Chapter Text
Wake up.
Call Miguel O’Hara.
If he answers, you both speak for far too long in the morning while you get ready and he seems to already be at work. If he’s busy, you continue about your routine and he normally sends you an apologetic message and is always there to answer later on your lunch break.
Go to work, sometimes on the phone with Miguel, and find that Jacob is waiting and smugly grinning at you.
Work through your shift and find that you’ve started smiling a little more to customers.
Halfway through realize you’ve even made some small talk with customers and now they’re expecting it every day, and for once that doesn’t seem that bad. Jacob looked at you funny the first few times it happened, even asked if anything happened at home or if your parents were doing alright. Then he asked how your date with Miguel went and you talked about it maybe a smidge too long and now he won’t stop his grin whenever he hears your phone going off.
It doesn’t help that you’re on your phone more at break than you ever had been before and Jacob picks up on that.
It also doesn’t help that when Miguel is in town, he almost always waits until it’s closer to closing just so he has more time to talk to you.
Such as now, when you had just loaded up the old washer that clanged unnaturally in the back with the used aprons and Jacob called your name from the counter. He was counting the deposit out there just above the safe and you knew all your tasks were done for the night, which is why it wasn’t a surprise when you poked your head out to find Miguel standing by the doorway. He was angled to keep a gaze half onto the street in a fashion you’ve come to get used to: he always kept his eyes peeled as if expecting danger at any moment. It was reassuring when the two of you went on one of the late night walks you both seemed to favor. Neither of you had taken that dive just yet to take one another home, not that you would have complained if he came home. Most of the time he would always leave out the next day, or the night after. Rarely you got the chance to meet him for breakfast.
When he spotted you the creases of tension briefly eased and you got to witness that not so rare smile you’ve managed to earn from him. Although it took some work and the occasional prodding of words, you’ve managed to chip his exterior down just enough for that stoic expression of constant dismay to start cracking. Jacob just nodded his head towards the door.
“Go on, you know I can finish locking up.” The money had already been gathered, all that was left was the timer for the safe to finish so he could put the deposit in there until morning came and then the actual locking of the door. Your frown came with the hesitation of walking any further.
“Are you sure?” Jacob smirked as he bent forward to rest his elbows on the counter.
“Just remember, I call first dibs at your son being named after-“
He ducked as you picked up one of the paper pumpkins that were placed on the counter and threw it at him, the feather weighted item soaring until it softly landed. He was full on grinning now and you made a motion of purposefully ignoring him and unlocking the door.
“Night, Miguel.” Jacob called out just as you slipped out. Miguel nodded at Jacob but his eyes remained on you as you tugged the door shut. When you turned he was looming over you nearly blocking out the light of the nearest blue street lamp that hovered above the sidewalk.
“Hey.” You said suddenly aware of the chill. Since you had been expecting Miguel you had brought not only a spare sweater to wear but a back up bag, a habit you started making after your first mistake of not dressing warm. Not only did you bring a warm jacket you could put on at your convenience, but you even brought gloves and a scarf for the really chilly nights. Not that Miguel would let you get cold. If you so much as shivered in his view he was offering his jacket to you. He was stubborn enough that he wouldn’t take it back until you pulled it on. His smile was a little softer.
“Hey.” He copied. You just grinned up at him. “Do you have a preference?” You knew what he was asking. Every time the two of you met like this one of you made a decision. Either you found somewhere to sit in and eat at, or you picked a nice side of the city to explore with to-go plates stuffed aside, finding a bench with a view to eat at. This time, however, you already had an idea of where you wanted to go.
“Park. And, thanks to yours truly-“ You opened up your bag to reveal the paper bags inside. “I secured a few goodies for dessert.”
“You’re spoiling me.” His dry humor was another thing that charmed you, which had you huffing out a laugh. Every time he managed to make you laugh, whether it was intentional or not, you caught the faintest glance of a smirk. Whenever you managed to get him to laugh he usually turned away and hid it like it was a secret.
“It just means you’re picking dinner, tonight.”
