a chaotic bi

“So there’s an elephant in the room here, right?” Pavitr says one day after Miguel has stepped out to ‘take a call’ and Miles, several minutes later, begged off to ‘go do homework’.

Gwen, Peter, and Hobie all glance around the table at each other. The only person not feeling the sudden tension in the room is Mayday, who for once is staying put in her sling against Peter’s chest. Mostly because she’s asleep. She’d worn herself out earlier when the group had been running some drills at Miguel’s behest. This is supposed to be the chill after party for them but now they’re down three people; one to exhaustion and two to…whatever they’re doing.

“Alright,” Hobie eventually says. “Guess I’ll say it.” He pauses for effect then, “They’re fuckin’.”

Gwen and Peter wince, Pavitr nods knowingly, and Mayday lets out a little snore.

“Do you have to say it like that?” asks Peter weakly.

Hobie shrugs at him. “It’s true, aint it? We’re all pickin’ up on it.”

“Kind of hard not to,” Pavitr adds.

“I mean…they’re pretty discrete, honestly,” Gwen says hesitantly. She doesn’t look at all pleased to be discussing her friend and mentor’s potential sex life. “I didn’t realize until last week when Miles had that hickie on his neck and Miguel kept staring at it.”

“Was damn big,” Hobie agrees. “I realized when I heard Miguel call Miles baby a while back. Didn’t think no one could hear them I guess.”  

“It was all the eye-fucking for me,” Pavitr offers with a sage nod. “No two people can stare at each other that intensely that often without it meaning something.”

As the words trail off the group turn as one to Peter and by extension Mayday. But considering Mayday is still sound asleep, their attention is only on the father. He hunches his shoulders a bit under the attention.

“If you ask me this whole thing is weird. Like, clearly I didn’t teach Miguel to be a good enough mentor if he’s…well, you know-”

“Bangin’ Miles?” Hobie offers helpfully, and Peter winces again.

“Yeah. That. Anyways, it’s weird. I don’t approve.”

“Nobody’s asking if you approve,” Pavitr says, leaning forward eagerly. “We just want to know how you knew.”

Peter’s face contorts briefly and then he sighs. “Alright, fine. I went over to Miles’ place to ask him to babysit and…well, his sketchbook was open on the desk.”

“He draws Miguel!?” Gwen asks incredulously.

“How romantic!” swoons Pavitr.

“It’s not!” Peter snaps, then pauses. “Okay, yeah, I guess it is.”

“Pretty sweet,” Hobie agrees. “I think Miguel’s gone on him too.”

Peter’s “Yeah?” is rather hopeful, and Hobie and Pavitr both nod. Gwen is slower to agree  but she comes around a second later.

“It would make sense,” she says slowly. “I mean…if Miguel were just using Miles he wouldn’t be hovering so much, you know? Insisting on all this training and stuff. I’m almost positive it’s for Miles’ benefit first and foremost, and our benefit is just kind of a bonus.”

“Speak for yourself. As far as I’m concerned, all this exercise is just a way to get Mayday down for a nap,” Peter snorts.

“Miguel doesn’t seem like the type to go for pet names with a fuck buddy,” Hobie picks the conversation back up. “An’ I definitely heard him say baby.”

Silence briefly stretches over the group, each of them thinking over the shared information. Some of the tension has eased now that they each know the others are in on the secret and it’s no longer something they have to worry about alone. But it’s still…

“Do you think they’ll ever tell us?” Pavitr asks.

“Dunno. Wanna take bets?” Hobie pulls his feet down off the table and leans forward, suddenly more interested. “Twenty bucks each, winner take all. I say they’re not gonna own up willingly. Someone’s gonna walk in on em.”

“I’ll take you up on that! I say they’ll tell us before the month is out.” The earnestness in Pavitr’s voice has Hobie snorting and Gwen smiling.

“Alright, fine, I say it’ll take a year,” she says.

“Six months,” Peter adds. “And Mayday is betting on Christmas.”

Hobie raises an eyebrow. “And is Mayday gonna pay up when she loses?”

The shocked, offended gasp Peter lets out isn’t even exaggerated. He turns his body away from Hobie, as if to shield Mayday from him. “How dare you! Mayday is a lady of her word, she would never not pay up. Also, she’s going to win, because she’s smarter than all of you.”  

Hobie shrugs a shoulder. “Fair enough.”

Miguel chooses that moment to come stalking back in. There is no outward sign of what he was up to, except for the fact that his hair is ever so slightly ruffled. Like maybe somebody was running their hands through it and when Miguel went to put himself to rights again it didn’t want to stay down again.

There are very few things that can stop Miguel O'Hara in his tracks these days. He's been there, seen it all, got the goddamned spider suit to prove it. Surprising him is nigh impossible and he likes it that way.

