the past two days. Any attempt to meet with him or mention his ailments with lame offhanded excuses such as schoolwork or fighting villains, and while Miguel knew better than to believe those lies, he also knew better than to press the omega for the truth, though that didn't stop the pain from stabbing his heart. He could understand lying to everyone else, but why to Miguel also? Why avoid him?

“…to Miguel. Are you in there, man?”

The man blinked out of his thoughts at the wave of a red and black hand in his face. His mask was lifted, and he could see Miles’ concern underneath his humorous expression from where he stood beside him. he looked tired, the eyebags s  His sweet citrus scent consumed his nose. His nose flared.

Miguel cleared his throat. “Yeah, yes. I’m fine.”

Maldito, there it is again. That undertone, so faint but so clear at the same time, so familiar yet so unknown all the same, like his something in his instincts hasn’t clicked into his mind. It’s driving him up the wall; he needs to be close, closer than they are now, no cloth or patch separating his brown, freckled skin from Miguel. Shock, it’s taking all he can now not to bury his nose in his neck and sniff his neck until he makes sense of that extra smell, but he can wait. As much as it pains him, he can wait for Miles’ return, then he’ll have all the time he needs to explore and inspect.

Before Miles could get a word in, the alpha continues, “You all can go now, I trust you guys to get the job done as always.” With that, he turned away, marching to the direction of his office. “And I want a report from you, Morales!”

He could practically feel his love’s eyes boring onto his back. 

—————————————————————

He was in his office by the time Miles swung in to give him a report. His back was turned when he walked in, but 

“How was the mission?”

“It was fine. Nobody died, nobody got hurt, actually scratch that— Pav got flung into a building mid-cartwheel. He only got a couple of bruises, though.”

“Good, that’s good.”

Miles tilted his head to the side, mask showing his confusion. “It’s good a Spider-man got hurt?”

Miguel gave the grinning omega a playfully blank stare. “You know what I meant.”

Miles hummed, distracted, and closed the distance to Miguel’s neck, eyes trained on his scent patch. One hand slid up to lightly pick at a corner, the other gripped the expansive shoulder muscles. He lifted his mask halfway, before moving up to deliver plump lips against Miguel’s, slow and languid. Miguel’s nose twitched again. The omega’s wrist was so close to his face, and Miguel couldn’t help but take a whiff of his scent. His own wrist brushed against the side of Miles’ thighs from where he gripped him. It’s been a busy past few weeks; the two haven’t had a proper scenting session in a long time. He wants to bury Miles in his scent and be buried in his.

He settles for marking his mouth until then. Miles is lightweight and strong; he loves how light the shorter male is in his arms, but how strong his legs are clamped around his waist. The two bodies gravitate to the desk; pressing, grinding, sliding against the cool, bumpy surface. Tongues slide everywhere; against each other, along rows of teeth and the sides and roofs of familiar wet caverns. Miles moaned, arms wrapping around the large alpha, holding him close. Miguel broke the kiss to nose at the teen’s scent patch; while most others couldn’t smell this tantalizing scent through the scent patch, Miguel’s sensitive nose detects faint tracks of it, even more-so when he’s pressed against it like this. There was that sweet-something undertone, ever-present and faint. As much as Miguel wanted to ignore it, his instincts couldn’t, wouldn’t, rest until he figured out its source. He pressed harder, as if he could find the answers if he surrounded himself in it, focused even harder than he already is. He held the teen close, sniffing him through his suit and scent patch until the omega lightly pushed his head away.

“Hey,” Miles tilted his head into Miguel’s peripheral field of vision, his radiant face etched with concern, “something on your mind?”

Miguel sighed. “No Cariño,” Miguel turned to steal a kiss from those plush lips, “simplemente cansado. That’s all.”

Miles let him. “I keep telling you to take breaks!” There was a pause. “But I don’t think that’s it, though. I know it isn’t. You looked pretty spaced out earlier, man. You don’t usually get like that. ”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, leaning back to his full height. “What do you mean?”

Miles tugged his mask the rest of the way off, rising to stand with his lover. “You’ve been spacing out and twitching your nose at me for the past past week, and while it’s mildly appreciated, you’re not exactly subtle about it. I‘ve been gettin’ a lot of side-eyes these past few days. And also, when we scented each other last week, you kinda, like, pressed your nose up against my neck and didn’t move for, like, ten minutes.“

Miguel raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I always do that. I did that just now.”

“But it’s different now—not that that’s bad!—“ Miles placed both hands in front of him in a placating gesture, “but, it’s like you’re searching for something. It’s was more insistent, more…” Miles sighs, hands falling to his sides, scent souring in anxiety, ”I don’t know! Just… is there, like, something wrong with me or my scent— do I smell bad?” Miles started to pace around and—damn, he’s falling into a ramble, “or is it some kind of pheromone I’m giving off? Or hormone?? I know you can smell those. I haven’t started my pre-heat yet, which is strange, but maybe it could be something else, like-“

“Óye, óye, óye. Cálmate, Miles.” Miguel stood in front of the omega and grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping both his feet and mouth. He doesn’t need this type of stress. “Yes, you have been smelling off for the past few weeks,” he pointedly doesn’t mention his other symptoms, “but I’m sure it’s nothing. No one else has said anything, have they?”

“…no, they haven’t. I mean, a few Spiderpeople have given me some odd looks, but other than that, no.”

Miguel’s hands moved to caress Miles’ cheeks. “See, it probably has something to do with me, alright?” Miles’ anxiety seemed to quell, but there are still traces of it in his scent. Miguel wants it totally gone. “Look, it’s the weekend, how about you just come by our apartment? I promise I’ll scent you good. By the looks of it, we both need it.”

The anxiety left at the mention of that promise, replaced by the tangy smell of anticipation and excitement. His love’s face brightened a bit, a small smile gracing his face.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you then.” He smiled and prepared to leave, stopping at the edge of the platform. “You’d tell me if something is wrong with me, right?” 

“Of course, Cariño. I’ll see you tonight.” 

Miles smiled at that, hopping off the platform, leaving behind his citrus, vanilla-cinnamon scent, with that sweet-something undertone.

He smiled as at his love’s shrinking figure. When the door closed, he turned to his computer and ran his hands across his face. What if he was… Miguel didn’t want to account for the possibility, but there are no others. It scared him as much as it excited him. He took a breath.

“Lyla,” he called, the AI whizzing into view beside him, “when was Miles’ last heat?”

“Ooooh, scared you got him pregnant? Took you long enough ask.” 

“Shut up,” Miguel griped, “Answer the question.” 

Lyla gave him a flat stare. “Well…” Lyla said, rolling her eyes, “Miles’ last heat started June 4th and ended June 8th, precisely five weeks and three days ago.” Lyla informed, her sprite sitting in a chair and flipping through a calendar.

“Five weeks and three days?” Miguel muttered to himself. “He hasn’t even begun pre-heat yet…”

Lyla continued on, her sprite changing from sitting to standing with hands on her hip. “Honestly, how could I forget? You guys hardly left the bedroom that entire week. Do you know how many times I had to redirect people’s suspicions about what you were doing? Jessica and Peter were especially relentless. Thank God nobody knows where you actually live.”

“So that’s why Peter gave me that ‘get-well’ basket.”

“Couldn’t let nobody know you were getting it on with Miles in Pound-Town. What kind of AI-slash-best friend would I be if I did?”

Miguel momentarily cringed at her crude description of their coupling. He shook his head, leading on with his next question. “When was his heat supposed to start?”

A calendar appeared in her hand once again. “According to his previous heats, minus the last one, he was supposed to go into pre-heat on the 6th of July, on the dot. That was over a week ago” A marker appeared in the other, and she circled something on the calendar. “His heat was supposed to begin, on the 11th or 12th, and it has been 3-4 days since.” She glanced at Miguel from the the top of her glasses. “His heat is officially missed, Miguel.”

“…shit.”

… no… he couldn’t be…

His mind finally clicked.

————————————————————

Miguel reached the apartment first, as Miles said he was going to get some of his stuff to add to the nest, as well as make sure his parents don’t bother him for the weekend. Which is good, it gives Miguel some time to digest and share this world-altering news. Everything points to pregnancy, his heat cycle, his scent, his symptoms; all that’s missing is a blood test. A child!? Miles is only sixteen, dammit, he is a chi— no, don’t say that. He wouldn’t have let their relationship go on for so long is he saw him that way. But… he is young. Very young. It’s no surprise he got pregnant, honestly. It had been an extremely busy week for the two and the additions of pre-heat and pre-rut pheromones had made them more desperate and antsy than he’d like to admit, if not a little feral, too. They were both in peak fertility periods, and truthfully, birth control might’ve been forgotten on both ends. Not to mention that—ahem—Miles downright refused to let Miguel pull out, locking his legs around the alpha any time he tried to pull out before properly knotting his pussy; he was damn-near delirious with the desire to carry Miguel’s pups, and Miguel wouldn’t be lying if he said he found that sexy as all hell. He would have claimed him too, if not for the fact that he had morals and that Miles was a soon-to-be senior in high school (also the fact that Miles’ parents, as any loving parent, would flip if they saw their teenage son come home claimed so early). 

But a pup? That knocks everything else he tried to prevent out the ballpark, and is absolute ‘fuck you’ to his already skewed moral compass. 

Then there’s the problem of their relationship coming to light. If he keeps the kid, his body won’t stay flat forever. People will notice his stomach swell, and once rumors start rolling, it’ll only be a matter of time until he’s pressed about the father. Miguel can only assume their last guess, if at all, will be the 6’9, three hundred pound man in his early-thirties who led a mass hunt against him two years ago. They’ll have to come clean eventually.

