Archive of Our Own

Hush, hush, the world is quiet

Hush, hush, we both can’t fight it

It’s us that made this mess

Why can’t you understand?

Oh, I won’t sleep tonight

I won’t sleep tonight!

Here we go again

Here we go again

Here we go again

Oh-oh, I want some more

Oh-oh, what are you waiting for?

Take a bite of my heart tonight…

-“Animal” by Neon Trees

Being a Spider-person is fucking stressful.

And you knew it better than most.

There were so many stressors, from the police to the actual perpetrators to your garden variety Rogues Gallery, which, by the way, felt like it was getting bigger every year. Every night on patrol was a hellish nightmare, even though you were damn good at your job. You caught the bad guys and dodged the cops where necessary, keeping your identity a secret to most of the important people in your life. You’d been doing this for four years now, and you could tell you had started to get burned out as of the last three months.

Fortunately for you, that was when Miguel O’Hara found you.

And he was…something else.

Miguel was a bit of a conundrum. The way he explained things to you made sense, in a crazy sort of way. He wanted to keep the multiverse safe and had found a way to pool all the Spidey resources so that they could all commiserate with each other, but also so they could take care of business. You had been admitted for a trial basis after he had secretly observed your recent capture of Venom. You were nervous, and not just because the stakes were high.

He made you nervous.

Miguel wanted to protect the multiverse, but it was evident as soon as you met him that he was a profoundly angry man. Not angry at you or even at your fellow Spider-Men—angry at himself for what he’d accidently done and angry at his inability to change it. But trauma came with the costume. You learned about canon events and could understand why Miguel was so goddamn angry and miserable all the time, knowing thousands of Spider-Men had to lose loved ones over and over again. It was one of the worst jobs you could think of, having to witness it so many times. It was a terrible loss each time, never dulled even though it was a fate that had befallen so many of you.

The silver lining was Miguel began to accept and trust you after that 90 day probationary period. He would call you in for bigger and bigger missions, relay instructions and trust you to get them done, and that felt great. You’d been a loner, unfortunately, for pretty much the entire time you’d been in the costume, and so getting to meet the others and feel at home somewhere was a relief. You’d spend more time at HQ if you could, but you did have a whole ass city to protect, so you really just visited on your slow nights. New York gave you a break each winter—far less crime because it was too cold and the criminals couldn’t make a speedy getaway with the ground covered in ice and snow.

And it was around that time that an…interesting arrangement developed.

“I swear,” Peter B. Parker said after gulping down a mouthful of Coke, his eyes on Miguel, who was at the other end of the cafeteria scowling down at a taquito. “That man needs to get laid.”

You laughed and smacked his arm. “Peter, that’s not nice.”

He shrugged. “Just sayin’. I mean, it really does help, you know, scratching the itch when it comes around. Life doesn’t feel quite as intense and shitty if you’re having regular orgasms.”

You laughed harder, horrified but amused by this turn of the conversation. “I dunno. The man’s wound pretty tight. It might take several for him to loosen up.”

“Definitely. I hope to God he’s at least choking the chicken every once in a while to blow off steam.”

“Jesus, Pete. Thanks for the mental image.”

He sent you a sly look then. “Oh, don’t go tossin’ that one off on me, girlie. You were definitely already thinking about it.”

“I was not,” you sniffed.

Peter grinned. “You think I haven’t noticed your eyes go south of the border every time he turns around?”

You nearly inhaled your fry. You coughed it up and glared at him, blushing in spite of yourself. “Oh, you big fat liar, no, I don’t.”

“You totally do. I think maybe you should be the one to, uh, pop that cork.”

You threw a fry at his head. He merely caught it and ate. “Please. We’re barely acquaintances. There’s no way he’s attracted to me.”

Peter’s grin widened. “Did I mention his eyes also go south of the border every time you turn around?”

Your jaw dropped. “Nu-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“You’re just instigating because you’re bored.”

Peter stole another fry off your tray. “Mmkay, fine, I’ll prove it.”

He pulled his sleeve down enough to check the time. “We’re due for a catch up meeting in fifteen. Stick with me after it’s over.”

You scowled. “Why should I?”

“So you can be the one to choke his chicken. Ow!” He rubbed his forehead after your empty honey-mustard packet bounced off of it. “Violent, aren’t you?”

