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One Little Thing

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He’d been driving for hours, and still had about another five before he reached Seattle.

“Should have taken a fucking plane,” Miggs mumbled to himself, reaching down to fiddle with the radio, trying to find a station that wasn’t clouded by static from being a few hours away from any major cities with decent broadcast towers. After managing to find one, Miggs looked back up to squint through the rain-streaked windshield, clicking the wipers up to a higher setting so they beat the water back enough for him to see better. I-84 wasn’t very busy at ten PM, but there was still enough traffic that Miggs scowled at the other drivers speeding along, some swerving back and forth a little alarmingly in front of him until he slowed to let them pull ahead so that if they did happen to spin out on the slick road, they probably wouldn’t take his ass out with them.

Slowing down made him notice a blurry figure off to the side of the road, hunched and with one arm stuck out, their hand fisted and thumb sticking out. Miggs watched a couple cars blow past the hitchhiker, spraying them with water. When he got a little closer, Miggs noticed their coat didn’t have a hood, though a large backpack was slung over one shoulder. A brief minute of hesitance made Miggs pause, and then he merged to the right to slow down some more, rolling to a stop next to the stranger and leaning over to roll the window down when they turned to look at him.

The hitchhiker was a man that looked to be about Miggs’ own age, dark hair and beard dripping with water and clothes clinging to his large frame where a leather jacket didn’t cover him, collar popped up around his face in an attempt to shield himself from the water. He was wearing sunglasses pushed up into his hair, probably to hold it out of his face, blue eyes narrowed as he peered into the car at Miggs.

“You’re not a mass murderer, are you?” Miggs asked after a second, trying not to dwell on how the man managed to look attractive despite being sopping wet and kind of dirty. The man blinked and then grinned, shaking his head. “Need a ride?” A nod, and Miggs shrugged, popping the lock and waving for the man to get in.

“Where you headed?” Miggs asked when the stranger climbed inside, tossing his bulky backpack between the seats into the back of Miggs’ sedan. The man held up a finger, patting at his pockets before pulling out a notepad, flipping through slightly-damp pages before finding one and showing it to him.

Seattle, WA. was written in easy-to-read letters in black marker, the ink running a little in a couple places from the moisture dampening the paper.

“Oh, me too,” Miggs said, brightening. “Lucky you. I’m planning on stopping in Pendleton for the night, though, is that okay? I’ve already been driving for like ten hours and I’m fucking beat.” The man nodded, and Miggs pulled off the shoulder to merge back into traffic, glancing over at the stranger when he started leafing through his notepad again to show Miggs another page, this one displaying the name Peter in the same easy-read print and a big cartoony arrow pointing up. The man—Peter, apparently—held the notepad under his face and gave Miggs a charming smile.

“I’m Miggs,” he replied with a small smile of his own, lifting a couple fingers off the steering wheel in a slightly awkward sort of wave. Peter nodded, lowering his notepad to flick through it to a blank page and pulling a sharpie out of the spiral binding to scrawl across a couple lines.

Thanx 4 picking me up.

Miggs shrugged in response. “No problem. Better than letting you keep getting soaked, yeah?” Peter nodded, a crooked smile appearing briefly on his face. It was oddly more attractive than the charming, overly-friendly grin he’d given Miggs at first, and he did his best not to blush as he looked away from the man in his passenger seat.

“So what are you doing hitchhiking in the middle of the night in this sort of weather?” Miggs asked after a second, scowling down at the radio as static started to become louder than the music. Peter shrugged, uncapping his marker again to add another line.

Motorcycle broke down in Ontario.

“Did you walk all this way?” Miggs asked, thinking of the dozens of miles between Ontario and where he’d found Peter walking along the highway. Peter grinned and shook his head, adding another note.

Got a ride thru to La Grande.

“Oh, that’s not too bad, then,” Miggs replied, sighing when the radio devolved into just plain static. “I forgot my CD case in Page, dammit.” Peter cocked an eyebrow, and Miggs shrugged. “Arizona. Visiting my parents’ place for a few days. Mom’s got some crazy scientific experiment going on, and since Dad’s in Mexico at the moment, she needed me to help her build the support structure to hold up the generator.” Peter lifted both eyebrows at that and Miggs shrugged again, purposefully omitting that the project hadn’t been the main reason he’d gone to visit his parents for the weekend and initially taken the long drive over a flight. “I took more after my Dad, so I’m good at engineering and building shit. She’s better at genetics and biology, not so much with the blowtorch.” Peter tilted his head slightly in interest, so Miggs started explaining Denise Ortega’s project in as simple of terms he could, pleasantly surprised when Peter started asking pointed questions, revealing an interest in engineering that Miggs hadn’t anticipated, but appreciated.

“I moved to Seattle for physical therapy a few years ago and ended up teaching at Seattle Public University, so I don’t see them very often,” Miggs said about an hour later, pulling off onto the exit ramp for Pendleton and reaching up to rub at one of his eyes as he came to a stop at the light at the bottom. Peter nodded, and Miggs was silently relieved when Peter didn’t pry after the reason why Miggs needed the therapy. Miggs glared when Peter reached down to fiddle with the radio, switching the station to something that played bubbly hip-hop through his speakers.

“It has not been half an hour,” Miggs complained and Peter grinned, goofy and open as he gestured at the digital clock in Miggs’ dashboard that implied that yes, it had been. Miggs groaned, heartily regretting ceding to trading off radio privileges with the man. “Fucking blasphemous, man, playing this in my car.” Peter rolled his eyes at Miggs’ melodrama as he pulled out his phone to fiddle with it for a moment before showing Miggs a hotel close by, pulled up in Google Maps. Miggs nodded and glanced over the directions before driving through the green light, heading in the hotel’s direction.

It was a Best Western that looked reasonably clean and well-maintained, so Miggs pulled into the lot and parked, yawning as he shut the car down and climbed out, dragging his overnight bag out of the trunk as Peter grabbed his bulky backpack from the backseat.

“How early of a start do you want tomorrow?” Miggs asked as they walked into the hotel, holding his bag over his head to try and keep as dry as possible. Peter, still relatively damp from walking in the rain earlier, just shrugged and slung his bag over his shoulder, reaching up to pull his sunglasses down onto his face before holding the door for Miggs so they could duck inside. Lowering his bag and shaking what little water had gathered on it out, Miggs glanced around the tan and brown decorated foyer.

“Okay if you let me pick we’re not getting back on the road until, like, eleven, because I hate getting up early,” Miggs said, muffling another yawn as he made his way up to the desk. Peter grinned and shrugged again, and Miggs let it go, turning to the attendant, who greeted them cheerfully despite the late hour.

“Just for tonight,” Miggs told them as they started checking them in, getting a room with two beds on the second floor.

“Check out is at ten AM,” the attendant said, maintaining a friendly smile when Miggs groaned.

“Okay, not until ten , then,” he grumbled, taking the few bills Peter offered to help pay for the room and thrusting the fee at the hotel employee. Peter huffed a laugh and Miggs silently scolded the stutter his heart gave at the sound. Getting a crush on the hitchhiker he’d picked up a couple hours ago was not on his agenda, thank you very much.

Miggs followed Peter up to the hotel room, struggling with the card for a minute and swearing when the light on the handle blinked red for the second time.

“I hate these things,” Miggs grumbled, jumping when Peter reached out to take the card from him. Peter’s fingers brushed against Miggs’, pausing when a blush flooded Miggs’ face at the touch. Miggs stared at where Peter was trying to take the keycard from him, palm cupping Miggs’ fingers, then looked up to see Peter watching him, blinking and a hint of pink appearing in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Miggs muttered, pushing the card into Peter’s hand and stepping back, not looking at Peter as he took it, heart thumping a little faster in Miggs’ chest. Okay, so Peter was sort of hot and Miggs was a little weak in the face of it, and there may or may not have been a bit of crush forming. But it wasn’t like Peter would be interested in Miggs. Sure, they’d clicked really well as a couple of strangers meeting on the highway, but that was no indication of compatibility as more than temporary companions.

Miggs looked up when the door chirped, light turning green as Peter slid the card through the slider to unlock it and then pop it open. Peter turned to Miggs and smirked, and Miggs scowled at him.

“Shut up,” Miggs mumbled, making Peter roll his eyes as he ducked past him into the room.

Miggs claimed the bed closer to the window and Peter didn’t protest, setting his bag on the other mattress and unzipping it to pull out fresh clothes. The bag was apparently waterproof, since everything he tugged out of its depths was perfectly dry, and Peter jerked his thumb towards the bathroom, making Miggs shrug.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, certain Peter was in rather desperate want of a hot shower and dry clothes. Peter nodded and kicked off his boots, unzipping his leather jacket and tossing it onto one of the brown leather chairs in the corner by a small table covered in scattered pamphlets promoting the hotel’s amenities. Miggs flushed and looked away as Peter started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a strip of skin that was covered in thick, dark hair. Heart trying to do flips in his chest, Miggs dug superficially through his own bag as Peter stripped out of his shirt and then peeled off his socks, gathering his fresh clothes in one hand as Miggs glanced up. Miggs stilled, taking in the thick black tattoos that covered Peter’s forearms, spiraling down from his elbows to the backs of his hands.

“Oh,” Miggs said, the sound a bit strangled and surprised, and Peter looked up to catch him staring, making Miggs blush. “Uh. You’ve got tattoos,” Miggs said dumbly, and Peter’s mouth twitched in amusement as he nodded, setting his change of clothes back on his bed to walk closer to Miggs, half naked and holding out his arms for Miggs to see.

They were vaguely-tribal bears, swirls of black ink forming the shapes that drew Miggs’ gaze from Peter’s wrists and up, reaching out without thinking before quickly drawing back.

“Sorry,” Miggs said again, feeling foolish when Peter blinked at him before shrugging, still holding out his arms to Miggs in invitation. Miggs hesitated for a minute before slowly taking Peter’s left wrist, turning his arm back and forth to inspect the tattoos. Miggs’ thumb traced along the dark swirl leading down into an arrow point on the back of Peter’s hand, flushing when Peter curled his fingers around Miggs’, holding his hand as Miggs stared at him, mouth dry and heart racing.

Miggs swallowed and glanced up when Peter’s skin broke out in goosebumps, and he looked up to see Peter watching him, eyes hooded and dark behind his glasses, mouth parted just slightly. Miggs felt a blush bloom over his cheeks, and Peter slid a little closer, threading his fingers through Miggs’ and pulling just a bit. What little resolve Miggs had crumpled, and he felt a little weak in the knees when Peter stepped into his personal space, free hand coming up to cup Miggs’ hip, eyes scanning Miggs’ face for any sign of reluctance.

“Oh, fuck,” Miggs breathed, breath coming a little fast. “Are, uh…um. Are you gonna kiss me?” he whispered, and Peter's mouth curled into a smile before tilting his head to one side, one eyebrow lifting in uncertainty. Miggs swallowed, heart racing.

“I kind of want you to,” he mumbled, reaching up hesitantly with his other hand to touch Peter’s chest, fingers dragging along the hair there before sliding up to Peter’s shoulder. “I really want you to.” Peter’s smirk widened and he nodded, sliding the arm around Miggs’ waist to hold him close, leaning down to press his forehead to Miggs’. It was slow, every movement Peter made careful and controlled, making Miggs’ heart race as he brushed his mouth over Miggs’ cheek down to the corner of his mouth. Miggs let out a soft sound, trembling as he turned his head to meet Peter’s lips with his own.

Chapter Text

Peter groaned and kissed him, the arm around Miggs’ waist going tight and the other guiding Miggs’ hand to his shoulder before letting go to hold him with both arms. Miggs arched into him and responded eagerly to the kiss, squeezing his knees together as arousal started to pool between his legs, hot and tight. Peter kissed Miggs’ lower lip, soft and wet, tongue darting out to trace along the seam of Miggs’ lips before Miggs opened for him, earning a soft moan. Miggs whimpered as Peter slid his tongue against Miggs’, teasing a bit before tracing the shape of Miggs’ teeth, poking at the gap in the front two and making him gasp, breaking the kiss.

Panting, Miggs pulled away a bit, blushing and covering his mouth with one hand. “S-sorry,” he said from behind his fingers when Peter frowned at him. Peter shook his head, reaching up to pull Miggs’ hand away, kissing him again, wet and eager and making Miggs moan.

“Oh God,” Miggs gasped when Peter abandoned his mouth to start kissing at his throat, nipping and then grinning against his skin when Miggs whimpered and tilted his head to the side to give Peter more room. Peter happily explored the skin of Miggs’ neck, kissing and licking from the corner of his jaw to his collarbone. Miggs cried out when Peter sucked gently at the crook of his shoulder, nosing the collar of Miggs’ shirt aside to do so.

Peter let go and loosed a shaky breath, hands running up and down Miggs’ back, hesitating briefly before sliding down to grab his ass, squeezing and making Miggs moan. Peter growled at the sound and started kissing at Miggs’ skin again, quick, hot presses of his mouth to Miggs’ throat as he gripped his ass harder, pulling him tight against Peter and pressing an erection against Miggs’ lower stomach. Miggs made a surprised, strangled noise and Peter quickly loosened his grip, breathing hard and going still, fingers still kneading slightly at Miggs’ ass.

“Uh, um,” Miggs panted, positive Peter was wondering why there was no answering erection in Miggs’ pants. “D’you, um, wanna shower, I’m sure you’re, uh, cold or something and—” Miggs cut himself off before he started to ramble, blushing when Peter pulled back to stare at him, looking uncertain before slowly nodding, biting his lip before letting go of Miggs completely to pull out his notepad, hesitating before scrawling a quick note.

Sry. Didnt mean 2 make u uncomfortable.

“No, no, that’s not—I mean, you did sort of get soaked earlier and I don’t really want you to get pneumonia or something so,” Miggs stammered, flapping his hands awkwardly until Peter gave him a crooked smile and nodded, running a hand up into his rain-damp hair. Miggs bit his lip and looked away as Peter set aside his notepad to scoop up his clothes and disappear into the hotel’s small bathroom, leaving the door cracked. The shower started up a second later, and Miggs stared at the slightly-open door, wondering if that was an intentional invitation.

Chewing his lower lip nervously, Miggs did his best to calm down, taking slow breaths and trying to will away the arousal curling in his lower stomach. The memory of Peter pressed against him, touching him, kissing him, refused to go away though, and Miggs let out a soft groan before reaching down to cup at the fork of his legs, squirming and wondering if he had enough time to get off before Peter got back out of the bathroom.

Miggs’ phone buzzed in his pocket, surprising him, and he quickly pulled it out to check it with a frown.

Aaron{ when r u goin to b back its been like a week I alrdy said I was sry. :/

Miggs blew out a frustrated breath, glancing at the cracked bathroom door.

Stopped in Pendleton for the nite. B back 2morrow. We’ll talk then. }Miggs

Miggs sent the text and then shut off his phone, an old, sour anger churning in his guts.

When he’d gotten married, he’d never planned on cheating. But then, he’d never expected his spouse would turn out to be the type to do just the same, and often, sometimes blatantly . Coming home to Aaron in bed with a woman had been the least pleasant thing Miggs had ever experienced, and he’d been in an industrial catastrophe in his mid twenties.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Miggs put his head in his hands, barely missing the familiar band of silver around his finger. He was sure the ring was still sitting in the corner of the kitchen where it’d landed after he’d flung it at Aaron when the man had scrambled out of bed with his quickie to throw apologies and excuses around frantically. Miggs had stormed out shortly after with intent not to return, but Aaron had sent text after pleading text until Miggs had agreed to talk their problems out. Again. Just like six months ago, when this had last happened. He hadn’t outright caught Aaron that time, but Miggs’ taste in lingerie tended towards simpler, and the tangled bundle of thong and garters had been hot pink and definitely not his when he’d fished it out from under the couch when part of it got sucked up the vacuum.

Miggs hardly understood why he kept giving Aaron second chances (more like dozens of chances) when it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t going to change any time soon.

He was pretty sure it had something to do with the hopeful nursery they’d been putting together for the last couple years.

Miggs groaned and fisted his hands in his hair, determinedly putting all thoughts of his pathetic marriage out of his mind. Miggs liked Peter, from what little he knew of him, and the last thing he wanted to do was have Peter find out Miggs was married on top of any other things that might come out if they ended up sleeping together.

Miggs dwelled on that thought instead, wondering how Peter would react to Miggs’ body if they did have sex. He’d seemed to enjoy what bits of Miggs he’d touched so far, Miggs thought with a wry smile, recalling Peter’s eager touch and soft sounds of pleasure. Even just that brief encounter had been better than the bland rolls in the hay he’d been having with Aaron for the last couple years. And fuck if Miggs wasn’t a terrible person for it, but he wanted more.

Miggs bit his lip as the briefly forgotten arousal flared in the pit of his stomach again, imagining what sex with Peter would be like when just some kissing and heavy petting had gotten them both so hot and bothered so fast.

Squirming a little, Miggs dropped one hand from his hair to cup his crotch again, fingers rubbing at the hidden parts of his sex through his pants. He let out a breathy sound of pleasure, rubbing against a sensitive spot and pressing his knees together instinctively at the burst of arousal that brought.

“Fuck,” Miggs panted, glancing up at the cracked door of the bathroom, which was leaking steam and the wet scent of soap and water. He was so tempted to walk in and strip naked, climb in the shower with Peter and continue what they’d started earlier, but…

Miggs straightened up and spread his legs, flicking the button of his pants open so he could slide a hand into his underwear and push one finger between the thick curls there to the damp folds of his labia.

Being trans, Miggs didn’t really do random hookups or one night stands. They could prove to be a little dangerous, especially with people he met outside of queer spaces. Aaron certainly had been surprised, and Miggs had told him over coffee, not a few minutes before they’d been about to hop into bed together. Regardless, it’d been a few days before Miggs had heard back from him after that date, and Aaron’s awkward, fumbling acceptance of Miggs’ gender had been a relief in a string of less pleasant responses.

Miggs had no idea if Peter would be quite as accepting, and Miggs wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to risk Peter having a negative or possibly even violent reaction to Miggs having a vagina rather than a cock.

Still, the thought of Peter touching him again, kissing, fucking him…

Miggs whimpered helplessly as he circled the pad of one finger around his clit, hips twitching with the stimulation. Panting, he increased his speed a little, stroking at the bundle of sensitive nerves and falling back onto one elbow to relieve a bit of the strain on his wrist.

“Nngh,” Miggs bit his lip against a moan, sliding a couple fingers further through the folds of his sex to gather a bit of his natural lubrication and drawing it back up to his clit again to ease the friction to something less rough.

Miggs gasped when the door to the bathroom opened, and he quickly yanked his hand out of his pants as Peter appeared in the doorway, dressed in dry pants and an unbuttoned shirt, a towel in one hand. Peter froze and stared at Miggs, who blushed deeply, knowing it’d be sort of impossible to hide what he’d been doing, flushed and sprawled back on the bed with his pants undone.

Chapter Text

“Um.” Miggs said eloquently as Peter’s gaze dropped to his crotch, noting the unbuttoned fly. “I…” Peter hummed when Miggs paused, interest making his eyes darken behind his shades.

