Chapter Text
Miguel knew it was foolish to approach you as Spider-man. He almost got you and your – his – child shot at. Whatever emotions that were controlling him made him a fool, and they needed to be handled, immediately . He needed to keep his distance - for both of your sakes.
If his emotions consumed him, if he let his emotions consume him, it could hurt both of you.
The second he saw you in the street, he felt a pull towards you, pure magnetism demanding he made sure you were okay, seeing you prone from the impact. He didn’t think those cops would shoot with an innocent right there in the crossfire, but shoot they did. He wanted them all dead at that moment, heads rolling in the streets of Nueva York.
His mere presence was a danger, damning everyone around him both in costume or not. That he even wanted to be near you and the baby was selfish, he knew that, but he desperately hoped the bad could be outweighed. It would probably be the first time. His mother, his brother, his ex-girlfriend… He wasn’t exactly on a good track record, but the circumstances were dire. He was the only person who knew the risks at hand.
It was Thursday – tomorrow, he had promised to take you to your first prenatal appointment. He was nervous about it, less so nervous about you. His thoughts were consumed on what would happen – genetic testing to be specific. The child was half him half you, obviously, the only problem was that he was half spider. There was no promise that the fetus would even be viable because of his mutations.
It was during his lunch when a thought had hit him so suddenly, he felt foolish for not having realized it earlier: He was a geneticist, that was his whole job. Maybe there was some way to simulate the effects of his DNA on a mother and child.
The thought stressed him out more than he cared to admit. For all his mistakes and asshole tendencies he didn’t want to ruin peoples lives or hurt them. Especially not you .
It’s not like he could just walk up to you and explain like. ‘ Hey - your kid that you say is mine? Yeah, it might be a genetic aberration who will not survive because I’m actually spliced with a fucking spider. Can I run some tests on it to make sure the fetus won’t kill you? ’
His private lab was mostly repaired now, taking up nearly half a hall of the R&D Floor. It was one room that made him feel small, a permanent, daily reminder of all that had completely changed his life; ruined his life.
Well, not everything anymore, he supposed. Afterall, he still had you to blame now.
Miguel had been fluctuating between grief and irritation about his situation. His child. He was desperate to wake from his nightmare – but day after day he woke up, covered in bruises from his vigilante escapades from the night before and saw your soft, tired face in the office – saw your number on his phone.
Miguel had realized two things: One,that he was absolutely fucking terrifed. And two, that he wanted to be nothing like his father. He avoided thinking of most of his history – but now the impending responsibility of fatherhood forced him to remember his worst nights. The echoes of his mother’s cries as he clung desperately to his little brother, not long after being ripped away from his family to be groomed into Alchemax’ lackey when he was barely a teen.
He didn’t know how to be a father, but he knew what not to do. Thanks for the awful lesson, George O’Hara.
As Miguel walked the sterile-white hall, his eyes lingered on the large space of open wires and scaffolding that one held the gene altering machine. The half-patched wall where his claws had first drawn blood and where Aaron had fallen to his death.
It would take years to reconstruct at this point, even with all his research and schematics still in Alchemax’ data. It didn’t help that Miguel was trying to stop it at every advance. He would make sure not another human soul entered that machine ever again.
Miguel remembered a time where he thought he was helping people – that working at Alchemax was the right thing to do, for the good of the world and humanity that lived within it. That he wouldn’t be forced to go against all his morals and ethics. When he was completely human – before the machine turned him into an anomaly.
He was an oddity – not proof that the machine worked. Animal trials were still unsuccessful most of the time when Tyler stepped in.
Sims trying to break his neck before dying in a heap of flesh and puss was still fresh in his mind, he’d probably never forget it. Maybe it would be seared into his memory forever like a branding to a bull’s hide. The guilt, the fear - the fact that it had destroyed his whole life because of Alchemax and Tyler Stone.
Miguel had to resist the urge to rip the asshole apart with his bare hands on the daily. But he knew his boiling anger would serve him no good, it
never
did.
He went to the massive computer as it flickered on to life. Golden screens and his private log in flickered before his red eyes.
“Lyla.” He called out as his AI companion flickered to life beside him. “Do we still have my blood samples in the system?”
“Yuppers.” Lyla kicked back in her nonexistent chair. Miguel rolled his eyes as he tapped his nearly 20-character long password into the computer like a rhythm.
“Run the diagnostic test again using my regular DNA as a baseline.” His eyes are on the screens, flicking through the last recorded bits of his own transformation. “Make sure it runs stable – like it did with me.”