As nervous (and scared) as Miguel is right now, he wouldn’t be against it. He’s over the moon at the prospect of experiencing fatherhood again. He’d love to have a pup in his den again, craves it so badly. If Miles wants to keep the pup, Miguel promises to stay right by his side through all of it. Money isn’t an issue—he has lots of it; anything Miles needs or wants, no matter how small or large, Miguel will do whatever it takes to achieve it. He can confidently ensure all of it guaranteed. Oh, he can already imagine it now: Miles, sated and pregnant, resting in his nest in Miguel’s den; or Miles stomach alive with the life of their puppy, kicking and pressing into Miguel’s hand; or, better yet, their child, radiant like their mother, beaming up at their parents in the safety of the nest. Miguel wants that, wants it so much it hurts.

Would Miles want that, too?

Don’t get ahead of yourself now, Miguel. You still haven’t broke the news.

The sight and sound of a bright orange trans-dimensional warp stopped his thoughts dead in his tracks, focus now on the lanky teen coming through with a duffel bag, some blankets, and a container full of tripletas. 

“Miles…” Miguel turned towards him fully just as the teen shoves the warm container of food into his hands. 

“Eat first, talk later. I know you haven’t eaten all day, Querida.” Miles said as he made his way to the cupboard for plates and cups. Once gathered, Miles seated himself at the island in the kitchen and placed one set in front of him and across from him.

Miguel made his way over. “Really, who told you?”

Miles didn’t skip a beat as he poured them both a glass of water. “Intuition. I know you too well, Baby.”

The alpha couldn’t help but smile at that. His omega is so attentive and caring. No detail could escape his love’s keen eyes, always studying and observing anything or anyone he sees. Well, with Miguel it must be a given when taken into account how much time the two spend studying together. Like how Miles’ scent has a minute trace of stress laced within it, how chill expression seems almost forced, how his posture is trying and failing to not be closed off. 

Miguel hummed, taking a large bite out of his sandwich, moaning at the bursts of flavor engulfing his taste buds. Damn, has his omega’s cooking skills grown. “How’s your sister?”

Miles perked up. “Billie? She’s fine. She’s got some personality in her now. She’s been laughing, learned how to roll over—hold on! I think I got a video…” Miles pulled out his phone, leaning over the island to show Miguel the screen. 

Bille was laughing at the hand Miles was tickling her tummy with, a gummy smile on full display. Suddenly, that hand disappears for a second.

“Look who it is, Billie!”

Her attention was brought to the Spider-ham stuffed toy Miles was waving beside her.

“You want it? Get it, Billie! Grab him!”

The baby reached out to grab it, and once she realized it was out of her chubby-armed range, twisted her body until she was laying on her tummy, tiny toy in her tiny grasp. A cut-off squeal was heard before the video ended. 

“Did you see that!?” Miles exclaimed, high-pitched and grinning ear to ear, “Oh, you should have seen me when she did that for the first time! I was so damn happy I almost cried! And did you hear her laugh?! She makes me get such bad pup fever, I swear man…” A mild look of alarm appeared on Miles’ face. “Not... that I’d ever act on to if I did! Haha! Sooo strange! Why would I do that…” Miles couldn’t stop grinning (though this time it looked a little forced) as he replayed other videos, scent spiking in happiness when he heard her coos and giggles. Miguel stared at the teen, a soft smile on his face. 

Before he remembered the very pressing matter at hand. Shock.

Oh yeah, that’s right. The baby. Their baby.

“Miles…” Miguel started again, only to be cut-off by Miles again.

“Nuh-uh, baby. Finish your food first.”

“But this is important, Miles.”

“Well, it’s important to me is that you finish eating, so you better hurry up then. Whatever you want to tell me, it can wait for a few more bites, I promise.”

But can it, though?

Miguel scarfed down the last of his food, cleaning his plate and fingers of any meat or veggies that may have escaped the confines of his sandwich. After the dishes were cleaned and the leftovers were put away, Miguel sat Miles on one of the island stools, careful not to let his nervousness show. Is this where should he do it? Actually, where is the best place to do it? Is there even a perfect place to do such a thing? It’s usually the pregnant person telling this sort of news, though, not the other way around. 

“Miguel, you okay?” Miles asked tentatively.

Just rip off the bandaid now, Miguel. It’s too much of a burden to worry over at this point.

“You’d tell me if something is wrong with me, right?” 

“Of course, Cariño.”

And he damn-well meant it. It’s not fair for him to worry so much about this, when he’s not even the one carrying the baby. His love hasn’t even stepped his toe into this whole mess while Miguel is drowning in it. It’s not fair to him. The alpha took in a deep inhale, letting the citrus vanilla-cinnamon scent consume him, calm him, before speaking another word. 

He sighed. “I’ve found out what’s wrong with your scent.” He paused, waiting for a reaction: surprise, relief, anything other than the resigned look on Miles’ face. “You’re—“

“—Pregnant. I’m pregnant.”

The silence that hung over them was crushing. 

“Surprise.” Miles said meekly, weakly waving his hands in the air. Then he mumbled something under his breath, head in his hands.

“What was that, mi Vida?”

“I said I’d knew you’d find out. I didn’t think my scent change enough to be noticeable this early.”

Miguel looked at the teen, baffled. “How long have you knew?

Miles looked at him sheepishly, like he knew his answer will upset the man. “…three days ago? I got suspicious when my pre-heat hadn’t started last week. And, you know, the symptoms; I don’t usually get sick. Not to mention that’s when you started to act weird, so, like, my scent started changing, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Miguel arched his brow in frustration? Curiosity? He didn’t know, but he did know he was peeved at being left in the dark for three whole days.

“I was scared! Like, I know I was just talking about puppy fever and constantly talk about bred and filled with pups and shit during my heats,” Miles gestured wildly with his hands, “but this is something completely different! Babies are a huge responsibility! I’m being a parent so young, my parents are gonna flip their shit; I’m literally not even a senior yet! And I didn’t know what your reaction would be if I told you, so I kept it secret.”

“Oh Miles,” Miguel started, “I’d never do anything to hurt you. And I… wouldn’t be opposed to you for keeping the pup. If you want to keep it…”

“I do. I want to keep them, and I want to have a family with you! Like, you don’t even know how happy I am to find out about this. But, it’s just, like… I’m scared at the same time. So much is going to change and I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to handle it all.” He tried to look away, but Miguel followed. “My parents, my friends, my school—shit! Would I even last the school year? How am I gonna tell my parents? How am I gonna keep being Spider-man?”

“Cálmate, Miles. Whatever happens, I’ll be there beside you, every step of the way. Every change, good or bad, I’ll stay by your side. Okay, mi Vida? Amorcito? We’ll be in this together, like a family.” Miguel recognizes his voice is becoming desperate, but he couldn’t care less when he grappling for the opportunity to have the one thing he’s never stopped longing for. He recognizes that this is unfair of him to ask Miles to go through with such a life-changing decision, but he can’t lose out on the chance of having a child knowing he could have fought for it. He’s an impatient, selfish man and he knows it; he’ll beat himself up over it later, but for now, he has to convince Miles that this baby is worth having.

Miles stared at him for a moment, uncertain honey-brown to certain bright red. He closed his eyes, taking a shaky, deep breath in. He exhaled as he opened them, vulnerable and steady. “What if something goes wrong? We’re from entirely different universes; who knows what’ll happen to them? What if they end up not belonging to either universes, and glitching to death? Or something else equally as bad? We don’t know the risks, Miguel!”

Miguel took the wildly moving hands into his own, squeezing them with such a gentle, reassuring firmness that focused the teens attention onto him. “I’ll monitor the pup’s development over the course of the pregnancy. If anything seems wrong,” Miguel breathes out, “we’ll terminate it. But I wouldn’t tell you to keep it if I didn’t think we have a chance.”

Miles stared at him for a long time, wide-eyed and unblinking. “Yeah… I wouldn’t either… Keep it, I mean, if I didn’t think there was a chance.” Miles wrapped his arms around thick shoulders, leaning into the alpha to take in his calming amber-sandalwood scent. 

Miguel only grunted as the lasting ebbs of his desperation disappears as the embrace goes on, wrapping his arms around the smaller male’s thighs and hoisting him up to the larger’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other loosely, finding comfort in thick, muscled shoulders and soft, coiled hair. Miles spoke up once more.

“Thanks for accepting this, man. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I appreciate it. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go through this alone, honestly. And, uh, sorry for hiding it from you, too.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel rumbled.

A few more moments passed until Miles began to not-so-subtly rub his head on Miguel’s scent gland, pulling a chuckle from the older.

“Let’s do what you came here for, eh, amorcito? It’s been a rough few weeks, and I’ve been dying to scent you again. The nest doesn’t smell like you anymore; you should fix that.”

Miles gave a short ‘hm’ in return, only mumbling to get his blankets and bonnet before taking them to the nest.

As Miguel laid the two down, stripped nude and tangled limb to limb, he sighed at the smell of his omega’s citrus, vanilla-cinnamon, and sweet milk scent.

Chapter Text

Miguel’s nose twitched again.

Miles instinctively glanced at the small movement, cursing inwardly when Miguel’s eyes caught his movement. Damn, how many times had he been caught now? Twelve? Twenty? He couldn’t keep track, hardly even noticed them, really. You never notice how many times you blink in an hour, after all. What he didn’t miss, however, was the varying side-eyes from his friends at the table. 

Shit, Miles pull yourself together! The omega cleared his throat, hyper focusing on the informational hologram.

