the argument
Miguel came home- Peter’s heart fluttered at that- he was home. With him, MJ and Mayday. In the same house!
He’d been staying with them for weeks, quickly falling into a domestic routine that put Peter into a significantly higher risk of going into cardiac arrest. His heart melted everytime he saw Miguel and MJ washing dishes together, standing side by side, Mayday sitting happily atop broad shoulders, playing with Miguel’s hair. He also liked seeing him and MJ in his bed, doing particularly unsavory things with him, but that’s neither here nor there.
By the look on his face, Miguel was pissed. Here we go again.
“Hey there, stranger.” Peter called teasingly from where he sat on the sofa. Miguel’s eyes quickly flitted to him before focusing on the kitchen, walking over and immediately reaching for the liquor cabinet. He must’ve had a really shitty day.
Peter got up from the couch, making his way to the kitchen where Miguel was pouring himself a huge glass of whiskey. He let out a yelp as he saw nearly half the bottle being poured out- that was the expensive stuff!
He cautiously reached out to take the bottle from Miguel’s hands, only to be met with a vicious glare. He quickly let go.
“You, uh, wanna talk about it?” Peter asked awkwardly, taking a stab at the whole counseling thing. He was pretty confident in his skills as a shoulder to be cried on, always supporting MJ and being the only one to be able to calm Mayday down from tantrums, but Miguel was a whole other can of worms.
Miguel picked up his glass and took a swig- not even a swig, he chugged his glass until it was empty, promptly slamming it back down on the counter. Peter winced- how wasn’t his throat burning right now?
“No.” Was his reply, reaching for the bottle again. Peter was faster (thank you Mayday), quickly grabbing the bottle and tucking it under his arm.
“I think it could help.” He protested, ignoring the way Miguel’s head snapped in his direction in such a way Peter thought he was gonna piss his pants.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Miguel said firmly, big hands gripping the counter. This is where Peter’s stubbornness shines through.
“Miggy, it’s not good to just keep everything pent up inside- sometimes you gotta let it out. Like a shit or something.” Peter internally cringed at that last part, cursing himself under his breath. Miguel didn’t look amused. He started walking out of the kitchen, Peter trailing close behind.
“C’mon, maybe after you tell me I can figure out a way to help?”
Miguel shot him a look.
“Help? How do you think you can help me?”
Peter shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe if you told me-”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Sure I can! Won’t know until I hear it~” Peter smiled at Miguel, his voice sliding into a sing-songy lilt. Definitely the wrong move, given how he does that thing where he looms menacingly over you. It was super hot, but not a good sign at the moment.
“I don’t have to tell you anything. Even if I did, you could never understand.”
Now Peter was starting to get pissed off.
“What’s so unfathomable to my mind that you don’t feel like you can tell me? I mean, you don’t even wanna try?” Miguel glared at him.
“You don’t have a care in the world, do you? You just sit around here, parading Mayday around like she’s a damn trophy, while I’m holding the multiverse together by a thread-” Peter threw his head back, laughing humorlessly.
“Don’t even start, Miguel. You act like you’re the only spiderman in the universe, like you’re the only person trying to save lives. You have the entire Spider Society behind your back, and all of us have to deal with a lot of shit. Does our work mean nothing to you?”
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “See? You don’t get it, Peter.”
“What don’t I get? Please, enlighten me, because to me it sounds like you’re just closing yourself off from everyone. You have an entire legion of spider-people at your beck and call, standing by your side and following your mission to save the multiverse. And you have me and MJ-”
“MJ isn’t even-”
“Don’t you even finish that sentence. MJ isn’t a spider-person, yeah, but she has your back and you know it. She’s been by your side just as much as I have, we’ve been there through your bad days, and we’re both here to support you in any way we can, because we love you.”
“You just can’t!” He roared, fists clenching. “You can’t understand. You never will. What I’ve been through, what I had to sacrifice-”
Oh, that was rich.
