Miguel O'Hara One Shots [✔]

come a little bit closer, pt. 1

Additional Tags:

Pre-Canon | Canon-Typical Violence | Fluff | Protective Miguel O'Hara | Touch-Starved Miguel O'Hara | Mild Language | Spider-Man Kiss

Summary:

Somehow, the word got around that one of the workers at the bank, the one sitting in booth 3, is friends with the local Spider-Man.

You have no idea why would anyone think such a thing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Neuva York is not a perfect city.

Despite all its technological advances and beautiful architecture, it suffers from all the same problems just like any city of such size and population.

It doesn't help that the city is also divided into two parts, aka what's above and below the surface. It's a clear division between the light, safe part of the town and the dark underbelly.

It's just your luck that the cheapest apartments were in the section below ground level.

When you first moved to this town all these years ago you were told that robberies were unheard of and that the supervillains rarely ever appeared.

What they said was true.

Things like that don't happen above the surface.

In the 'dark side' of Nueva York, crime run amock. During your first week, you witnessed over a dozen robberies and lost your wallet twice thanks to pickpocketers.

Not the perfect life you dreamed of when you moved here.

It all changed when Neuva York's masked hero first showed up.

You were there when it happened and you remember it as clearly as it was yesterday.

- - -

"Hello, welcome to Forest Hills Bank, what can I do for you today, miss?" You tell the elderly lady as she comes up to your booth.

After hopping between jobs for a while, you finally found one that stuck. Working in a bank was much easier than you expected, and thanks to that business degree you wasted five years of your life on getting, you fit right in.

It's not even that hard. Half the time your clients are people like Mrs. Riley, aka the last remnants of the older generation who still struggle to understand how electric payments work.

As long as they don't yell at you, you're good.

"Mrs. Riley, I think I know where the problem lies. Would you mind telling me your login information so that-" You never get to finish the sentence as the glass doors of the building suddenly shatter.

Everyone present looks at the disturbance and, sure enough, a group of five people dressed in balaclavas enters the bank.

You pale as you see the sheer size of the weapons they're carrying.

Slowly, careful not to catch any unwanted attention, you move your hand under the desk, searching for the emergency button - the only hope in situations like this.

"Booth 3, stand up! No funny business or I'll shoot!" One of the men points his weapon at you and you follow his order, slowly getting up from your seat. "Everyone else on the ground, hands behind their heads!"

You start shaking like a leaf as your clients and coworkers all lay on the ground, thinking better than to try anything stupid.

You've seen a robbery a million times.