After lunch, you and Peter B. attended the short catch up meeting Miguel called. He delivered orders to a few volunteers, and you honestly liked hearing him talk. He had a nice throaty voice and the accent was extremely attractive too. You were actually listening to the meeting, but Peter B.’s meddling had wormed its way into your brain. Was he just kidding? Hell, what would Miguel be like in bed? He already had this sort of animal magnetism to him. Would he be a selfish lover? Would he want to dote on his partner? Would he be dominant or submissive or a switch? What were his kinks? You were way too fascinated with this thought and you really needed to stop before you winded up crushing on him. Hell, you probably were lowkey crushing on him already, physically speaking.

When the meeting was dismissed, Peter nodded for you to go up to Miguel with him. Miguel spoke to a few other Spideys, then it was your turn. His eyes locked onto Peter B. and that usual annoyance spread across his face. He didn’t like Peter B. only because Peter B. was the most Peter-Parker-y Parker in the entire group: a total smartass, a total dumbass, and a total softie. Plus, Peter B. had been the most vocal Spidey arguing that Miles Morales deserved a spot on the team, and Miguel vehemently disagreed. The argument had been going on since Peter B. was recruited and it didn’t look like it would resolve itself any time soon, hence the tension between them.

“Say, Miguel, maybe you can settle something for the two of us,” Peter B. said casually.

“I can’t wait,” Miguel deadpanned.

“See, my gal here seems to think that the best way to rebound after you’ve been knocked down is one of those Bruce Lee, bend-your-legs type of moves, and I argue it’s easier to go into a back-roll and land in a crouch facing the opponent. Given that you’re arguably the best fighter here, maybe you can settle the score for us.”

Peter glanced at you. “Go ahead, trip me.”

“With pleasure.” You crouched and spun your leg at his ankles. He let the momentum carrying him backward and then rolled and came up in a typical Spidey crouch, which only took about three seconds. This wasn’t a real argument; you were fast enough to do either move, but apparently, this had been all he could think of on the spot, so you rolled with it.

“See? Real professional shit right there.” Peter popped onto his feet and in a single smooth motion, kicked your legs out from under you. Damn, he was fast. Your Spidey Sense had just barely managed to catch up to your brain in time, so you fell back and stuck your hands over your head, bending your body perfectly in half and then swinging your legs out and up to propel you onto your feet again.

And during the millisecond where you were bent in half, Miguel’s brown eyes most certainly moved towards your ass.

Wow.

The sonovabitch was right.

You popped back onto the tips of your ballet flats, hands on your hips, grinning beneath your mask and glad Miguel couldn’t see it, nor that he knew why you were grinning. “See? It’s way more athletic and it’s faster.”

“Right,” Miguel said in that same dry tone. “I’m going to have to go with the lady on this one.”

“Gee, what a shocker there,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes, and you elbowed him in the gut. “Thanks for weighing in, big guy.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned you away, leaning in enough to whisper. “I told you so.”

“Oh, shush, old man.” You tweaked his ass and he yelped, making you laugh again.

But you could still feel Miguel’s gaze on your back and it…excited you.

You didn’t immediately stir that pot. You told yourself that it would be irresponsible. But…you also knew Peter B. had a point. The only times in your life that weren’t absolute hell were times when you were having good sex, and it had been a while since then, nearly when you’d first become a Spidey. And technically speaking, it wasn’t that bad an idea because you both lived in different dimensions and so there was no way it would become one of those awkward coworker shags. If things didn’t work out, you could always resign from the position and just stick to your universe unless a cataclysmic event happened.

And he did have a killer bod.

It was a late evening when you’d come through headquarters after a mission. Miguel was up on the roof overlooking the area with a cup of black coffee, his brow heavy as usual.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Um, hope I’m not intruding.”

“No,” Miguel said. “You never are. It’s fine. What’s up?”

“Oh, I just have mission recap. I already sent the files to the database, but I figured I’d stop in and let you know it went as planned.”

He nodded. “Thanks for being thorough; I appreciate it. Helps me keep things straight around here.”

You pulled off your mask and hopped up on the edge of the building, smiling. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

Miguel offered a small smile. “Tell me about it. Especially when I keep getting shit from Peter B.”

