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alchemax-genetics-division · 10 months

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The Parenting Habits of one Miguel O'Hara

Continuation of Sleeping Habits || Peter B Parker x Miguel O'Hara || Gen

This is for my beloved wife @virgo-dream, who begged me to write Daddy!Miguel (no, not like that, get your mind out of the gutter). Beloved, I hope you enjoy this when you wake up (and if I don't get the chance to tell you before you read this, I hope you had a wonderful night's sleep)! I love you, my dear, and I hope this lives up to your expectations! For everyone else, I also hope you enjoy this continuation!

Peter had, perhaps innocently, perhaps idiotically, assumed that he had learned everything there was to learn about Miguel O'Hara. It had been months since he had unearthed (and kept) the secret of his sleeping habits, animalistic and clingy as they were, and they had fallen into somewhat of a routine since then. More often than not, Peter would crash at HQ, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, only woken by the cries of his daughter or his boyfriend falling into bed on top of him. The latter was far more easily rectified than the former; indeed, the latter required no rectification at all, simply a pair of arms to wrap Miguel in and the work of a moment to slip back into unconsciousness.

Mayday's midnight screaming, however, was more difficult to deal with. MJ had always been better at quieting their daughter back down; it was almost magic the way she could weave a calming story within moments, leaving a soundly-sleeping Mayday in her crib mere minutes later. Peter had never had such luck. He tried singing (badly, which seemed to do more harm than good), reading stories (including the voices, which delighted Mayday, but didn't exactly put her in a sleeping mood), and pacing the tiny length of his living quarters, rocking her futilely (which only served to make her cry harder). It had gotten to the point where, on nights when May was taking up residence in the crib that had been installed in Peter's HQ quarters specifically for her, Peter expected to be woken up by her plaintive cries at least once, sometimes more.

Which was why confusion and panic descended, one after the other in lightning-fast succession, when he woke up one night to complete silence.

At first, his sleep-starved brain struggled to find a reason for his sudden bout of wakefulness. The apartment was still dark, the only light coming from a small nightlight next to Mayday's crib. A quick sweep of the room revealed nothing amiss; his and Miguel's spider-suits slung over the back of the single chair, right where they had left them; the door's deadbolt still locked in place, a lock that had no doubt been picked by Miguel when he had joined Peter and Mayday in their tiny sanctuary hours ago.

Miguel.

Miguel was missing.

As soon as he noticed it, he kicked himself for not noticing sooner. Miguel was conspicuously absent and Peter suddenly felt chillingly bereft. Adrenaline flooded his veins and he threw off his blanket, still warm from the radiator he called his boyfriend, and sprung out of bed. His racing heart was thunder in the quiet apartment, punctuated only by the rasp of his breath echoing in his own head.

"Shhh."

The hushing sound, long and low and oddly ominous, cut through the noise and Peter honed in on the dark shape looming in the corner next to Mayday's crib.

The dark shape looming in the corner holding his daughter.

The figure's legs were cast in subtle blue light courtesy of the nightlight, and Peter could make out a pair of arms cradling Mayday's tiny body. The figure was staring down at her, head tilted just so, angled so that Peter couldn't see any defining features. Immediately, his heart kicked up again, every paternal instinct woven through his very being screaming to rescue his daughter from the arms of the intruder. He took two bounding steps, web slingers at the ready to restrain the stranger in his bedroom, his muscles bunching in anticipation of a fight.

And then the stranger turned, lifting his head, and Peter found himself face to face with Miguel.

"Peter?"

"Miguel," Peter breathed, lightheaded with relief and the knowledge that he had been mere milliseconds away from attacking his own boyfriend.

"What's wrong, Peter?"

"Nothing," he said, "I just thought-"

His gaze flicked down to Mayday as she twisted in Miguel's arms, undoubtedly seeking out the same warmth that Peter himself gravitated towards and Miguel's eyes followed the movement. His nostrils flared, no doubt smelling the adrenaline and panic that was washing off of Peter in waves and realization dawned on his face, his softly glowing eyes widening in alarm at the implications.

They both opened their mouths at the same time, quick to attempt to clarify the situation.

"Mig, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No, it's okay, Pete, I shouldn't have-"

Silence descended and Peter sank into the chair, exhaustion suddenly catching up to him. He relaxed infinitesimally at the warm, heavy hand that came to a rest on his shoulder. He glanced up into the soft face of his boyfriend, a love-swathed expression that always made him weak at the knees. Few had ever seen Miguel so tender, so warm, and Peter was always achingly aware of the fact that Miguel's trust wasn't easily earned.

"I'm sorry," he said, because he still felt horrible for nearly jumping his own boyfriend in an instinct-driven panic, but Miguel shook his head slightly, a lock of hair falling across his forehead at the movement.

