[⚠︎] ▼ 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚎 ▲ Miguel O'Hara x Reader▼ 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝟷/ 𝟸

▸ FOURTEEN ◂

You found yourself begrudgingly carrying groceries alongside Miguel, heading toward a cozy little house and picking up right where his twin left off. You rolled your eyes, barely believing that he'd roped you into playing along—for now.

"If she asks who you are," Miguel began, juggling the groceries as he fumbled with an explanation, "just say something like... you're an old friend I ran into. I don't think this Miguel had any girlfriends recently, so we'll have to—"

You tuned out the rest of his overthinking. He always did this, didn't he? Overcomplicated everything. And sending the body back to HQ for "research purposes"? That was next-level nerd behavior. You made a mental note to have him dispose of the body later, rather than storing it. Even now, he wore a perfectly clean replica of the clothes the other Miguel had died in, free of the bullet hole and blood. You, of course, had to dress the part too, blending into this world like actors in a play you hadn't signed up for.

At last, the two of you arrived at the door. Miguel struggled to get the key into the lock, burdened by bags of groceries when the door suddenly swung open.

Standing there was Gabriella O'Hara.

"What took you so long?" she huffed, her small hands planted on her hips. "You were gone for, like, two hours!"

Miguel let out a nervous laugh, adjusting the bags in his arms. "Sorry, sweetie. I got held up with some errands."

Her gaze shifted to you, her brows furrowing as she pointed. "Dad, who's that?"

Miguel cleared his throat, his voice steady but unsure. "This is... an old friend of mine. Her name is (Y/N). I ran into her on the way back."

You mustered a warm smile and waved, trying to appear approachable despite the exhaustion weighing you down. "Hi there."

Gabriella's eyes widened as she studied you, her expression softening into curiosity. "Woah, your eyes are like emeralds," she murmured, shyly twiddling her fingers. "Hi, Miss (Y/N). I'm Gabriella."

Your heart melted at her innocence, and for a moment, you forgot where you were or why you were here. Of course, it didn't hurt that Miguel had temporarily modified your appearance. You looked more human, less spider. You returned her shy smile before heading toward the kitchen to unload the groceries.

"Did you get my favorite cereal?" Gabriella asked eagerly, rummaging through the bags.

Miguel stiffened, clearly at a loss, and you decided to step in before he could embarrass himself. "Sorry, Loulou, he forgot this time."

Gabriella tilted her head, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

You glanced at her with a gentle grin. "It means 'little one' in French. It is just a nickname."

Her eyes lit up with delight. "That's so cool! Did you know I played soccer with a French girl once?"

You chuckled, unloading the fridge. "Oh? You play soccer?"

She tried to appear nonchalant, but the pride in her voice was unmistakable. "Yeah. My coach says I'm the best on the team."

Miguel chuckled softly beside you, leaning in to whisper, "See? This isn't so bad."

You shot him a sharp look. "This is wrong, and you know it."

His smile faltered, and he met your gaze with that pleading, hopeful look of his. You sighed, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking. The house was small and cozy, though it was far from tidy. Messy, just like your Miguel. You found yourself instinctively tidying as you worked, the kitchen slowly transforming under your hands.

Gabriella drummed her fingers on the counter. "So... what's for dinner?"

You blinked, looking between her and Miguel. "Have you not eaten yet, Gabriella?"

She gave Miguel a pointed look. "We don't usually eat until 8 pm, remember? And we still haven't picked a movie."

Miguel muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "You know I don't cook."

You raised a brow, smirking. "What kind of father are you?"

With a resigned sigh, you pulled out a saucepan and some oil. The ingredients were sparse, but you'd planned ahead.

"Ooh! What are you making, Miss (Y/N)?" Gabriella asked, eagerly fetching a cutting board to help.

"Spaghetti," you replied with a smile. "It is quick, easy, and perfect for learning. Want to help?"

Her grin was toothy and bright. "Yeah!"

As you guided Gabriella through the steps, letting her stir the meat and noodles, Miguel watched quietly from the side. His heart swelled at the sight of you—so natural, so patient. He'd always known you were good at this. Better than you gave yourself credit for.

Dinner was a success. Gabriella slurped her noodles enthusiastically, declaring it the best meal she'd had in ages. When it came time to pick a movie, Miguel struggled until a familiar title caught your attention.

"I've seen that movie, like, a hundred times!" Gabriella beamed, pointing at the screen.

You laughed, gently wiping her cheek with a napkin. Her plate was spotless, and despite everything, you found a small part of yourself thinking this wasn't so bad. You quickly pushed the thought aside.

Gabriella sat between you and Miguel on the couch, engrossed in the film. You wanted to talk to him, to voice your concerns, but her presence made it impossible.

"What are you thinking about?" Miguel whispered.

"How crazy you are," you muttered back, earning a quiet laugh.

"Well, I think we're doing great so far," he said smugly.

You rolled your eyes. "Are you ready to wake up early and take her to school? What about soccer practice? Bills? Doctor appointments?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "We'll make do."

"We?" You scoffed. "No, Miguel. You are going to make do. I am still deciding if I am joining this madness."

He gave you a crestfallen look. "Mi amor..."

You turned away, refusing to meet his eyes. If you did, you knew you'd cave.

When the movie ended, Gabriella was fast asleep. Miguel carried her to bed, tucking her in with surprising tenderness. He returned to find you waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed.

"Now what?" You asked, unimpressed with a hand on your hip. Miguel loved it when you did that.

He sighed dramatically, "I'll call a group meeting in the morning once I drop her off at school, alone. I'll have to spend the night, by myself, so that nothing happens... And wake up early by myself. And take her to school by myself—"

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. He always knew how to get under your skin. You knew what he was trying to do... And it was working. Seeing you laugh, causes him to continue his pitiful charm, knowing he was winning. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. You sighed, letting your arms loop around his neck.

"Alright, Miguel. If we can get the others to cover for us, then maybe—maybe—I will join you in this insanity."

His smile was dazzling as he hugged you tightly. "Leave it all to me. I'll handle everything."

"Except dinner." You cut in playfully.

He laughs, agreeing, "Except dinner."

Pulling away, you watched him, your heart torn between unease and something far warmer.

"I hope nothing goes wrong," you murmured.

He plants a kiss on your head, "It's going to be alright, mi amor. I won't let anything happen."