“He means well,” you said gently. “But he’s too close to it. To Miles, I mean. I can’t say I blame him. When you find someone like you that you really like, you have a tendency to want to be around them.”

“Mm. Wouldn’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve had friends or family.”

You winced. “That’s a tough way to live, Miguel.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Good way not to die, though.”

“There are a lot of good folks here, you know. You could try. Maybe just start with one.”

His smile widened. It looked good on him. “Why? You offering?”

You shrugged. “I got nothin’ better to do. Might as well befriend my boss.”

He chuckled. “Definitely not your boss. Do you have any idea what the overhead would be if I tried to pay you all?”

You laughed. “God, you’d need to be Tony Stark for sure. It’d be an insane payroll.”

You both chuckled. He stared into his coffee. “I guess…I’m wary after what happened. Making friends means you could lose them someday.”

“Yeah. That’s true. But…” You nudged him with your shoulder. “It’s not so bad to care a teeny tiny bit about someone, right? Like a teaspoon of caring.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, maybe you should work your way up to it since it’s been a while for you.”

“Oh yeah? How do I do that?”

“You could start by having absolutely feral sex with someone, if for nothing else other than stress relief.”

Miguel choked on his next sip. You cackled. He glared, but you could see his lips twisting with the effort not to smile. “Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding. You gotta relax, Miguel. You’re wound tight enough to snap.” You patted his shoulder. “Think it over. I’ll catch you later.”

You hopped off the ledge and went back inside. And you tried not to feel giddy that you were certain he stared after you when you left.

Unfortunately, the next time you met wasn’t quite so pleasant.

There had been a jailbreak in Universe 227A, so you and Miguel and two other Spideys headed there since the Sinister Six had escaped. You’d just scooped a little girl up off the street when Rhino threw a car at her and swung her back to her parents behind the police barrier. It had distracted you just long enough for Scorpion to wrap his tail around you and squeeze, the blade nearing your throat. Your hands were pinned to your sides and you couldn’t maneuver away. Final curtain call. You were toast.

Until Miguel came flying out of nowhere with an unearthly roar and sliced Scorpion’s tail off.

Scorpion staggered back, his eyes bulging under his helmet. “How dare you—”

Miguel then proceeded to wreck his fucking shit.

By the time Scorpion hit the street, unconscious, Miguel’s claws had torn through his armor, leaving bloody scratches behind, and you had to put him in a half-nelson to get him to stop. “It’s over, he’s out, stop, just stop it!”

He froze when your voice reached him. His shoulders heaved up and down from how hard he was panting. You held onto him until you felt him start to calm down, then carefully slid away. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, seeming to retreat within himself. Then he turned to you. “Rooftop. You, me, now.”

You crossed your arms. “I thought you weren’t my boss.”

“I am today,” he growled, brushing past you and shooting a web up onto the skyscraper at your three o’clock. You sighed and shot a web as well, following him. The view from the skyscraper was spectacular in this universe’s version of New York. It was dusk now and the rest of the team would be busy cleaning up after the mess and then head back to HQ and then home. You would too, after he was done yelling at you.

“What in the hell was that?” Miguel demanded as soon as your ballet shoes touched the surface of the roof. “I turned my back for half a second and you almost got your throat slit.”

“Almost doesn’t count,” you said, arms crossed again, your voice firm. “I’m a Spider. We all have close calls and near misses.”

He stalked up to you and towered over you, the mask falling away to show his face. “Not that close. If I hadn’t been there—”

“But you were. It’s in the past, Miguel. Screaming at me won’t change what happened. I’m only human. All I can do is try my best. This job’s gonna kill me someday. Hell, it’ll probably kill all of us someday, so all I can do is try my hardest to put it off until that day gets here.”

“You keep that sloppy work up and it’ll get here sooner rather than later.”

“Sloppy?” you sputtered. “I saved that little girl. That’s the only reason he caught me off-guard.”

“Exactly. All it takes is one second. You take your eyes off your enemies for one single second and—” Miguel snapped his fingers. “You’re gone. In an instant. There are people who actually give a shit about you, so you need to stay focused. I won’t be there every time to bail you out.”