“I already did.” He offered up his arm without removing his hand from his pocket. After closing your bag you let one hand come up to rest at the crook by his elbow at the invitation. He was warm even through the jacket, a muscle twitching under the grip of your fingers. It was a light hold since you were still getting used to doing something like this. You haven’t even held hands yet, but this had been something he did the last time the two of you spent time together. You found you enjoyed this more for the fact you got to stand so close you almost bumped into him if your steps faltered.
“One step ahead of me then.” He seemed proud of this. “What’s on the menu?”
“A surprise.” At your huff that could have been a pout if you bothered to look up and face him. You didn’t, yet you could practically see that smirk. “Paciencia, you’ll enjoy it.”
He would be correct, as you found he often was. The surprise came in the form of a food truck hovering just off one of the raised platforms. You could guess it was good considering how popular it was, a small crowd already gathered in front of it. Immediately you found that you could smell something sweet and savory in the air, a hint of spice catching you off-guard.
“Did…you take me to a taco truck?” You asked it with some shock at first, but Miguel clicked his truck.
“They have more than tacos. They also make it all by hand, much better than the robotic stuff…” Miguel and you have had that conversation before. Traditional cooking methods always came out better than when something in-organic tried to replicate it. Hence why he favored the baked goods at the shop over the bakery down the street. As the two of you breeched the crowd, Miguel pressed his side into your own. Your grip briefly tightened on his arm when the talking grew in volume, a mixture of Spanish and English circling you. Some you could piece together, but a lot of it came with mixed accents that sometimes blurred the words together.
You were impressed when Miguel stepped up and easily swept into conversation with the woman who leaned over the truck’s opening, his own Spanish blurring together until the few bits you could pick up blended into nothing. But at least this came with a beautiful benefit of hearing Miguel’s Spanish up close and personal. The few times he let the words escape it wasn’t more than a slip of the tongue, but here was actual conversation. Only when you saw your reflection in those hazel eyes did you realize you had been staring and now he was looking back with his mouth partially opened. Then you realized he had asked you a question.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Is steak okay?” He asked again and you felt that heat trying to settle on your cheeks. He had definitely caught your staring and you could only imagine just what expression he had a close up view of. It didn’t help how entertained he looked. You didn’t verbally answer, just nodded.
Once the ordering was done the two of you stepped off to the side into another small crowd of people waiting for their food. Most looked as though they had just gotten off work themselves, others looked as though they might be heading into work.
“You should teach me Spanish.” You said it once the volume around you died down enough you wouldn’t have to speak over them. He cocked a brow in your direction. “I’m serious. I didn’t pay attention in school, you know, so the most I can manage is to at least introduce myself. I could use a private tutor.”
“I’m afraid I have a very inconsistent schedule to be a teacher.”
“That’s what homework is for, isn’t it?” He laughed a little and turned away like you expected, his shoulders bouncing before he steadied himself.
“Maybe.” He didn’t disagree but he wasn’t agreeing. You were intent on pushing it just a little more when something was said in Spanish. Miguel lurched and your grip slipped from his arm. He didn’t stay far from you long. That was another thing, Miguel didn’t like to separate from you. Whether it was his distrust for the city or the people in it, you weren’t sure, yet you knew you were thankful when he didn’t leave you alone at any point. Even in a well lit crowded area. Back at your side there were two paper boats filled to the brim with a mixture of meat and vegetables all steaming in the chilled air. Under it you could just make out what appeared to be part of a tortilla sticking out on either side. Once he was close enough your hand returned to the curve of his arm.
The park you had picked wasn’t a major one. A small reclusive location with just enough green to count as a park with benches scattered between bushes and the few trees there was. It felt almost like an entirely new world when you both found a metal bench to settle on, the sounds of the city still a constant hum in the background, but one you could almost forget. Miguel took up more of the bench than you assumed he realized not that you would complain. The warmth he provided was well worth having less room for yourself. You almost thought it was on purpose just to have you pressed into his side.