He stared tiredly at the hologram of some dimensions Doc Ock, head held up by his arm propped on the table, slumped in his seat. His chest and hips are kinda sore today, which in turn makes him mildly irritable. Exhaustion weighs down on his bones, but who could blame him; with the life-changing news he’s just uncovered two days ago, anyone would be exhausted and stressed as hell. Especially since Miguel, his current point of irritation and anxiety, might be finding out soon.

The alpha has been acting suuuper weird these past few days: nose twitching when the omega comes near, meaning he’s trying to decipher a change in scent he picked up; scenting Miles whenever he can, which he honestly wouldn’t mind if it didn’t mean trying to smother him in his scent before going to his home dimension, or even worse, sneaking to his dimension to snatch him away for a quick cover-n-go, both of which are very big NOs; and spacing out, specifically when Miles is in the same vicinity as him, as per Gwen’s observation. Miles largely doesn’t mind Miguel acting like this, as most of it is probably just concerned and protective alpha instincts, but would it kill him to be a bit more damn SUBTLE?! All the effort spent keeping relationship in the dark just for it to come out cause Miguel can’t keep his nose under control.

Like now, he’s doing that spacing out shit again, looking straight at Miles, just sniffing the air. Like, what the fuck? It’s gained the attention of his friends, eyes now divided between the two. 

“Uhhh,” Gwen whispered, tilting her body near Miles, “is there something going on with you two?” 

Miles tensed. “Huh? Wha- no,” Miles chuckles a bit too forced for his liking, “he’s just, like, tired, ya know?” He gestured to the alpha, who now pointed a deep frown towards the female alpha. “He’s probably just tired. Y’all know he only gets three hours of sleep a week. We just need to-“

Miles shortened the distance from his seat to the large alpha at a speed too quick to be casual and shook his shoulder firmly. He caught the enlarged pupils.

“Hey, wake up, dormilón.” Miles lifted his mask, concern lying beneath thinly-veiled humor. 

There was no response, so Miles waved his hand in his face, discreetly pumping out some pheromones towards the man. “Earth to Miguel. Are you in there, man?” 

That seemed to do the trick, the alpha blinking to attention, nostrils flaring to catch every whiff of the scent Miles put out. 

The man cleared his throat. “Yeah, yes. I’m fine.”

Miles was about to say something witty, or funny, or sassy, but he didn’t get the chance as Miguel marched towards the door, calling out, “You all can go now, I trust you guys to get the job done as always, and I want a report from you, Morales!”

The door slammed, causing Pav and Gwen to wince, “God, who pissed in his upma?” Pav muttered, arms crossed.

“You sure everything’s alright, Miles? He’s been hovering you for the past week, and he hasn’t done that since, like, forever.” Gwen lifted her mask as well, and placed her hand on Miles’ shoulder, features gentle and kind. “If he’s bothering you…”

“I’m fine,” Miles assured, but then rest of them didn’t seem so convinced. To be honest, neither is Miles, “we’re working it out, I promise.” He even gave her an award-winning smile, just for good measure.

Gwen stared at him for a moment, then nodded, pulling her mask down. “Alright then, let’s go guys! Last one to get there is a lousy spider!” She made a portal for the dimension, jumping through with a whoop, Hobie and Pav not far behind.

All alone, Miles brokenly sighs as he punches in the code for the dimension, smile giving way to let the exhaustion seep on his features once more.

He has to tell somebody, right? Who else than the one person he trust with all this. They hide nothing from each other, they wouldn’t be where they are now if they did. Besides, it’s just a baby, right? Nothing neither of them hadn’t dealt with before. 

As he walks through the portal, Miles can only wonder why, of all the things he spoke into existence, his horny baby fever talk was one of them.

————————

When he found out he was going to be a big brother, Miles talked nonstop about them: how they would look, how they would act, what they would do together, etc— usual excited loving older sibling stuff. He updated the Spider Gang constantly on anything and everything about them, from ultrasound photos to baby clothes to room decorations to literally anything else he could tell or show them. When he found out the puppy was a girl, he was even more excited, giddy, and smiley for weeks. 

For the duration of the next eight months he went around gaining any baby-related knowledge he could. He’d go to Spider-parents, Peter and Jessica especially, for baby related advice, and offered to babysit their kids any time the moment presented itself. A babysitter for date night? On it. A girls’ night out? I’m your man. Electro attacked your New York’s power plant again? Hand ‘em over, do your thing. He learned how to hold babies, change diapers, make formula, and sing lullabies all while making a bit of cash on the side. And to be honest? He was great at it, sure he had to work through a bunch of temper tantrums and spontaneous spit-up, but even that wasn’t so bad compared to how cute they were when you played peekaboo with them or how they curled up as you read them their favorite bedtime story. Those babies loved him, and he got great praise from their parents. Not to brag, but he had this whole “big brother”role in the bag. 

Miguel was also excited for Miles, that is… when he found out. At first, he didn’t necessarily avoid Miguel on the topic, he simply just… didn’t tell him. He didn’t want to bring up any painful memories for the alpha with his constant baby talk, so he made it a point to not talk about it around him. But Spider-people aren’t known for not spreading gossip, and it eventually made its way his alpha’s ears. To Miles' surprise, Miguel was more hurt at the fact that Miles was keeping secrets than the secret itself, mainly because of the stress it caused Miles and the helplessness Miguel felt at being kept in the dark. 

“I’m strong, Miles. I miss Gabriella everyday, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stand children. I don’t like you keeping things from me; I can’t help you like I should, and that eats me up inside. No más esconderse, alright, mi flor?”

Besides, he had lots of experience and memories with Gabriella that he loved to share with Miles, teaching him Mexican lullabies, recalling funny memories of baby Gabriella, and even pulling out a little book of her baby photos. He also revealed the mind-blowing fact that he was also a big brother when Miles was doubting himself a few days before Billie’s birth.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up. You’re a big bro?” Miguel’s smile grew wide, chuckling at his omega’s surprise.

“Yes, to one. My little brother Gabriel. What?” Miguel chuckled, “Thought I fit the marks for an only-child type guy?”

“I mean, I never gave it much thought really. I don’t really see him much in any pictures anywhere.” Miles looked around Miguel’s den from their now month-old nest. Miguel hummed in reply. 

“I’ll show you some later.”

“Really!?”

“Yes. But, after I’m covered in your scent. I’ve been waiting for too long, mi flor.”

Yeah, their bond gradually deepened over the months, only getting ever deeper after Billie’s birth. Miles bombarded the man with pictures and videos of his baby sister, cooing over the adorable sounds she would make and the cutesy-cringey outfits his dad put her in; photos of Billie holding Miles’ pinkie finger, videos of Miles tickling her feet. Miguel would chuckle, smile, or, and he’ll swear up and down it doesn’t happen, purr, specifically when she’s cradled against Miles’ chest. Once Miles’ recorded a fifteen second video of himself rocking a cranky Billie to sleep shirtless, the pup cradled against his bare chest, face burrowed in his neck, right over his scent gland. The second his eyes hit the screen, Miguel released such a loud rumble it reverberated off the walls. Miles had felt it in his bones, felt so much love and happiness oozing from his man that he felt an instinctual need to purr alongside him, releasing his own scent twined with love and joy. Billie has definitely shed layers from themselves they didn’t even know they had, and in that moment, Miles wondered what it would be like if they had their own puppy to love, what new layers would be peeled back to reveal, what kind of family they would be.

That such a sweet, innocent thought fucked him up for months, royally for the past two days, Miles never saw coming. 

His puppy fever got strong, really strong; on steroids, if he had to describe it. About a month and a half after Billie’s birth, Miles couldn’t think of nothing else but baby baby baby. 

Big babies, small babies.

Boy babies, girl babies.

Normal babies, spider babies.

His baby. Miguel’s baby. His and Miguel’s baby.

Their baby. 

It consumed his thoughts randomly and frequently; walking down the street and thinking about how cute it’d be if Miguel was walking alongside him with his baby strapped to the front in one of those baby carriers he can’t remember the name of; eating with Miguel and thinking of how gentle he would be wiping crumbs off their pup’s mouth; swinging through the city, wondering if their child would need a web shooter or if they would have natural ones like Miguel. Whose nose would they have? Whose eyes? Would their curls be coily like his, or would they be looser? What about personality? Their powers?

Even his heats were chock-full of horny talk about puppies and breeding. When they fuck, he moans and screams to pump him full of pups; when they make love, he openly fantasize how pretty he’d look pregnant with Miguel’s children. He’d go from dry to sopping at the drop of a hat around the alpha interacting with kids. Oh, how his suit soaked with slick watching the alpha babysit Gerry and Mayday, how empty his womb felt at the smell of the three scents mixing together to form something so pure and happy and familial, something that Miles longs for so badly to have for just him, Miguel, and their family. He longed to give the alpha a child, no, an entire litter of children to care for, to play for, to love for, to eat for, to take care of himself for. Miles even gained the courage to hint at the topic, but to his disappointment, Miguel caught on and swiftly knocked it out the conversation each time it was brought up. When Miles finally got fed up with the redirects, yelling and demanding a reason why he doesn’t want pups when he so clearly does, Miguel sighs, and held Miles close, confession like warm, gentle wind before a storm. 

“Mi flor, I so want to have children with you. Someday, but not now, not when you’re this young. You haven’t even finished high school, Miles. Why would I want to get you to get pregnant now?”

He knows that’s reasonable, that he’s just looking out for his future and wellbeing, but it ate him up inside. So, if he could not act, then he must avoid.