You ripped off your mask and got in his face. “It’s not your fucking job to bail me out, Miguel. You may be the leader of this group, but you are not my boss and you do not get to insult my intelligence for making a mistake. If this is your idea of proving that you care about me, it fucking sucks and you need to find a better way to express yourself.”

He glared at you, just standing there and fuming for several seconds, as if he couldn’t even figure out how to make words from how angry you’d made him. So he apparently decided to forgo them completely.

Because the next second, he’d dragged you into his arms and kissed you with a fire that burned all the way down to your toes.

At first, you couldn’t even react. Disbelief flooded you at first. Was he…yes, he was! He was kissing you! Holy shit. Boy, had you been wrong about this argument. And…well…it was fucking amazing. His lips were soft. He smelled of sweat and aftershave. His arms crushed you to his chest. You felt the edge of his erection pressing into your lower belly.

And it made you hot as hell.

You couldn’t help whimpering slightly when he pulled back enough to look at you, a rather dangerous and seductive expression on his face. “How’s that for expressing myself?”

“Fuck you.”

“Do you want to?” he murmured.

You blinked at that. “What?”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

You eyed him. “Is this a trick question?”

“No. You’re the one that suggested it, remember? Stress relief?”

You licked your lips, tasting him on them. He watched you do so with relish. “So you were listening to me that day.”

“I always listen,” he whispered. “When you talk. I…you weren’t wrong about me. I am wound up tight enough to snap and the more I thought about your suggestion, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about it being you. I’m not asking you to be in relationship with me or anything like that. I just…”

He swallowed hard. “I am alone. I know that now. Maybe I’m not ready for a friend, but I think I’m ready for…this. Whatever it might be. If you are.”

Holy hell. You’d never thought you’d see the day that this man listened to someone else, let alone you. And…truth be told…you couldn’t think of a real reason to say no other than he was sort of your boss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, lowering your lashes over your eyes. “So are you saying that you want to have absolutely feral sex with me on this rooftop, Mr. O’Hara?”

He sighed. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Humor me. It’s part of the fun.”

Miguel sighed. “Yes, I want to have absolutely feral sex with you on this rooftop.”

You grinned. “Then stop standing there and strip, handsome.”

“You want it all?” he whispered. “All of me?”

“Damn right I do.”

A split second later, you found yourself shoved up against the roof access wall. Miguel’s big, broad form nearly eclipsed you, your round ass digging into his groin, his hands on your hips. You knew his suit was just a holographic projection that offered some protection, but not nearly as much as an armored suit. You felt the warmth of his chest bleeding into your shoulder blades, your hips, and couldn’t resist purring as it sent arousal shooting through your veins. He buried his face in your hair at first, as if wanting to get lost in your scent. His lips found the shell of your ear and his voice came out ragged. “Tell me to stop if I go too far. I’ll listen, I promise.”

You nodded shakily. His lips traveled down to the spot beneath your ear and his tongue flicked out. You shuddered and started to strip out of your Spider-suit, wanting bare skin on bare skin as soon as possible. Once you were out of it, he let his suit fall away too, leaving him in black boxer-briefs. His hands were hot as they crawled up your sides to your breasts. He pushed your sports bra up, caressing them firmly, his palms skimming over the nipples. You wore panties and a sports bra beneath your suit for chafing reasons and in case things broke bad and you had to ditch your suit. Your legs barely held as he kissed down the side of your throat, nipping over your racing pulse. He plucked at your nipples until you groaned and then slid one hand down the center of your belly, eventually sliding it into your panties. You moaned out his name and your head rolled back onto his shoulder as his calloused fingertips discovered you wet and waiting beneath them.

“Before we get to the fun stuff,” he rasped as he lightly ran his fingers over your wet slit. “I need to get this out of my system.”

“What?”

He slapped the right side of your ass. Hard. You almost came that very second.

“Fuck!” You balled your hands into fists where they were pressed to the brick wall, your forehead joining them. The pain was sharp, but the pleasure was sharper. Miguel purred when he heard it.

“I may not be your boss, but I am gonna put you in your place tonight, mi amor.” He slapped the other side of your ass just as hard. You stifled a whimper, your head bowed, ass stinging but ready for more. He let his index finger slide up towards your clit and you nearly collapsed as the pleasure flickered up from between your legs and into your veins. “Tell me you’re gonna be a good girl from here on out.”