The dinner had been delicious, though he had to show you just how to pinch everything into place without risking it falling apart. Not much was spoken about over dinner, though when you pulled out the Chai muffins you had saved conversation slowly picked up. Small talk, once again. But it was nice. Small talk was surprisingly nice with him and you found that even asking him about the weather was a favorable thing just to hear him speak again and again. But the small talk always gave way so something else, usually in the form of more personal questions that almost, almost bordered onto teasing. Almost. But it seemed the two of you were dancing around the edge of it.
Such as now with your leg pressed into his as you pointed up to the sky to trace a pattern with your finger.
“Pegasus-can you see it? Right there.” His head was bent as you pointed at the distant stars. That was a downside of Nueva York, the light pollution made even the brightest star seem so far away. Miguel’s head tilted, his cheek almost against your shoulder. You were tempted to point in the wrong direction to keep him there. Especially when he hummed in frustration.
“There?” His longer arm raised alongside and you spotted the star he was pointing out. You ‘tsked’ softly and brought your hand over his to guide it a little to the left, right at the constellation in question.
“There, see?” You said and tilted your head to look down your combined arms to make sure. This close you became suddenly aware of several things; Miguel was tense. His arm had all but locked up under your touch. Second, his cologne was a rich, hazel smell that all but overtook the space between you. Or lack there of. Third, the soft curls of his hair were brushing over your ear, meaning if you just turned your head your cheek and his would be pressed together. This close you heard his sharp inhale, felt the pressure of his jaw setting, all but could pick up the blood rushing through his ears. Your heart suddenly picked up and you forgot what you were pointing out to him.
“I see.” He whispered it, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between the two of you. This was closer than either of you had been. Much closer. Which is why you hesitated when you realized your hand was still covering his to keep him focused. So, biting the bullet, you took that dive.
“Pegasus is part of the story involving Andromeda and Perseus, being the steed that was ridden.” Your words were over shadowed when you began to wiggle your fingertips between his clenched fingers, feeling when the tension slipped from his grip. Pointing turned to his fingers spreading just slightly for your own to link through them, moving at a pace where he could have stopped you at any moment. He didn’t and your fingers curled into a loose grip.
Miguel slowly curled his fingers over your own and you brought your inter-locked hands down to between where your leg met his.
“When Perseus cut off the head of Medusa and blood fell to the sea, Pegasus was born from it.”
“That doesn’t make much sense.”
“It’s Greek, a lot of it doesn’t, but it’s fun.” Another risk, another press as you shifted so your shoulders weren’t jammed together awkwardly, more fitted alongside one another. Miguel, however, took another dive. Following your own brave example, he lifted the hand that held your own and wiggled his fingers free, which confused you.
Until said arm curled around your shoulders and let you really feel how warm he was.
And yes, the muscles you could see were definitely firm. His chest was broad, giving you plenty of room between that and his shoulder to press your face against. It was another slow, nervous movement. Only interrupted when Miguel released a slow breath and you could feel when his body completely relaxed. That hand was now resting over your shoulder.
“Is this okay?” He finally breached out to ask, which made you laugh a little louder than you meant to, bringing your hand up to your mouth. Miguel made a noise. “I’m serious.”
“This is great.” And you enjoyed every minute of it. The small talk divulged into a little more of your pointing at stars. He didn’t seem to follow every one, however, and more than once you caught him with his gaze directed at you instead of the sky. Although it made your heart do a little flip of some kind you always gently chastised him for not paying attention. You definitely enjoyed how every time you caught and chastised him a small smirk grew more and more until you thought you caught a smile. It was always gone when you looked again.
However, all good things were bound to come to an end, you knew this as well as he did. You both did usually stay out fairly late, but the witching hour was approaching and you knew by how tired he looked he should leave to get rest of his own. He was always insistent to walk you home, at least to the apartment building so he could make sure you made it in safely. You always promised him you’ve walked this city a thousand times and have survived, he didn’t care. Always, always, he just followed you and sometimes put a hand to your arm when he spotted someone or something he didn’t like. Such as now, with his hand hovering over your elbow as he turned his head to watch a group of young people who laughed a little too loud and kicked at the trash can a little too much. You could tell when they looked over at the two of you because Miguel did actually grab your arm and it made you tense a little. It also drew your gaze to the group who looked almost uneasy the longer they held Miguel’s eyes.