When that thought reared its ugly head, Miles knew this surpassed regular baby fever; I mean, avoiding his alpha because he doesn’t want to have kids with him? That’s sad, man. Miles knew, thanks to the Medical News Weekly article he read, it was EPFS: Extreme Puppy Fever Syndrome. Something that can happen to all secondary genders, but is most common in omegas. EPFS can happen at any age for a variety of reasons, while the causes are most similar to baby fever, the symptoms of pup fever is intensified to a harmful degree. It’s self diagnosable, and usually fades with time. Anything can be a trigger for EPFS, and the effects are terrible; omegas can kidnap children who are not theirs, force/trick their partners into having children, have phantom pregnancies, even go clinically insane with the need for a baby. Therapeutic action is needed if there are signs of it getting this bad, but thankfully the odds of that happening are incredibly low. Miles scoffed. what should he have to worry about? Sure, he thinks it’s a bit stupid that his instincts are going this far, but he doesn’t think it require a trip to the doctor. 

That medical article wasn’t lying when it said anything would set off these intruding thoughts, and it only increased tenfold around the very object of his desire. Comforting a crying toddler after a rescue? He’ll be comforting himself the rest of the day, the baby’s weight savored in his arms. Seeing a young family? The sight made his heart achingly full, made him feel sad, jealous, and frustrated all at once. Being around Miguel? The alpha already made his heart throb on a daily basis, combining that with the womb throbs he felt glimpsing the alpha doing anything remotely fatherly was a dangerous mix, so he tried to avoid the alpha without raising any suspicion. Holding an infant? Oof, that one was especially bad. Mamí had to wedge Billie out of his hands more times than he can count; she’s actually limiting how long he can hold her now after poor Billie cried for her mommy and Miles refused to give her up, fully believing for a moment he could give her the comfort she needed. It was not his proudest moment; he straight up growled at his own mother when she tried to take the pup, and had the nerve to have a standoff with her and Dad. Only when she screeched his full government name, fresh breaded scent burning in a mother’s rage overtaking his own, demanding he give her her crying child back, he was painfully reminded that his sister was not his daughter, but his mother’s, and he was but a child who could never know the ferocity of a protective mother.

She snarled at him, burnt bread aggressively assaulting his senses, totally unlike her usual warm smell. It scared him, to have that aggression directed at him, and he gave her Billie back with a submissive whine and a duck of his head, ashamed of his actions. He received a serious, tearful scolding from his mom, essentially yelling at him that she is Billie’s mother so Billie will need her in ways Miles can not and should not fill. Ever. He can still remember the look of betrayal and anger on his parents’ face, how his dad glared sternly at him as he rubbed soothing circles into his mamí’ s back, how the entire room was sour with distress, how Billie still wailed as the sour, burnt concoction filled her tiny nose. It clogged Miles’ nose and filled his eyes, clouded his brain and overwhelmed his senses.

He didn’t want to break, not in front of them. But as his mother turned to leave, and his dad stepped forward, that damn broke. They don’t understand. They don’t understand me. 

“It’s not fair…” Miles muttered under his breath, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His lips trembled, his nose stung, and his breath quickened. A lump formed in his throat, one he couldn’t swallow down. The room stunk, his sister is in tears, and his parents are mad at him because he couldn’t control his stupid hormones. His hand reached for the lingering warmth of his sister on his right arm, a sob shook through his body. 

“Miles…” his dad firmly spoke as he outstretched a hand, but Miles didn’t want to hear it. He slapped the hand away, maneuvering around his dad out the room. His tears blurred his vision as he paced to his room, slamming the door behind him. He knew it was a matter of time before they came in, especially since that slam was pretty loud, so he puts in the number to Earth-928 and jumps through before he hears the door open.

He went to Miguel and cried. Ran to his alpha and sobbed the pain away in the safety of his arms, taking solace in his soothing amber-sandalwood scent. He didn’t even bother putting on his suit, warping to Miguel’s office in nothing but a shirt and basketball shorts. His alpha, his love, so attentive and caring, immediately abandoned his work at the first notice of his tears and sobs wracking his body, and silently carried him bridal style to his on-site bedroom, pumping out calming pheromones along the way. After Miles cried his eyes out for about an hour, he tearfully confessed everything to Miguel: the intense infant-filled nightmare, all his yearnings and longings for something he wanted— no, needed— so bad for the past month, pointedly leaving out his EPFS. He knows that was stupid to do, especially after their talk all those months ago, but he didn’t want Miguel to think he had some mental condition, then he’d never have a kid with him. Miguel told him the same thing as his mother, only much calmer and gentler, as if he almost understood where he was coming from. Miles didn’t go home that night, instead slept snuggled against his alpha’s large body, sweet phrases whispered into his ear throughout the night.

Everything after that sealed the deal for his mishaps today. He apologized to his parents, got some help from spider-therapist, and limited his time around children, but his mind continued to cry for children; eventually his body followed suit. He went into heat the same week as Miguel went into rut, an entire week earlier than his usuals and an entire week later for the alpha’s. He couldn’t pass the opportunity: they’ve linked up finally, they have a nest ready in Miguel’s apartment, and they are both still very fertile and healthy; the perfect combination for making kids. Miles spun a lie to his parents about spending his heat in his friend’s dimension, (“I think it’ll do me some good to not be around Billie when I’m in heat. I’ll be alright, I promise.”) and booked it to Miguel’s arms with unseen vigor. He let himself go free, spilling every dirty desire to be bred full with pups, to which his alpha enthusiastically indulged, never letting a drop of his alpha’s seed spill from his pussy, and Miguel made sure of it. 

By the end, he was happy, sated, and baby-fever free. As he went back to his dimension, he thought that era was the end of that; he was only half-right. Oh no, the baby fever era ended, but a whole other rose from it, one that brings him as much fuzzy, light happiness as it does spiky, heavy fear. 

You see, every month Miles has this little pill. He’s been taking it ever since he presented four years ago. This pill, his dad explained to him, is very important for a number of reasons, but the most important one is making sure that, in the event he has sex (“Whaaat? C’mon Dad, who do you take me for”), he doesn’t get pregnant. When he takes it, those chances drop to a staggering 5%. Before sharing a heat with Miguel, before the incident with Billie, when his puppy fever reached an all-time high, Miles decided to stop taking this pill. This pill is stopping him from having a baby, and he wants one, so why take it? He’d throw away the pills instead of taking them, hiding the evidence in faucet drains or trashcans. Before he jumped to Nueva York, he remembered this pill, sitting patiently atop his dresser, waiting to be taken. He stared for a moment, and only a moment, before stuffing it in his dresser drawer and hopping through the warp. He made the decision to not take his birth control, and now it’s biting him in the ass.

One day ago, he took a pregnancy test. It was positive.

He’s pregnant.

A day later, lying in his bed, he’s just now coming to terms about what this fully means for him. He’s pregnant with the baby of a thirty-two year old man in another dimension. He’s a sixteen year old soon-to-be senior in high school and Spiderman. He has a six month old baby sister, and his mom just started to trust him enough to leave him with Billie again, so she can start working again. His parents don’t know he’s pregnant, much less in a relationship. He’s going to be having a baby.

With a middle-aged man from another dimension.

How is he gonna tell Miguel? He knows the man really wants kids, he can see the longing in his eyes when he sees Peter with Mayday or Jessica with Gerry. He feels the hand gently caressing his tummy when they cuddle, the attention given to his midsection during Miguel’s ruts or his heats. The way he stays up some nights, replaying old videos of his late pup, scent twisted up in sadness, yearning for her. He knows he’s made peace with her death, but the omega knows he wants more kids. Would he be as happy as Miles, even though is earlier than he planned? How would he tell him? He’s been acting weird around Miles for the past week and a half, and he did mention he can smell both hormones and pheromones, so maybe he already knows? It would make things a whole lot easier on his part. 

How would he tell his parents?

Actually, how do you even tell them that? Hey Mamí, hey Dad. I just found out I’m pregnant! Who’s the father? Oh, just a thirty-two year old man I’ve been secretly dating for two years! Might I also add that he’s from another dimension, and tried to kill me?

Actually, how about we put a pin on that? They don’t really need to know now, do they? 

“Miles, can I come in?” There was a knock at his door. It was his mom.

Speak of the devil.

The teen sat upright, “Yeah, it’s not locked.”

She walked in, the smell of fresh bread filling his nose calming him. She looked tired. “Is there something you want to talk about?” Miles asked, hoping to feign nervousness for curiosity. Did she find the pregnancy test? No, he dumped it in the trashcan of the Wallvines he went to, unless she went across town to get it. How would she even know it was his? 

“No mijo, I just want to say I’m proud of you.” She said as she sat next to him on the bed, “I know these past few months have been hard for you, and while I don’t know what was going on with you, I’m happy you’re doing better now.”

Oh. “Oh,” Miles said, rubbing the back of his neck, “well, thanks. I guess it was just a phase. Just some puppy fever…” Miles immediately winced. He was NOT supposed to say that. He glanced over, catching his mom’s shocked expression.

“Puppy fever?“ His mom repeated, incredulous. Shit, he feels a lecture coming on. “Miles…”

“But was just a phase. It’s over now, Mamí.” But it’s not. “I swear,” Miles raised one arm, “It’s all gone. Trust me.” 

It’s gone, sure. The tiny clump of cells in his body would agree.

She stared into his eyes for a moment, searching for the barest hint of a lie. Miles, in turn, conjured up all his willpower to keep a face so straight it could rival a statute. Thankfully, it worked, and she closed her tired eyes and sighed, “You better not come home with any surprises, Miles. En serio.”

“I don’t and I won’t, lo prometo.” 

“Bien.” His mom kissed him on the cheek, “Now get some rest, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

And with that, she left the room, shutting the door, and along with it his peace of mind.