He needed to make sure the child would be stable – or at the bare minimum not hurt you.
He watched the windows open up on his golden screens, holograms flickering as calculations flew past his eyes. Lyla could run the electronic tests and artificial predictions far quicker than he ever could, but he slowly sat back down in his chair and began typing away at one of the screens himself.
“You’re an oddity, boss.” Lyla chirped as a red flash of ‘MELTDOWN’ flickered on the screen for the third time. He had to fix this.
“Recheck the parameters we had that night – it had to work once, so it can work again. I need to understand my modifications, Lyla.”
“Are you running this' cuz’ of your baby mama?” Lyla asked curiously. Miguel twisted his head up to the obstinate AI with far too much personality for its own good.
“Offspring inherits DNA from both parents, running just your monster mash isn’t going to work. Y’ know.” Lyla tapped her pointer finger on her chin.
“Yeah, let me just go ask her for a lock or her hair or a slide with her blood on it.” Sarcasm dripped off Miguel’s smooth voice.
Lyla rolled her little hologram eyes as she fixed her glasses. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Miguel snapped his head over to Lyla. A vein in his forehead twitched as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear, I’m going to have you reprogramed.”
“ Can’t . I’m linked to Xina’s cloud member. Unless you want to try your hand at the best programmer in the world’s firewall.” Lyla teased in a sing-song voice. Miguel sighed and slouched down in his chair, running his hand over his face.
“Lyla.” He commanded again, the hologram not sparing him a glance as that smile remained on her face. “Check if she’s inside her office.”
“Who, your baby mama?” She was teasing him now, only grinning wider as another ragged sigh left the man’s chest.
Xina Kwan the next time I see you I’m going to - He took a deep breath, exhaling through flared nostrils.
“Yes. And would you please stop calling her that?” It was less of a question and more of a demand, wishing he could reach up and snag the sassy thing up out of the air and shake her. It wasn’t the first time he wanted to wring the AIs neck, not even this week.
“Yuppers!” she chittered again, golden screens flashing before her electronic eyes before she turned to Miguel once more. “Seems like the doctor’s out for lunch.”
He sighed, good. That would at least make one part of this easier. He sat up from his chair, dismissing the hologram with a wave of his hand as he walked down the hallway.
Miguel knew he needed to not look suspicious. A quick knock on your very empty office before he slipped inside, the hiss of the door enclosing him in darkness. His red eyes glowed as he searched with ease around the dark room.
It would be simple, all he had to do was search around your office for a single piece of your hair, and then head back to his office as if nothing had happened. A totally fine, normal, not creepy thing to do. Easy.
Quickly a problem was realized: You are a clean freak. Your office was freshly dusted even. How you had the time with how often he saw your form dash down the hall was baffling to him.
He had to kneel down in order to glance under your desk, spotting the small knapsack you always took to work. His massive hand grabbed the thing, pulling it up as he placed it down on your desk and flipped it open. Laptop, some sort of sanitary bag, notes, your personal phone.
He gave in and opened the small pink clutch – thankful it was just some sort of lip balm, a compact – and your hairbrush. Perfecto.
For a second, he hesitated. Stared at the brush with dark, contemplative eyes, chewing on his lower lip in clear strain. It wasn’t wrong , if anything it was reasonable. He needed to assess your DNA, make sure that everything would be viable, and assure that you, and his child would be safe.
Exhaling slowly, he plucked a few of the strands out of the teeth, staring at them for a moment and balling his hand into a fist.
He felt like a freak – like some depraved panty-sniffer - but it was for your sake and the child’s. For you, for the baby, he would reduce himself to as much if it meant protecting you. As he pressed the bag closed he heard footsteps. His eyes widened behind his glasses. He slipped your knapsack back under the desk in haste and stepped around.
Miguel moved to step out of your office just in time for the door to slide open. A small figure stepped in as the lights flicked on. Dr. Amara Monroe’s big brown eyes widened in surprise, nearly dropping the holo tablet in her hand.
“Dr. O’Hara?” She questioned, staring up at Miguel. “What are you doing in… here…” She raised a brow, one manicured finger pointed in his direction.
Miguel swallowed. “I-I’m looking for-“ He mumbled your name with tenseness to his voice, slipping the loose strands of hair into his pocket.
“She’s in the lab with the juniors?” Amara questioned.
