Work Text:
*
For a little while, there's peace and quiet chatter…
No updating schematics and maintenance-work for the infrastructure of the laser cages… no file cataloguing… no anomalies.
"Hey," comes a brush of lips against Miguel's jaw, fleetingly quick.
He nearly grimaces.
"Why are you sitting alone?" Peter B. Parker asks, oblivious to Miguel's silent snarl of disapproval.
What the shock…
He dumps a pile of empanadas onto Miguel's cafeteria-tray, beaming.
"Aw, c'mon, I know you like 'em — "
Miguel's eyes narrow on the empty carrier strapped to Peter B. Parker's front.
" — get your daughter out from under the table," Miguel says tonelessly.
Peter B. Parker yelps, scrambling in his realization.
"Oh my gosh! You're such a little STINKER!" he declares, pulling her out and messily kissing a cheek. Mayday gurgles, bubbling her drool.
She could get hurt in a place like this while unsupervised.
Miguel sighs, irritated by the thought.
"Pendejo…"
"I've got her this weekend, then Mary Jane takes her — and y'know, it's not too bad getting divorced for a second time — " Miguel suddenly finds himself with a lapful of toddler as Peter babbles out, "Hoo, I gotta take a leak — couldja watch her for a sec — thanks, Miguel — "
"No!" Miguel exclaims.
(It's definitely loud enough for a waving Peter B. Parker to hear him, but also a few of the Spider-Society curiously glancing over.)
He groans, uncomfortably shifting her.
"Puta madre… I'm putting your dumb ass into the Go-Home Machine…"
Mayday squeals for one of the empanadas, grabby-handsing, and Miguel immediately puts it in her hands as she squeals again happily. His lips flatten away a smile threatening to overcome him. "No, no… it's too hot, mija…" Miguel scolds softly, keeping Mayday from biting down.
(Around the corner, Peter B. Parker taps on his phone for the camera-feature, beaming harder.)
*