Peter started walking closer to him, wiping the towel over his head to get most of the moisture out of his hair before tossing it aside, leaving him damp and tousled and painfully attractive. Miggs stared and bit his lip as Peter came to a stop in front of him, one eyebrow lifting as Miggs brought his knees together in an attempt to hide his lack of a visible erection. Miggs trembled when Peter leaned over him, legs spread to stand over Miggs’ knees, bracing one hand on the bed and grabbing Miggs’ right wrist. Miggs gasped when Peter pulled Miggs’ hand to his mouth, pulling a couple of Miggs’ slick fingers inside to suck them gently. Miggs squirmed when Peter moaned quietly, tongue swirling around his digits and against the webbing between, licking up every bit of his wetness he could.

“Oh, God,” Miggs breathed, blushing when Peter slowly let go of Miggs’ hand, lifting an eyebrow at Miggs’ surprised expression. “I…I, um, I don’t have a dick.” Peter paused and then huffed, a grin appearing on his face as Miggs realized he was laughing. Miggs scowled as Peter nodded, looking around until he spotted his notepad lying on the other mattress. He straightened up to grab it, scratching out a quick note with his marker before showing it to Miggs.

So?

“’So?’” Miggs repeated, and Peter nodded, looking amused. “So…so you’re not upset?” Miggs asked weakly, and the humor faded from Peter’s face. Shaking his head, Peter sat on the bed next to Miggs, writing another note.

Ur trans, yea? Idc. I’m attracted to ppl, not genders. What u’ve got in ur pants isn’t that important to me. As long as ur consenting, I still want to sleep w/u.

Miggs blushed, biting his lip as he glanced up at Peter, whose expression softened. Setting the notepad aside, Peter leaned on one elbow and used his other hand to cup Miggs’ jaw and pull him into a slow kiss that left Miggs soft and pliant under him.

“Okay,” Miggs said dazedly when Peter pulled back, looking flushed himself. “Yeah, okay, we can do that,” Miggs mumbled, making Peter huff another laugh. The laugh turned to a groan when Miggs reached up to pull Peter into another kiss, deepening it quickly to a hungry exchange that moved from a low-burning desire to a wet slide of tongues and lips that made Miggs whimper loudly. They broke apart panting, and Peter urged him higher up onto the bed, following after to climb over him, pressing Miggs back against the mattress to kiss him more, one hand stroking down Miggs’ chest and stomach to the open button of his jeans. Miggs moaned and lifted his hips up into Peter’s touch, earning a soft sound of approval that made him shiver.

“Oh, please,” Miggs breathed when Peter broke away to gasp a breath, trembling a little above him. Peter nodded, grabbing the hem of Miggs’ shirt and tugging until he was able to pull it off over Miggs’ head.

Miggs’ chest was small enough that he didn’t really need a binder, not even really enough to need a bra if he’d identified as a girl. Still, his skin was practically singing with sensitivity when Peter brushed his fingers up Miggs’ stomach to the right side of his chest, thumb brushing against a nipple until it peaked under the stimulation. Peter growled, pressing his thumb against the raised flesh and then pinching gently, twisting just until Miggs arched under him. Panting, Peter kissed at Miggs neck again, mouth grazing the column of Miggs’ throat and then his collar bone, brushing down to the opposite nipple and flicking his tongue over it. Miggs gasped and then pushed the back of one hand against his mouth to muffle a moan when Peter pulled it into his mouth and sucked, just a hint of teeth making Miggs shiver.

Peter growled again and reached up to tug Miggs’ hand away from his mouth, making the cry of pleasure Miggs produced sound at full volume. Peter made a pleased hum and sucked a little harder, tongue swirling around the stiff tip and making Miggs squirm underneath him.

After a moment’s more of teasing, Peter relented and slid both hands down along Miggs’ body to his hips, tugging at the waistband of Miggs’ pants until he lifted his hips so Peter could pull them off, taking Miggs’ shoes and socks off with them.

Miggs sat up in just his light cotton briefs to grab the open sides of Peter’s shirt and push it off his shoulders, letting Peter toss it to the floor before starting to tug at the button of Peter’s trousers. Peter huffed a laugh and quickly undid the fly himself before letting Miggs push them down Peter’s hips to his knees, a brief moment of awkward kicking and scrambling to get them off ensuing before Peter laid back over Miggs in just a pair of black boxers. Miggs shuddered and spread his legs to wrap them around Peter’s waist, arching as the thick line of Peter’s cock pressed against his crotch.

“Oh, fuck,” Miggs panted, canting his hips to start rubbing against Peter through their underwear, earning a desperate whine from the larger man as Peter’s dick pressed against the wet fabric clinging to Miggs’ sex. Miggs gasped when Peter kissed him and reached down with one hand to cup the fork of Miggs’ legs, a couple of thick fingers pressing against the wettest part of his underwear in small circles.

“A little—a little higher, please, my—my—” Miggs stammered, blushing, but Peter seemed to understand, quickly abandoning Miggs’ opening to stimulate his clit, touch gentle and testing, increasing pressure as Miggs ground his hips down against the touch. Miggs cried out, leaving Peter to mouth at his throat as he keened in pleasure, eagerly rolling his hips up against Peter’s hand, chasing orgasm.

“Please, please, please,” Miggs gasped, desperate and needy, earning a low moan from Peter as he quickened his pace, clearly trying to get Miggs to come. Miggs gasped when Peter briefly abandoned his touching to slide his hand under the waistband of Miggs’ underwear before resuming. Peter rumbled at the wetness soaking Miggs’ pubic hair, sliding his fingers along Miggs’ slit before starting to rub at his clit again, short, firm strokes quickly bringing Miggs to the edge.

“Oh, fuck—Peter!” Miggs gasped, bucking up against Peter’s hand and clutching at his shoulders as he came, body tensing and shaking with the sudden release. Peter moaned and slowly let off the pressure until he pulled his hand free as Miggs let out a whimper of sensitivity.

After a minute of trying to catch his breath, Miggs blinked his eyes open to see Peter watching him with a dark hunger, cock throbbing in his boxers against Miggs’ thigh.

“O-oh, fuck, I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Miggs stammered, feeling immediately bad that he’d come without Peter. Peter just shook his head, leaning down to kiss Miggs into silence before hooking his thumbs in Miggs’ briefs to slide them down and then pull them off. Miggs blushed as he laid naked under Peter, body still trembling slightly with orgasm. Peter smiled, crooked and soft, easing Miggs’ anxiety before he quickly shucked off his boxers, leaning down to kiss Miggs eagerly, hips held back from touching Miggs this time.

Miggs whimpered needily as Peter started to draw him back towards the height of arousal, making him squirm as he failed to start fucking him.

“P-please, I need—I can’t—” Miggs panted, clutching at Peter, who paused and appeared to suffer a moment of conflict Miggs couldn’t discern the source of before growling and grabbing Miggs’ hips, tilting him up slightly to start rubbing his bare cock along Miggs’ labia. Miggs arched, and lifted his knees, the head of Peter’s cock rubbing against his sensitive clit before slipping down to his wet entrance.

“Oh, God!” Miggs gasped, nails digging into Peter’s shoulders a little as Peter pressed against him but not inside. “Please!” Miggs cried. “Please, Peter, please, I want—want you so bad, please, I need—” Peter moaned, shaking a little before burying his face in Miggs’ throat, hips canting forward to slide into Miggs’ body. Miggs gasped and arched under Peter, clinging to his shoulders and trying to reign in the urge to start grinding onto Peter’s cock as Peter slid to the base inside him. Peter let out a shaky moan as Miggs ended up shifting his hips around anyway, gasping and moaning at the feel of Peter’s cock pushed deep into him.

“Oh, fuck please move, please, please,” Miggs begged, crying out when Peter nodded and started shallowly thrusting, sliding his arms under Miggs’ back to hold him close. Miggs hooked his knees over Peter’s hips, tilting his pelvis so Peter’s pubic bone rubbed against his clit, each hard thrust of Peter’s hips grinding against him and quickly driving him towards orgasm again. Miggs keened, nails scratching at Peter’s upper back, leaving little welts as Peter moaned and started to fuck him quicker, kissing frantically at Miggs’ throat like he suddenly couldn’t get enough of him.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Miggs gasped, clinging helplessly as Peter drove into him, wet sounds with every thrust paying testament to Miggs’ arousal and their eager coupling. Peter moaned and grabbed Miggs shoulders, holding him tight as he rutted desperately against him, helpless, tiny cries of pleasure sounding in Miggs’ ear as Peter grew closer to orgasm, dragging Miggs with him, the rough hair of Peter’s chest teasing the sensitive peaks of Miggs’ nipples until he was arching, a loud keen of pure pleasure breaking from Miggs’ throat as he came, startling a gasp from Peter as he tightened and fluttered around Peter’s length. Peter moaned and stiffened, hips jerking as he started to come, spilling thickly into Miggs’ body.

“Ohh, God,” Miggs panted, whimpered when Peter hummed and kept pumping his hips despite the slow softening of his dick. Miggs trembled with sensitivity and pleasure as Peter touched him, every brush of his mouth and hands against Miggs’ skin buzzing with affection and a simmering need that had Miggs wondering if they were going to get any sleep at all tonight.

They both whimpered a little with loss when Peter slipped out of Miggs’ hole, a bit of wetness sliding free with him. Peter hummed, soft and a bit of question in it and Miggs moaned in response.

“S’good,” he mumbled, tracing the raised, warm lines his nails had left on Peter’s back. “Wanna again.” Peter paused and then huffed, nodding and nuzzling against Miggs throat, making him blush. “R-really?” Peter nodded again, rumbling as he kissed down Miggs’ neck to his chest and then sliding down his body to settle between Miggs’ legs, making him blink and then gasp.

“O-oh, I—oh God!” Miggs gasped when Peter kissed the inside of his thigh, eyes dark with intent, the fingers of his right hand dragging through Miggs’ wet curls and making him squirm. Peter growled, mouth sucking a bruise against the inside of Miggs’ leg and then up towards the fork of his legs, breath ghosting over his damp mound and making him shiver.

“Um, no one’s—I mean, I’ve never really had someone—um. Do that,” Miggs admitted in a tiny voice. Peter’s eyebrows rose, and Miggs fumbled to correct himself, “Uh, I mean, there was one time, but he, um, got kind of impatient, and well—” Miggs gasped and forgot all about Aaron’s subpar attempt at oral for his birthday last year when Peter lowered his head to drag his tongue along Miggs’ slit, gathering the wet mix of their come lingering there. Miggs swore loudly when Peter used his thumb to open Miggs up a little and start licking at his hole and then up to his clit, wet and hot and much, much more eager about the whole affair than Miggs could recall Aaron being.

“Oh, fuck!” Miggs gasped, arching and fisting his hands in the blanket as Peter growled and mouthed at him, sucking gently until Miggs cried out with pleasure. “Peter!” Miggs keened, reaching down instinctively with one hand to knot his fingers in Peter’s hair and try to grind down against his face. Peter let out a surprised sound that brought Miggs back in the general direction of his senses, and he quickly let go, trying to sputter an apology. Peter growled and shook his head, grabbing Miggs’ hand to put it back in his hair, the other urging Miggs’ hip until he was hesitantly grinding against Peter’s mouth. Miggs whimpered as Peter’s eyes grew hooded and dark with pleasure, apparently enjoying eating Miggs out as much as Miggs was having it done to him.

“Christ,” Miggs panted, dropping his head back and quickly losing control at the feel of Peter’s mouth on him, closing his thighs around Peter’s head and pulling hard on his curling hair, bucking his hips against Peter’s mouth as pleasure flooded his body, hot and fast. Orgasm was harder to achieve now after having come twice already, but it just meant that he was able to enjoy Peter’s tongue dragging over his flesh for longer, and after a minute Miggs reached down with both hands, back bowed dramatically as he desperately worked his hips against Peter’s hot mouth.

“Fuck! Fuck, oh fuck, Peter! Peter, Peter, please! Please, Peter, Peter! ” Miggs cried out without a single care to how loud he was being, to the fact that any neighbors they might have in the hotel would be able to clearly hear him, caring only that Peter would just keep doing this to him, heat pooling molten and thick in his crotch as he started to walk the line of orgasm again.

“Teeth—!” Miggs choked and Peter let out a surprised sound before carefully scraping his teeth over Miggs’ clit, the rough sting just enough to send him over the edge. Miggs jerked and tried to scream as he came hard, probably suffocating Peter a little as he yanked on his hair and wrapped his legs around Peter’s head, hips bucking against his face as wave after wave of nearly-agonizing pleasure bloomed in his body.

Miggs collapsed into a boneless heap after a second, wheezing for breath and staring dazedly up at the ceiling. His entire body trembled helplessly with orgasm and exhaustion, pleasure spinning through him in a way he’d never quite experienced before in this intensity.

Peter crawled up the bedspread to lay on his side next to Miggs, looking almost arrogant in his smug satisfaction at what he’d done to Miggs, half an erection pressing against Miggs’ thigh, head propped in one hand to smirk down at Miggs.

“As soon as I can breathe again,” Miggs rasped, making Peter blink, “I am going to ride your cock until you think you’ve died.” Peter’s mouth fell a little slack, cock throbbing to sudden full hardness against Miggs’ leg. “Oh, fuck you’ve got a short recovery period. Yay.” Peter’s mouth fell open a little further and Miggs smirked, lungs still laboring but quickly recovering himself and determined to give as good as he got with Peter, and he was currently at least two orgasms behind.

Peter looked a little flabbergasted when Miggs rolled over to push Peter onto his back and climb on top of him, straddling Peter’s hips and leaning down to kiss him wetly, tasting come and his own slick on Peter’s tongue, and little bit of blood from where Peter’s lip had split slightly.

Peter whimpered when Miggs grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head on the pillow, rolling and grinding his hips to cover Peter’s thick cock with wetness, managing to work his way onto Peter’s erection without his hands. His hole was slick and loose from orgasm and already having had Peter inside him, and Peter made a strangled noise as Miggs quickly sank down to his base and began grinding on him.

“I hope you’ve got a bit of stamina to you,” Miggs mumbled against Peter’s mouth. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until we both collapse.” Peter made another weak, strangled noise as Miggs started rolling his hips, quick, jerking movements that worked Peter’s cock inside of his body without pulling off a single inch, tightening repeatedly around him. Peter cried out as Miggs lifted his hips after a minute to start riding him in earnest, short, fast lifts and falls of his hips plunging Peter’s cock in and out of him at a near-brutal pace.

Miggs gasped when Peter braced his feet and started bucking his hips to meet Miggs, grinning when Miggs moaned and arched his back in pleasure.

“Fuck,” Miggs groaned, lowering his hips to grind against Peter as Peter fucked up into him, breath coming in hot bursts with every eager thrust. Peter moaned in agreement, pushing against Miggs’ grip on his wrist in a clear desire to touch. Miggs grinned wickedly and held him pinned for a minute or two longer before pulling Peter’s hands up to his chest, inviting Peter to pinch and tug at his nipples until he was gasping and bouncing on Peter’s cock, forgetting all about his plans to make this last.

“Please, please, please!” Miggs cried, barely noticing the burn in his muscles or the ache in his back and hips from the exertion, numbed to everything except the pleasure of Peter touching him. Peter moaned and nodded, flicking at Miggs’ chest and making him gasp as Peter lifted his hips to push as deep into Miggs’ body as he could, lifting him clear off the bed.

“Oh, God!” Miggs cried out at that sudden display of strength, wondering if Peter was strong enough to just pick him up and fuck him against a wall or something and then—

Miggs arched and squeezed Peter’s wrists as his body wrung another orgasm from him, tightening around Peter’s cock and trembling as he stared up at the ceiling, mouth gaping with a silent cry. Peter moaned underneath him and Miggs shivered as he felt Peter come inside him again, flooding him with hot spunk that dripped from his opening around Peter’s shaft to soak into his body hair.

After a second, Peter lowered Miggs back to the bed, shaking with strain before Miggs slid off him to the side, breathing hard.

“Fucking Christ,” Miggs gasped, and Peter shot him a funny look, a smirk flickering over his face. “What?” Peter shook his head and Miggs narrowed his eyes. “No, what was that look?” Peter rolled his eyes and then reached out to snag his notepad, nearly dropping the pen before managing to grab it and scrawl a note in looping but still legible cursive.

Thanx but Im not god just Peter.

Miggs stared for a second and then snorted, a delighted look flickering over Peter’s face when Miggs started laughing, breathless and wheezy but genuine, putting one hand over his mouth to hide the gap in his teeth and muffle the sound as he kept giggling at the terrible joke. Peter grinned, rolling over to wrap an arm around Miggs’ waist and pull him close, nuzzling his nose against Miggs’, huffing in amusement as Miggs kept giggling, the occasional snort interrupting his mirth.

“That was an awful joke,” Miggs managed to hiccup between giggles. “I like you.” Peter’s grin faded, looking a little surprised, but Miggs was too caught up in his laughing to really notice, and a moment later Peter’s grin returned and he hauled Miggs closer, kissing Miggs’ face all over and making him squawk in indignation. They laid in bed for a few minutes, giggling like children and peppering kisses all over each other as come and sweat slowly dried on their skin.

Chapter Text

“We both need a shower now,” Miggs commented, and Peter hummed, nosing at the underside of Miggs’ jaw and pressing decidedly less innocent kisses there. “Together?” Miggs suggested hesitantly and Peter let out a much more interested-sounding hum, nodding before pulling Miggs out of the bed by the hand and leading him into the bathroom.

Miggs leaned over the edge of the tub to turn on the water, twitching when Peter’s hand came up to cup his hip, the fingers of his other hand hesitantly wandering down the length of Miggs’ spine. The pads of Peter’s fingers traced over knots and whorls of scar tissue at the small of Miggs’ back, a testament to a several years of pain and depression brought on by a single moment.

“Um,” Miggs said as Peter’s thumb grazed along the single surgical cut up the small of his back, a shiny pale line in the middle of a starburst of skin lightened by healing wounds many years ago.

Peter paused and then made an apologetic sound as Miggs turned to look at him, the noise nearly drowned out by the loud rushing of water from the shower head.

“It’s…fine,” Miggs said as Peter grimaced in apology, making Miggs straighten up and then look down at his feet. “I was twenty-seven. Before I started teaching, I worked for Ridgetech.” Peter paused, glancing up with a frown. “The company that literally blew up in southern California a few years ago?” Peter’s eyes widened slightly with recognition, and Miggs’ mouth twitched into a wry smile. The disaster had been covered at least once by most major news stations across the country, since almost thirty people had died in the explosion.

Miggs turned so his back was to Peter, reaching behind himself to press a couple fingers into the center of his scarring. “I was getting coffee and had my back to the rest of the room. The support structure under the project’s main reactor buckled on one side and the whole thing came down. I took a piece of shrapnel between two of my vertebrae when it exploded on impact, nearly severing my spine.

“Mom did the reparative surgery, and I spent three years learning to walk again. Which is why I moved to Seattle, for the physical therapy,” Miggs explained, tracing down the flat scar from the scalpel cut Denise Ortega had made in order to get to his spine. “I know it’s uh, not very pretty, but I can just…y’know, stay on my back, so you don’t have to look at—oh!” Miggs gasped when Peter grabbed his hips with both hands and started pressing kisses at the nape of Miggs' neck, kissing down the length of his back and making him arch as Peter went to his knees in order to press his mouth to the marred skin of Miggs’ lower spine.