"Peter, I was once a father too. I understand. God knows what I would've done if I had ever seen a large figure standing over Gabriella's bed in the middle of the night. Even my own brother wouldn't have survived it."

"Hey, I like your large figure," Peter protested half-heartedly, picking at the easiest thread. Miguel only snorted softly in response. By now, he was used to Peter's humor-laced avoidance.

"What happened?" Peter asked, after a beat. His pulse and breathing were slowly calming, gentled by the quiet peace that suffused through the room and Miguel's solid, pacifying presence.

"She started to fuss, a couple of hours after I got here," Miguel said softly. "I didn't want her to wake you up, so I got up to-"

At that moment, Mayday wriggled in the crook of Miguel's arm, scrunched up her eyes and puffy cheeks, opened her tiny mouth, and let out a piercing wail.

"Fuck," Peter swore without heat. "I have a bottle around here somewhere-"

"She's already been fed," Miguel said. "I think she wants you."

He held her out, his massive hands cradling her body as gently as a live landmine, and Peter's heart flipped in his chest.

"No," he protested, "I've never been good at quieting her, MJ's always the one who gets her back to sleep. If you give her to me, we'll all be up for hours."

"Hours?" Miguel exclaimed. "She settled down right away earlier."

"Well, keep doing whatever you were doing, Magic Mike."

"I was just singing," he said, tucking Mayday back against his chest.

"Then she likes your singing a lot better than mine," Peter chuckled, "because my singing only makes her cry harder."

Miguel shot Peter a disbelieving look before returning his attention to the child in his arms. He dwarfed her, and the size difference between them would've been comical if not for the adoration on Miguel's face as he gazed down at her. Then, he opened his mouth, and Peter was suddenly very glad to be sitting down, because the sound that dropped from Miguel's lips would've brought him to his knees.

Miguel's singing voice was one of the most gorgeous things Peter had ever heard. It was at once so similar and yet so different from his normal speaking voice, soft and throaty, and Peter's heart spasmed in his chest, as if it were trying to escape the bone bars of his ribs, trying to get as close to the love of his life as possible. He watched as Miguel started swaying from side to side, still crooning in subdued Spanish. Mayday quieted almost immediately, which would've allowed Peter to pick out the words if he had spoken a lick of Spanish. Instead, he simply admired the way his boyfriend's lips curled around the unfamiliar syllables, the way his boyfriend's eyes softened impossibly as he gazed down at his daughter, the way his boyfriend's hand cupped Mayday's head of wild curls in his palm, as gentle as morning light.

Dos oruguitas enamoradas Pasan sus noches y madrugadas Llenas de hambre Siguen andando y navegando un mundo Que cambia y sigue cambiando Navegando un mundo Que cambia y sigue cambiando

By the end of the third stanza, Mayday had fallen back into silence and by the sixth, she had fallen back into deep sleep. Peter, too, had nodded off several times during Miguel's quiet performance and when he tapered off, letting his voice ease back to quietude, Peter blinked up at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. He watched Miguel place Mayday back into her crib, impossibly delicate.

"You always were," he whispered, nearly a soundless breath. Miguel set an adorable confused gaze on him, exhaustion pulling at his features. "You said you had been a father once," Peter clarified. "But you always were. And as long as you stick around, you'll always be Mayday's dad."

Miguel's face cracked open in shock, his lips parting and his eyebrows raising of their own accord. Peter wordlessly raised an arm, an invitation, or maybe a demand. Either way, he got what he wanted, because Miguel took his hand and pulled him out of the chair and towards their bed, instantaneously wrapping him in a vice grip.

"What was the song about?" Peter used precious breath to ask.

"Us," Miguel mumbled, reverently, into the crook of his neck, and the remaining air in Peter's lungs left in a whoosh. Even as Miguel relaxed against him, his breath evening into the rhythm of sleep, Peter stayed awake, his mind racing, his chest fit to burst with the love contained within the confines of his ribs.

He had, perhaps innocently, perhaps idiotically, assumed that he had learned everything there was to learn about Miguel O'Hara. But as he ran his hand along his sleeping boyfriend's spine, rucking up his shirt, making him snuggle impossibly closer, he knew that Miguel had a lifetime of surprises, and Peter would gladly spend the rest of his lifetime discovering them.

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Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!

Just as before, if you would like to show your support via kudos/comments, this chapter is posted on AO3 here!

#across the spiderverse #spider-verse #spiderdads #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x peter b parker #spiderman 2099 #fluff #domestic fluff #Miguel O'Hara is a good dad #Peter B Parker is a good dad #just a couple of spidermen being good dads #mayday parker #coparenting #probably out of character but i don’t care #slightly canon compliant

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