For some reason, Miles Morales seems to be at the top of the list of things that can get to him though.

Miles, with his big dark eyes and his sneer and his inability to listen to common sense or reason. The Omega superhero who defies every stereotype about his gender. Who smells absolutely amazing and is stunning in action, lithe body built perfectly for his acrobatics.  

Miles, who is currently sitting in HQ's control room with Mayday in his lap, his face bright and smiling as she babbles at him. He's got her little hands in each of his own, lifting them one after the other as she stamps her feet.

"I know!" he says in response to her babbling, attention completely on the little girl. "It's crazy, right? Tell me more about it."

Mayday obliges, her babbling raising in both pitch and tempo like she really is going on a diatribe of some kind. She seems to be enjoying having a captive audience and isn't going to let it go to waste.

It's...well, Miguel really and truly has been stopped in his tracks. It's the first Omegean thing he's ever seen from Miles. Normally he's so contrarian and difficult, not to mention eager to jump into danger and equally as capable of actually handling it. You'd think he was an Alpha the way he behaves, small, lithe form be damned.

Seeing him like this, soft and sweet and smiling, his scent bright and nearly floral, is...doing things to Miguel. Bringing up feelings and urges that he's known were there, but which he'd been successfully keeping under lock and key.

Miles suddenly seems to become aware of Miguel's presence, and he looks up. His smile fades a little but it's a smile all the same, and Miguel's pretty sure Miles hasn't smiled at him since...well, everything. It looks good on him.

"Hey, wasn't sure when you were going to be back. Peter asked me to babysit for him though and I figured hanging out here would be better than taking her home with me. Not sure how I would explain that one to my folks."

The idea of someone mistakenly thinking Mayday is Miles’, that the Omega has a child, has been mated and more, makes Miguel’s nostrils flare. He clamps down ruthlessly on the reaction, knowing that if he doesn’t his interest will undoubtedly be noticeable in his scent.

“Just keep it down,” are the words that come off of Miguel’s tongue. They’re better than Do you want a child? or You’d make a good mother or, even worse, I could give you one of your own, if you want. 

Miles’ smile turns into a frown and then an unhappy twist. He clicks his tongue, says, “Whatever, man,” and goes back to Mayday. He’s speaking quietly to her now but Miguel can pick up his own name and big meany and assh- wait I can’t say that to you.

Miguel just heads for his central computers, waking them up and logging into the system to check on how everything is running today. But he can’t help the way he watches Miles’ and Mayday’s reflections on the screen. He can’t pick up many details like this but he can still smell them. Happy, pleased Omega, and the young, innocent scent of a child unpresented. Of babe and mother.

Christ, Miguel is going to hell for this.

It’s been about an hour of Miguel pretending to work but actually getting very little done, when Miles speaks up. “Hey, Miguel, you know stuff about kids, right?”

Miguel’s shoulders hunch and he breathes out slowly. Of course he does. He turns, glaring back at Miles. Mayday has been dragging him around the room with her crawling and right now they’re both hanging upside down from the ceiling, Miles sitting cross legged and her on his shoulders.

“Yes,” Miguel says sharply.

Miles’ mouth twists, but for once it doesn’t seem like it’s directed at Miguel. “Sorry, that was kinda insensitive, huh? I was just curious, ya know, about parenthood and all.”

Another bolt of longing shoots through Miguel. It’s part arousal, part wistfulness for his lost family.

You could start again, part of him says. Children. A mate. It’s not too late for you. He’s right there.

“What do you want to know about it?”

Miles shrugs, which causes Mayday to wobble dangerously and laugh delightedly about it. “Just, is it good? Like, hanging out with Mayday is great, but I can’t imagine having one of my own.”

You don’t have to imagine, Miguel thinks, but says, “It’s different, when they’re yours.”

“How so?”

Miguel sighs and holds out his arms to Mayday. Even though she’s halfway across the room she immediately lets out an excited shriek and climbs her way down a protesting Miles’ body. It takes only a minute before she’s dropping into Miguel’s arms and then crawling all over him.

“Kids are work and energy,” Miguel explains. “When they’re someone else’s, you’re happy to give them back after a certain point. When they’re yours, even when you’re annoyed or upset with them, you still know it’s all worth it. You can’t imagine a life without them.”

“Oh,” says Miles. He watches quietly for a moment as Mayday continues her excited quest to make Miguel look as ridiculous as possible, before he too crawls across the ceiling and drops down. Sadly it’s not into Miguel’s arms like Mayday had.

Gingerly, Miles’ takes the little girl back, and she goes willingly enough. “Sorry if that was like, rude or anything. And don’t kill me for saying this but you sound like you make a really good Alpha, mate wise.”

Miles is halfway across the room again before Miguel can reply, like he really is expecting retaliation. Miguel just shakes his head and pretends to go back to his work.