“P-Peter?” Miggs squirmed a little, trying to twist to see what his lover was doing, but Peter just held him in place, lips brushing along the long narrow scar before tracing over a few of the more wrinkled ones, nibbling a little and making Miggs gasp again. Peter hummed, thumbs rubbing over Miggs’ hips as he kept kissing Miggs’ skin, kneeling on the bathroom floor.

Miggs’ face felt hot; he’d never had someone quite…almost worship his body like Peter seemed to be doing, nearly entirely focused on Miggs’ pleasure and Miggs’ body despite all its flaws. It made something in his chest flutter like a newly formed butterfly, damp and trembling and delicate.

Miggs bit his lip and braced one hand against the shower door, going up on his toes to lift his hips back towards Peter’s mouth, breath hitching when Peter growled.

“D’you think you could…go again?” Miggs asked haltingly, and Peter chuckled, low and dark, and Miggs shuddered when Peter dipped one hand between Miggs’ legs to pull his fingers along Miggs’ slit, feeling the wet mess their from their fucking. Miggs squirmed, feeling a little dirty as his attention was drawn to just quite how much slick and come was clinging to the fork of his legs, but Peter didn’t seem to mind much, rubbing at him until Miggs let out breathy moan and spread his legs.

Miggs whimpered when Peter stood and gestured for Miggs to get in the shower, his other hand reluctantly pulling away from where he’d been teasing.

“O-okay,” Miggs huffed, climbing into the tub on weakened knees and hoping his legs wouldn’t give out entirely as Peter continued to touch him.

Peter followed and pulled the shower door shut, turning as Miggs ducked under the hot spray of the shower head, blushing as he quickly wet his hair in an attempt to tame the surely hilarious riot of wild curls it’d become in the last few hours. Miggs blinked water out of his eyes to see Peter’s gaze wandering along the length of Miggs’ body in an almost lazy way, leaning a shoulder against the shower wall and reaching down with one hand to tease gently at his cock, which was just starting to thicken with interest.

“Fuck,” Miggs mumbled, and Peter smirked, a bit of a sparkle in his eye making Miggs wonder if he’d just thought of another terrible joke. He was also holding up one hand next to his face, having removed his sunglasses before entering the shower after Miggs. Miggs frowned at that, wondering if Peter found the harsh hotel bathroom lights too strong after the dim bedroom and dark car ride.

“Are you, um, okay?” Miggs asked hesitantly, and Peter paused before nodding, shrugging one shoulder when Miggs looked uncertain. Miggs bit his lip and Peter huffed, leaning forward to bury his face in Miggs’ throat, mouth playing over the skin there as he slid one hand down Miggs’ front to cup his crotch again. Miggs was almost positive Peter was trying to distract him; Miggs wasn’t sure why, though that might have been because it was working , dammit.

Miggs tried to bite back a whimper as Peter slipped a finger into his folds, stroking gently at his clit before sliding along to his hole, pushing into him and making him gasp. Peter moaned into Miggs’ throat, slowly pumping the digit into Miggs’ body until he was panting and squirming.

“P-please,” Miggs begged and Peter hummed, pulling his finger free to grab Miggs’ hip and turn him around, making Miggs blush when Peter pushed him to bend over a little, apparently intent on taking him from behind.

“Uh, um—” Miggs stammered, but Peter shushed him, leaning over Miggs to kiss at his shoulder blade, one hand guiding himself between Miggs’ legs while the other petted at Miggs’ back, seeming hardly conscious of the mess of scarring at his lower spine. Miggs swallowed back anxiety born of learning to either lay on his back or strategically cover himself with sheets, trembling as Peter slowly rolled his hips forward to slide back into Miggs’ body.

“Hhng, fuck,” Miggs gasped, the angle shifted perceptively from when they’d fucked in the bed, and Peter moaned, wrapping one arm around Miggs’ waist to hold him steady as he started fucking him again, slow presses of his hips to Miggs’ ass. Miggs whimpered as Peter reached around with his free hand to brush his fingers over Miggs’ chest and stomach, reaching between his legs to rub his clit as Peter kept fucking him so slow it was starting to drive Miggs a little mad.

Miggs braced both hands against the shower wall in front of himself, arching his back and trying to get Peter to fuck him harder, but Peter seemed content with the leisurely, gentle pace he’d set, leaning down to kiss at Miggs’ back, pressing hot kisses along Miggs’ spine and making him shudder.

“Please,” Miggs groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the flow of water as he lowered his head, squirming in Peter’s grip and making him laugh softly. The sound was affectionate and warm, making the butterfly in Miggs’ chest flutter before he ruthlessly stomped on it.

Miggs whimpered as Peter slowly rocked into him, the arm around Miggs’ waist holding him close and the other hand gently stroking at the sensitive bundle of nerves between his legs, teasing him towards orgasm. Just a few minutes of it had Miggs shaking helplessly, legs almost too weak to support him. Tiny, desperate sounds broke from his throat every time Peter pressed deep into his body, Peter’s mouth roaming over the skin of his back and leaving behind little bruises here and there that ached wonderfully.

Miggs could feel his legs getting more and more weak as Peter kept fucking him in a way that was too slow and gentle to really be called fucking, but Miggs was hesitant to call it making love; after all, Miggs didn’t think they knew each other well enough to really do that.

Peter’s arm around his waist quickly changed from just holding Miggs to holding him up , a soft growl rumbling in Peter’s chest as Miggs hung trembling in his arms, breathing hard and moaning with every slow roll of Peter’s hips. Miggs whimpered as Peter pressed his fingers against Miggs’ clit, making him arch as a weak orgasm making him tighten around Peter’s cock helplessly and inspire a strangled moan.

“Peter—Peter, please—please, come for me?” Miggs rasped, trying to impale himself back onto Peter’s cock by pushing against the shower wall, taking Peter the base and tightening around him purposefully as Peter moaned. “Want you to, want you to so bad, please—! Miggs twitched when Peter bent his head to bite the muscle at the crook of Miggs’ shoulder, probably leaving a deep mark from the tingling pleasure-pain of his teeth digging into Miggs’ skin. Miggs moaned when he felt Peter twitch inside of him, cock pulsing as he spilled into Miggs’ body again. Miggs groaned as Peter stayed inside, hips pressing against him jerkily.

“Peter,” Miggs sighed, soft and pleased, managing to get himself to stand upright and lean back into Peter’s chest. Peter’s softening cock slipped out of his body, fluid leaking down the insides of Miggs’ thighs to be washed away by the water pouring from the shower head over them. Peter hummed, nuzzling against him and snagging the washcloth hanging over the bar to start wiping Miggs down, cleaning his skin of sweat and come and spit. Miggs trembled under the attention, starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the amount of affection and care Peter was showing him.

He hadn’t really known sex could be like this outside of stories.

“Peter,” Miggs mumbled, earning another soft hum, Peter kissing at the side of Miggs’ throat as he carefully wiped the wet cloth between Miggs’ legs, fingers rubbing along his slit through the soft fabric, the gentle touch encouraging a low-burn of arousal and pleasure to curl through Miggs’ body. Miggs remained limp against Peter, legs spread and hands clinging to the arm around his waist, head lolling to one side as Peter kissed him.

“God,” Miggs mumbled and Peter chuckled, kissing at the sensitive skin under Miggs’ ear until he moaned. “I don’t want to stop but I think I’m going to collapse soon.” Peter hummed and nodded, slowly loosening his grip on Miggs’ body until he was standing on his own, leaning on the shower wall for support so he could start wiping down his own body, much more quickly and efficiently.

“I don’t suppose you could get hard again so I could suck you, could you?” Miggs asked, watching Peter pull the cloth over his flaccid cock and down to his sac, pausing to look up at Miggs. His eyes were full of heat and a bit of disbelief, and then he shrugged, finishing washing and slinging the cloth back over the bar. Miggs swayed towards him and Peter quickly pulled him back in, face to face now so Miggs could wrap his arms around Peter’s neck and kiss him, unhurried and wet, tongues sliding together as the water started to cool a little. Peter groaned when Miggs slid down to his knees, rubbing his face against Peter’s chest and stomach as he went, eventually nuzzling against Peter’s soft cock, tongue darting out to drag over Peter’s sac, tasting water and a tiny bit of soap, and underneath that salt and skin and heat. A soft moan escaped Miggs as he braced his hands on Peter’s thighs, not missing the man spreading his legs as far as he could in the tub, Peter’s breath catching as Miggs mouthed at his balls, sucking first one and then the other into his mouth, feeling the weight and shape of each on his tongue before letting go to rub his face against the fork of Peter’s legs. Peter groaned when Miggs sucked his soft dick into his mouth, keeping the suction gentle and slow, knowing Peter was probably very sensitive from how much he’d come in just the last few hours.

“I love your cock,” Miggs mumbled, feeling sleepy and warm despite the cool water raining down on him from the shower. Peter whimpered and reached down to run a hand through Miggs’ wet, tangled hair, getting caught in the knots and then deciding to just fist his hand in Miggs’ curls. Miggs moaned in approval, quickly returning to licking at Peter’s soft cock, encouraging the twitch of interest it gave after a second. Sucking it back into his mouth, Miggs slowly pulled at Peter’s cock as it gradually thickened on his tongue, reaching about half-hardness after a couple minutes. Miggs hummed and Peter gasped at the vibration, hips twitching forward in clear desire to try to fuck Miggs’ mouth.

“In the morning,” Miggs mumbled, pulling off briefly, “if I wake up before you do, I’m waking you up like this, and I want you to fuck my mouth.” Peter made a quiet, gurgling noise, thrusting shallowly into Miggs’ mouth when he started sucking him again.

It wasn’t likely that Peter would be able to come again at least for half an hour or so, and the water was quickly moving from cool to outright cold, so after a minute Miggs pulled off and let Peter help him to his feet, the two of them climbing out of the shower to dry off.

They crawled into the bed they’d fucked in earlier together, naked and still a little damp, sliding under the covers as Peter spooned up behind Miggs. Peter was still a little hard, so Miggs wiggled and reached down between his own legs until he was able to get Peter inside him again, making Peter whimper at the heat and tightness around his half an erection.

Miggs hummed, and cuddled back against Peter, hips moving in tiny circles as he slowly started to drift towards sleep, barely noticing Peter shifting around some himself as Miggs descended further and further into unconsciousness. Miggs let out a breathy sigh when Peter wrapped both arms around his waist, slowly grinding his hips against Miggs' and kissing the back of his neck wetly, slipping off into sleep as Peter let out a soft sound of affection and desire.

Chapter Text

Miggs woke up feeling a little smothered, a hot, large body pressed tight to and half draped over him, the thick hotel comforter tangled around them both. Blinking blearily, Miggs registered that he was in bed with another man that was not his husband (who loathed cuddling because it usually resulted in skin sticking with sweat) and something thick and hard was pressing into Miggs’ hip.

After a long moment’s confusion, Miggs remembered the previous night, and the frankly ridiculous amount of sex he’d had with the near-stranger plastered against him. A blush flooded Miggs’ face as he stared up at the ceiling wide eyes, equal parts embarrassment, shame, and arousal stirring in his guts and making him feel like he’d tied his intestines into knots.

“Well, fuck,” Miggs said aloud, tensing when he realized he might wake his bed partner, but Peter didn’t even stir, breathing slow and even where his face was pressed to Miggs’ neck. Miggs silently went over the previous day, wondering at which point he’d become as bad as Aaron.

Miggs took the hand that wasn’t trapped under Peter’s body and put it over his face, blowing out a long breath. Even if he could take it back, he wasn’t sure he would. That probably made him worse than Aaron.

The arousal curling in the pit of his stomach when Peter shifted and pressed his morning wood against Miggs’ hip definitely did.

Miggs squirmed and Peter grumbled in his sleep, rolling onto his back and letting out a soft snore before turning his head and resuming the slow, heavy breaths of deep sleep. Miggs sat up and turned to look at him, body sore in the way that spoke of really great sex the night before, and Miggs pressed his knees together and bit his lip, remembering his promise to Peter in the shower.

Well. It wasn’t like not sleeping with Peter one more time was going to make what happened yesterday less of a sin than it already was.

Biting his lip, Miggs slid down the bed a little, kicking the blanket off because it was simply too hot to stay underneath it. He slipped between Peter’s sprawled legs and started kissing up the inside of Peter’s thigh, resolutely ignoring the guilt churning in his stomach as Peter let out an unconscious sigh of pleasure, hips shifting as Miggs began kissing up the underside of his cock. Peter’s skin was hot, both with arousal and sleep, and Miggs licked his lips as he wrapped his fingers carefully around the base of Peter’s shaft and slipped his mouth over the head, tongue rubbing against the slit. Peter moaned in his sleep as Miggs started to suck, sliding down over Peter’s length and reveling in the rare instance of being in control when he was sucking someone’s cock.

Peter moaned and shifted, hips lifting to start clumsily thrusting into Miggs’ mouth. Miggs groaned and made sure to keep Peter from choking him by using the one hand around Peter’s base to stop him from thrusting too far, sucking eagerly at the half of Peter’s cock in Miggs’ mouth. Peter whimpered and gasped above him, louder and more hitching than last night, and Miggs wondered if it was because he was asleep.

Miggs swirled his tongue around the head and Peter arched, reaching down with one hand blindly to grab Miggs’ hair and try to fuck further into his mouth, so Miggs quickly swallowed down his gag reflex and took Peter as far as he could, the head of Peter’s dick pressing into his throat.

Peter cried out, jerking a little as he woke, fingers fisting in Miggs’ curls so tight Miggs’ scalp stung as some of his hair parted with it, and he whimpered as Peter pushed himself up onto his other elbow, staring blearily down at where Miggs had his mouth wrapped around Peter’s cock.

Peter made a strangled noise and quickly let go of Miggs’ hair, looking embarrassed and uncertain. Miggs pulled off to gasp, spit dribbling down his chin in a decidedly unattractive way.

Wiping at his mouth with the back of one hand, he panted, “Why did you stop? I liked that.” Peter just stared at him, apparently uncomprehending, and Miggs blinked, lowering his hand uncertainly. “Peter?” Peter grimaced and rolled away, leaving Miggs to sit up with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had Peter not wanted him to wake him with a blowjob? He’d seemed more than on board with the idea last night. Maybe Miggs hadn’t been very good at it? Oh, fuck that had to be it, he’d just been doing such a shitty job he’d turned Peter off the idea completely.

“Peter, I’m sorry, I—I don’t usually—I—” Miggs stammered, but Peter didn’t even turn to look at him, rooting around on the floor next to the bed where his backpack was. He came up a moment later with a small white case, flicking it open and pulling out a small, oblong piece of plastic and pushing it into one ear. A second identical piece went into the other and then he turned to look at Miggs, looking worried and defensive. Miggs’ mouth fell a little slack as his brain scrambled to catch up.

“Oh, you’re deaf,” Miggs said dumbly, and Peter hunched, nodding in a distinctly miserable way. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—I thought you you liked the idea of me waking you up with—with sucking you off, I should have—I should have woken you first, I should have asked, I’m—” Peter blinked, looking confused and shaking his head. Miggs fell silent as Peter snagged his notepad off the nightstand, flicking through it to a blank page and looking around for his marker before finding it by the hotel’s landline.

Not upset abt the bj. Felt rly good.

“Oh,” Miggs said weakly, arms feeling a little like noodles with relief. “Then…then can I keep doing that, then?” Peter blinked, looking surprised, and then smirked and nodded, setting the notepad aside to roll back to lay flat on the bed, one leg bent and the other stretched out, with plenty of room for Miggs to lay between them. Miggs quickly settled there, nearly shaking with relief as he wrapped his hand around Peter’s cock to start eagerly sucking him again. Peter moaned and reached down to pet Miggs’ hair, fingers shaking a little. Miggs whimpered around Peter’s length and tilted his head into the touch, trying to encourage Peter into guiding him. Peter slowly knotted his fingers into Miggs’ curls, but didn’t pull or yank on them, didn’t try to force Miggs further onto his cock, didn’t do anything except hold on as Miggs bobbed his head.

Miggs pulled off with a wet noise, panting, “Please, please fuck my mouth? Like before. Please, felt so good, please.” Peter stared and then hesitantly nodded, and Miggs quickly slid his lips back over the head of Peter’s cock, squirming and moaning until Peter tightened his grip on his hair and started to cant his hips up into Miggs’ mouth, moaning loudly as Miggs eagerly took the gentle, shallow thrusts. After a minute Peter grew less timid, fucking up into his mouth more eagerly, careful not to gag him, but grabbing his hair with both hands and pulling hard enough to make Miggs’ eyes sting as he fucked his mouth shamelessly.

Miggs shuddered with pleasure, breathing heavily through his nose as Peter used his mouth, cock sliding thick and throbbing between his lips, precome occasionally beading on his tongue from the tip of Peter’s cock, thin and salty. Peter hesitantly started testing Miggs’ boundaries, thrusting a little deeper, pulling a little harder, bracing his feet to thrust faster and yanking on Miggs’ hair to make him bob his head. Miggs jaw and neck ached, but he didn’t even care, he moaned helplessly around Peter’s cock, body throbbing with pleasure as Peter face-fucked him roughly but carefully, clearly doing his best not to choke Miggs even as he started to lose a little control.

Peter’s breath came heavy and fast, chest heaving and head thrown back as he clearly started to approach orgasm, thrusts growing jerky and quick, plunging deep into Miggs’ mouth and pressing into his throat nearly every time, guttural sounds breaking from him when Miggs swallowed around his length. Miggs trembled with arousal as Peter stiffened and tugged on his hair in warning, but Miggs just rubbed his tongue against the head of Peter’s cock, eager for the taste of Peter’s come, and wasn’t disappointed. Peter let out a strangled cry and then spunk flooded Miggs’ mouth, hot and thick, and he swallowed automatically, sucking at Peter for all he was worth as the man cried out again, hips twitching to grind against Miggs’ face. After a second Peter whimpered from oversensitivity and pulled on Miggs’ hair until he let go, thick strings of come and spit trailing between Miggs’ mouth and Peter’s dick before breaking to drip along his skin.

“Fuck,” Miggs rasped, staring at the shaking, dazed man laid out in front of him. Miggs had blown Aaron countless times, and he’d never looked like that. Peter made a soft sound of agreement, and Miggs started kissing up Peter’s body, leaving wet, hot presses of his mouth every few inches until he reached his throat, hovering over Peter before slinging one leg over Peter’s thigh to start grinding against him, using the friction to try and get off. Peter whimpered at the feel of Miggs’ wet sex rubbing against him, reaching up to yank Miggs down into an open-mouthed kiss that made Miggs gasp in surprise. And then Peter started pulling at him until Miggs consented to crawl further up his body, confusion twinging through him before Peter slid down a little. Miggs blinked in surprise, mouth falling open in an ‘O’ as Peter brought him to kneeling over his face, and then blushed when Peter shot him a look that burned with need, reaching up to grab Miggs’ hips and guide him down.

“OH!” Miggs cried out when Peter dragged his tongue from Miggs’ hole to his clit, repeating the motion to make Miggs cry out again and grab the headboard in front of him reflexively. “Oh, God!” Peter hummed, pulling Miggs harder against his face to start sucking at his clit, earning another sharp cry. Peter moaned at the sound, tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves until Miggs was rocking down onto his mouth, breath coming in sharp bursts.

