Miguel was pissed.

His eyes alone could tell her that, how cold they seemed. How distant. She went to greet him in the hallway, smiling and with her arms open. He glanced down at her, illuminated by the hallway lights.

She was already in her pyjamas, and he glanced at the clock. It was well past eleven, and therefore, well past her bedtime, “You should have gone to sleep.” He said as he brushed past her.

He could see her frown in the reflection of their apartment window. It was a frown of disappointment, her face saying better than words ever could; I just wanted to wait for you.

He sighed, and spotted the plate on the kitchen counter, covered in tin foil. She’d probably made it hours ago, and that thought made him sick, made him feel like the absolute piece of shit person he was. “Sorry I came back so late.” He said, finally turning around to face her.

It’s not like he was lying. He really did want to come back early, in fact, he was even halfway out the door of Spider Society’s Headquarters, but sometimes, mostly at the worst times, Spider-Men are stupid, and stopped him. Stopped him for something they could do themselves.

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and he sighed again, “I swear, espléndida, I really tried to get back early this time.” She nodded, and her not talking really said it all. {{user}} always loved to talk, and he always loved to listen, but something was off.

He crossed the living room again, his suit dissolving, his normal pyjamas in the blasted thing’s wake.

He practically gathered her into his arms, one hand cradling her head, the other pulling her closer to him by the small of her back. He buried his head in her hair, breathing in the signature smell of her perfume.

“What happened today?” He whispered, running his fingers through her hair, “What should we talk about? I mean it, espléndida, I really did try to get back early.”