“So you think you’re the only person in the entire world who’s gone through shit? Who’s lost someone important to them?”
“You don’t know what it’s like-”
“ I know- all of us know what it’s like to lose someone important. It might not have been my daughter-”
Something beside him broke, a loud crash echoing through the house. Peter glanced back and saw it was their new coffee machine. Fuck.
“Miguel,” Peter sighed exasperatedly, “our coffee machine- MJ just finished paying that off! She’s gonna be livid when she gets home.” When he looked back, Miguel was gone, eyes glazed over, his mind having been transported to somewhere else entirely. His chest heaved, and his fists were clenched so tight Peter could see a bit of blood begin to blossom from the wounds.
He instantly knew as soon as he tried to get through to him, he’d shut down. He was only acting on instinct now. Luckily for him, this wasn’t his first rodeo with the scary spider man.
“Miggy,” Peter said softly as he slowly approached the towering man, “can you hear me?” He waved a hand in front of his face. Exhaling, Peter gently took one his hands, pausing to see if he reacted, then continued leading him to the couch.
“Hey, Miggy?” he whispered, running his fingers through Miguel’s hair. Still no response, but he noticed Miguel’s eyes started to water. His heart broke for him, and he continued to patiently wait for his love to return, kissing his hand and whispering affirmations.
MJ returned home, a row of grocery bags hanging from one arm, Mayday in the other. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw Peter and Miguel on the sofa. She quickly dropped her bags onto the counter and walked to her partners, Mayday cooing curiously.
Peter looked up at her with weary eyes. “Another meltdown. It was kind of my fault, I got really upset-” MJ sat down besides them, reaching out with her free hand to rub Peter’s back.
“It’s not your fault,” she said as she shook her head, “let me have a try, yeah?” Peter nodded, sparing another glance at Miguel before standing up and letting MJ take over. She scooted a bit closer to him, leaving a gap in case.
“Hey Miggy,” She said softly, bringing Mayday into her lap. “Do you need anything?” Peter brought the cards, handing them over to MJ, who kept them out of reach of Mayday’s grabby hands. She held them out to Miguel, a small smile on her face.
Miguel’s eyes dragged to the cards, cautiously grabbing them. Peter and MJ watched as he shuffled through them, turning them around to show them the “I need space” card. MJ nodded, standing up from the couch. Peter had already gone to get a blanket, placing it on the other end of the couch.
“Do you want Mayday?” MJ asked, holding Mayday, who was looking at Miguel quietly.
He nodded, lying down on the couch, leaving Mayday a little crook between his arms. MJ gently laid her down, reaching over to grab the blanket and cover them with it. Mayday was calm, snuggling close to Miguel and closing her eyes.
“I’ll cook dinner while he’s asleep.” MJ said, walking over to the kitchen. “I’ll help you,” Peter offered as he followed her.
“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked as she rummaged (quietly) through the grocery bags. Peter came up behind her, reaching up to rub a hand on her back.
“He came home upset, and I lost my patience. I shouldn’t have, but I can hardly stand it whenever he closes himself off from everyone and acts like he’s alone. Or when he acts like none of us have experienced what he has, because we all have.”
“He’s still trying to process that he’s not alone anymore, and I think it’s a big change now that we’ve come into his life. He’s still healing from what’s happened to him, and I think he feels isolated because everyone else seems to be happy and put-together despite having experienced trauma as well.”
“I know- and that’s why I’m even more upset with myself. I know why he acts the way he does, I know that he’s in a lot of pain and that he’s in a bad place, but I still can’t control myself when I hear him say that. Especially when it sounds like he’s disregarding our love for him, it really hurts.”
MJ had moved across to another counter, cutting up vegetables. “I know, babe. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up for it. It makes sense you’d be upset, especially in the heat of the moment. I think once he wakes up and calms down a bit you two could talk it out and apologize.”
She glanced at the broken coffee machine. “And maybe we could talk about having him pitch in for a new coffee machine.”