“Peter!” Miggs wailed, reaching down with one hand to knot his fingers in Peter’s hair, hips bucking as he came. Peter let out a surprised sound when Miggs suddenly spilled wetly over his chin and throat, Miggs’ mouth falling open in surprise at the intensity of the orgasm ripping through him. Peter moaned underneath him, switching to lapping at Miggs’ dripping hole, tongue dragging along his slit as if determined to lick up every bit of Miggs’ slick he could.

Miggs whimpered and slowly went boneless, trembling as he basically melted on top of Peter, his lover quickly reaching up to steady him and then guide him into lying sprawled on his side. Peter stayed between his legs, mouth roaming over the crux of Miggs’ legs and the insides of his thighs, sucking a couple bruises here and there. Miggs moaned, feeling almost like a bomb had gone off inside his head; everything felt dizzyingly clear and bright, like he’d suddenly had his sinuses cleared after a four month long cold.

“Wow,” Miggs said after a second, sounding raspy and dazed even to his own ears. Peter laughed and then paused when Miggs added, “I’ve never come so hard in my life. ” Peter let out a smug sound at that, holding Miggs’ legs spread with one hand to drag his tongue over his wet folds, nearly purring with satisfaction. Miggs almost asked Peter if Miggs could just take Peter home and keep him, but the rational part of Miggs’ brain quickly stomped on that.

“What time is it?” Miggs asked after a minute, arousal burning low in his stomach as Peter kept mouthing at him, almost like he wanted to see if he could get Miggs to come like that again. Peter hummed and lifted his head, twisting across the bed to bat at the alarm clock on one nightstand to turn it to face Miggs.

Almost ten.

“Noooo,” Miggs groaned, rolling onto his back and pressing his hands over his eyes. “We have to go check out.” Peter let out a disappointed noise, quickly rolling to pin Miggs down to the bed and drag his tongue up Miggs’ slit and then crawl over him, kissing at Miggs’ stomach and chest to his throat, hips pressing forward to grind half an erection against Miggs’ sex.

“Fuck!” Miggs gasped, arching and scrambling to grab onto Peter, crying out when Peter thrusted into him, cock quickly throbbing to full hardness inside Miggs and making him moan. Peter whimpered, kissing and licking at Miggs throat as he started to fuck him, fast and hard, hips bucking wildly to plunge into Miggs over and over. Miggs cried out with every sharp thrust, arching and scratching Peter’s back harshly, pleasure blooming in his body as Peter desperately fucked him. The bed creaked and complained at the force of their fucking, the rhythm quickly driving the headboard to bang against the wall loudly. Miggs had a wild, desperate thought to hope that no one in the room on the other side of that wall, since the slamming of the wood against drywall would be a little difficult for them to ignore.

Miggs forgot about it after a moment though, a loud keen of pleasure coming from his throat as Peter growled and grabbed his hips to hold him steady, breath hot and harsh against Miggs’ skin as he picked up the pace even more, fucking him like the world was about to end.

“Oh, my God, Peter!” Miggs screamed when Peter bit down on the crook of his shoulder, pleasure bursting from the sharp sting and the grind of Peter’s hips against his. Miggs arched as he came again, squeezing his eyes shut so hard stars burst behind the closed lids and his hearing went out for a second. Peter grunted and jerked, spilling hotly into Miggs’ body. Peter slowed his desperate rutting, wet noises coming from between them until he eventually stopped and then pulled out, letting go of Miggs’ shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” Miggs panted after a second, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Peter let out a concerned sound, looking a little ashamed and embarrassed when Miggs tilted his head to stare down the length of his body at him. “Oh, no, I’m glad you did that just…holy fuck. ” Peter paused then smirked, rolling to grab his notepad and flip through it before showing Miggs a line from yesterday.

Thanx but Im not god just Peter.

Miggs squawked and sat up to swat at Peter in indignation, who laughed in surprise.

“You can’t make the same shitty joke twice, asshole!” Miggs growled, gasping when Peter grabbed his wrists and threw his weight forward to pin Miggs against the mattress, making him whimper. Peter grinned and leaned down to kiss him, a wet slide of lips and tongues, Peter letting out a soft sound of surprise when Miggs bit his lower lip.

“We have to go check out,” Miggs panted when Peter pulled back. “Or they’re gonna charge me for another night, or possibly have us removed by police. And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t wanna have to get dressed in front of a bunch of strangers before being escorted off the premises by them.” Peter grimaced and then nodded, sliding off Miggs to snag up his clothes and start getting dressed. Miggs followed suit, pulling on clean underwear and then the same jeans and shirt as yesterday before shoving his feet into his shoes and tossing all his things into his overnight bag.

Glancing up, Miggs saw Peter waiting for him by the door, and Miggs quickly crossed to join him, patting his pockets to be sure he had everything.

“Okay, let’s go,” Miggs said, satisfied that he hadn’t forgotten anything.

He followed Peter down to the lobby where they turned in the key to the faintly awkward-looking desk attendant, and Miggs was sure news of their frankly obscenely loud activities hadn’t failed to spread through the hotel. Blushing, Miggs quickly finished checking out and hurried out of the hotel to his car, scowling at Peter when the man groped his ass as they threw their bags in the back.

“You’re a horrible person and I should have left you on the side of the road,” Miggs muttered, and Peter grinned. “I can never show my face at this hotel again, you ass, I bet you every single person in the building heard me screaming your name.” Peter’s eyes got a bit hot at that and he reached for Miggs, who squeaked and darted around the car to climb in the driver’s side. “Oh, no no no. Don’t you start. We are not having sex in public, no sir. You wanna get to Seattle or not, dick? Get in the damn car.” Peter’s grin didn’t vanish as Miggs spoke, quickly climbing in the passenger side and buckling in as Miggs started backing out of the space, muttering under his breath as he maneuvered the car onto the road and then onto the I-84 again.

Miggs twitched in surprise but didn’t object when Peter reached over to put his hand on Miggs’ thigh, fingers playing along the inseam of Miggs’ jeans and making the leg that wasn’t on the gas bounce agitatedly.

“If you make me crash this car because you couldn’t keep yourself from fooling around, I will kill you,” Miggs mumbled over the faint static of the radio, and Peter smirked. Miggs groaned as he realized he may have just issued the man a challenge, and from what he knew of Peter, he wasn’t one to back down, especially if it involved sex.

“Fuck,”Miggs mumbled, a tiny whimper escaping him as Peter’s fingers wandered higher on his leg.

This was going to be a very long drive home.

Chapter Text

They barely made it out of Plymouth before Miggs was jerking the car over to the side of the road and throwing it in park, reaching over to grab Peter and drag him into a kiss, gasping and jerking his hips against Peter’s hand, which he’d slid inside the recently unbuttoned fly to tease at Miggs’ clit as he drove. Peter moaned into the kiss and increased the light stroking of his middle finger to firm little circles that made Miggs cry out and buck his hips, the seatbelt over his lap hindering his movements a little.

“Please, please, please,” Miggs whimpered breathlessly, scrambling to unbuckle himself and then crawl over the console when Peter pulled his hand free of Miggs’ pants. “Want your cock, please, please!” Peter moaned and nodded, reaching up to grab Miggs’ hips and yank on his jeans until Miggs managed to kick out of his shoes and pants, kicking the dashboard of his car and banging his elbow against the window in the process. He barely noticed either, straddling Peter’s lap with his jeans around one ankle and silently thanking whatever god might listen to him that his car had reasonably comfortable seats. Peter gasped as Miggs threw off Peter’s seat belt and yanked open his pants to pull his cock free while Peter lifted his hips to make the process easier. Miggs moaned as he reached down to pull the crotch of his underwear out of the way and rub the head of Peter’s cock against his slit, their breathing loud over the sound of the quiet radio and noisy rain starting to pelt the exterior of the vehicle.

“Fuck me, fuck me please, ” Miggs begged, and Peter nodded, cupping Miggs’ hips to steady him as Miggs sank down onto his cock, crying out as Peter’s dick slid into him to the base, thick and twitching with arousal. “Fuck!” Miggs cried, clutching Peter’s shoulders with both hands to help maintain his balance. “God, I love your cock, please, I want—” Peter whimpered and tightened his grip on Miggs’ waist to nearly bruising, crying out in pleasure as Miggs started bouncing in his lap, ungraceful and desperate, body trembling with pent-up arousal. Peter whined loudly as Miggs lifted and dropped his hips as fast as he could without making his legs cramp with the effort, head bowed to avoid hitting it on the roof of the car. Miggs buried his face in Peter’s throat to mouth at the skin above his collar, sucking a dark bruise near the hinge of his jaw. Peter gasped and tilted his head to the side, so Miggs quickly started applying more hickies to the man’s skin, flushing his throat red and purple with lovebites. Miggs cried out when he felt Peter throb and start to come, pumping spunk into Miggs’ body with a harsh groan. Miggs let out a needy keen, reaching down between them to rub desperately at his clit, breathing hard.

“Please let me come, I want to come, you fucking—you made me like this asshole, please don’t leave me—” Miggs begged, words stammering and nearly incoherent, and Peter let out a soft, concerned sound before shaking his head and nudging Miggs’ hand aside to replace it with his own, rubbing in fast circles like he knew Miggs liked. Miggs shuddered when Peter lightly scratched his nail over Miggs’ clit, the sting making him buck and gasp before starting to come, tightening around Peter’s gradually-softening cock. Peter moaned helplessly as Miggs’ wetness dripped down his shaft, leaving them both shaking and panting in the passenger seat.

“Fuck,” Miggs groaned, melting against Peter and leaning his sweaty forehead against Peter’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare make me crash this car.” Peter huffed and shook his head, turning to kiss at Miggs’ throat until he sat up to pull off Peter’s cock with a soft moan.

Miggs getting his clothes back on was much harder than getting them off had been, and he ended up twisting until he was sitting in Peter’s lap with his back to him, feet braced against the floor between Peter’s as he pulled his pants back up his legs and then lifted his feet one at a time to get his shoes back on.

Miggs blushed when Peter wrapped his arms around Miggs’ waist to hold him close, kissing at the back of his neck, slow and wet. Miggs tried not to give in to the temptation to just relax back into Peter’s hold and let Peter touch him as much as he wanted for as long as he felt like it, but it was a tough sell. Miggs had never had so much sex within a week, let alone in a day that he’d been having with Peter, and it was starting to scramble his brains a little.

“God,” Miggs breathed, losing his fight not to melt in Peter’s arms and going boneless against him, letting Peter kiss and nip at the side of his neck. “Peter.” Peter hummed, hands roaming up and down Miggs’ front, petting and squeezing and just touching. Miggs found himself wondering if Peter was just very tactile, or if this much attention was a normal part of sex he’d been missing out on for the entire time he’d been sexually active.

After about five minutes, Miggs squirmed his way back into the driver’s seat, not wanting to get caught having sex on the side of the road by highway patrol. Peter slid his arm around Miggs’ shoulders instead as he started driving again, fingers playing with the curls at the back of Miggs’ neck that had him letting out small sounds of pleasure every so often.

They stopped again in Grandview, pulling into a mostly-abandoned parking garage and shutting down the car in a dark corner on the third level so they could climb into the backseat, pushing their bags to the floor.

Miggs ended up with his ass in the air, face pressed to the seat as Peter sat behind him, a little cramped but not complaining as he licked eagerly at Miggs’ sex, tongue dragging along his slit as Miggs moaned and gasped his approval, hips moving in helpless circles when Peter rubbed at his clit with one finger and pushed his tongue into Miggs’ hole, fucking him with it and making an absolutely filthy amount of noise in the quiet car.

“Fuck, Peter!” Miggs gasped, arching as Peter stroked his tongue against Miggs’ insides, short and quick enough to make him squirm. “Please, please, I can’t—I can’t wait anymore, please—!” Peter moaned in agreement and shuffled until he was kneeling behind Miggs, pushing his pants down to his knees so he could get his cock out and sheath it inside Miggs’ body. Miggs cried out and pushed back against Peter, urging him to fuck him now as Peter let out a soft huff of laughter that trailed off into a quiet whimper. Peter grabbed Miggs’ hips and started thrusting into him, short and hard, and Miggs clutched at the seat in front of himself, mouth parted to cry out and drool onto the fabric a little.

“Harder!” Miggs cried and Peter immediately obliged, hands tight on Miggs’ hips as he started slamming into him, nearly on the point of pain, but Miggs only felt good, pleasure bursting in the pit of his stomach every time Peter bottomed out. It soon proved too much and Miggs bit down on the meat of his hand to muffle a scream, coming around Peter’s cock and dragging him into orgasm as well.

Panting, they collapsed in the backseat, both of them far too tall to comfortably lay back there by themselves, let alone both of them together. Miggs barely noticed the crick in his neck or the uncomfortable angle of his legs tangled with Peter’s, too blissed-out to think about anything other than trying to figure out a way to extend this road trip with Peter into the realm of forever rather than just the rest of the day.

By the time they made it to Pomona, Miggs was wishing he could do that for reasons other than the great sex.

Peter had a terrible sense of humor, somehow managing to make a pun out of every other thing Miggs said, and he seemed absolutely delighted that Miggs couldn’t help but laugh at every single one.

“I swear to God if you say ‘yeah my dick but you can borrow it’ one more time, I’m going to kick you out the door and let you walk the rest of the way,” Miggs threatened, giggles between every few words making it anything but sincere sounding. Peter just grinned and winked, and Miggs felt the butterfly in his chest flutter wildly, the sensation far too strong by now for Miggs to even think of squashing it. Miggs blushed and ducked his head when Peter gave him a more sincere smile, reaching over to run his fingers through Miggs’ hair affectionately, hand trailing down Miggs’ neck to his shoulder and then along his arm to slowly take his hand off the steering wheel. Miggs blinked, his mouth falling open into a surprised O as he realized that Peter was trying to hold his hand.

“Oh,” Miggs said dumbly. “O-oh, yeah, um, okay.” Smiling shyly, Miggs tangled their fingers together and Peter let out a pleased sound, holding Miggs hand as he drove with the other, Peter’s thumb rubbing absently over Miggs’ knuckles every few seconds.

The gesture birthed a whole flock of butterflies in Miggs’ stomach, and he bit back a smile for the next dozen miles.

Driving past the sign that read Welcome to Seattle! sent pesticide burning through Miggs’ insides, killing every single butterfly.

“So, um,” Miggs said after a few minutes of silence, staring blankly out the windshield in front of them as Peter’s grip tightened slightly on his hand. “Where can I drop you, then?” Peter paused, and then slowly let go of Miggs’ hand to write an address on his notepad and show it to Miggs. When he got nothing but a blank look in return, Peter huffed and pulled up Google Maps on his phone, which helpfully gave Miggs directions to the place Peter wanted.

It was a squat, gray office building with big windows and double doors out front, the hedges to either side of it neatly trimmed into square shapes.

“Uh…yeah,” Miggs said after putting the car in park by the curb, staring at the building and then at Peter. “Here we are.” Peter nodded, glancing at the building before turning to look at Miggs, biting his lip before writing a note and ripping the page out of his notebook. He folded it up before Miggs could read it and then unbuckled his seatbelt, leaning over to cup Miggs’ jaw and pull him into a kiss. Miggs whimpered, trembling as Peter slid their mouths together, slow and soft, not anything like the heated, desperate, lust-driven kisses they’d exchanged for the last day. It felt different, like he was just dropping Peter off and planning on seeing him again later, surprisingly chaste and affectionate, lasting for well over a minute and leaving Miggs a little dazed.

“Oh,” Miggs said when they pulled apart, staring at Peter with hooded eyes. Peter smiled softly, pressing the folded paper into Miggs’ hand before snagging his bag out of the back and climbing out of the car.

Miggs stared after him, blinking and kicking himself when his brain regained enough functionality to realize he hadn’t even really gotten to say goodbye. After Peter disappeared inside the building, Miggs looked down at the paper Peter had given him, slowly unfolding it.

On the first line was a name.

Peter Orso.

The second line was a phone number, deliberately printed carefully so no numbers could be misread or confused for others.

And then, below that: Pls text me soon.

Miggs stared, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Excitement rushed through him at the thought that Peter wanted to stay in contact, wanted to keep talking, keep fucking, keep—?

Panic followed fast on excitement’s heels, because Miggs knew that if he stayed in contact with Peter, he would eventually have to tell Peter that he was married.

“Fuck,” Miggs groaned, leaning forward to press his forehead against the steering wheel, paper clutched in one hand. And then there would be the reveal that Miggs was as much cheating scum as his husband was, and then he’d also have to explain Peter to Aaron, who would not be happy about it, to say the least, since Miggs was well aware the man was a massive hypocrite. He didn’t even like Miggs talking to other men for more than a few minutes, let alone having sex with them over and over for an entire day.

“Fuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk,” Miggs repeated in a long, drawn out sound, head slipping from the wheel to the horn, making his car give out a miserable honk that made him jump. Deciding it would be best to drive away before Peter possibly came back out of the building, Miggs stuffed the note into his pocket and decided to leave all his problems to a later date.

While overthinking his problems on the drive to his apartment (and thus not leaving them to a later date like he’d decided he would), Miggs realized that he’d never turned his phone back on. He groaned, knowing he was probably going to find a long and probably nasty string of messages from a snubbed Aaron, Miggs held the button on the side of his phone to make it turn back on while sitting at a light, wincing when it started buzzing agitatedly a minute later.

Glancing at the screen, Miggs noted the four missed class, two voicemails, and forty texts he’d missed with a wince.

“Shit,” Miggs grumbled, idling at another stop light and glancing over the messages. His lip curled at the drunken turn they took near the middle and then the hungover apologies after that, rolling his eyes at Aaron’s less than creative insults. The last one however, made Miggs’ stomach turn unpleasantly.

Aaron 3:45 PM{ Your a shitty wife u know. U could at least let me know ur not dead.

“Fuck you,” Miggs mumbled, not even bothering listening to the voicemails or responding, choosing instead to just turn his phone back off. Miggs glared up at the red light, fury and an old shame making him chew his lip so much he ripped a bit of skin off and tasted blood.

“Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK you!” Miggs snarled, slamming a hand against the steering wheel so hard it stung. Usually Aaron was so good about not misgendering him, and this just stank of doing it on purpose to get a rise out of Miggs. It’d worked, Miggs was livid, but he doubted Aaron would be happy about it. Usually when they fought like this, it resulted in Miggs blowing his top and then coming back groveling for forgiveness, but not this time.

“Not this time, asshole,” Miggs growled as the light finally changed and he slammed his foot down on the gas hard enough to make the tires squeal.

Chapter Text

Aaron’s truck was in the apartment lot, so Miggs parked in one of the guest spaces across from it, kicking the door to his car open and snatching his overnight bag out of the backseat, ready to storm up to the apartment and tear Aaron a new one.

Stomping up the stairs to the second floor, Miggs flicked through his keys until he found the right one, muttering under his breath. If he found Aaron in bed with someone else again, this was going to be even messier than he was planning, but he almost wished he would; it would make the guilt over Peter easier to stomach.

The front door was unlocked, making Miggs’ search for the right key futile, which only served to piss him off even more.

Miggs slammed the door open and then shut behind him, making it bang in the frame loud enough that his neighbors four doors down probably heard it.

Aaron, who was sitting on the couch with a tub of fried chicken on his lap, jumped and spilled it everywhere, swearing loudly.