As he lay in bed, sore and aching, he wonders how long he has until his little lie blows up in his face.

Chapter Text

Miles moaned as the rays morning light hit his closed eyelids. He turns around, stretching into the warm body mass of his alpha. His head fell against the soft, warm, bitten chest while large, muscled arms tightened around his body, pushing him closer to the expansive and hulking man. 

He heard a deep chuckle, “Morning, dormilón. Slept good?”

A yawn slipped through Miles’ mouth before he could wrack his barely-conscious brain for a response, settling for a sleep-heavy, mumbled, “Yeah. You?” As the teen shifted, he felt the ache in his hips from last night’s rounds.

He smiled as he remembered their fun from last night. How gently Miguel thrusted into him, held him as if he were fragile. How sweetly he whispered praises to him, hushed and close, like he was passing secrets through breath alone. How he kissed with all the love he could muster, until Miles almost went into cardiac arrest from how his heart overfilled with love. He remembered how the room filled with the mixed scent of citrus vanilla-cinnamon and amber-sandalwood: light, intimate, and happy. After these stressful past few months, Miles is grateful of the fact that he can be in his nest again, scenting and loving his big, handsome alpha without a care in the world for at least a few hours, like how they used to do.

He heard the alpha affirmatively hum in response, hands rubbing up and down his body, lightly scenting him, before settling on his thigh and stomach. The hand on his stomach was pleasantly warm, and he placed his own over it, intertwining his small, thin fingers with the large, thick ones, a smile plastered on his face. A deep, loud purr rumbled from the alpha’s chest, the light vibrations causing a light, pleasant buzz to the omega’s head. He released his own trill, loud purr, letting the noise vibrate out of his chest to add to the calming noise coming from his boyfriend, creating an intimate, love-sodden symphony. They stayed that way for the next few minutes before Miles’ bladder beckoned him to the bathroom, forcing the two to begin their day.

As the two went through their morning routine, Miles couldn’t help but feel a swirl of emotions every time he glimpsed at his still-flat stomach, still as lithe and taunt as the rest of him. Once they finished brushing their teeth, Miles clothed himself with one of Miguel’s shirts, while Miguel opted for a pair of underwear, a robe, and sunglasses. Miles remembered the first morning they spent together, how he couldn’t stop smiling when Miguel wore sunglasses in the morning. He knew it was because of how his sensitive eyes were, but he still found it funny when the man would walk around in his deep velvet robe and sunglasses in the mornings. He couldn’t help himself this time either, a chuckle bubbling out of his chest before he can stop it.

In all honesty, he’s never beating the vampire allegations.

Miguel caught his stare, and glared through the glasses, though they both knew it had no malice. “I already know what you’re gonna say, and don’t.”

Miles snickered, “Whaaat?” He whined. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

The shorter male allowed himself to be carried to the kitchen by the taller, dotting loving kisses around his face along the way. Once inside, Miles got down and began to prepare their respective drinks for the morning while Miguel moved to the fridge. “What should we eat for breakfast today?” He said out loud. “Pancakes? Waffles? There’s some eggs and bacon we could cook to go with it.”

Miles leans against the kitchen counter as the futuristic coffee pot begins to make Miguel’s coffee, fingers drumming against the cool stainless steel.

“Definitely waffles, babes. Oh!— do we have any blueberries? Those blueberry waffles you made last time were so good.” Miles shot to the open door of the refrigerator, peering around Miguel large ribs to the contents inside for little round fruits. “Aw yeah,” he chortled, pulled them from their place on the middle shelf, “been thinking about these for a hot minute. I’ll get started on the eggs.” He pulled out the apple juice as well, pouring some in a glass before taking a large sip.

“Nice to know my cooking skills are still up to standard.” Miguel got out various ingredients and cooking items for waffles. 

“Man, you don’t remember how fast I ate that food the first time you made us dinner? You were all like, ‘Sorry if you don’t like anything, mi sol, I haven’t cooked in a long time’ and I had to stop myself from completely obliterating that plate. And that was your first time cooking in what, a year? You don’t ever have to worry about your cooking skills, man. They’re staying up here.” Miles raised his hand high above his head.

Ahh, he grinned as the memory replayed in his mind. They were still really early in their relationship, still learning to be vulnerable and open to each other, kinda awkward when it came to more personal matters. Miguel wanted to surprise Miles with something special; the omega had got badly injured fighting a Green Goblin, so much that when Miguel found him he was bleeding and unconscious. It’s safe to say that Miguel traumatized Miguel again, and he kind of (no, totally) shut Miles out as a result: not responding to texts, ignoring calls and any attempts to meet; all the shit Miles tried to do to Miguel, but unintentionally. He spent all his time holed up in his lab, and a quick talk with Lyla revealed that Miguel wasn’t taking care of himself again; when confronted by Miles himself, Miguel blew up in his face. Miles was mad, and rightfully so, but he knew the man was ignoring his pain again, falling back to the unhealthy yet familiar coping methods for his trauma once more. They talked it out soon after, and Miguel promised to make it for his behavior. The following night Miles was brought to Miguel’s apartment and greeted with an array of various dishes and drinks Miles liked neatly set up on the dining room table with a few candles in the middle, including his absolute favorite: pasteles. Soft, slow jazz music played in the background, and the dining room lights were dimmed. Nueva York shined through the windows, glow ethereal and enchanting.

He remembers Miguel’s sheepish look at Miles’ surprise. He remembers when he took a bite of the pasteles, the flavor bursting on his tongue, and rolling out compliments between moans and mouthfuls of food; the look of adoration in Miguel’s eyes as he watched him tear and chomp on the various dishes. He remembers the shock he felt when Miguel told him he hoped the food is ‘up to his standards’ since he hasn’t cooked in so long because he cooks hella good? 

Miguel looked away before Miles could see his flushed and bashful face, but he did catch that little grumble. “Oh, stop it.”

Aww, he’s all embarrassed. Too bad Miles loves to spoil his man with compliments.

The omega turned on the stove and placed the skillet on top, two eggs in hand. “Scrambled, fried, or boiled? Seriously, dude. Every time you cook for me, it always tastes delicious. Like, Yannick Alléno good. You sure you didn’t pursue a career as a chef before being a scientist?”Miles reached on his toes for the medium-sized skillet. 

“Fried. I was a geneticist, not a scientist. And no. I as successful as I surely would have been in a culinary career, I like my food to be served to whoever I wish, cooked however they like.” He mixed the waffle powder, eggs, milk, vanilla, and blueberries together in one bowl. “Cooking for you is the all that matters to me.” The man reached over to coat the waffle iron with butter. 

Miles couldn’t help but laugh. “Sappy…” he muttered.

“Only for you.”

The two continued to cook their breakfast, throwing various puns and lighthearted small talk.

When the two finished, Miles was quick to bring his plate of food to the island, already pouring the sugary maple syrup over his stack of waffles.  He moaned as he took a bite; the sweet, tarty fruit, the soft, crunchiness of the waffles, and the thick, sugary maple syrup mixing into one delicious concoction on his tastebuds. His hands guided more bites to his mouth, along with bites of crispy bacon and salt and pepper scrambled eggs. He sees Miguel watch him eat out of the corner of his eye, making his own plate to bring to the island. 

Miguel asked Miles how’s his summer break been going, and taking out the whole irrational puppy fever fiasco, it’s been pretty good. He and Ganke have been hanging out together, he’s visited Princeton for a college tour, and the bad guys have been dialin’ it back with the high temperature levels. All in all, it’s been pretty laid back.

Miguel furrowed his eyebrows at the villains. “Villains… it won’t be too long before they pick up again huh?… hm,” He grunted, setting down his plate of waffles, eggs, and bacon, ““If you see any criminals or villains, you call me, got it? In a couple of weeks you’ll really start to feel the effects of your pregnancy, Miles, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” Okay, what?

Miles was quick to jut in. “I’ll be fine; I’m pregnant, not fragile. These guys are nothing; they come in, knock over some cars, bust some windows, scream for Spiderman, then go to jail. Easy.”  

“Plenty of ways to cause injury to you.”

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore how you’re seriously underestimating me right now, but I promise you I’ll be fine; I can handle them.” He put his hand over Miguel’s. “It’s literally a walk in the park… except the park is a street and the walk is  fighting a bunch of dudes in suits with powers. Does that even make sense?”

“Vaguely.” 

Miles clicked his tongue, annoyance coating his features. Being pregnant can’t be that hard, can it? Jessica was able to take down bad guys and anomalies pregnant, so why can’t he?

“Because she’s had way more experience than you do hero-wise.” Miguel sighed.

Miles quirked a brow. Did he hear that? Did he say that out loud? “Huh?”

“Nothing. What I mean to say is at some point in the near future you have to take a break from being Spiderman. It’ll be too dangerous for you to fight villains while being pregnant. Jessica has ten plus years of experience more than you; of course she knows how to play it safe.” True, but harsh. He’s not that far along though, his pregnancy shouldn’t be that much of a drag. “I’ll take over Spiderman’s duties in your in your dimension for now, and won’t assign you for any more missions going forward.”

More experience? Miles knows his villains very well thank you, and he knows how to “play it safe.” What the fuck does he mean by that anyway?

“I know how to play it safe. I’ve been Spiderman for almost four years now and I’m one of your best people; you can’t just take me out without explanation! How am I even gonna explain being out the field without mentioning this.” The teen gestured to his midsection. 

Miguel thought about it for a moment, before he shook his head. “That’s something we can think about later. I’m sure we can think of something.” 