“I’ll be a good girl,” you whispered hoarsely. “Please. More.”

He swatted your ass again with his free hand. “You’re not gonna worry your papi again, right, baby?”

“No, I promise. Don’t stop.” You bit your bottom lip to silence more moans as he spanked you harder, faster, your body jumping slightly with every blow. Fuck, it felt so good. You hadn’t felt this good in a long, long, painfully long time. There was so much excitement in being treated like a bad girl. Especially since he knew you could take it.

“Mm, fuck, mi vida, you’re wet as hell,” he growled in your ear, teasing your outer petals with his fingertips. “You like what Papi’s doing to you, don’t you?”

“Yes, God yes.”

“Then I’d better keep going.” You cried out as he slotted two thick fingers inside you at last. God. It was unbelievable. You nearly came that very second before he’d even moved. The cool evening air swept over the two of you and soothed your sore backside, making the sweetness of him fingering you that much more intense. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath, either; he just fucked them into you quickly, almost recklessly, his mouth hot on your shoulder blade as he kissed your bare skin. He molded his hard clothed cock against your ass as he fucked you to an incredible orgasm in nothing flat, his soft curses in your ear only making you wetter. He left his fingers inside you after you’d come, his other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you upright as your legs turned to spaghetti noodles. Christ, you hadn’t come that hard in ages, if ever. You couldn’t even get yourself off this good. He was definitely something else.

Miguel flipped you around and caged you between his arms. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him, drinking in the sight of him with the dying colors of sunset at his back, dangerous and sexy and all yours. Oh, right. He was all yours tonight. That meant you could play with him too.

You sank onto your knees and pulled the boxer-briefs down, unable to help going a bit wide-eyed when he was revealed to you finally. Wow. You had no idea if it was a Spider-Man thing or a Miguel thing, but his cock was enormous and thick and delectable-looking. You let your lips run across the side of the shaft and he hisses, balling his hands into fists at his sides. You cupped his sack with the other hand, your fingers trailing up and down, your tongue flicking up the underside. The sounds that left him were nothing short of fantastic. You wanted more and you were determined to get it.

You deep-throated him, your eyes watering, but it only took a moment to adjust. You’d never taken a cock quite this long, but you had been with someone this thick, so it wasn’t hard to slip back into it. You licked and sucked relentlessly while caressing his balls, living on the groans that left him. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared down at you with his blown pupils, licking his lips. “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. That’s right. Take Papi’s cock like a good girl.”

Damn him. Dirty talk got to you badly during sex. You fought the sudden urge to touch yourself and pulled his hips towards you, sliding his cock deeper. He shuddered and didn’t resist as you moved him to fuck your throat in fast, hard thrusts, already close to the edge again just from the blowjob.

“Fuck,” Miguel gasped out, his head rolling back on his neck, eyes closing. “So good. So fuckin’ good, amor. Don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

He fisted your hair in a hand and thrust three final times. On the third thrust, his cock erupted. You kept still as he came down your throat, his cock twitching but staying hard the entire time. That part you knew too about Spider-Men—they had loads and loads of stamina. You’d been careful not to sleep around a lot since you could get a reputation, but you had a few flings and they’d been fun. Miguel was no exception, it seemed.

You let his cock fall free and wiped your lips clean. Miguel grabbed you and pinned you to the wall, lining his wet cock up with your equally wet core. His lips found yours again and that same sweet fire burned through you again. God, you could kiss him for hours, days even, if he let you. He gripped your thighs enough to pull them further apart and then jerked his hips once, hard, in the exact right spot. His cock burrowed into you and nearly split you in half like a log. You called out his name when he did it, digging your nails into his shoulder blades, your legs twisting around his waist.

“Mm, fuck, mi vida,” Miguel whispered against your slightly swollen lips. “So fuckin’ tight.”

“I’m not tight; you’re just fucking huge,” you panted back to him, which made him smirk. You couldn’t even be mad that he was proud; it was a massively impressive cock, after all.

“Am I?” he teased, nudging against your clit with his pelvis. “Should I go slow for you, mi amor?”

You glared. “You promised me feral sex, Mr. O’Hara. You’d damn well better deliver.”