“What the fuck!” he shouted when he spotted Miggs, scrambling to scoop his upset food back into its container. “Miggs! Where the fuck have you been?”

“Driving home, dick!” Miggs snapped, slinging his bag to the ground and barely noticing where it landed. “And fuck you very much, get the hell off my couch!”

“What— your couch, we bought this together—”

“You’ve been unemployed for the last year , I bought it, you just happened to be there,” Miggs snarled, pointing a finger at him as he pulled out his phone with his other hand. “And by the fucking way, I thought we’d talked about calling me anything even close to fucking female—”

“Don’t be such a bitch, Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?” Aaron demanded, plunking the chicken on the coffee table to shove himself to his feet. “I thought you wanted to talk, not fucking scream at me like a harpy.”

“I’m done talking!” Miggs shouted, slamming his phone down on the kitchen counter to his left and stalking further into the apartment to stand a few feet away from Aaron in the living room. “I’m sick of—of talking and nothing fucking changing except the girls you bring home to fuck in our bed when I’m away. So fuck you and fuck talking.” Aaron gaped at him, hands hanging loose by the pockets of his sweats.

“Where is this coming from? Did your mom put you up to this or something? God, I thought you were going down there to cool off, not go freaking nuclear,” Aaron groaned, turning away to push one hand into his messy blond hair. He paused, like something had occurred to him. Turning to squint at Miggs, he frowned. “Maybe we should wait to talk about this until you’re done having your…man-period or whatever you call it.” Miggs made a strangled noise, back stiffening with fury.

“Look, babe, I know you’re upset and you came in here all hopped up and ready for a fight, but I don’t think it’s gonna help us right now,” Aaron said when Miggs started to turn red with anger, clearly ready to go off again. “Maybe let’s just take a couple hours to relax and cool off, and then we can talk. Like you wanted, yeah? I picked up those cans of paint you wanted for the baby’s room while you were gone. We can look at those?” Miggs snapped his mouth shut, a sudden sick feeling churning his gut at the thought of the second bedroom.

“No,” Miggs said slowly, and Aaron blinked, mouth falling open in surprise. Miggs was a little surprised as well; suggesting planning for the baby had defused more fights between them faster than anything else, even sex.

“Babe?” Aaron said hesitantly after a second, eyebrows drawing up and together in concern, mouth pursed in the way that Miggs had thought was cute a few days ago.

Miggs stared at Aaron, and felt….

Nothing.

Well, that wasn’t really true. He felt angry, and disgusted, and tired. He felt like he wanted to throw up and cry, to scream and rage at him until Aaron realized how much he’d hurt Miggs.

But there wasn’t any attraction. Miggs didn’t even want to hold Aaron’s hand, let alone kiss him or fuck him or have a baby with him.

“I don’t…I don’t want to be married anymore,” Miggs realized, barely registering he’d said the words aloud until Aaron made a weird sputtering noise.

“What?” he managed to finally say after a second, looking at Miggs like he’d lost his mind.

“I…” Miggs stopped and looked down at himself.

Three years. Three years he’d been fighting to make this fucking marriage work, telling himself that he loved Aaron and Aaron loved him and that was enough and would get them through any troubles they had. That once they had a baby, things would be better.

“I want a divorce,” Miggs said, looking back up and meeting Aaron’s disbelieving gaze. “I’m done.”

“I-I-I-I—” Aaron stammered, apparently so gobsmacked he couldn’t even form a cohesive sentence.

“And I want you out by the end of the week,” Miggs added, leaning down to drag his bag up off the floor again and suddenly feeling so tired. “I’m sure Mike or whatever your beer buddy’s name is will be willing to let you crash with him for a while. Or you could go stay with your dad, he’s got that house out in Tacoma. Though I’m not sure he’ll be so happy to see you, considering.” Aaron continued to sputter as Miggs walked past him and into their bedroom, which was a mess of laundry and empty water bottles and chip bags. Miggs let out an irritated sigh and set his bag down on the bed to start unpacking, kicking aside some garbage to find the basket and toss his dirty clothes into it.

“Babe, don’t you wanna…like, talk about this?” Aaron asked weakly, appearing in the door and leaning on the frame.

“No,” Miggs said simply, pitching a pair of underwear into the basket that were a little stiff from being soaked with his arousal the day before.

“Well—well don’t I get a say in this?” Aaron demanded. “I love you!” Miggs stopped unpacking and blew an irritated breath out of his nose.

“But I don’t love you,” Miggs said firmly, pushing down the sudden sorrow that statement brought. Aaron looked like he’d been slapped, but Miggs just tossed his small bag of hand tools he’d taken down to Arizona onto the bed to put away later.

“But…the baby?” Aaron protested.

“There is no baby,” Miggs insisted, turning to glare at Aaron. “I never got pregnant, not in all the years we were trying. And I’m fucking glad. I’m glad you never knocked me up because I’d still be doing this, but then I’d have some poor kid who’d have to suffer through it too.” Aaron flushed a blotchy red at that.

“You’d be a shitty mom anyway,” he spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Dad,” Miggs corrected, and Aaron lifted his head to glare at him. “I’d be a shitty dad, Aaron, mom is usually reserved for the female parent.”

“You’ve got a cunt so close enough,” Aaron snarled, and Miggs lifted his head to stare at him, wondering exactly where Aaron got the balls.

“I think you should leave,” Miggs said slowly, and Aaron glowered. “Really, because if you stay one more minute I think I might actually fucking kill you.” Aaron snorted, rolling his eyes. Miggs stepped away from his bag and towards Aaron, cold fury crawling through him, creeping over his skin like a thousand spiders.

“Get. Out,” Miggs spat, curling his hands into fists. “Before I throw you out on your Goddamn useless ass with not even your fucking shoes.” Aaron sneered before lifting his eyes to meet Miggs’ gaze and pausing. Miggs’ lip curled, and Aaron shuffled before throwing his arms out in an angry burst of energy.

“Fine!” he snapped before repeating in a shout, “ Fine! I don’t even want to be around you when you’re being like this anyway! Fuck you.” Miggs crossed his arms over his chest, nearly shaking with carefully contained rage as Aaron stomped to the closet and threw it open to start packing a bag and then change his clothes, stripping out of ratty sweats and a t-shirt to yank on jeans and a band tee, stomping his feet into a pair of beat-up sneakers as well. Aaron snatched up his bag and stormed out, and Miggs didn’t bother informing Aaron that he’d only stuffed it with four pairs of socks, a button up pj shirt and a pair of old jeans that no longer fit him.

Miggs heard the front door slam a minute later, and Miggs sat down on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the open closet across from him. The vague nausea that always came after a fight was there, but there was also a sudden, crushing sense of relief flooding him, and Miggs wondered how long he’d subconsciously known this was coming.

Miggs kicked himself when his first desire after recovering a little was to text Peter. He had his number after all, he totally could, and Peter had said soon.

But Miggs doubted “hey I just had a massive fight with my husband that I’m now getting divorced from” was a good opener to a conversation with a one-night-stand from the day before.

So after Peter was Miggs’ dad, but he was still in Mexico, and Miggs only had a faint idea what he was doing down there, and if he’d be too busy to talk with Miggs for any length of time.

So that left his mom.

Miggs grimaced. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his mom, she was just…a little overbearing. And weird. Like, scientifically-experimented-on-him-as-a-kid weird. And when he last saw her, he’d been adamant about making up with Aaron, which would bring on a tidal wave of I-told-you-sos. It almost wasn’t even worth getting comforted at all.

Sighing, Miggs got up and fetched his phone from the kitchen, noting that Aaron had probably thrown his bucket of chicken as he’d left, going by the drumsticks scattered over the floor between the couch and the door.

Denise Ortega picked up on the third ring, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Migsy honey pumpkin!” she chirped. “I’m so glad you decided to finally call me and let me know you hadn’t died in a terrible car accident on your way back to Seattle!”

“Hi Mom,” Miggs mumbled, reaching up to rub at his forehead.

“Sweetie? What’s wrong? Usually you’d at least groan at me for that if not snap at me,” Denise asked, immediately sounding concerned.

“I’m…fine. Mostly. Um.” Miggs paused, wondering whether direct or subtle would be the best route to take with breaking the news to his mother. Subtle was technically better, but Miggs just wasn’t good at subtle.

“I left Aaron,” Miggs sighed finally. “Well, actually I kicked him out, but the point is we’re getting divorced.”

“Oh, honey!” Denise cried, making Miggs wince and hold the phone away from his ear temporarily. “What happened ? I thought you were going to work things out!”

“Yeah, I…” Miggs sighed heavily and admitted, “It wasn’t going to work out, Mom. No matter what I did. Unless I was okay with him cheating on me and—and misgendering me and just—all kinds of fucking bullshit I just don’t need or want anymore.” Denise let out a sympathetic noise, and Miggs was briefly grateful she wasn’t launching into a lecture just yet. “So yeah. That’s…happening.”

“Do you wanna come down for another visit?” Denise asked hesitantly. “I’m sure there’s something with the generator you could tinker with to take your mind off things, or maybe—”

“No, no Mom, it’s okay,” Miggs interrupted, tapping his fingers against the kitchen counter and staring blankly out over the empty apartment. “I’m fine, really, I…I already feel better, to be honest. I wasn’t…happy with Aaron.”

“But…you were planning on having a baby, sweetheart,” Denise pointed out and Miggs sighed.

“A band-aid baby,” Miggs mumbled. “I’m not changing my mind, Mom.” Silence came over the line, and Miggs leaned his elbow on the counter to rub at his forehead. His mom could be a bit wishy-washy in her opinions of people; she’d hated Aaron when they’d first met (oh, how Miggs wished he’d had listened to her back then) and then loved him unconditionally the moment he’d grudgingly proposed to Miggs. Her opinion had bounced back and forth since, depending on what Miggs was griping or gushing to her about over the phone, be it the most recent fight, or the most recent addition to the baby room.

“I told you he was bad news,” she said finally, and Miggs groaned.

“I know,” he said, but knew he was better off saying nothing as she launched into a detailed recount of how she’d immediately known that Aaron was no good for her baby the instant she’d laid eyes on him and how if she ever got her claws into him she’d rip him apart for hurting her precious pumpkin sugar lump.

Miggs groaned and slouched out of the kitchen to the couch, brushing crumbs and another couple chip bags and a soda bottle off the cushions so he could sprawl face down on it, phone only loosely pressed to his ear as his mom went on, not at all deterred by his muffled pleas of “please stop”.

It took her over an hour to get it all out, and by halfway through Miggs had rolled over and pulled up Netflix on the TV, pausing to delete Aaron’s profile with a faint sense of petty satisfaction and changing the account password for good measure before playing Cutthroat Kitchen, phone cradled loosely between his shoulder and one ear so he could keep vague track of his mother’s rant in case she quizzed him on it later to see if he’d been paying attention.

Miggs pulled out the paper with Peter’s number on it while his mom was still ranting, thumbing it open and staring at the last line. Soon . How soon was too soon? A day? A week? Maybe he should at least wait until Aaron was moved out in a few days. Or wait until the divorce proceedings had started. At least then he could tell Peter yes, he was married, but he was in the middle of getting divorced.

The thought of lying to Peter about his relationship status when they’d slept together made his stomach turn, but the thought of Peter not wanting to see him again because Miggs was a horrible person was worse. And really, a little lie about when he’d decided to divorce Aaron was nothing next to flat out cheating on his spouse with an unknowing Peter.

“Ugh,” Miggs said, throwing his arm over his eyes. Either way it would probably be bad. Maybe he should just come clean, tell Peter that his marriage had been falling apart basically since it’d begun, and Peter had been…almost irresistible, and Miggs was a very, very weak man. And maybe Peter would be able to forgive him. After all, it wasn’t like Miggs had cheated on a perfectly good, faithful, loving husband. If anything, Peter would probably hate Aaron more than he hated Miggs. Miggs frowned. At least, Miggs hoped he would.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Sighing, Miggs shoved the paper back into his pocket, catching something about tuna casserole and Aaron’s terrible oral hygiene from his mom on the phone before staring up at the ceiling blankly while Alton Brown cackled like a cartoon villain on the TV.

He wouldn’t text Peter until after Miggs and Aaron had at least filed the papers to get divorced. It would be at least a week or so, and that would help Miggs not look like a desperate, lonely asshole clinging after a one-night-stand he’d picked up on the side of the road in Oregon to boot.

“And I swear he pissed in my hydrangea bushes Christmas before last, they wilted out of nowhere honey, they don’t just do that!” Denise said and Miggs rolled his eyes, shifting on the couch until he was lying on his side so he could watch TV and listen to his mom at the same time.

Tentatively, he started to feel, for the first time in years, that things were going to actually work out okay.

Chapter Text

Miggs got the papers he needed for divorce the next morning after falling asleep on the couch. He printed them out at the college, and thankfully no one caught him at it, because he wasn’t quite ready to explain to his coworkers, whom he was on rocky terms with to begin with, that yes, grouchy Miggs Ortega was getting a divorce after three years of marriage, fuck off.

He filled the papers out in his office, chin propped on one fist as he methodically entered line after line of information, citing ‘irreconcilable differences and lifestyle choices’ as his reason for petitioning for the divorce. He wanted this to go as smoothly and quickly as possible, and he knew if he flat out wrote ‘husband is a cheating bastard and I’m sick of him’ on the papers, Aaron would immediately do his best to make this as messy and drawn-out as he could. Miggs was a little worried Aaron might try to fight for some of their property, but since Miggs kept nearly-immaculate records of purchases and payments since he’d had to carefully balance his finances since the accident with his back, he knew any shit Aaron tried to pull there probably wouldn’t last long.

Miggs finished filling out the paperwork with a sigh and pushed away from the desk and tucked the papers into his bag, walking to his car and heading for the nearest courthouse to turn them in. There was a very long line, and Miggs spent most of it resisting the urge to pull out his phone and the sheet of paper in his pocket with Peter’s number on it. He hadn’t put Peter’s number in his phone yet because he knew that the moment he did he would text him; his self control was simply too weak to tempt himself like that.

The woman sitting behind the desk chewing gum took the sheets of papers from him with a distinctly bored attitude, laying them out in front of herself before slowly pecking at her keyboard with two fingers.

“You understand this is a serious filing sir,” she droned, and Miggs nodded, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair, grateful that he was at least off his feet, but impatient to leave. “Alright. The petition and summons will be delivered to your spouse to sign off on in the next few days. Do you know if the divorce will be uncontested or not?”

“Hoping for uncontested,” Miggs muttered, and the woman slid her gaze to Miggs, staring at him flatly before lifting one penciled eyebrow and returning her gaze to the computer screen.

“Very well,” she droned. “If so, after a ninety day waiting period, your divorce will be finalized. Any questions or concerns?”

“Nope,” Miggs said flatly, resisting the desire to slump in the chair like a child trapped in church on a sunny Sunday morning.

“Very well, Mr. Fuller,” she said, glancing over the papers. “Would you like your name changed while you’re here?” Miggs nodded, and she reached behind herself to pull a couple sheets of paper from an organizer and then push them at him with a pen to fill out. Miggs provided his driver’s license for her to check and she gave him another sheet to have it updated as well. Blowing out a breath, Miggs filled out the papers as quickly as he could without making any mistakes that would require white-out and then pushed them at her. She slowly filed them away and tapped at her computer, squinting at the screen through her half-moon glasses for a minute as it beeped at her.

“Alright,” she said. “You’re free to go.” Miggs let out a relieved breath and shoved himself out of his chair, striding out of the courthouse as fast as he could. When he got to his car, he sat in the front seat and trembled for a little bit, the gravity of what he was doing hitting him a bit like a truck with a lead-footed driver.

He’d met Aaron just after he’d started walking again. He’d been debt-ridden, nervous about dating, and only been presenting full-time as male for a couple years. Miggs’ parents had been supportive for the most part, if confused, and Aaron had been one of the first people to never know Miggs when he’d still been trying to feel okay in his own skin.

Aaron had been sweet. A little hot-tempered, but Miggs was too, and that was okay. Fire and ice, Aaron had called them after their first really big fight, over Miggs wanting to move too slow and not have sex for a while longer. They’d worked it out, sort of. Miggs told Aaron he was trans a couple days after that fight, and then hadn’t heard from Aaron for almost a week.

When Aaron finally had texted back, Miggs had been relieved. So relieved, he’d immediately forgiven Aaron’s response of “just surprised you weren’t actually a man.”

Miggs grimaced and leaned forward to press his forehead against the steering wheel. That had been a mistake. A desperate, lonely, stupid man’s mistake. And now he was paying for it. But that was okay, because if he’d never married Aaron, he would never have gone on the trip that brought him Peter, and that made it worth it. You know, if Peter didn’t hate him when Miggs revealed everything that had been going on and he’d failed to mention.

Sighing, Miggs pulled himself together and grabbed his phone to text Aaron.

Filed paperwork. Should b served to u in the next week or so. Just sign it & turn it in. }Miggs 1:34 PM

1:35 PM Aaron{ I cant believe u r actually doing this.

Miggs blew out another breath and rolled his eyes, not even bothering to respond. Tucking his phone away, Miggs started up his car to go home and continue packing up Aaron’s belongings from around the apartment so he could be gone as fast as possible.

Aaron was sitting outside the apartment when Miggs got home, and Miggs groaned after parking his car. The last thing he wanted was another fight or confrontation.

“Hey,” Aaron said softly as Miggs walked up the stairs towards him, scowling.

“Unless you’re here to take your things, go away,” Miggs grumbled, jiggling his key in the lock until it worked and he was able to open the door.

“I wanna talk, babe,” Aaron insisted, scrambling after Miggs before he could shut the door again.

“I’m not your babe,” Miggs snapped, grabbing the last few books that were Aaron’s off the shelf by the TV and tossing them in a box. Slapping the flaps shut, Miggs walked to Aaron and shoved it into his arms, scowling. “Move your shit out of my place if you’re insisting on hanging around.”

“I don’t fucking get you,” Aaron mumbled, kicking at the front door until it opened and making his way downstairs to throw the box in the bed of his truck before coming back upstairs. “You say you wanna talk and work shit out a couple days ago and now you’re dead set on this fucking divorce. Total one-eighty.” Miggs shrugged, standing by the couch with his arms crossed.

“Finally came to my Goddamn senses, I guess,” Miggs growled as Aaron snatched up a big garbage bag Miggs had thrown his clothes into, scowling.

“Or lost your fucking mind,” Aaron snapped. “What are you gonna do without me, huh? Who’s gonna take care of you?” Miggs barked a laugh.

“I’m the only one of the two of us who has a fucking job, Aaron,” Miggs sneered, and Aaron pulled a face.

“I meant who’s gonna fuck you,” Aaron insisted. “I know you’re scared of telling people you’re not a real dude. You just gonna be celibate the rest of your fucking life?” Miggs paused and then shrugged, the paper with Peter’s number on it in his pocket feeling like it was on fire in his pocket.

“I’ve got hands, Aaron,” Miggs said, wiggling a few fingers at him. “I’m sure I can manage.” Aaron rolled his eyes and grabbed another bag of clothes, dragging both to the truck and swearing when one ripped on the rough concrete. Miggs rolled his eyes and threw himself down onto the couch to pull up Netflix again so he had something to look at other than Aaron.