“You’re really gonna fight me on this?” Miles scoffed, incredulous. He knows he’s being snippy, but he doesn’t want to hang up the suit just so early. There’s people he can save, villains he can fight, he’s not even showing, much less having bad symptoms.

Miguel sighed. “I’m serious about you taking a temporary break from being Spiderman. The first trimester is the most critical and riskiest, and I don’t want you or the baby to get hurt.” Miguel gazed at him earnestly, eyes casting a rare degree of vulnerability only seen a couple of times. Miles eyes widened, fully focused on his man. “I can’t lose anyone else I love again. Do you understand? I can’t.”

Miles looked into gentle crimson irises, took in the scent of amber-sandalwood and the musky tinge of sadness, bringing him two years to the past, drowning in his losses and angry at himself. 

Miles sighed. “Yeah, Baby, I understand. I’ll be safe. Cruza mi corazón.”

They both dug back into to their meals, though Miles’ waffles, eggs, and bacon was colder than before. It still tasted wonderful; the flavors, though chilled, did not loose their shine. But one thought stayed stuck in Miles’ brain. 

How am I gonna keep this a secret?

This is all going to come to a head eventually, how is everyone going to respond. His parents, Gwen, Jess, Pavitr, Hobie, Peter; what'll they do to Miguel when they find out he's been with Miles all this time. What'll they do to Miles? 

Oh, god, he's already tired just thinking about it.

Damn, EPFS, causing all these unnecessary problems.

Miles released his frustrations with a deep sigh, taking a drink of his apple juice he’s neglected since his first bite of waffles. He stared out the window. He could see the Spiderscraper (name courtesy of Yours Truly) from here, the tallest among the various ultramodern infrastructures. The sun was bright and the sky was a clear blue. Flying vehicles whizzed to and fro, taking people to jobs, school, the moon. What do people even do on the moon? It looks like a highway of some sort. How did these people even colonize the moon? He’ll have to ask Miguel to take him one day, the two can tour together. Well, three… counting the passenger in his tummy. Hopefully they go sooner rather than later; he doesn’t want to take a baby through space. 

Miles huffed a laugh, hand making his way to his belly once more.

“Heeeey lovespiders,” Lyla chirped, appearing between the two, “Just wanna remind you guys the Spiderscraper is starting to get busy! An anomaly was detected on Earth-395, another Electro.”

“Thank you, Lyla,” Miles said, smiling at Miguel’s cringe upon hearing the nickname for the tower. 

“No problem, Miles! You’re also welcome, Mr. Vampire man!” She blipped out, leaving the two alone once more.

The two discarded the dishes in the dishwasher and made their way back to the room.

 “So…”, he heard Miguel start, “you’re sure no one else knows you’re pregnant. No one at all?”

He turned his attention to the man, shifting awkwardly in place. “Uh, no, I’m sure no one else knows. It’s still pretty early, I think, and my dimension can’t smell hormones like yours can… well,” Miles squinted and tilted his head to the side, “they do affect my scent, so I’ll start smelling different, but it shouldn’t be too noticeable to other people until I’m a few more weeks in—around two, three months?— cause that’s what happened to my Mamí, so we have some time, until then.” Miles shrugged, slipping on his gloves . 

“But if I’m able to tell, then maybe we have less time than we think.” Miguel refuted.

“That’s just ‘cause your senses are always dialed to a hundred and ten percent, twenty-four-seven. You’re like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out stuff, especially me. Remember the Cafeteria Conundrum?”

Miguel was about to respond, but he was interrupted by Lyla’s alert. 

“Miguel,” Lyla singsonged, “Peter B. is looking for you. He wants to talk about ‘something important.’”

“Is the important thing in question how Mayday’s first playdate went?” Miguel deadpanned.

Lyla turned and shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Oh, I dunno. He didn’t say.”

The man sighed. “Thank you, Lyla.”

“Anytime.” She blipped out of sight.

Miguel tilted his head back, muttering a prayer in Spanish before walking out the room. Miles, on the other hand, gasped as an idea formed; an excellent one, might he add. He didn’t want to stop being Spiderman, not yet; there had to be some way he could convince him not to hang up the suit. And Lyla, in all her holographic glory, gave him the perfect idea. He wasted no tome running up to the man. 

“How about this: I train to be your second-in-command.”

“Second-in-command?” Miguel repeated as he made his way to the balcony. Miles hopped on his back, sticking his hands to his shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist.

“Yeah! Stuff like teaching me how to work those computers, reading all those mission reports, holding meetings and missions; you know, showin’ me the ropes. Nonviolent, close to you, and unsuspicious; Surely I can do that right? Oh, oh!— maybe I could have my own office, like you!” Miles pulled himself close to Miguel’s head, resting his own on the broad shoulder as the larger man began swinging through Nueva York.

“Mmm… You could. I’d be able to watch you more closely without causing suspicion. I could track your pregnancy without problems, too.” Miguel cringed beneath his mask. “Eugh, that sounded weird.”

“But it’s not,” Miles quipped back.

“Disagree, but moving on,” Miguel descended upon the building, a door opening to let them both inside, “I’ll consider it. You know Jess unofficially holds that position, but I’m sure she won’t mind the help. You’re resilient, quick, reliable;” Miguel stepped inside as the elevator door opened, “it’ll be nice to have another nonirritating Spiderman to depend on, as troublesome as you are.”

“You love it.”

“That I do.” Miguel sighed. 

The door closed. They ascended. There was a few seconds of silence.

“… think you can sneak me one more kiss before we head in?”

Miguel huffed a laugh. “Gladly.”

Chapter Text

Miles’ plan is going as good as you would expect. Which is… pretty damn good, actually.

This was an easily explainable decision on the account of Miguel’s preference for the omega anyway, relationship aside. As said before, Miles and his crew were already highly skilled and valued members who could lead their own teams on missions, and all four have done so a number of times. But Miles, so creative, so headstrong and confident, was almost always the first one Miguel had on mind when it came to leading a mission between the group. Not to say the others didn’t have their perks—they were all fantastic leaders in their own ways—but Miles observant nature rivaled his own, and he was left more and more impressed with every report detailing his quick-thinking and adaptability. Even off the field, Miles was never afraid to talk back, to stick up for others, and to stand his ground for what he believed in, and that caused the two to butt heads every so often. Still, it was one of the better displays of his leadership prowess, and what made Miguel think so highly of the teen. If anything, people probably already expected the older to take the younger under his wing, if they haven’t thought he’d done so already.

So yes, it does make it pretty easy to explain the sudden uptick in closeness with one of your most capable spidermen in the society.

Miguel paused his thinking to glance at Miles from his place deep in the office. The teen was seated on one of the many ledges within the expansive space, scrolling through a holographic report. The yellow screen illuminated his face nicely, highlighting his soft cheeks and full lips; the hard cut angle of his chin and the soft curve of his cheekbone. His hair thick, soft, and coily sat atop his head so neatly, only adding to his already adoring features. His irises, downcast and beautiful, minutely shifted left to right every few seconds, nimble finger touching the hologram every so often. So angelic; Miguel couldn’t help but stare at the beauty of his mate, his love, his mi Sol.

(No—not mate, not yet).

“I honestly thought I would get bored of this, but these spider-people write some pretty interesting reports. Like, honestly, I never thought about how wild fighting a lego vulture and mid-century gothic electro was until I actually had to read it.” Miles chuckled, the sound echoing off the spacious room. He turned to look down at his alpha, a graceful smile stretching his lips. “How do you read these with a straight face?”

“I don’t know. Not my kind of humor, I guess.” Miguel answered as he turned back to his project, hidden deep within the confines of his office. “Besides, I don’t usually read them—Lyla and Jess does.”

“Damn, a bit jealous they’ve been having all the fun.” Miles teased, voice light. Miguel gave a thoughtful hum in return, focusing his attention to welding doctoral bed/seat together.

An array of shot webs and light thumps and taps signified Miles’ descent from his perch over to him. The smell of citrus-vanilla-cinnamon with a dash of milk tickled his nose. He unconsciously untensed. “So Whatcha makin’? A futuristic hospital bed?”

“Nope, just a regular hospital bed… why? Do they look different in your universe?”

Does his dimension not have an array of holographic screens embedded into hospital beds?

“Aaahhhh I mean, a little,” Miles waved off. “Doesn’t have all those screens and stuff.”

“It does everything a regular hospital bed does. But, the screens are meant to measure and keep track of array of information: you and the pup’s heartbeat, the progress—all those wonderful things. Don’t worry; it’s going to be safe.”

“Never said it didn’t, I bet you’re even going to make it super comfy for lil ol’ me, too.” He wasn’t wrong. “But did you actually have to make everything? Like, you’re crazy rich; isn’t there some super high tech hospital bed you could’ve paid for? Seems like a lot of work to build yourself.”

So many things to build indeed… he hasn’t been able to build much of anything since starting this whole thing. So what if he’s a little eager to do make all these new machines? So what if he spent the entirety of last Saturday night making blueprints for all the machines they’ll need instead of buying it? He’s just excited. Besides, his products would be better anyway; they always are.

…Okay, the hospital bed was a little overboard, but he can put so much more into it than the standard and still make it safe, and can make it fast enough to be finished by end of the day tomorrow. In fact, if he forgoes some of his duties, he’ll most likely finish the room before Miles’ first check-up. Lyla would understand. It’s been so long since he was able to grab his toolbox, get in his lab, and just create something just for the heck of it. It’s… fun. Calming. Familiar.

He realized he never gave Miles an actual answer. “I just want you to have the best equipment you can have for this. That and the fact that we might need special equipment to track our cross-dimensional baby; it’s not like this has been done before.”