You wanted to ask why, but the question was replaced by a sharp gasp when your ankle suddenly rolled over a piece of stray trash on the ground and you started to tumble.
Miguel was faster than you had expected, his hand catching your arm as the other sought your other arm, keeping you from completely collapsing by lowering you to the ground slowly. He was there and kneeling and looking you over with a nervous, worried expression that looked foreign on his face. It must have worsened when he spotted the pain you couldn’t hide on your face.
“What happened, what’s wrong? Are you okay? What hurts?” You wanted to curse but the pain kept you gritting your teeth together. You didn’t even notice that the people across the road had gone silent to watch, interest suddenly caught considering you were sitting on the ground with your hands hovering over your injured ankle. Miguel looked so worried and it was a unique look on him, one you couldn’t take the time to admire as you just hissed out.
“Sorry, sorry, I just rolled it.” You stretched out your leg and tried to tilt your ankle, wincing once more when you felt the pressure on it. Miguel’s hands were quick to catch your leg and help steady it, one hand resting at the bottom of your foot. He didn’t twist or pull like you were afraid, just held it there to steady you.
“Are you able to walk?” He asked. You shook your head and watched his brows pinch.
“I’ll just need a few minutes then I can make it.”
“Your apartment has stairs.” He pointed out.
“I can get up them.” It would be difficult and you’d rather not have him watching as you try to crawl your way up, but what else could you do?
Well the apparent obvious answer to Miguel was to lift you as though you were nothing and carry you to your own astonished expression. Whatever noise you let out when his hands shifted to one under your legs and one under your back and hoisted you up was embarrassing enough. The following way you clung to him in fear of being dropped only to realize his muscular frame definitely wasn’t just for show just added to the flush on your cheeks. At this angle your head couldn’t go anywhere except against the front of his shoulder where your cheek would rub against his shirt there. So, you did, realizing you weren’t about to convince this man to put you down anytime soon.
“I could have handled it.” At this angle you managed to catch how his lips quirked up to the faintest smirk, then dropped. His cheeks were warming up. You were sure of it based upon how he angled his head up to keep you from looking at his cheeks. You were now glad that Miguel knew the way to your apartment. Having walked you there plenty of times you could just close your eyes and focus on the pulsing pain that was fading slowly from your ankle. Just when you thought it was gone you would wiggle your foot and wince. Two more times you repeated this process before you felt Miguel’s hand on your leg squeeze a little.
“Stop that. You could hurt yourself more.”
“I won’t.” He sighed out of his nose and made another noise and squeezed when he caught you doing it again.
“Detener.” He chastised and you huffed in return. But you stopped, appeasing him for the rest of the walk to your apartment. It was strangely relaxing to be held. When was the last time anyone had carried you? When you were a child, sure, but being an adult? Hell, you couldn’t even say Jacob carried you and he’s definitely found you asleep at work more than once. Well, in Jacob’s defense, waking you up was already a rough ordeal and could lead to him getting smacked so you couldn’t blame him. Miguel didn’t seem entirely bothered by carrying you as long as he didn’t look down. Every time you caught when he looked down, when those eyes finally caught you looking up at him as if you had been staring at him for minutes (you have) and every time his eyebrows furrowed and he looked away with something of an embarrassed expression. He wouldn’t look back for another few steps and repeat process. It was amusing and helped pass the time until you recognized the street around you and the building.
Only when you saw that you both were nearing your apartment did you start to wiggle in his hold, which only made him tighten his grip once more.
“Stop, I don’t-detener! I might drop you if you don’t,” He stopped, muttered a curse, and finally stopped his approach to the stairs, which you stopped your wiggling. “Stop, I’m not letting you go up these alone.”
“You are not carrying me up the stairs.”