“Who’s gonna give you that baby you want so bad, then?” Aaron asked when he reappeared in the doorway. “Can’t get pregnant if no one’s fucking you.” Miggs growled under his breath, turning to glare at Aaron.

“It’s none of your business anymore,” Miggs snapped, crossing his arms over his stomach. “Get your shit and get the fuck out already.” Aaron scowled and grabbed a few more boxes, making a few treks back and forth between his truck and the apartment to gather the rest of his belongings. He spent some time poking around the apartment after that, making sure Miggs hadn’t missed anything and taking a few of Miggs’ things as well. Miggs barely cared; the things Aaron was taking were easily replaceable and if it made him feel better then Miggs could let it go, if only for the sake of getting this divorce over faster. He slammed the door when he left for the last time, and Miggs slumped down on the couch, letting out a long sigh of relief.


 

Miggs nearly cried when the courthouse informed him that Aaron had signed off on the uncontested divorce a few weeks later.

Okay, he actually did cry, but he waited until he was alone to do so, laying face down on his couch weeping like a baby with relief before texting both his parents that the paperwork had cleared and he’d be officially divorced in a few months. Miggs had giggled at the thumbs up emoji his dad sent and the dancing fox with pom poms his mother somehow found appropriate. Tucking his phone away, Miggs let out a sigh, staring blankly at the screen of his TV, which was playing some Spanish novella he’d put on out of a vague sense of homesickness that had been pestering him for a while. He’d been considering another, longer, trip down to Arizona, if only so he could spend some time with his dad, but the new semester started soon, and he didn’t really have time.

Miggs watched some dark haired Latina beauty sob about how the evil twin brother of her husband had tricked her into having sex with him and getting pregnant with his baby, and rolled his eyes. It seemed every other episode of this show someone was getting pregnant by someone they weren’t supposed to be, or getting shot.

"How did you know? ” the character’s mother asked, nearly swooning with dismay.

My period was late! ” she cried, and Miggs paused, temporarily losing track of the show as he recalled Aaron asking who was going to get him pregnant, and then accusing him of being on his period a couple weeks before that. But Miggs hadn’t been forced to deal with that monthly hell week for…

With a frown, Miggs sat up and checked his phone, flipping through the apps until he came upon one labeled Clue , flicking it open and staring as it informed him that he was almost a month late.

“Oh, shit,” Miggs said, staring blankly for a few more minutes before his brain managed to kick itself back into functioning, prompting him to scramble into a sitting position. “Okay, okay, it’s uh—it’s probably just stress, you’re in the middle of getting divorced and it’s just—”

You’re pregnant! ” the TV wailed, and Miggs jumped, swearing loudly as he scrambled for the remote to pause the stupid novella with shaking fingers.

“Or…or that,” Miggs whispered, staring at the paused TV for a minute before switching his gaze down to his stomach. “Oh, fuck.”

Miggs spent some time figuring out when he and Aaron had last had unprotected sex. It’d been more than six months and he heaved a sigh of relief before promptly seizing up with panic again. With Aaron disqualified as the father, that only left…

“Peter,” Miggs said numbly, looking at his phone with wide eyes. The only person he’d had unprotected sex with recently was Peter. And they’d fucked a lot. And Peter had most certainly come in him over and over; it would be pretty hard to not get Miggs pregnant.

“I should have gotten tested,” Miggs muttered, putting his face on his knees and trying to take steady breaths. “I should have gotten fucking tested.”

Miggs had brought it up after they’d been trying for six months. Aaron had denied that anything could have been wrong with his spunk, and instead blamed Miggs’ bits instead. And Miggs had to wonder if it really was him that wasn’t able to have kids; maybe something from the accident had fucked something up inside of him and made it impossible—

Miggs realized he was hyperventilating when he made a wheezy sort of noise that startled him, and he quickly tried to regain control over himself.

“Okay, okay, fuck, okay,” Miggs gasped, rocking slightly before sprawling flat on the couch and making himself take even breaths. So he could be pregnant, that was a possibility. And if he was, it was Peter’s, his one night stand from almost a month ago that he still hadn’t texted.

“Ooooh, fuck,” Miggs wheezed, feeling a little queasy all of a sudden. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Not good.”

Miggs was pretty sure ‘I’m getting divorced’ was a bad opening line for reestablishing contact with Peter.

‘I’m getting divorced and I’m pregnant with your kid’ was definitely worse.

Chapter Text

There was really only one way to know for sure, so when Miggs was fairly certain he wasn’t about to blow chunks the moment he moved, he dragged himself off the couch and down to the car, heading for the nearest store.

The cashier smiled inanely at him as he bought five different brands of pregnancy tests and a giant bottle of water, which he started drinking as soon as he’d paid for it, nearly chugging the entire thing before making it back to where he’d parked his car. He drove home with the bag of tests in the passenger seat where he’d fucked Peter a month ago, and Miggs did his best to not count the number of times he’d let Peter come inside him.

It was a very high number for the amount of time they’d spent together.

He didn’t need to piss yet by the time he got home, so he dumped the tests on the counter and unboxed them, reading through the instructions and finding them all more or less the same thing. So he refilled the water bottle in his sink and sat down in front of the TV to drink it as fast as he could without making himself sick. It took a while to get to the point where he was sure he could go, and then he fetched a disposable cup from the coffee cupboard and took it and all five tests into the bathroom.

He pissed into the cup and then dipped each test into it for a few seconds and then set them aside for the two or three minute wait, dumping the cup after and flushing before pacing the bathroom impatiently, washing his hands and picking at his wild curls just for something to do. When his phone finally relayed that it’d been enough time, Miggs grabbed the first test and checked it, a knot forming in his stomach as he read the result. Setting it aside, he picked up the next, and then the next, and the others as well.

Every single one read a big fat positive.

“Oohh, shit,” Miggs groaned, feeling a little dizzy. “Shit, fuck, oh fuck.” Dropping the tests on the counter, Miggs bent over and put his hands on his knees in an attempt to stave off the dizzy sensation making him stagger.

Pregnant. If that wasn’t the biggest slap of karma-cum-irony he’d had in a long, long time, he didn’t know what was.

After a minute he managed to calm himself down enough to be reasonably sure he wouldn’t fall over if he stood up straight, so he did so, taking a few deep breaths and then sweeping the tests into the garbage, having served their purpose.

Miggs had tried for years to get pregnant with Aaron. And one day with Peter had clearly knocked Miggs up very thoroughly.

His eyes glazed over a little as he took a short trip down memory lane, recalling exactly how thorough Peter was before shaking himself and scowling. Okay, so. Pregnant. That wasn’t really how he wanted this to go.

Miggs glanced at the door to the second bedroom, which he’d left shut ever since he’d kicked Aaron out.

With a sigh, Miggs pushed it open and stood in the doorway, staring around at the half-finished nursery. Miggs had wanted a baby; Aaron had been mostly neutral on the idea. Still, they’d spent months picking colors and furniture and decor more carefully in this one room than they had in the entire rest of the apartment.

It was the smaller of the two bedrooms, with a window bordered by a white frame and grilles, pale yellow curtains shut over the glass. Two of the three walls were painted a soft cream Miggs had picked (and Aaron had deemed boring part way through painting), and the furniture was brown and white wicker and wood. There were a few unopened paint cans by the crib, the sample splotches on the lids showing them all to be various shades of blue and green, the shades poorly matching any of the other colors in the room. Miggs absently made a mental note to get rid of those, stepping past them to hesitantly put his hands on the adjustable railing on the side of the crib, looking down at the still-packaged bedding inside, along with a small, stuffed panda bear plush tucked between the pillows. Miggs had picked it out despite it not really going with the decor of the room, thinking it was cute enough for an exception to be made, at least until the kid could develop their own taste toward toys.

Pulling the teddy free of the crib, Miggs stared down at it for a while before looking down at his stomach.

When he’d last really thought about being pregnant, having a baby, being a parent, he’d craved the glowing happy family he pictured. Him and Aaron, with some beautiful blond child that magically fixed all of their problems and brought them closer as a couple. Miggs had always liked small children and babies, so inquisitive and smart despite all their negative aspects. Diapers and tantrums were never a thing to look forward to, and yet they did sort of pale in comparison to the thought of first steps and first words and wild black curls and blue eyes….

Miggs buried his face in the soft stomach of the bear, muffling a strangled groan. He was positive Peter was the father, and if he’d had a choice, Miggs would have picked him over Aaron anyway. But that didn’t change the fact that Peter was a one-night-stand from a month ago, that Miggs had failed thus far to find the courage to text him even something as lame as “hi, this is Miggs, the guy you fucked silly a few weeks ago.” And even then , Miggs didn’t really know anything about Peter. He knew he was a good fuck, and that he knew enough about engineering to keep up a conversation with Miggs about it (which, considering he taught advanced classes at a college, said something) and that he drove a motorcycle. That he liked puns and was deaf and looked at Miggs like he was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen, that he’d given Miggs his number, that he wanted Miggs to contact him again.

Pulling the bear away from his face, Miggs stared down at him, letting out a sigh.

And he knew that even just the day he’d spent with Peter had been better than the last several years he was with Aaron, sex or no sex. That Peter had taken Miggs being trans like Miggs had informed him his hair was brown, not treating him any different at all. Still finding him attractive and not just because he might be “into girls too” like Aaron.

Hugging the bear against his chest, Miggs went into his own room, sitting on the edge of the bed and plucking the slip of notebook paper off the bedside table. It was a bit grubby after a month, the folds of it deeply creased from being unfolded and folded so many times. Miggs had Peter’s number memorized by now, the writing just as familiar even though it only spelled out a few words.

Peter Orso.

Plz text soon.

Miggs tugged his phone free of his pocket, slowly opening a new message window and plugging Peter’s number into it.

Hey. This is Miggs. So I’m totally fucking insane. U were a 1 night thing & I kept some things from u I probably shouldn’t have. I’m in the middle of getting divorced rn and well….you got me pregnant. And I want to keep it. I really, really, REALLY want to keep it. And I want to see u again too.

Miggs stared down at the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a minute before deleting it all and backing out of the window, swearing under his breath. Worst opening line ever. ‘Hey guy I barely know, I’m having your kid and also do you maybe want to date me???’ Anyone in their right mind would block his number at best or start a huge novella-worthy drama at worst.

Tossing his phone and the paper onto the comforter, Miggs curled up on his side with the bear held to his chest, staring at them for a while before letting out a long, slow breath that seemed to untie a knot in his stomach as he came to a decision.

He took the paper with Peter’s note on it, and returned the bear to its place in the crib, pausing at the shelves above the changing table to pull down the baby book waiting to be filled with pictures and notes. It was a simple white and gray bound one, with a slick silver heart on the front. It’d been the simplest one he’d been able to find that didn’t look like a spiral notebook, and the pages inside were simple white paper with dark gray lines and fill-in-the-blanks, thicker pages in the back with squared borders for pictures to be taped or glued in. Miggs tucked the note between the first two pages, where the blank line leading up to the words …was born to _________ & _________ on… was, then put the book back on the shelf and left the room, shutting the door behind himself.

Resolutely ignoring the tight feeling in his chest, Miggs started making plans to see his doctor, and how to tell his parents he was having a baby after all.


 

The doctor visit turned out to be the easier part. After spending a bit of time online (definitely not punching in the conception date to a calculator and finding out the approximate due date) and then some on the phone, Miggs ended up at the office of a doctor covered by his insurance a week or so later for his first prenatal.

The secretary gave him a bit of an odd look as he sat in the waiting room by himself, but she looked away again when he scowled at her before slouching in his seat to play with his phone.

Miggs had decided that he wouldn’t text Peter. The thought alone made it feel like his heart was squeezing and twisting in his chest, and a part of him knew it was wrong to keep Peter’s child from him, but Miggs didn’t even know if Peter wanted a child in the first place, and it would be even more wrong to saddle him with a baby out of nowhere like this. Miggs could be a single parent, he was fine with that. It wasn’t like any romantic relationship in his life had ever really worked out anyway, so it wasn’t like he’d hoped anything would come of a random one-night-stand with a stranger….

“Ortega?”

Miggs looked up to see a short man with a bald head standing in the door leading to the back, smiling brightly at him. Miggs stood up, drawing the attention of the secretary and the few other people sitting in the waiting room. He was the only person here that wasn’t a woman or with a woman, so everybody stared as he awkwardly made his way toward the bespectacled man in a white coat, clipboard in one hand.

“I’m Doctor Terrence Henry, I’ll be your obstetrician,” the man said, waving Miggs through the door and saving him from the stares of everyone in the previous room. The door clicked shut behind them as Henry led Miggs down a short hall lined with doors and into an exam room where he indicated for Miggs to sit on the bed covered in paper.

“So! You’re pregnant uhh…you prefer male pronouns, yeah?” Henry peered at his clipboard, adjusting his glasses and flipping a page. “Your records say that you’re transgender, but have forgone any surgery.”

“Yeah,” Miggs said, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d been lucky enough that he passed relatively easily, keeping his curly hair short and his clothing masculine enough for most people to assume his gender off the bat.

“Alrighty then! So Mr. Ortega, you’re pregnant! What do you want to do now?” Henry sat in the chair across from the bed, crossing his legs at the knee and resting the clipboard on them.

“Uh. Get through my prenatal schedule, I guess…?” Miggs said after a moment’s hesitation.

“So you want to keep the pregnancy? You don’t want an abortion,” Henry clarified, and Miggs shook his head, crossing his arms tighter over his chest.

“N-no, I want it. The baby. I want the baby,” he muttered, glaring down at where the toes of his shoes brushed the floor.

“You didn’t bring your partner with you today?” Henry asked absently, making a brief note on his clipboard with a pen he pulled from the breast pocket of his coat.

“He’s not in the picture,” Miggs said, fighting the urge to slouch like a petulant child. Doctors tended to make him uncomfortable; even with Henry’s seemingly easy-going and accepting demeanor, too many doctors in Miggs’ life had chosen to see him as his “biological sex” and hardly acknowledged his preferred gender and presentation at all. It’d been the worst after his accident, when he’d been in the hospital for months, even with his mom being his primary surgeon, the doctors and nurses had seen him…differently, especially since he’d had no desire for surgery and in the hospital gown he’d looked more androgynous than male.

“Ex-partner then?” Henry asked, looking up as Miggs actually did slouch down at that, glaring at the floor hard enough it should have burst into flame.

“One night stand,” Miggs finally admitted, fighting the urge to say something rude when Henry hmmed and made another note.

“Alright, we’ll have you tested for any diseases then while we’re at it,” he said, looking up when Miggs made a noise. “Just to be safe. And you’re sure you want to keep it? Life-changing decision, son.” Miggs nodded, and then did his best not to growl as he answered Henry’s questions, starting with his menstrual cycle and moving through his family’s medical history, and awkwardly explaining the state of his back, discussing possibly being wheelchair bound again for the last couple months of his pregnancy to avoid any permanent damage to his spine and hips, plus the probability of a c-section birth.

“Anything you can tell me about the father’s genetic or medical history?” Henry asked, not looking too hopeful for any information.

“He’s deaf,” Miggs said after a moment. “Wears hearing aids. I don’t know if it’s a genetic thing or what.” Henry nodded and made a note, tapping his pen against his chin thoughtfully before continuing, a little while later setting his clipboard aside to give Miggs a thorough physical, taking his weight, blood pressure, and other data, poking and prodding until Miggs was staring up at the ceiling with gritted teeth from being touched and moved around so much by a stranger. And if that wasn’t enough, he also had the joy of a pap smear, providing a urine sample via the rooms small adjoined bathroom, and giving blood for tests.

“Not a fan of needles, mm?” Henry asked blandly as Miggs tapped the fingers of his free hand agitatedly against the edge of the bed as Henry quickly extracted a few vials for the necessary labs.

“No,” Miggs grunted, grimacing when Henry pulled the needle free and quickly taped a wad of gauze over the small puncture.

Henry chattered the whole time, which was both calming and irritating. He constantly told Miggs what he was doing before he did it so he wasn’t surprising Miggs with any sudden grabbing, but he also kept talking about not smoking, not drinking, cutting out caffeine (“Yes, even coffee, Mr. Ortega”), leaving Miggs a bit exhausted and irritable after he was finally done.

“So, you’re about ten weeks in,” Henry said as Miggs shoved his feet back into his shoes, struggling not to pick at the tape on his arm that kept catching on his hair. “Your due date’s about April 10th. We’ll have you in again in a few weeks, during your second trimester. You’ll have your first ultrasound then, but won’t really know the baby’s sex until a visit or two after that. If, uh, that’s something you want to know.” Miggs shrugged, giving in and peeling the tape off his arm to adjust it so it wasn’t quite so irritating. “Alright then. Any questions?”

“Can I leave now?” Miggs grumbled and Henry let out a surprised huff of laughter and then an awkward cough.

“Yes, that’s about it.”

“Great,” Miggs said, hurrying ahead of Henry and fighting the urge to bolt from the waiting room when all those curious eyes turned on him again. He managed to make it to the parking lot with some semblance of normal, scowling heavily until he got into his car.

Leaning his forehead against his steering wheel, Miggs sighed, closing his eyes. After the doctor visit, it suddenly felt much more real , and he was a bit embarrassed to realize he was trembling a little.

“And now the hard part,” Miggs muttered to himself when he finally got himself together enough to pull out his phone, scrolling through his sparse contacts and bringing one up to make a call.

It rang three times before it picked up, background noise making Miggs hold the phone away from his ear for a second as the man on the other end of the line yelled into the receiver, “Miggs? What’s up, kiddo!”

“Hi, Dad,” Miggs said, just switching his phone to speaker and turning the volume down some. “Uh. Well. I…”

“What?” Bernie Ortega shouted, making Miggs wince as the background noise (he was pretty sure it was a bandsaw, he just hoped his dad wasn’t using it and his phone at the same time…), “Denise, turn that off for a second!” Miggs, briefly torn between relief and a bit of disappointment, sighed as the background noise cut off suddenly. He’d hoped to catch his father alone and have Bernie break the news to her, but it was also a bit easier just to get it all over at once like this.

“Migsy?” Denise’s voice came over the line and Miggs assumed his father had figured out his own speakerphone function as well, or Denise had taken the phone from him.

“Hi Mom,” Miggs said, rubbing a couple fingers against his forehead and struggling not to sigh loud enough for them to hear.

“What’s going on Migsy, you sound stressed, is it Aaron? Bernie, I swear if I ever even see that man again, I’m going to—”

“Mom, Mom , no, it’s not Aaron,” Miggs quickly cut her off before she could really get going, not wanting to get derailed into an Aaron-hate-fest (not that at this point he wouldn’t be right there with her). “No, um. I have some news. Not Aaron-related-news.”

“Oooh?” Denise trilled, sounding as intrigued as a suburban soccer mom at a weekend barbecue ready for all the gossip of the cul-de-sac.

“Yeah, uh. I’m. I’m, um.” Miggs struggled for a minute, wondering why the fuck this was so hard .

“You’re not in trouble, are you, son?” Bernie asked, and for a brief second Miggs glowed with relief and love.

“No, I’m not, actually…” Miggs glanced down at his stomach, laying a hand over the tiniest swell in his lower abdomen that Henry had pointed out during his physical. “Actually, I’m…great. I’m, um. I’m pregnant.”

There was a brief stretch of silence, and then so much yelling from his mother Miggs automatically held the phone further away despite the fact it wouldn’t do anything since they were on speaker.