“…Thanks.” He stepped around the small woman as she stared daggers into him. He left the room but went in the opposite direction of the lab, practically power walking as quickly as he could to his own cave-like space.
As Miguel reached the lab, he resisted the urge to kick something, desperate to prove to himself he was anything but his father’s son.
His heavy footsteps echoed in his private lab, the now too-open space echoing as the whirl of machinery. He approached his own station and pulled the little tangled mass of your hair free from his pocket. Your hair was oddly soft in his calloused grip and as he retrieved a slide it caught on his rough fingers.
After finally pulling it free he pressed the slide together and stepped over to his station, slipping it into the slot for the DNA analyzer. It had seen more human genomes than it ever had. He stepped back as LYLA flickered to life.
“Analysis will finish in 40 minutes, should I run the program again with this data?” LYLA asked.
“Yes, Lyla.” Miguel grumbled as he stepped back to his chair and sat down. “Send me a notification when it’s complete.”
Off to busy work on a holoscreen as he heard the labs whirl away. The echoing sounds of his lab always made it feel cavern-like, fiercely lonely. Jordan Boone stopped in occasionally, but Miguel had been quick to make sure LYLA locked him out of the really important stuff. He still wasn’t a fan of his space being invaded by Boone.
Was Tyler getting suspicious? What would happen if Tyler figured out he was Spider-man?
Miguel found himself unable to focus as minutes ticked past - the anxiety of his constant fuck-ups practically drowning him despite his towering stature. Now he didn’t have to just worry about his secret identity, Tyler, Gabriel and his crazy girlfriend and Dana - he also had to worry about you .
What would happen if Tyler figured out you were pregnant? That he was the father? Would you be fired? Would he drug you with rapture too ? Miguel knew he couldn’t let that happen to you and the child.
Miguel was torn from his thoughts by words he didn’t want to hear.
“Bad news boss,” LYLA’s voice rang out into the silence as she phased in beside him on his computer. The screen popped up with another big red ‘MELTDOWN’. “Looks like the genetic code is still too unstable with a 33.333% DNA split between arachnid, yours and hers. Should I try running with a current sample?”
Miguel rubbed his eyes, pushing up his sunglasses for a moment. “Let’s do that.” He mumbled, walking back over to the machine and pulling out a glass slide. He reached his hand up, cutting into his fingertip using one of his lower fangs. Three drops of blood onto the vial and then pushing it into the specimen slot with his uninjured hand. Sometimes his fangs were useful.
He hit over the touch screen with his knuckle as his own DNA loaded. Somehow it held itself together even if Miguel himself couldn’t make sense of it - random chance that the splicing meant he was just a monster and not a monstrosity .
He frowned. “LYLA.” She blipped in and out of existence appearing beside him. “Can you run a paternity-” He paused, realization of what the fuck your hair could do to tell him if the kid was actually his.
“Nevermind.” He mumbled at his own idiocy.
Miguel moved to the massive computer and touch screens that flanked one side of his main workspace. He spent a good ten minutes setting up the parameters and making sure the test could run without him holding LYLA and Alchemax’ system at every step. He did not have the focus to do this hands on unless he absolutely needed to.
His focus was torn six different ways and this was just the most pressing one. He had to take you to your appointment tomorrow after all.
He found himself practically squirming, leg bouncing as he waited, moving his focus to reviewing papers and checking over the junior scientist’s suggestions and ideas. He was always given the ‘new minds’ because Tyler knew it annoyed him.
Miguel was glad it ate up the time, hearing the countdown beep. He glanced over to the screen and saw the last thing he was hoping for.
Failure - again, this time it was a 50/50 split. He barked another order for LYLA to run the test with your dna being the more dominant one - 54% this time, no child was a perfect 50/50 split of their parents after all.
Frustration was bubbling up in his throat as his claws itched under his fingertips. Rage - at himself, at Tyler - at the world. He tried to ignore the feelings of frustration at how stupid you had been - you were so smart. Why would you fuck your boss? Why did he give in to you?
Why did he ruin everything good he ever had?
No wonder Conchata hated him - maybe you’d grow to hate him if he didn’t unintentionally murder you because he was thinking with his dick.
He paced back and forth in the lab with a speed that should have worn down the sleek tile floor. His fists balled, knuckles white as he cursed himself for his stupidity. Everything he touched, everyone he loved suffered because of him. If it wasn’t you dying on a hospital bed because of this baby it would be something else... Or worse - the baby would live and make them both miserable til the end of their days. A life of hiding his altered DNA and whatever hellish effects it had in store for them.