His smirk sharpened, revealing a hint of fang. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart. I’m a man who delivers.”

And before you could come up with a snappy reply, he’d pulled most of the way out and slammed back in.

Your toes curled. Your head rolled back and you couldn’t help but let out a piteous moan as that big fucking cock tore through you like tissue paper. “Fuck!”

“Mm, that’s right, baby,” he hummed, burying his face in your neck to leave more kiss marks. “Moan for Papi.”

It wasn’t a hard command to follow, no pun intended. Miguel fucked you as if he wanted to break you into a million tiny pieces. Every single thrust made its mark. The pleasure set you ablaze in only minutes, clinging to him for dear life as he pounded you like your lives depended on it. He fucked you with total abandon, the way no man ever had, those big hands squeezing your ass, his hips circling to drive you crazy. But you weren’t about to be outdone; your own nefarious nature rose to the surface to meet him. You worked your hips down over his cock, swiveling to clench your sopping wet walls around him more, and he moaned uncontrollably, exciting you more.

“Thought you said you were gonna be a good girl for me,” he growled, his lashes brushing your cheeks as he gave you a hooded look. “But you’re not coming on my cock, baby. Good girls come on this cock. Don’t you wanna be a good girl, mi vida?”

“Mm, not yet,” you slurred back. “Feels too fuckin’ good. Don’t wanna stop.”

Miguel smirked and squeezed your ass. “You can have this dick any time, anywhere, sweetheart. Not just tonight. So be good for Papi and come.”

Shit, he had your number. You definitely couldn’t last much longer as much as you wanted to. You knew what was welling up inside you this very moment and it was everything you’d ever wanted. But that was why you wanted to hang on just a little longer, feel him just a little more. So you went for the kill.

You kissed him passionately, then whispered, “Come with me, Papi. Please. Come inside me.”

Miguel shuddered from head to toe, thrusting wildly inside you until neither of you could stand it anymore. “Fuck! Yes, yes, baby, yes! Dame más. Mm, good girl. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come in this sweet little pussy, baby.”

Your body took flight at last. The orgasm clutched you tight. Every muscle tensed with hot, delicious pleasure that flowed over your overheated skin like honey. Miguel let out a guttural snarl as he came inside you, pumping his hips hard to ensure he came as deeply into you as he could. You nearly wept from how fucking good it felt. It was a minute or two before he found the strength to stop, wanting to extend the ecstasy for as long as possible, and you couldn’t blame him. It had been supernaturally good sex.

By the grace of God, he didn’t collapse after your shared orgasm. He propped his arms against the wall to stay upright, his sweaty forehead on yours, both of you panting madly. After a while, you cooled and started breathing normally again.

Miguel started laughing. You arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“I think you fucked all the stress right out of me.”

You laughed. “Same.”

“You okay? I know I was a little rough on you.”

You smiled and kissed him. “That’s okay—I’m into that shit, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“No shit,” he chuckled. “You might be the kinkiest girl I’ve ever been with. Definitely not going back to vanilla girls after you.”

“Yes, I do leave quite the impression.” You winced as you heard sirens below. “We should probably get back to HQ.”

Miguel sighed. “We probably should.”

He buried his face in your neck and inhaled. “Mm, don’t wanna leave here. It’s nice here.”

He arched his hips just slightly to make it clear where “here” was and you suppressed a moan. He was still half-hard and you desperately needed a reason not to fuck him again. “Well, unless you wanna be on the ten o’clock news with the caption ‘Spider-Man Sex Tape,’ you’d better behave, O’Hara.”

“Only if I must.” He kissed you one last time, then put you down. You slipped back into your suit and he donned his again, then opened a portal back to HQ. He paused, then reached over and squeezed your hand. “Thank you. For this. For…being a friend.”

“With benefits?” you added brightly, which made him laugh.

“With whatever. I’m glad I listened to you.”

You grinned before pulling on your mask. “Believe it or not, you didn’t listen to me.”

Miguel gave you a confused look. “Then who did I listen to?”

You backed up towards the portal. “Oh, nobody, just…Peter B. Parker.”

You had just entered the portal when you heard Miguel bellow, “GODDAMMIT, PARKER!”

FIN