“Mom—MOM!” Miggs shouted, resisting the urge to hang up due to the absolutely undecipherable stream of noise Denise was producing. There was the brief sound of a scuffle and Denise’s voice grew quieter, Bernie’s overtaking most of the noise.

“Did I hear ya right?” Bernie asked and Miggs produced a hum in affirmative, the moment thoroughly spoiled by his mother’s abrasive reaction. He knew she was yelling something about his marriage and Aaron and his future and other things born of worry only parents know, but it didn’t change the fact that it was annoying . “And you’re planning on keeping it then, if you’re telling us like this?”

“Yeah.”

“Aaron?”

Miggs paused, wondering how to explain this in a way that wouldn’t turn him into even more of a disappointment to his parents than he already was, a divorcee in his thirties with no friends and no future beyond the accident growing into a life in his stomach.

“…it’s not his, Dad,” Miggs finally admitted with a sigh, hearing Denise fall silent in the background. “And even if it was, I wouldn’t want him around anyway.” Bernie let out a long sigh that immediately set Miggs off trying to explain, feeling like a teenager caught cutting his hair far too short for a ‘pixie cut’. “It—it’s not like that, I—this was after I’d decided to leave him, I mean it was over with Aaron a long time ago, it was just a fling and I didn’t—I didn’t think this was going to happen but—”

“But it has,” Bernie interrupted, tone a little flat, and a lot unreadable. Miggs struggled not to deflate.

“Yeah,” he said, voice small.

“And this is what you want? To keep it? Raise it? Love it?”

“…yeah.”

“Okay,” Bernie said, voice warming enough to make Miggs perk up. “Look, your mom’s about to explode, do you want me to hang up and save you or—”

“Don’t you dare, Bernie!”

“Love you, bye,” Miggs hurriedly ended the call, already too emotionally drained from his day of doctors and parents to deal with his mom wanting to know every single detail of his appointment and pregnancy and who’d fathered her grandchild and her stories of being pregnant with him and raising him. That could wait for another day, he still had to drive home and start making more room for a real actual child in his life rather than a hypothetical one.

Chapter Text

Peter’d had one night stands before. Hell, he’d had great one night stands before.

But this….this had been different. He wasn’t quite sure how or why, but there was something about Miggs that fit. At first Peter had thought it was the fact that Miggs seemed to keep up with Peter in bed, somehow always eager for more, even on the brink of exhaustion, kneeling in the tub half asleep sucking at Peter’s cock like he couldn’t get enough…

Peter shook himself free of the memory trying to focus. He’d thought at first it’d been the sexual compatibility, which was definitely there. But the more he thought on it, the less he lingered on the feel of Miggs’ body and more on how he wanted to keep talking with him. Because that was something Miggs did. He talked with Peter, even though he didn’t sign and Peter didn’t speak. He hadn’t at all seemed to mind that Peter had had to hold up his half of the conversation via pen and paper, and had barely blinked when he’d realized it was because Peter was deaf. Peter wanted to keep talking with Miggs, wanted it almost desperately.

That was probably what led to Peter giving Miggs his number, something he’d never done with a random fuck he’d picked up off Tinder, let alone the side of the road in a different state.

Still, there was... something about Miggs that had Peter checking his phone every day after Miggs had dropped him off, hoping for a text from an unknown number starting off with anything remotely similar to ‘Hey, it’s Miggs…’

Instead, his phone remained frustratingly free of any such messages. He tried not to think too hard about it the first few days; they’d both just gotten back in town and from what Peter had gathered, Miggs had been away a while and probably needed time to settle back in before texting Peter.

A week later, he was almost constantly kicking himself for not getting Miggs’ number in return somehow. Maybe he’d lost the note?

Maybe...maybe he just wasn’t interested?

“If you give that bowl any sadder of puppy eyes, I’m pretty sure it’ll start to cry, Peter.”

Peter looked up with a frown at the woman across the table from him, who lifted a dark eyebrow in challenge. Myra Bernard was a beautiful, dark woman with elegant stature and bearing, who also currently had alfredo sauce on her chin.

Face, Peter said, gesturing at his own chin. You’re so messy, how does Cora stand it?

Myra rolled her eyes and delicately wiped her face with a paper napkin pulled from the dispenser on the table.

Don’t try to distract me, it won’t work, she replied, hands flicking through the signs as easy as breathing. What’s got you looking like your childhood pet died? Peter briefly considered lying to her, but as one of the only people he knew that signed, Myra was as close to a best friend he had, despite the fact that she was just a part time translator the company Peter was currently employed by kept on hand.

I met someone, Peter replied hesitantly, and Myra gave him an unimpressed look, taking another bite of her pasta lunch and leaving another flick of sauce on her chin.

Okay, so, Peter meeting someone wasn't that unusual; his sex life was active and open and everyone was very aware of it.

And it was...different, he added, fighting the blush he could feel burning at the tips of his ears. That got one eyebrow to lift slightly, Myra far too seasoned in Peter’s gossip about his lifestyle to be caught off guard yet.

I gave him my number and he hasn’t texted me and I’m upset about it, okay? Peter admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat before dropping them next to his lunch, which was largely untouched.

That got both of Myra’s eyebrows climbing her forehead, mouth falling a bit slack with her fork halfway between it and her plate.

“Wait, what?” she demanded, quickly dropping her utensil to switch to sign. Usually it’s the whole other way around! Them giving you their number and them being sad when you never talk to them again!

I said it was different! Peter replied, shooting her a sour look. He’s the one that picked me up in Oregon and got me back here last week. He was...great.

Okay, stop right there, I don’t need another play-by-play, Myra said, making a face. As a lesbian, she was rarely interested in any details of Peter’s exploits, not to mention the fact that she was happily married. It’s been, what, a week? Give the poor dude some time, would you have texted him right away?

I…. Peter glanced away awkwardly before admitting, I would have texted him the minute he was out of sight. He looked back to see Myra squinting at him, a smirk starting to play around the corners of her full mouth.

You liiiiiiike him, she said, her expression drawing out the sign in a way her hands couldn’t quite do on their own.

I fucked him like a dozen times, of course I like him, Peter retorted, rolling his eyes.

No I mean you’ve got a big fat crush on him, Myra said, her smirk blooming into fruition when he blushed.

I do not! I just….I want to see him again. I think we could be good friends, Peter said, sticking his tongue out at her when her smirk didn’t fade.

Good friends who fuck? she asked, shaking her head. Don’t live in denial, Peter, it’s boring.

It doesn’t matter either way if he never texts me back, Peter grumbled, poking at his lunch when Myra didn’t say anything for a moment.

It’s only been a week. Give him time. Maybe something came up, she said with a shrug, and Peter grunted in response.


 

Peter told himself he gave up waiting for Miggs to text him after a month. Clearly he wasn’t interested.

Peter most definitely wasn’t disappointed, no sir. His loss.

Still, it took Peter a bit to really get back into his usual routine. Myra tried to call him out on it, but he ignored her and brushed her off until she gave up.

It’s been three months, accept you liked him a lot! she said exasperatedly. Peter just shrugged, absently swiping through his phone with one hand.

It was nothing, he said. Let it go.

Take your own advice, she said when she thought he wasn’t looking, earning a blunt middle finger in return for her efforts.

Peter told himself that he had let it go. He was seeing other people, had stopped expectantly checking his messages, long-since squashed the urge to look Miggs up on SPU’s website, or worse, go roam the campus like a creepy stalker until he came across him.

He did sometimes wonder though, what had happened. If it’d just been an accident, if Miggs had misplaced his number and was just as disappointed. But that could easily be solved by hanging around outside the place he’d dropped Peter off...though Miggs didn’t know Peter worked there, for all he’d known it was just a random location Peter’d picked for safety reasons. He could have searched Peter’s name online though, he had a Facebook.  Not one he checked often, mind, but it was there.

Really, the only explanation Peter found remotely plausible was that Miggs had decided he wasn’t interested in seeing Peter again. And that was fine. A lot of people Peter hooked up with decided that. It didn’t hurt then, and it certainly didn't hurt now.

And he most certainly was not still getting off to the memory of Miggs over six months later.

“So, uh, Myra says you’re a great teacher, despite your, um….disability….and I’m sure you can figure out how to teach--I mean, you know, alternative ways of teaching without lecturing...like power points and stuff.”

Peter nodded genially along, trying not to feel too amused by the man’s fumbling as they walked the campus of Seattle Public University, heading in the general direction of the STEM building where Peter would be teaching starting next semester. Greg Michaelson had been Dean at SPU for several years now and looked like someone’s mild-mannered uncle that hadn’t slept since the late eighties, and while uncertain of how to handle Peter and his lack of speech, had been one of the more accommodating bosses Peter had had throughout his life.

“And Myra has also generously volunteered to translate for you when she’s not teaching her own classes, of course, lovely woman, you really should thank her,” Michaelson mused, pulling the door for the STEM building open for Peter and waving him through. Peter smiled and nodded exactly as he had through most of this one-sided conversation-slash-tour, having already thanked Myra several times for lobbying so hard with the Dean and board to get him hired on to teach introductory engineering.

Of course he hadn’t told her why he wanted the job so badly, beyond being bored of work at the security agency he’d been at for a long time now. If pressed, he’d have told her he’d always wanted in some way to follow in his parents’ footsteps, but it wasn’t really the truth.

After all, while Miggs had said he’d worked at SPU as a professor, six months was a lot of time, and for all Peter knew, he’d moved to Switzerland or something.

“So this’ll be your classroom, and the break room's down that hall, bathrooms down there...uhhh, let’s see, Margaret Donovan teaches Chem, and she’s next door to you, then there’s Don Richards, Bill McCleary, Miggs Ortega--oh, uh try to steer clear of that guy if you can, he’s kind of a dick but really knows his stuff, so--” Peter missed most of what Michaelson said after the word Miggs escaped his mouth, a thrill so powerful he felt it from his head to his toes running through him. He did his best to stomp his elation down; it was quite possible Miggs wouldn’t want to see him, or worse, might not even remember him. That would be a little embarrassing. Nevertheless, Miggs still worked at SPU, which meant Peter was going to see him again.

Peter could practically see Myra’s smug, knowing look when his heart kicked into a higher gear at the mere thought.

Peter struggled not to let his emotions run too wild as Michaelson awkwardly showed him around some more, talking about staff meetings and grading scales and curriculums. No matter what happened with Miggs, this was Peter’s job now, and he needed to focus on that, not just maybe seeing a hookup from ages ago.

Still, there was a bit of a spring in Peter’s step as he made his way around campus from then on, hope seeming to buoy him up.

Chapter Text

Peter wished he’d planned more thoroughly ahead for when he saw Miggs again, because the whole staring not doing anything else was probably creeping Miggs out from the shocked look on his face.

“P….Peter?”

Peter nodded, unable to do much else as his eyes were glued to the heavy swell of Miggs’ abdomen. He was pregnant, clearly, unmistakably, and Peter’s heart was thudding in his chest as a million thoughts swirled in his head, the loudest making something deep inside him ache.

Was it his?

“What are you doing here?” Miggs finally managed, sounding a little strangled as one of his hands came up to hold his bump, which pushed the material of his button-up out to its fullest extent while still remaining tucked into his pants.

“He works here, he’s replacing Barnes,” Michaelson said, looking a little curious about Miggs’ reaction. Peter ignored him and the few other people wandering the hall, mostly faculty preparing their classrooms for the coming semester. Miggs seemed unable to look away from Peter as well, staring with his mouth a little open, hand pressing against the front of his stomach.

He didn’t look displeased, just very, very surprised. And after a moment, worried, and then a little afraid.

“Replacing Barnes,” Miggs repeated before turning to look at Michaelson and snapping, “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“It was in the start of year memo!” Michaelson said, holding up his hands defensively in the face of Miggs’ ire.

“I never read that stupid thing,” Miggs muttered.

“Do you two….know each other, or something?” Michaelson asked hesitantly, almost like he didn’t actually want to know. Peter nodded and Miggs shrugged, rubbing the swell of his stomach, like it was a nervous habit.

“Sort of,” Miggs mumbled at Michaelson’s confused look. Peter tried not to wilt, reminding himself that just because Peter had been unable to forget Miggs in the past six months, it didn't mean Miggs hadn’t moved on. His chest felt a little tight when he looked at Miggs’ rounded belly again; it might not be Peter’s. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, either way.

“Okay then…” Michaelson said, awkwardly shuffling away as he added, “Anyway, start of term, lots to do, people to see...y’know, stuff that was in the memo…” Peter rolled his eyes briefly and looked back to see Miggs doing exactly the same thing, if a bit more openly irritated about it. Peter huffed a laugh when a smile tugged at the corner of Miggs’ mouth before vanishing again.

“I can’t believe you’re actually...shit,” Miggs murmured, almost unconscious of the words leaving his mouth before he frowned, looking away and then sighing. “I...I wanted to text you.”

Peter tried to hold onto his heart as it swooped in his chest, barely keeping his composure as he reached around to pull out his note pad and pen, quickly scrawling, why didn’t you? And turning it around for Miggs to read, who grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest, making the protrusion of his stomach stick out even more.

“I….um. Well, there was...I mean, I...a lot happened. Kind of all at once,” Miggs said, grimacing and reaching up to rub at his cheek.

What came up? Peter asked, heart racing in his chest. Miggs had wanted to text him, had wanted to maybe see him again, and Peter internally kicked himself for not seeking Miggs out that week after they’d parted ways. He was dying to know what had stopped Miggs from trying to find him, especially if Peter was the father of Miggs’ baby. Part of him wondered if that was exactly why Miggs hadn’t reached out.  

Miggs hesitated, biting his lip and not helping Peter quell his desire to kiss him.

“I’d rather not do this in the hallway,” Miggs muttered after a second, glancing around a little self-consciously. Peter noticed that either everyone was staring at Miggs or pointedly not doing so. Peter resisted the urge to glare and instead turned back to Miggs, nodding. Miggs rubbed the line of his stomach again, apparently unconsciously. Peter struggled to stuff down the desire to ask if he could touch Miggs’ stomach, wondering if there would be a miracle moment of the baby kicking at his hand like some sort of ridiculous daytime TV drama.

Miggs turned to disappear into his classroom and Peter followed him, beginning to wander a line between awkwardness and anger. If the baby was Peter’s, Miggs clearly hadn’t planned to tell him. If the baby wasn’t Peter’s, he’d probably been sleeping with someone else about the same time he’d slept with Peter.

Peter tried not to feel possessive. He didn’t have the right to feel possessive. He focused on not feeling pathetic either, still hung up on a hookup of all people, when that hookup clearly hadn’t been interested in seeing him again.

Miggs sat in the chair behind his desk, groaning a little as he stretched, a grimace flickering across his face. He didn’t seem to want to look at Peter, and Peter didn’t know what to do or say, so he just stood there. It was a far cry from the easy companionship he remembered from their car ride, and even further from the bubbling desire he’d felt between them once they’d started having sex.

Miggs sighed after a minute, still not looking at Peter, staring instead at his rounded stomach.

“A lot of things came up,” he said, looking embarrassed and afraid, glancing up at Peter and looking away again, a flush appearing in his cheeks. Peter wondered what Miggs was seeing on his face for Miggs to look like that when he met Peter’s gaze.

“I owe you...a very long explanation,” Miggs sighed heavily, putting one hand to his face to cover his eyes for a minute. When he looked up again, Peter nodded dumbly, not knowing how else to convey his vaguely-lost sort of approval for Miggs to continue.

Miggs didn’t seem to know what to say though, mouth opening and closing a bit like a fish, looking frustrated and worried in equal measure. After a couple minutes, Peter tugged out his notepad, pen hovering over the paper. Part of him wanted to ask why Miggs never texted him. If Miggs remembering him was because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Peter like Peter had about Miggs. In the end, the question he ended up slowly scratching out was only one word long and left Peter’s insides quivering with nerves.

Mine?

Peter slowly turned the notepad around for Miggs to see, and Miggs’ hand immediately dropped to the curve of his belly, looking so guilty he was nearly sweating.

“Yeah,” Miggs said after a second, voice rasping a little before he cleared his throat and nodded jerkily. “Yeah, Peter.”

Even though he’d had a feeling, even though he’d hoped--

It still felt like a punch to the gut.

Peter stared at the full, round protrusion of Miggs’ pregnancy, of his baby, their baby ( Peter’s baby!) and he struggled against a throat full of emotions he could never name.

Y didnt u tell me?  Peter stepped closer to Miggs, holding the notepad out for him to read, and more guilt flushed across Miggs’ face.

“I wanted to,” he snapped, pushing himself to his feet and swaying a little as he adjusted a little to the weight of his stomach. Peter wondered when he’d started to show, how fast he’d grown, if he was still getting used to the extra weight pushing out his abdomen. “I wanted to, Peter, but things were...complicated.” Peter gave him a flat look and Miggs crossed his arms, glaring down at the floor hard enough to burn a hole in it. He looked a little ill, like he’d rather be anywhere but here, talking to Peter. Peter ached with the thought that Miggs hadn’t ever wanted to see him again, hadn’t felt the same way after their tryst.

“When I met you, I was...fuck, Peter, I was married, okay?” Miggs finally burst out, throwing up his arms and grimacing. Peter’s stomach rolled as he realized that he’d ruined a marriage, albeit unknowingly, that Miggs had been unfaithful--

“Before you start hating me--shut up, I can see it on your face,” Miggs snapped when Peter tried to shake his head. “Before you start hating me, let me at least say that I wasn’t happily married. I was with Aaron because no one else wanted me, even though he was a shitty person. He cheated on me our entire relationship and I put up with it and I forgave him, over and over, and I kept crawling back and letting him get away with everything and I…” Miggs rubbed the curve of his belly, swallowing tightly before continuing.

“I never...I...fuck, Peter, I know it doesn’t make what I did right, but Aaron and I hadn’t really been together for a long time when I met you.” Miggs sighed, cupping the sides of his stomach with both hands and staring down at it, blinking rapidly. “I divorced him the instant I got back, long before I knew I was pregnant, filed the papers literally the next day. It was final within weeks, and I was gonna text you as soon as it was done, as soon as I could say I wasn’t in a relationship with anyone else anymore.” Miggs lifted his head, still blinking, and Peter realized he was trying very hard to hold back tears. Miggs bit his lip and lifted a hand to rub the heel against one eye, muttering about hormones.

Peter took a slow breath and nodded after a minute. He didn’t feel good about Miggs having been married when they’d hooked up, but he knew bad relationships made good people make bad choices to get away, even if it was just temporary.

It didn’t make him feel any less used, though. Didn’t make him feel any less hurt that Miggs had decided not to contact him. Didn’t lessen the hurt that Miggs had intended on keeping Peter’s child from him.

Peter wrote out another note, longer, stepping closer and grimacing as he admitted something he hadn’t planned to.

So y? U never contacted me. I waited.

Miggs’ face pinched a little with that, a bit of regret.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Peter, it’s me, that hookup from a few weeks ago, I’m getting divorced, wanna go out for coffee?’” Miggs let out a bitter laugh. “‘Hey Peter, it’s me, that hookup from a couple months ago. I’m pregnant with your kid and in the middle of a divorce, wanna go see a movie sometime?’ ‘Hey, I know it’s been six fucking months, but I’ve been really busy? With all of that?’” Miggs waved his hands around to indicate the previous statements, his voice edging into cracking at the end.