“That’s true.” There was a beat. “This is a nice view of the office. I can see the entire ground from here.”

Which is good. When he is doing check ups on Miles he’ll lock the gates, like they are now, to ensure they aren’t disturbed. But on the chance he forgets, or some rather nosey but tech savvy Spiderman gets in(it’s happened before), or whatever, the Puproom is built deep enough in his office that it isn’t immediately seen. It’s already hidden well enough: on the far end above the office, the metal and design of the door fits in well enough to be inconspicuous to the average eye, but stands out perfectly to him and Miles. With its placement, it’s in Miguel’s direct line of eyesight no matter his place in the office, so he doesn’t have to worry about anything regarding that room escaping his sight. When he’s finished constructing the room, he plans to build a few alternate routes in case Miles has trouble getting up here by himself later in the pregnancy. Thank God this room was already connected to Miguel’s on-site bedroom, otherwise that would have been another problem he would have had to worry about.

There was a comfortable, pregnant pause with just the sound of the hospital bed frame construction to fill the space.

“Well, you know…” Miguel watched the teen scoot closer from the corner of his eye. “Reading reports is fun and all, buuuut… when am I gonna get to know the ol’ Spidercomputer? If I’m to be your second-in-command, I’ll need to know how to work that thing.” He punctuated his sentence with a few arches of his eyebrows.

“First of all, don’t call it that. It’s called the Arachno-monitor.” Miguel sighed, standing as he placed the welding tool on the ground. He reckons he can finish this later, when Miles leaves.

Miles nodded, “Duly noted.”

“And second, fine. You’re already going to be spending a lot more time in here; might as well teach you.”

“Yes!”

The two made their way over to the floating ledge. As Miguel booted the system up from sleep mode, Miles was bouncing with excitement. His scent lightened to match his enthusiasm.

“So what am I gonna do first? Am I gonna be on security watch? Or maybe villain patrol—see who’s causing problems in the multiverse?”

“Eager, are we?” Miguel said lightly. “No to both; to do either of those things you’ll have to know how the system works. And because you’re going to be in here more frequently, Second-in-command, you’re going to have to get familiar with the entire thing.”

“Let me run you through the functions of each screen and button first, then I’ll tell you how to work it.” He gestured for Miles to sit, then pushed the chair closer to a section of the Arachno-monitor. “To start off, this is the…”

————————————

By the time they got through the all the functions of the Arachno-monitor, Miles was understandably very worn out. He doesn’t blame him; he crammed in as many uses into this thing as possible and didn’t exactly plan on sharing it with other people.

“… Wow. That was… a lot. This thing has everything—I mean, to have this be the security, main control, and, like, and 6 other things all at once? Yeah, I’d never leave either.”

Another yawn from the other punctuated his thoughts yet again. This time accompanied by a stretch.

The alpha didn’t bother to suppress his grin. “I think we should stop here, mi Vida. We can go over your duties for the computer another time.” He said as he unlocked the gate.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Miles stood, “I should probably get going anyways, I promised Miles G. that I would hang out with him. See ya.” He sealed his goodbye with a kiss on his mask where his cheek is. “I learned lots today. Can’t wait to see what we do tomorrow, Teach!”

“Yeah… see you.”

He watched Miles’ shadow disappear into the corridor, his faint, sweet scent dashed with milk disappearing along with it.

He breathed out a deep sigh. Back to work, I guess. He should at least see his back-log of things to do before he gets back to the Puproom.

“Lyla.”

The sprite blipped beside him, “Hmmm, yeah?”

He pulled up the security cameras focused on Miles. “Show me my messages. Has there been any trouble?” The teen was walking through the a rather empty section of the lounge, possibly to find one of his friends before he left for Dimension 42, when he was intercepted by Jessica Drew.

“Hmmmm let’s see…” She conjured up a notebook and pen, along with list of entries much larger than her—his personal planner. Scrolling through the list, she pressed her pen to her lip. “There’s always trouble around here. Any trouble… there was the Rhino, the Doc Ock, the Lizard...” And he’s been unaware this whole time? It’s to be predicted, but shock.

He shook off the feeling of guilt creeping unto him. “Have they all been dealt with?”

“Of course, led by none other than our very reliable lady, Jessica Drew!”

Miguel groaned as he slid his hand down his face. “Haaah, okay,” He flipped the switch to let down the ledge. “Good.” He’ll have to thank Jessica for stepping up like she did. God knows what he would do without her. Blow up this building 20 Peters in, probably.

Lyla followed him. “Buuuuuut… she was confused as to why the serious and mysterious leader wasn’t present today, and why the entryway to his office was locked when she tried to get in.”

“That’s expected.”

“So what’re you gonna say?”

He gave her a cutting side glance. “Why do you want to know?”

She loosely shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno, curiosity.”

“I’ll think of something.”

He focused on the talk between the two. Whatever they were talking about clearly had the teen caught off guard. Grunting, he turned the sound on.

——————

“—doing in there? Just some training. I’m getting promoted, you know. Taken under the wing of the Boss.” He puffed his tiny chest out.

“Uh huh, and what were you two doing that took,” she glanced at her watch, “six hours? Getting acquainted with every wire in his machines? I tried to message him multiple times, and nothing went through!”

“…would you believe me if I said yes?”

She shot a look that he withered under. So, clearly no.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you.” Miguel’s heart skipped a beat. He knows he wouldn’t. “I can’t tell you what we did because… it’s private. This is something that means a lot to him, and he wants me to help him out, but he not ready for anyone else getting into it. ’S that personal, you know? And the reason he didn’t get any of your messages was because I know he needed to have a moment away from all this, and you guys handled it okay, yeah? Hopefully this’ll help him realize that he a lot of reliable people he can fall back on, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. Spontaneous, I know, but trust me: I got him.”

She did look a bit taken aback, but recovered. “So let’s keep it on the low, between you and me? He doesn’t want other people to know about it, and,” He got closer to the woman, hand covering his mouth, “not to be rude, but spiderpeople looove to gossip.”

The woman barked a laugh. “Hah! True that”, before replying quietly. “All right. This is probably the closest thing he’s going to get to a self-imposed break anyway, so I’m all for it.”

“Exactly!” He suddenly broke out into another yawn and stretch. “Whew. But I’m glad you understand.” He scratched the back of his head for a moment before pointing over the woman’s shoulder. “I should get going now so, uhh, see you.”

“Oh yeah, see you next time. And get some sleep; you look like a zombie, even through your mask.” 

The audio picked up his wordless hum as he walked past her. 

———————

The sprite and the man glanced at each other, then back to the screen.

“Well, looks like I’ve found my answer.”

Chapter Text

Oh my god…

Miles doesn’t think he’s ever felt this horrible in his life.

“Uuugggggggghhhh.” Miles groaned into the toilet bowl, trying to will away the bad bout of nausea he’d been hit with at 6 o’clock in the morning, on the dot. Now seven weeks in, the long awaited morning sickness finally began its full effect—and boy, has it hit him like a wrecking ball. His everywhere was aching something fierce, and despite getting a decent amount of sleep, his eyes were annoyingly irritated and his brain was seriously lagging. 

Is this really how Mom felt with Billie? Is this how Mom felt with him? Sheesh.

He just wanted to crawl right back into his nest and never come out. Preferably with some scents other than his own. He’s overdue to give Gwen back her sweater anyway,—

He was suddenly wracked with such a strong wave of nausea he nearly puked bile into the toilet bowl. He hovered eyes-closed over the toilet bowl for what felt like hours (but was probably only a minute or so) before his retching finally died down. He laid his head on the arm lying across the toilet seat cover with a sigh. Is this what he’s gonna have to deal with until he has this baby? 

 He gave a weak moan. ‘This won’t be fun.’

Knocking.

There was knocking at the door. “Miles?” His mom called from outside. “Are you okay in there? I heard you throwing up.”

“Uh, yes Mamí, I’m fine. It’s just… food poisoning.” He flushed the toilet, and after a few moments of cleaning up (he is really sore) he opened the door to his mother’s concerned face. “I think I just ate something that didn’t agree with me.” Her lightly burnt bread scent lightened up. 

“Yikes,” she grimaced, “you look terrible.” 

He gave her a flat look. “Wow, thanks.” 

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to go to the tour at Columbia.”

Miles perked up at that. “What!? No, no, no, I can make the tour! Now that I threw up whatever I ate that made me sick I feel a lot better! See!” He held his arms out, as if that would return the life to his skin or make the eye bags disappear. Now it was her turn to give him a flat once over.

She crossing her arms before speaking. “I know you’re Spiderman, and you’re used to fighting bad guys while on bad days, but you’re also my son. And as my son, I tell you to take some Tepto Bismol and go back to bed. You can reschedule the tour to another day.”

Miles sighed, deflating as he did so. “Yes, Mamí.”

“Good.” Rio walked with him back to his room. “I’ll bring you some clothes from your dad, Billie, and me.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Que te mejores pronto.”

He perked up again. Even Billie’s clothes?! Really? Oh, how he could jump for joy right now!!

“Thank you, Mom. I will.”

Once he closed the door behind him, he immediately got to sorting through his nest of blankets and clothes. Normally, his parents would each scent a blanket from Miles’ nest and return it to him to organize as he sees fit, as is customary for the families and friends of omegas in his universe, but unfortunately between everything that’s been happening, he hasn’t had the chance to clean his nest. He glances at Gwen’s pink sweater. He actually used to be very particular about being given clothes instead of blankets, and would pout until his parents and Uncle Arron caved in and scented one for him. While he generally prefers scented blankets over clothes any day, he’s come to appreciate it; gifting and keeping scented items in other universes comes in very different forms, he comes to realize. He first realized this with Gwen, who, heavily flushed and stuttering, gifted him her pink sweater on the top of her apartment complex on a random Wednesday. They were talking about whatever, but could tell she was nervous from the jump. 