I am a good Alpha he thinks. I could show you. We could have a whole litter of kids. You’d love it. And then inevitably Miguel’s thoughts turn lascivious. He ends up losing himself to a daydream about exactly how he wants to breed Miles (facing each other, his fangs buried in Miles’ throat, Miles’ flexible, coltish legs wrapped around his hips, heels digging in to coax Miguel into fucking him harder) while watching the Omega’s reflection.

He doesn’t come up for air until Peter makes his appearance. The man gives Miguel a quizzical look but is distracted quickly enough by his daughter. He sticks around long enough that Miguel does actually get some work done, and when his voice finally fades away Miguel figures he’s alone.

That is, until Miles clears his throat directly behind him.

Miguel doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing. He turns and looks down at the Omega in annoyance, raising one eyebrow in a silent question.

Miles looks shifty, transferring his weight from one foot to the other like he’s thinking about running, but he’s got that mulish jut to his chin and a hard glint in his eyes that Miguel recognizes at the stubborn streak that’s lead them into more fights than he’d like to admit.

Is regularly wanting to throttle a teenage Omega better or worse than wanting to fuck him?

“Spit it out, kid,” Miguel eventually snaps.

Miles juts his chin out even further. “I’m not stupid,” he says, which, well he’s just inviting a scathing retort with that. Miguel’s expression must convey this because Miles rallies and goes on quickly, not giving the Alpha a chance to cut in. “I’m not! I saw how you were looking at me today, with Mayday. And then your scent…you were looking at me through the reflection on the computer screen.”

Miguel stiffens all over because fuck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grinds out.

“The hell you don’t! Even Peter smelled it. You’re into me, you smell like you want to jump me.”

There’s one of two ways Miguel can play this; deny it till his dying breath, or agree and pretend it doesn’t matter. His panicked brain picks the latter, because Miles isn’t stupid, and he’s tenacious as hell. He’ll hound Miguel until Miguel gives him an answer the Omega is satisfied with.

“So?” Miguel says.

That makes Miles pause, his eyes flicking back and forth between Miguel’s. He clearly isn’t seeing what he wants to though, brow knitting in confusion. “What do you mean ‘so’? So, you’re horny as hell for me.”

“You’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha,” Miguel explains slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. “It’s biology.” Which of course just ruffles Miles’ feathers and makes him puff up even more.

“That’s bullshit. You’ve never smelled like that before around me,” Miles insists.

Miguel is butting up against almost the exact same decision from before. Does he own up, or does he keep denying it means anything?

With a faint snarl of annoyance at having been put in this situation to begin with, Miguel says, “Most Alphas seeing an unbonded Omega with a young child are going to be affected.” The word horny will absolutely not be crossing his lips. “It sparks an instinct in us.”

Miles narrows his eyes, a faint smirk curling at his mouth. He thinks he’s won. “A breeding instinct,” he accuses.

Miguel turns his gaze skyward, giving a quick prayer to whichever poor saint is watching over him today to give him patience. “Yes, Miles. A breeding instinct.”

“I knew it!”

“Congratulations,” Miguel says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now will you go away so I can do some work in peace?”

And there’s the chin jut again. Stubborn ass Omega. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip twitches of up into an involuntarily snarl. “Well I’m done with you, malcriado. Vete.”

“No. I want to know if this was a one off,” Miles demands. “’Cause like, sure seeing an Omega with a kid might work for you, but my theory is that you’re already into me and it just pushed you over the edge. You’re too uptight to let your scent go wild like that unless you’re like, close to losing it.”

How the hell is this kid so damn perceptive? Clearly Miguel’s going to need to work on his defenses if Miles is reading him like a damn book. He sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to figure out how to get out of this.

Well, he’s dug this fucking grave. Time to lie in it.

“Fine, Miles,” he says wearily, dropping his hand and making direct eye contact with the Omega. “Yes, I have more than a passing interest in you as a mate. Seeing you with Mayday made me think about having children with you myself. Are we done with this line of questioning now? Are you finally satisfied?”

Miles smiles slowly, then wrinkles his nose. “Having children with me, huh? That’s an incredibly boring way to talk about breeding. Why so family friendly? Just say you wanna fuck me. And no, by the way, I’m not satisfied yet. You gotta make good on all that before I let it drop.”

Silence reigns as Miguel’s brain just churns through the words, understanding them individually but failing to grasp the big picture.

“Not, like, immediately though!” Miles rushes to add, oblivious to Miguel’s plight. “I’m not ready for kids yet, not to mention my parents would kill me. But we could, you know, practice?” He looks stupidly hopeful, staring up at Miguel with that little smile on his lips, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.

“You…want me to breed you,” Miguel says slowly.

Miles snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, practice breeding me. But yeah, that’s what I just said didn’t I? Get with it, old man, we’re wasting daylight here.”