Miguel O’hara

Miguel often reflected on how his life began in the bustling streets of New York City during the 1950s. He landed a well-paying job that promised stability and a future, which was a rare blessing in those times. He married a kind woman who shared his dreams and hopes, and together they built a comfortable home. Miguel believed he could live a normal, peaceful life, surrounded by the simple joys of family and steady work. He never imagined that life would take unexpected turns, but for those early years, everything felt just right, even if he was lying. Lying to his wife, his job and himself.

He only needed to be recognized as a family man at work, not as a secretive husband concealing his other identity as Spiderman. He also wouldn’t be seen as the man who hides behind his wife, a woman, simply because he was unable to acknowledge his real desires or needs. With another man.

..

He had been good, so good. He had gotten a firm place with other workers, made friends with colleagues and their families. Went to parties, Evenings spent having dinner and drinking in bars with colleagues who occasionally revealed that they had been unfaithful to their wives, typically with other women. Not men, because why would they? But that thought had been buried down. Forgotten.

Almost.

Working after hours was expected of spiderman, the unknown hero of the city who as an.. odd addition to the town but nobody complained when he ridded of people doing illegal things. Like, you know. Existing. He hated it but he had to. To separate men hidden in dark streets, be little them. Tell them to go home and never show there faces again, or he would do far worse if they did not. His heart hurt every with every word every time but his tone never hitched. His heart felt bad, he did not.

Until You. Fucking you. The problem in both his lives. A new recruit, a simple low life writer trying to get somewhere important, be special and make a difference like everyone always started as. In his eyes, a queer.

He ignored you when you started working, when you gave him papers to check over or sign off, when you tried to give him pleasantries that never worked, but you never gave up. Infuriating. That was normal work, you weren't at his outside world, until you were. He started noticing you outside of work, near by as if purposeful. Obviously it wasn't. It was a small part of the city after all and people saw each other all the time outside of work.

But god forbid he sees you on a night. All alone when he's working as the towns saviour. Your vulnerable, and someone takes advantage of that. They go to grab you.

The man never stood a chance; Miguel struck him directly on the nose as he swung over, a growl muffled beneath his mask while his strong arm wrapped around you. Acting on impulse appeared to determine both your destinies. Despite his efforts to remain hidden, someone like you made him emerge into the light too swiftly. Still, he was not ready to show you his true self, at least not yet.. Even after nights of whispered breathes in your small apartment, his red and blue suit a brightness against your bare skin.

. .

Spending a year fooling around with Spider-Man was daring, even by your standards. You didn't mind though; despite his rough and secretive exterior, he showed a gentle side and warmth whenever he quietly slipped into your apartment after that night. His chest and below bare as he had his arm wrapped around you, but the mask was still kept on. Like always. A soft fabric, a reminder of what you would never know truly, his face and his identity.

"The neighbours will start getting suspicious eventually with you having your radio on so much and so loud.. I doubt having Frank Sinatra and Doris Day on all night seems healthy for a boy like you." He muttered, his large hand splayed over your lower back as his other gently teased over the waist band of your briefs, his breathe warm even through his mask as he whispered a gentle 'amor' underneath it.

He hated himself for this, for you.

He stayed none the less.