“Am I heavy? Just let me know if I am.”
You squirm within Miguel's grasp, your lips forming a slight pout as his exasperated sigh reaches your ears. “Well, am I? Otherwise, I can walk.”
Immediately, you start to pry his hands off from around you, your legs swaying as they make contact with the ground. Your surroundings tilt, gaze dropping, and eyelids shutting instinctively as you clutch onto Miguel's shoulders. A frustrated groan escapes your lips.
“I feel nauseous,” You scrunch up your face.
Miguel rolls his eyes, arms swiftly carrying you back up bridal style. “Could you just remain still?” His patience wears thin as he scolds you, his forehead creasing in response to your drunk antics. “Dios, eres relajosa.”
Over the past fifteen minutes, you've persistently offered to "help" guide both of you back to headquarters. Initially, once you had left the bar, Miguel attempted to swing you both safely to the building; This proved to be more challenging than he had anticipated, seeing as you had risked both your lives twice by tearing the web on your way.
"It's like a rollercoaster," You had slurred, Miguel deftly breaking the fall on both occasions.
To say his back was sore was an understatement.
With a resigned sigh, Miguel readjusts his grip on you as you sway precariously.
"Alright, alright," you giggle, arms wrapping around his neck for support. "I promise I'll stay still."
Miguel shoots you a skeptical look but continues to carry you. "You better," he mutters under his breath.
As you make your way down the dimly lit street, you glance up at him, a slight pout forming on your lips.
“Miguel.”
No response.
“Miguel~”
Silence.
“Migy~” you try again.
“Migs!~” You whine, this time finally getting a reaction out of him. You giggle at your antics.
"You know," you sigh, "you're quite handsome for someone who loves to brood,” you boop him on the nose, “and I hate how others also find you attractive too," you frown, fingers now idly playing with his hair.
At this Miguel tenses slightly, merely clearing his throat. "Is that so?"
You scoff, your hands cupping his face to direct his gaze toward you. "Do you know how many times people have asked me to set them up on a date with you just because I'm your assistant?"
You throw yourself back dramatically, Miguel's reflexes preventing you from falling. "I'll be dammed if any of them get a date with you before I do," you huff.
Miguel halts. "What?" He blinks in surprise, his hold on you tightening slightly as he processes your words.
"Exactly! Who do they think they are making such requests?"
"No, not that," he shakes his head.
You pause, your foggy mind struggling to recall what he was referring to. You shake your head, opting to lean against his chest. "What were we talking about?"
Miguel's lips curve into a soft smirk as he watches you, his fingers idly playing with a strand of your hair. "You were telling me how jealous you are of all those people who want to go on a date with me."
You pull back a bit, eyes furrowing. "I said that?"
"More or less," He shrugs.
You hum, fingers drumming rhythmically against his chest. It does sound like something you'd say, even if you can't quite remember. One of the downfalls of being intoxicated.
As the two of you continue walking, a comfortable silence settles between you. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps and the occasional warm glow of a streetlight create a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.
"I should probably thank you," you murmur after a while, voice softer now.
Miguel raises an eyebrow. "For?"
"For allowing me to be part of something greater," your fingers trace absent patterns on his shoulder. "For having my back during human moments like this."
He tightens his hold on you. "Just doing my job as your boss."
Boss, the word brings a faint frown to your face. You look up at him, your eyes locking with his. "You're more than just a boss to me, Miguel. You know that right?"
He swallows, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Do you even fully comprehend what you're saying?"
You remain silent, a brisk breeze causing you to shiver and nuzzle closer to him. "Are we almost there?" Your voice sounds half asleep.
Miguel takes note of your lingering disoriented state, a resigned chuckle leaving his mouth. "You won't remember any of this in the morning, will you?"
"Hmm?"
As headquarters comes into view, Miguel releases a small sigh of relief. "Finally," He mumbles, carefully navigating through the maze of steps of the building he created.
Walking down the halls of various rooms, you eventually realize he's approaching yours. You shake your head, a hand idly thumping against his chest. And if that wasn't enough to catch his attention, the unnecessary tugging at the collar of his snug shirt surely prompts him to look down at you.
"Now what?" He asks, one of his fangs slightly peaking.
You blink at him, eyes lingering on the one fang slightly protruding. You’re almost tempted to poke your finger with it, but as he stares at you expectantly with raised eyebrows, you choose not to.
"I don't want to sleep there," You pout.
With a deep breath, he slightly rolls his eyes. "You don't want to sleep in your room?"
You shake your head, the motion making you a bit dizzy. "It's lonely."
He gazes at you for a bit, a hint of hesitation in his expression. "Alright then, where would you like to sleep?"
You smile wide.
"With you. It'll be much warmer."
He closes his eyes, exhaling another conflicted sigh. He knew that asking you that question carried its risks. "Are you sure about that?"
You nod with a sleepy grin, your agreement coming out as a mumble.
Miguel eventually nods as well, changing course to lead you to his room. It takes a while, given that his room is situated in an isolated area away from the rest of the living quarters. By the time he arrives, you're already softly snoring.
Carefully, he opens the door, stepping into the dimly lit space. For a while, he stands there, grappling with whether or not this was the best idea. If anyone had spotted him carrying you to his room, well, even spiders like to gossip.
At the lack of him moving, you pry an eye open, slowly taking in your surroundings. You were in his room; Miguel's room is a reflection of his personality — organized chaos mixed with cutting-edge technology.
Tenderly cradling you in his arms, Miguel approaches his bed, gently lowering you onto the soft mattress, ensuring your comfort.
"Thanks, Miguel," you murmur, your words slightly slurred but sincere.
He emits a soft chuckle, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I don't believe I had much of a choice here."
You roll your eyes playfully, briefly closing them as you try to summon a witty response — Sadly, you can’t.
As you lay there, his gaze lingers on you; Part of him can't deny the warmth he feels from having you in his bed. The way you confided in him tonight, along with your playful and tipsy behavior.
"I can sense you staring," you remark, reopening your eyes. You lift the covers, a nonchalant invitation apparent in your gesture. "Join me?"
It's intended as a statement, but even you can't be that direct with someone like Miguel O’Hara.
"I don't think that's a wise idea," he says, crossing his arms before quietly relocating a sofa chair near the bed. He readjusts the covers over you, a subtle smile on his face. "Get some rest, preciosa."
You softly chuckle at his response, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. "Don't want to keep me warm?" you tease gently.
"Not particularly, no." Not in this state, he concludes silently.
You pout, only to then yawn. Miguel's watchful eyes never leave you as you settle into sleep. The rhythmic sound of your breathing and the occasional creaking of his chair are the only noises that fill the room.
"You are truly something else," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.
As you stir, he leans forward, his fingers tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the touch gentle and almost reverential. He grants himself a moment to simply revel in the present, aware that come morning, you might not recall tonight's events.
With a final lingering gaze, Miguel turns away, leaving the room in silent strides. He casts one last glance over his shoulder, sighing as he acknowledges the undeniable truth — He was caving, and fast.