Miguel was lucky, the downsides to his powers were minimal. History had told a different story for most mutants. Third arms, bubbling boils oozing pus, teeth growing from places they should not be growing. He shuddered at what could have been if his transformation went wrong. Rapture would have been the least of his worries.
Miguel had always acted without thinking, or thinking too much. There was no in between.
A sharp pain struck him in the brow, Miguel reeling back as his eyes flicked open to see the low-hanging screen in front of him. Rage pooled inside him, his hands twitching as he tried to contain his talons. He took a deep breath, straightening his back… And tore the thing off the fucking wall.
His foot stomped on the screen, shattering the glass and snapping the plastic with a furious uproar and one swift super-powered stomp, the shattering sound echoing in the massive laboratory. He seethed , breathing heavy and hard, a growl rising from deep in his throat.
“ SHOCK! ” Miguel nearly roared at himself more than anything, adrenaline pumping rapidly through his veins as he stared down at his murky reflection in the dark screen.
Miguel stared down at the furious creature he didn’t want to believe was his own reflection.
The computer pinged and Miguel glanced over, his red eyes widened as the results began to write itself on the screen. Lyla flickered to life beside the results as Miguel stepped away from the shattered screen and placed his hand down on the metallic board below the screen.
“I took liberties and ran the test at different percentages recorded by typical gene splits with humans. It’s also possible that the child only inherits the still human parts of your DNA… Which is like a 10.573% chance but still. Then the test processes just fine, neither you nor her have any recessive genetic conditions that would show up.” LYLA pointed her finger up at the report.
Miguel stood there as the analysis filled the screen. “T-thank you, Lyla.” He managed out as his adrenaline and rage settled.
He did everything he could to not look at the broken screen beside him as he scanned over the testing. There was a chance - but it was just that… A chance . Maybe he should try and talk to you, convince you of a termination or maybe the fetus would be nonviable. Most tests concluded that it wouldn’t develop beyond 12 weeks. He could put his guilt into forcing you to experience a misscarriage by his own actions and finding a way to be there for you.
He did like you after all. You weren’t nearly as bothersome as many of the other scientists on his team, you respected him. You were careful and clearly liked your work… You were nice to him.
He had LYLA grab a cleaner bot to dispose of the evidence of his anger as the work day drew on. More tests, looking over the antibiotic you and Lewis were still running the first tests of even understanding the sickness on. By the time he realized it was nearly five pm he forced himself out of his chair and back to his office.
Miguel pulled on his overcoat, zipping it up with ease as he rolled his shoulders and let out a ragged sigh. It had been a long day. As he stepped out of his office he heard a pair of footsteps. While he didn’t stop, he glanced and saw you – overcoat on, bag slung over your shoulder and hands in your pockets heading home yourself and Amara approaching quickly behind you.
He paused when he disappeared out of sight as he heard Amara call your name and the footsteps stopping.
“What’s up, Amara?” You asked, your voice hushed. If it wasn’t for Miguel’s enhanced hearing he wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
“Come closer.” Amara whispered; Miguel’s eyes widened. Fuck.
“Are you- what’s up?” Your voice whispered out. Miguel wished he could hear your expression.
“I think something is up with Dr. O’Hara, he was in your office. I think he’s spying on you.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .
“Amara… That’s weird – but I wouldn’t worry…” You stumbled over your words.
“What if he’s trying to get you fired? He’s been acting weird since you got sick. You’re never in the lab anymore.” Amara was talking through her teeth, putting extra emphasis on ‘fired’.
“We thought it was best with what’s been up for me lately, Amara.” You replied.
Yes, everything is fine. And I definitely didn’t do anything weird in your office. Just went to borrow a pen or something.
“Have you been to the doctors about it?” Miguel cringed at Amara’s question.
“Yes. I promise – I’m fine. Dr. O’Hara is just looking out for me.”
“Okay… But something is up. What really happened between you two at the Christmas party?”
Miguel swallowed hard, wincing. Did everyone think something was ‘up’ between them?
“Nothing Amara – like I said. I just…” He heard you let out a long sigh.
“Promise?”
“I promise. I got to head home.”
Miguel walked quickly as he heard your footsteps resume.
He saw the elevator ping open as one of the interns whose name he never bothered to remember stepped in, Miguel made a point to follow right after.
He saw you and Amara dashing for the elevator – but it closed before either of you could catch it.