—————————

“I obviously couldn’t let those bullies get away with what they’d done to that kid, so I offered to give him a ride and spread a message to all his haters. I think it worked, ‘cause he looked a hell of a lot happier next time I saw him.”

Gwen grinned. “Friendly neighborhood Spiderman keepin’ the haters away. Sounds about right.”

Miles laughed. “Hey what can I say. I do what I do best.”

Gwen chuckled. “Hehe…” There was a beat of silence. “Hey, M-Miles…”

“Yeah?”

She played with the edge of her sweater collar; the same she wore the second time they met. She had taken it off before their chat and had been fiddling with it for until now. Her cheeks were red, and her apple-berry scent soured a bit.

“Well, um…” She cleared her throat, “I know that our, uh, friendship has been rocky before—or, no, hold on…” Her face became more red by the minute. Miles simply stared at her patiently; whatever she’s trying to tell him has her apple-berry scent crisp as hell. 

“We—I-i mean our friendship has grown a lot and… well, um..” She pulled her sweater closer to her. “In my universe, when we have a really close bond with people, we uhh... gift them our clothes.”

Ohhh. ‘Eughh... is this a confession?’ He thought. “Oh… Gwen—“

“Well, I shouldn’t say that, hehe,” Gwen spoke. “Really it’s a particular set of clothes the other likes, y’know li-like with Peter, he really liked this one jacket I wore. There were others, but this one was suuuper fluffy and he would smell so happy when I gave it to him. So much that I would wear it as often as I could, even if I was sweating like hell.” She laughed at the memory, and ouch—Miles felt a little bad for assuming this was something romantic. “Anyway, when we gift clothes we’re saying that we see you as a packmate, as family; and for me, you’re both so…” She held the garment up to the other teen. “I’d say this means a lot between the both of us, an-and it’s really soft. You want it?”

Miles stared at her for a moment. This was a very sweet confession, he thinks he feels a few cavities growing. He was caught so off guard, he might actually start bawling.

Gwen didn’t share the sentiment, stiffening. “Or,” she went to stand, “I can just put this back and we could forget this ever happened because, ha, I don’t even know what gifting clothes mean in your universe so I’m so so sorry if I overstepped a boundr—“

Miles didn’t let her finish as he shot up to wrap his arms around her. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I like it. I think of you as family, too..”

Gwen froze before slowly curling her arms around him. She whispered softly, Miles almost didn’t hear her. “Thank you, Miles.”

—————————

The rest of the pack followed soon after that. Hobie was the next: his gift, a red blanket, given in a heartfelt yet very nonchalant manner. 

“I see ya always got ya Mincers on that thing. Want it?” Miles remembers giving him one of his larger shirts in return, even though Hobie assured him that he doesn’t need to feel pressured to give the alpha something back. “We both know you’re my packmate; don’t need any’thin’ to symbolize that, y’know?” He strummed a little tune on his beloved guitar. “But I’ll take it; wouldn’t mind addin’ some more clothes from one of my packmates around here. Keeps the place homey, y’feel?” 

Then came Pavitr, who gifted him a scarf. Actually, Miles was the first to give him something: a blue, comfy jacket. 

“I figured since we’ve been friends for a while, and I already did this with the others, I wanted to give something to seal the deal with you, too.” Pav gasped, out of what Miles assumed was surprises at the implication. “Are you saying we’re—“ “Packmates? Yes.” He remembers hearing Pav’s excited squeal before pulling him in for a hug.

Did you know Pav is a very tight hugger? A really good one, don’t get him wrong, but very tight nonetheless.

—————————

Being apart of a pack with those three has been some of the best years of his life. He gripped their belongings in his arms. They don’t smell like their owners anymore, scent long faded out with the ever-dominating scent of Miles’ smell (he really needs to wash his nest), but he cherishes them all the same. Maybe it’s high time for them to be resc—

His thoughts were interrupted with another bout of nausea; so bad it nearly made him consider running to the bathroom again. He gave a guttural groan. Morning sickness suuuuuucked.

But what is he going to do when they start questioning his odd behavior or whenever his stomach gets bigger. He’s already been benched from missions, and his excuse of being under Miguel’s will only take him so far. He’s honestly surprised they haven’t started asking sooner. Oh shit, what about when his little spiderbug gets bigger? (Tangent—that is the cutest nickname he’s ever thought of. He is sooo keeping it) He could try weight gain, but that will only take him so far when only one party of his body is rapidly gaining weight. 

 He rubbed his stomach absentmindedly, feeling the still hard ridges of muscle; not even a bump yet. He closed his eyes and sighed—best to push it out the way for now, he’ll deal with it down the road. For now, he’ll sleep.

A Ping! from his watch willed him to look at it. Huh. A message from Miguel.

(Hello, mi Sol. Are you alright?)

(Could be better. I think the morning sickness

finally kicked in… (´; ︵ ;`))

(Woke up hella early to puke my guts out ( ╥﹏╥ )

last nights dinner down the drain…)

(You’ll get through this. I know you will.)

(Try to eat something small in the meantime, okay?)

(( ｡ •́ ︿ •̀ ｡ ) Ok…)

Miles snorted at the stark differences of their texting habits. How is this man from the future yet he still types like an old man? Guess it’s a timeless concept.

(How have things been at the society?)

Three little dots appeared on the screen for a few seconds.

(Irritating. So, normal.)

(I managed to get in early to finish the computer for the

Puproom. We’ll do your first checkup next week.)

(Looking forward to it )

Miles smiled to himself. Even though the Alpha is always so stout and serious, he knows he’s probably worried to the high ends about him. He looked around his nest. There nothing of his Miguel in here. Why?

(I miss u)

The sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts. It was his Mamí carrying three blankets: the bottom rich red, the middle vibrant orange, and the top a light yellow. “Okay, baby, here you go.” 

Miles quickly snapped his watch closed. Did she see those texts? ‘She just walked in, Miles. Keep it together.’ In her arms sat two large scented blankets, plus one of Billie’s baby blankets. He withheld himself from immediately snatching hers off the top of the pile.

“Mom! Thanks…” He went to grab them from her, slowing as an offensive smell clogged his nose. He could feel his face automatically scrunch up. “Uhh...”

“What?”

That smell—the usually warm, lemony scent—made his head throb with amount of alarm bells that rang all at once. ‘Not alpha, get it out, territory in danger, GET IT OUT’. The fragrance was overbearing and off-putting, concocting a nasty combination with the bread and milk scented blankets. “Uhh, phew,” Miles discreetly covered his nose, but to no avail, “It’s just, ahh,—wow, um..” He pressed harder. That shit stunk so bad. “Maybe I can just take these…?” he scooped his hand under the middle blanket.

Rio looked incredibly, understandably, surprised. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, nothing! It just smells…” Disgusting, gross, not like alpha. Where is my alpha? Wait, where did that come from? I don’t even have an alpha. Shit, she’s still looking at me! What do I say? Uhh… “It smells…kinda gross?”

 “What? A-wha—this is your Dad’s smell, Miles. It always makes you feel better.” She pressed the red blanket closer to him.

He immediately tensed and took a step back in response. “Other times yes, but right now it’s just giving me a headache.” That was a bit testy. He looked her square in the eyes, “I don’t want it.”

He only had a standoff against her questioning stare for a moment before she relented.

“Alright, alright. No need to get so tense.” She conceded. “I’ll put it back. I’ll come by to check on you later, okay?”

Miles visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Mom.” The apology went unsaid.

She closed the door, leaving Miles with the two other, nicer smelling blankets, though he couldn’t shake the weight of guilt in his stomach. He’s never rejected his either of his parents before, he’s loved being surrounded by their smells for as long as he could remember. He loves his dad’s smell, even if he’s a bit embarrassed to say it out loud; the lemony scent never failed to make him feel safe. But for it to make him feel like that, so…on edge. What the fuck? He’s his family…

The omega made his way back to his nest, blinking away tears along the way. Once he finished organizing the orange blanket around his nest, he took the yellow one into his hands and inhaled as deeply as he could. Fresh milk clouded his senses, filling his mind with warm, fuzzy feelings and thoughts of his Spiderbug. Would his baby smell like fresh milk? He sure hopes so. He gripped the blanket tighter, pushing it closer towards his body. 

Footsteps.

He could hear Billie cooing as Rio passed his room. ‘How would they sound?’ 

He took another deep breath. A hand smoothed over his tummy, stopping a few inches under his navel. He held it there and, for a moment, only him and his little Spiderbug existed in the world. His imagination swarmed with visions of his sweet baby. His hold on the blanket never faltered; not even when he curled further into his nest, nor when eventually he fell asleep.

—————————

(I miss u)

Miguel grinned at the message through the mask. He misses him! Him! For some reason, seeing those words on the screen lightened his mood immensely. 

(I miss you too, mi Cachorro. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you.)

He hit send right as Peter slinked his arm over his shoulder with a heavy groan. “I think that clears it. Whaddaya say we grab some, huh?” He looked down at the taller man’s open watch, scratching his stomach. “Ooh, who you texting?”

Miguel snapped the watch shut faster before Peter could read the whole message. “Mind your own business, Peter.” He moved his arm out of sight and punched in the code for his universe. 

“No need to get embarrassed. It’s okay that you’re in a relationship, man. I won’t judge! I’m happy for you, even!” He followed behind Miguel. “I like to see my ol’ pal getting back in the game.”

“Shut up!”