Late. - Miguel O'Hara/Reader

Chapter 1

HI

if you've come from my tik tok or youtube, welcome and thank you!! :-) if you haven't, hello!!

for those of you who *aren't* from my other socials, this fanfic is based off of Miguel O'Hara ASMR AI audio that i made! i'm aiming to write around 10ish chapters. this first chapter is based off of my "miguel gets home late" audio. i hope you guys like it!! FYI - chapter 1 is short

i'll add my socials to the end :3

-

Late.

Again.

You sighed as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat at the dining table. The sweet and spicy aromas that filled the air had now faded as the meal you prepared for Miguel grew cold. Even though you knew he hadn't intentionally stood you up, the dull ache in your chest would never lessen no matter how many times it happened. Every police siren, loud noise or crash that was heard from the bustling city outside your window just meant that Miguel would be delayed further.

"Hey, Miguel said he's really sorry."

Lyla's little hovering hologram helped to illuminate the dimly lit room as she appeared in front of you. You had become used to her apologetic smile, even more so than your own lover's. Her gaze settled on the delicious spread you had prepared just for him. It was hard - trying to act as though his absence didn't affect you.

"Oh, empanadas? He's gonna be so bummed he missed it!"

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. Lyla wasn't slick; you knew exactly what she was doing. Miguel had instructed her to keep you company, like he had most nights. Over the last two years, Miguel's smart mouthed AI assistant had become your best friend. She checked in on you often - she would watch TV with you and react as though she didn't already know how every single show would end. Lyla would make sure you ate throughout the day when you were too busy with work, and would send funny selfies of her terrorizing Miguel while he was hard at work.

"It's fine, I'll be okay. Just- tell Miguel that he can reheat it when he gets home," you replied with a heavy sigh as you began to gather the plates from the table.

Her small figure followed you as you padded into the kitchen. You wrapped each plate with tin foil, knowing that the food just wouldn't taste the same once it was reheated. Just once... Once would you want to sit across from your lover and chat over a hot meal. Just once would you want to hear about his day, about how he slept, about... anything. You slid the plates into the fridge, placing them on the top shelf so they would be the first thing he sees.

"He really does feel bad, you know. I mean... He always does, but he knew how much thought you put into tonight," Lyla's voice was sympathetic as she glitched over your shoulder.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was only 8:31pm. Maybe you could still make it to the cinema; if Miguel met you there and if you left right away, maybe you two would only miss the trailers.

"What if I met him at the theater?" You asked hopefully as you reached for your keys and phone on the counter.

Lyla's hologram flickered for a couple moments, indicating that she was checking back on Miguel. "Yeah... It's gonna be a while," she scrunched up her face, almost as though it pained her to tell you for the millionth time that Miguel wasn't coming.

-

You were awakened from your dreamless sleep by a gentle thud on the fire escape outside your window. Instead of sitting up to greet Miguel with a groggy smile like you usually would, you decided to act as though you didn't hear him. Miguel's movements were not silent - he may be Spider-Man, but he was a fucking unit; different from the Spider-People he talked about and from the few you'd met. Each step and motion was almost announced by the sound of the floor creaking beneath him.

He slid the bedroom window open and slithered inside. Miguel sighed at the sight of your soft, lonely body curled up on the bed without him. He was ecstatic when you first moved in, finally happy to share a bed that was made for two.

But now, he almost regretted subjecting you to these lonely nights. He could barely stand them himself- why in the world would he want his beloved to feel the same empty pain as well?

Miguel crossed the room as quietly as he could, unaware that you were already awake and waiting to feel his warm skin on yours. He shuffled through his dresser drawer for a pair of fresh boxers and a t-shirt.

"Lyla, turn off the suit," he whispered.

The suit disintegrated to reveal his chiseled, obnoxiously large frame. As his head slipped through the hole of his shirt, he was surprised to see your longing eyes staring back at him.

"Baby," he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly as his gaze locked with your big, yearning eyes. The guilt began to set in; maybe it would've been easier for him if you hadn't woken up. Miguel could have surprised you with breakfast in the morning, and showered you with affection like he usually did. He would have whispered how sorry he was in between each gentle brush of his lips. Miguel was excellent at cramming a day's worth of love and attention into one short hour, before he would have to leave you. Again.

"I- I didn't mean to wake you."

You shrugged, pulling the covers away from your face. Miguel seemed hesitant to join you on the bed. You didn't know that he felt unworthy of your love, that every time he came home to you laying alone only furthered his hatred for himself.

He would never tell you that, though. The idea of you potentially pitying him made him sick.

"We were supposed to go see a movie tonight, remember?" Your quiet voice was heavy with disappointment, even if you tried to mask it.

"I know, baby... I know we were supposed to watch a movie tonight," his rumble of a voice was barely above a whisper. He sighed, finally tearing his eyes away from yours.

"Lo siento."

He dragged his tired legs over to his side of the bed before slithering under the covers. Miguel's eyes fluttered momentarily as he settled, finally off his feet for the first time since he left this morning.

"Vente, mi amor," he cooed as his thick, strong arm draped across your torso before he pulled you into his warm body.

Miguel's large, calloused hand came down to caress your soft face. He gingerly brushed a strand of hair from your face as he gave you an apologetic half smile. Your heart began to thud wildly in your chest just from being in his embrace.

"You're so soft..." his words were nearly drowned from the sound of traffic outside that always filled your apartment. "Veremos esa película mañana, ok?"

"I don't care about missing the movie, Miguel," you whispered as you nuzzled your head into his broad chest. "I missed you."

You couldn't see the frown on his face. He exhaled deeply and ran his thick fingers through your hair.

"I know, but... I'm here now."

You sighed. He squeezed you even tighter.

"Te extrañe."

There was a beat of silence before you responded. You felt as though his words no longer held as much meaning as they did before. He'd muttered those two words so many times; they once helped to ease the twinge of pain in your chest, and now they did nothing.

"I missed you, too."

Miguel kissed your hair, feeling uneasy at your empty response. He decided to drop it - he would make it up to you tomorrow.

"Go back to sleep... Te amo, mi amor."

-

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