“Why not?” You realized then you didn’t have a reason other than the fluttering of your heart and you weren’t about to do that. You could tell him you didn’t want him in your apartment, but that would have been a lie. So, instead, you just huffed and closed your eyes and let yourself go more limp in his hold.
“This feels demeaning.”
“It’s demeaning for me to help my…you up the stairs?” You perked up at his struggle, at the moment his words slipped and his brows furrowed and his grip tightened in his own frustration instead of something you did this time. And you cocked your head with intrigue. His what? Was he going to say girlfriend? Partner? Friend? Date whenever he happened to come around? You don’t know but he does and his neck was even flushing a dark, pretty color as he tried to avoid looking at you while keeping his eyes on the stairs as he started up them. This new angle had you more into his chest and you let your hand ‘accidentally’ drop to his chest, feeling when his arms flexed briefly around you.
“Depends. Who are you helping up the stairs?”
“Don’t.” He recognized quickly the teasing tone you started to find. It wasn’t often you found a way to fluster Miguel, not since you both managed to find a balance with one another, but it seemed as though there were moments and you liked to capitalize on them. Especially considering he looked cute when frustrated.
“Fine, fine, won’t bite the hand carrying me and all.” Still, you dropped it knowing he was doing you a good sized favor considering how high up you were. But he took the steps without even getting winded and with you in his arms the entire time, a sight that you were thankful your neighbors weren’t outside to witness. Once you approached the door, however, you wiggled again and he made a noise. “No, set me down, I have to get the key out.”
Finally, finally, Miguel relented and you were settled slowly onto your good foot. His hands didn’t pull away and his arm remained looped around to keep you steadied against him and now standing within his hold left you feeling smaller than you were. Or so you thought. It was strange to be huddled against such a force, his hand keeping you balance while you dug out your key from your pocket and finally managed to nudge open the door. Warmth from inside greeted you and you sighed as you started to wobbling step.
You didn’t get far before Miguel was once more scooping you up, making you let out another startled sound.
“No! I can-come on, you’re being ridiculous.” Your voice carried in your apartment and the automatic lights came on, Miguel using his foot to nudge the door shut. He didn’t respond, didn’t loosen his hold even as you wiggled against his hold until he approached the couch and let you drop carefully, his hands drifting off until you realized something.
He was kneeling.
“Miguel.” You started uncertain and confused until his hands were careful at untying your shoe and tugging. The first tug caused you to gasp and a dull pain shot up to your knee, a curse falling out. Miguel looked briefly apologetic, then focused when he pulled it off. Next was your sock. Your ankle was definitely going to swell, already bruising in the area you had rolled it.
“Do you have plastic bags?”
“You are not playing nurse.” He shot you a look, eyebrows pinched. You gave him one right back until you realized neither of you were going to back down, so you sighed. “Miguel, don’t you have to leave out? I’ll be fine.”
“Plastic bags, chula.” He used a tone you weren’t used to. A tone that was, for lack of better words, a boss tone. The tone someone in charge would have to use on a worker who was barking back against their leader. Against the man in charge. Your eyebrows rose and you waited for that shy look to come back over him, maybe even something of that awkward look away he always managed. But it didn’t and you made another noise, one of embarrassment that you tried to muffle as you rubbed at your face with both hands.
“Miguel.” You tried again. When you looked he still had that look. He also wasn’t budging. Relenting after a pause, you waved behind you to the kitchen connected just to the side. “Third drawer in the middle. Just…you don’t have to, okay?”
“Is it so hard to…Ayudarte, I want to help you, okay? Let me just…okay?” His face slackened from that harsher look and he looked boyish again. Uncertain. Awkward. “I want to help mi novia.” He muttered as he stood. However, the realization that you knew just enough Spanish coming as a reminder when you perked up with the biggest grin. Of course the revelation of his words flustered you in a way, but seeing him alarmed and flustered was worth ignoring it.
“Mi…novia, right? Care to tell me what that means.”
Miguel was out and behind the couch to go to your kitchen before you even finished speaking, your grin softening as you settled into the couch.
“Mi novia.” You said again, softly. Amused.