Shaking his head, Miggs rubbed a hand over his face.

“At best I expected you to ignore me, maybe tell me not to contact you ever, especially not for a date, or worse, accuse me of just coming after you for money,” Miggs sighed, turning to lean against the edge of his desk, providing a profile view for Peter that outlined his stomach in a way that had him twitching with the effort not to walk up to him and feel the shape of his child growing inside Miggs. “At worst, I thought you’d try to take her from me.”  Peter put his pen back to the notepad, frowning.

I wouldnt have done that. Miggs shrugged when Peter showed him the note.

“We knew each other for like, a day, Peter,” Miggs pointed out. “I mean, we clicked fucking great, but I don’t really know you.”

Do u rly think i would? I WAITED. This whole time. Peter tried not to feel embarrassed as he pushed the note at Miggs, feeling his ears burn despite his best efforts. Admitting to having hung around waiting for a text wasn’t nearly as bad as admitting to cheating on one’s spouse and hiding a pregnancy, but Peter didn’t usually do emotions like this. Miggs managed to turn his whole life upside down with less than forty eight hours in his actual presence.

It was y i wanted this job. Peter grimaced and looked away, not wanting to see the look on Miggs’ face at this admission.

When he looked back up, Miggs was flushed, tapping his fingers against the edge of his desk, chewing his lower lip anxiously.

“Well...I’m glad you did,” he said after a minute, and Peter did his best not to acknowledge the skipped beat in his heart at the soft tone of Miggs’ voice and the shy warmth in his eyes. It was a distant expression from the creeped-out disgust he’d been expecting, and Peter felt his ears and cheeks heat with another blush. After a minute, fiddling nervously with his notebook, Peter quickly flipped to a new page to write another message.

A girl? Peter asked, biting his lip a little as Miggs read it and put a hand to his stomach.

“Yeah, according to my doctor,” Miggs said after a second, rubbing at the top of his stomach with the heel of his hand, slow circles moving down towards his navel. Peter’s palms itched with the desire to touch Miggs instead. Peter had never considered children, his own health issues alone enough to put him off the idea, not to mention the fact he’d never been one to settle down. But seeing Miggs, full and soft and with the gentle rise of Peter’s child pushing his stomach out...it crossed a couple wires in Peter’s brain he hadn’t even known were there, and he desperately wanted to keep Miggs and their baby in his life for as long as he could.

“So you’re, uh, you’re working here now?” Miggs asked after a long, awkward minute, and Peter nodded. “Replacing Barnes.” Peter nodded again, and Miggs blew out a breath, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well, um. I’ve got a lot of prep work to do for start of term, and I’m sure you do too, so maybe we could...talk later.” Peter tried not to think Miggs was trying to get rid of him, it was true, they both had work to do and it would be better to talk later.

Chapter Text

Miggs only noticed Peter because he made the mistake of standing there too long.

“Can I, uh, help you or something?” Miggs said after a second, and Peter tried to think of a feasible excuse as to why he’d come to a stop outside of Miggs’ open classroom door during the lunch hour. Peter shuffled awkwardly before shrugging, watching Miggs set aside the carton of fries he’d been eating at his computer. Miggs frowned, and Peter mentally warred between the part of him that didn’t want Miggs to think he was a creep, and the part that was pretty sure pregnant people needed to eat better than the McDonalds from down the street. After a moment of awkwardly standing there, trying to figure out what to say, Peter stepped into the classroom, tugging out his notepad.

Miggs sat back in his chair, frowning and rubbing absently at the full curve of his belly as Peter wrote.

Can I make you dinner tonight?

Peter hesitated for a minute before holding it up, and Miggs stared for a long minute, a blush starting to stain his cheeks.

“Um. Peter, I don’t--I don’t know if--I mean, we haven’t even talked about--” Miggs stammered, looking away and playing nervously with the end of his tie over his bump. Peter felt his heart sink, knowing Miggs was trying to find the words to turn Peter down, tell him he wasn’t interested in more than the brief fling they’d had months ago. He quickly waved a hand to cut Miggs off, shaking his head to dismiss Miggs’ assumption before he quickly added another note.

Just as friends. U said u wanted 2 talk. Figured it would b a good idea.

Miggs hesitated for a moment before looking away, poking at his fries for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, that, um. Sounds great.” Peter nodded, satisfied that he’d be able to get at least one good meal into Miggs while the man was carrying their baby.

Peter went about the rest of his day mentally going through his fridge, wondering what he could make that would be good for both Miggs and the baby that he also had the ingredients for. At the end of it Peter found himself anxiously hovering outside Miggs’ classroom. Peter had let his students go a few minutes early so he could be sure he wouldn’t miss Miggs when he left. Peter nearly jumped out of his shoes when the door to Miggs’ classroom flew open and his students streamed out like they were escaping the devil himself. After a minute, Peter peered through the now-empty doorway to see Miggs leaning on his desk with one hand, the other cupping his bump.

“Stupid fucking--” Miggs cut himself off and looked up when Peter hesitantly knocked. He was scowling, but his expression softened a bit when he saw Peter.

“Hey,” he said after a second, straightening up and cupping his bump with one hand. Peter waved, stepping into the classroom and trying not to act too nervous. “Give me a second to pack up.” Peter nodded, doing his best not stare as Miggs gathered his things and put them in a large black backpack. He kept pausing to touch at his stomach and wince a little, and Peter’s heart stuttered at the thought that the baby was kicking.

“Okay, ready,” Miggs said, hefting his bag up onto his shoulder. He pulled a face immediately, something between annoyance and effort, and Peter tried to reign in the urge to help him. He ended up halfway reaching for Miggs before pulling back, giving Miggs an apologetic look and gesturing at the bag. Miggs hesitated for a second, mouth pursing, pride and practicality obviously struggling for dominance before he sighed and dropped the bag off his shoulder and held it out to Peter. Peter took it from him with a soft smile and gestured for Miggs to lead the way out of the classroom, and Miggs did so, waiting outside the door for Peter before locking up. Peter held Miggs’ bag with both hands in an effort to squash the urge to put a hand on the small of Miggs’ back as they left the building.

“So, uh, you cook, then?” Miggs asked as he pushed the door open for Peter and held it, one hand cupping his bump. Peter dragged his eyes up Miggs’ torso to look him the face, feeling oddly like some sort of ogler that was constantly staring at Miggs’ stomach rather than his chest or ass. Peter nodded, smiling. He shouldered Miggs’ bag in order to pull out his phone, finding it easier to type than write while walking.

Hope u don’t mind vegetarian dishes.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Miggs asked, putting his hand on the guard rail for balance as they descended the short set of stairs from the building to the parking lot. Peter nodded and then shrugged. It was a dietary thing rather than a choice, meat tended to make him nauseous, and always had. Something about a meat allergy that messed with the rest of his diet from time to time as well.

“Hmm,” Miggs hummed, reaching into his pocket to pull out his keys. “I’ll follow you to yours?” Peter nodded, recognizing Miggs’ car and putting the backpack in his backseat after he’d unlocked it. Peter left Miggs to head over to his motorcycle, where it was parked sideways across the opening of a space so no one could block him in. Swinging one leg over and settling his helmet over his head, Peter started up his bike and looked up to see Miggs waiting for him to pull out of the lot ahead of him.

Peter drove a little slower and more conservatively on his way home, making sure Miggs didn’t fall behind or get stuck at any lights behind him on the way to his apartment. Luckily the parking at Peter’s place had guest spots, so Miggs pulled into one of those as Peter shut down his bike in his usual space near his apartment. Miggs left his bag in his car, and Peter waited for him on the sidewalk, trying not to stare too much as Miggs walked to him. He was certainly very round, and Peter couldn’t seem to stop noticing it. Usually pregnant people didn’t capture his attention this way, and he wondered if it was just because Peter knew it was his child, or maybe it was just because it was Miggs.

“Wow, uh, kinda minimalist, huh?” Miggs commented as Peter opened his front door to reveal the rather plain interior of his apartment. Peter shrugged. He’d never done much in the way of decor, and his living room consisted of a second-hand couch, a small table that could hold his laptop or a book, and a modest TV on a stand with a DVD player and his collection of movies and shows on the shelf beneath. The most cluttered area of his apartment was his kitchen, and that was more out of necessity than anything else. Peter gestured for Miggs to make himself at home, immediately heading into the kitchen to get dinner started. Peter was pretty sure growing an entirely new person inside your body was a lot of work and required a lot of food, so he was confident Miggs was probably hungry all the time, and he didn’t want to make him wait for dinner longer than necessary.

Peter dug through his fridge and cupboard for ingredients, fingers tapping against the counter as he mentally planned out and discarded a couple of recipes before settling on aloo gobi. Gathering what he needed and setting it out on the counter, Peter looked over to see Miggs standing in the living room looking a little awkward, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Pausing in his prep work, Peter took a couple steps closer to him, pointing at him before holding up his fingers in a slang sign for okay to ask a question. Miggs blinked and then seemed to get it.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, just...uh, I haven’t...really been over to someone else’s place like this before…” he muttered, fingers running along the edge of his pants, ducking his head a little. Peter supposed their situation was a bit unique and certainly more than a touch awkward; how do you act when you’re having dinner with a coworker you hardly know that also happens to be the father of your unborn child?

With a gentle smile, Peter gestured at the couch and TV, inviting Miggs to help himself as Peter got back to slicing the onions, cauliflower and potatoes. A few minutes later Peter nearly spilled minced garlic all over the place when Miggs gasped. He spun around and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Miggs crouched on the ground in front of the TV, but instead Miggs just pulled out a thick DVD case and held it up, grinning.

“You like Space Adventure?” he asked, and Peter fought the urge to blush and duck his head. The cheesy TV show had aired its first run almost twenty years ago and had been aimed almost more at children than adults, but he’d watched it as a teenager with his parents and been in love with it ever since. Bracing himself for ruthless teasing, Peter nodded, knowing from the burn in his ears he’d failed to quell his blush.

“I love Space Adventure, I don’t know anyone else who’s seen more than a couple episodes and didn’t think it was trash,” Miggs said, almost breathless as he turned the DVD case over to read the back. “I have the special editions at home, got them on eBay still in the plastic for a fucking steal.” Peter stared, heart suddenly feeling like it was being squeezed. “Can I put this in? I know you wanted to talk but just while we eat--” Peter waved his hands around to get Miggs attention before nodding and grinning eagerly, hardly able to contain the fondness swelling in his chest as Miggs smiled brightly at him. The gap in his front teeth was clearly visible and Peter did his best to stomp down the immediate memory of sliding his tongue past those teeth months ago. Peter went back to cooking, suddenly regretting jerking off to the memory of Miggs these past months as he realized that burning the time they’d spent together into his brain made the simplest of things about the man stir all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.

Peter hummed along automatically as the show’s opening theme played through the TV, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Miggs settling onto the couch, one hand running absently over the protrusion of his stomach and a small smile starting to curl the corners of his mouth as Captain Sharkboard came on screen, striding slowly across the bridge of the SS Calypso before stopping to engage Dr. Fresno in conversation about the state of the crew after last episode’s shenanigans.

Peter listened to the episode play out as he cooked, a smile tugging at his mouth every time Miggs laughed at a gag in the show, sometimes commenting on the plot or special effects, prompting Peter to either communicate his response through brief charades or a quick note, and before Peter realized it, they’d settled back into the comfortable companionship he remembered from before.

Spooning a good amount of food onto two plates and adding an extra scoop to Miggs’, Peter gathered both plates and silverware, walking to the living room to hand Miggs his plate and set his own on the small table so he could return to the kitchen to grab drinks. Peter settled onto the couch with Miggs, nervously watching Miggs as he poked at his food for a moment with his fork, inspecting it before taking a cautious bite. Peter had made this recipe countless times before and liked it, but he wasn’t sure how Miggs would react to it.

Miggs’ face lit up, and he quickly took another bite, humming in pleasure. Peter struggled not to let how pleased he was show on his face, instead giving Miggs a hesitant smile when he looked over at Peter.

“It’s good!” Miggs said after swallowing, grinning. Peter smiled back, trying to contain his nearly-incandescent delight. Miggs’ cheeks flushed and Peter bit his lip, looking back to his own plate. He didn’t want to make Miggs uncomfortable, they hadn’t even talked about...anything in their future yet. And if Peter had anything to do with it, they would have some form of future together. Peter wouldn’t be absent from his child’s life if he could help it.

“So, um…” Miggs said after a moment, gaze fixed on the TV and nibbling absently at his dinner. “Thank you for having me.” Peter paused, innuendo teasing at the back of his mind. It apparently occurred to Miggs as well, since his cheeks darkened further and he hunched slightly over his food. “Over. For having me over.” Peter nodded with a soft smile, patting Miggs’ knee with one hand. Miggs jumped, one hand steadying his plate and the other coming up to cup his bump. Peter froze, and Miggs gave a little laugh and rubbed at his stomach.

“Kicking,” he said after a second, soft and a little amused. “Probably likes the food.” Peter slowly pulled his hand off Miggs’ knee, unsure if he’d be able to resist touching Miggs’ stomach if he kept his hand on him. Miggs glanced at him nervously, watching as Peter bit his lip, unable to keep his gaze from dropping to Miggs’ stomach.

“Do you...want to feel her?” Miggs asked hesitantly, setting his plate on the side of the couch and gesturing at his stomach. Peter swallowed weakly and contained his ecstasy at the offer to a mere nod. It took him a second to stop it, head bobbing eagerly for a moment before he got control of himself again. Miggs cleared his throat and shuffled a little on the couch, turning to offer Peter his stomach, folding his knee up between them and bracing his elbows on the back of the couch and the armrest. Taking a calming breath, Peter gently laid one slightly shaky palm on Miggs’ stomach.

He was warm against Peter’s skin, thin dress shirt a soft layer between Peter’s palm and Miggs’ stomach. Peter didn’t feel anything beyond that and the heady buzz of anxiety under his skin as he hesitantly stroked the curve of Miggs’ stomach. Peter had never felt a baby kick from inside someone before, for all he knew the kid was doing tapdance against his palm and he just wasn’t noticing.

“Seems to have settled down a little,” Miggs murmured, and when Peter looked up at Miggs his eyes were hooded and he was nibbling on his lower lip, making Peter’s breath catch. God, Peter wanted to kiss him so badly.

Something firm pressed against the heel of his hand before sliding suddenly up to the fork of his ring and pinky finger.

“Oh,” Miggs huffed, back arching slightly as the baby rolled in his stomach, elbows and knees poking against Peter’s hand. Peter’s breath caught and trembled with sudden emotion, feeling his child move inside Miggs. Peter couldn’t help but put both hands on Miggs’ belly, quickly setting his plate aside without taking his first palm off Miggs’ stomach. He turned slightly in his seat as well to put a hand on each side of Miggs’ swollen belly, feeling the baby inside twist and stretch. It was a little strange, he hadn’t expected the movement to be so dramatic, the very shape of Miggs’ stomach shifting under his hands.

“Weird, huh?” Miggs said after a minute, and Peter paused in his slow stroking of Miggs’ stomach as the kid kicked at them like she’d taken up karate already. Peter looked up to see Miggs nearly melting into his couch, eyes soft and dark and mouth curled into a pleased smile. Peter’s heart nearly stopped in his chest at the sight. Miggs winced a little whenever the baby moved particularly suddenly, but seemed very content, sitting on Peter’s couch with Peter’s hands on him and Peter’s baby in his belly.

Peter was suddenly glad Miggs didn’t expect him to speak, because there was a thick feeling in his throat he could hardly breathe through. Peter nodded to answer Miggs’ question but didn’t take his hands off him, feeling almost like the world’s most powerful magnet was holding his hands against his skin, feeling the shape of their child.

“Peter…” Miggs’ voice was heart-catchingly soft, a little vulnerable, a little longing, and Peter paused in his petting to look back up at his face. Miggs still appeared just as at ease as before, though he was chewing his lower lip, brain turning behind his dark eyes. “You’ve...taken this very well.” Peter tilted his head, inviting Miggs to elaborate. “Well, uh. Not many people would have taken this sorta news with so much….grace.” Peter shrugged a little, lifting one eyebrow. Miggs arched a little under Peter’s hands as the baby settled but Peter kept petting at him, hoping for more movement, hoping to just keep his hands on Miggs for a little longer. It felt strange to realize that despite their brief time together in a more than coworkers sense, Peter had missed him.

“Are you, um. Not...not interested, then?” Miggs whispered, and Peter froze, staring up at him in disbelief. “I mean, I was--am, I am prepared to raise her on my own, I mean, I didn't want to--fuck, I already explained this, I just wanted to-to be sure--” Peter quickly shook his head, letting go of Miggs’ stomach in order to grab the notepad sitting in the drawer of his table, snagging a pen as well to write Miggs a message.

I am very very interested in being part of her life. Please.

Miggs stared for a long minute, one hand sliding to grab at his stomach, a slight tremble running through him as he looked away from Peter.

“I just...Peter, I waited a long time for her and no one--I’ve always been by myself, even with Aaron I was--and I couldn’t--I can’t--” Miggs stammered, sliding his hand towards his navel and looking anywhere but at Peter. Peter hesitantly reached out and put his hand on top of Miggs’, stilling his nervous words and motions. Miggs looked up, holding his breath as Peter slowly let go again to write another note.

I would never take her from u. Never do anything 2 hurt either of u. I just want to b there 4 her. I know it’s a lot to ask but please. U don’t have 2 do this alone. We

Peter paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. After feeling his kid inside of Miggs, Peter was just about ready to get down on both knees and propose, but he doubted Miggs would take that well, fresh out of a shitty marriage and barely knowing Peter at all. So instead Peter dialed it back a little. Or a lot. Back into the reasonable range, at least.

We can be just friends & her parents together. I really really want this. Please.

Peter slid the note into Miggs’ hand so he could rub his hand along the soft curve of Miggs’ stomach, feeling the baby twist a little to push some bit of limb out at him. Peter rubbed his thumb against it, looking up to see Miggs watching him and biting his lip.

“Okay,” Miggs said, sounding a little weak. “Okay, that, um. That sounds good.” He nodded, and Peter grinned, looking between him and the weight of his pregnancy, unable to resist reaching out to touch him again. Miggs shuddered a little and Peter winced, hoping he wasn’t making Miggs uncomfortable with all this groping.

“Do, um, do you...want to know anything about her?” Miggs asked softly, reaching up to pluck at his tie, giving Peter a nervous smile. Peter nodded eagerly, leaning a little closer as he prepared to learn everything he could about their future child.

Chapter Text

Space Adventure came to the end of the disk while Miggs talked, telling Peter about their baby. He started with more facts and statistics, listing how far along he was (as if Peter hadn’t counted every day that had passed since), how much weight he’d gained, various symptoms he’d experienced. Peter felt a little bad, apparently having only missed Miggs’ morning sickness by a couple weeks. He talked about plans he’d been making with his doctor, a man named Henry, about the delivery and his prenatal appointments. But after a little bit he ran out of those things and rambled on into different subjects, like how she kicked against his organs mercilessly any time he so much as sniffed coffee and how she liked to wake up at four AM every day and drag him into wakefulness as well by resting most of her weight on his bladder, no matter what position Miggs laid in. Miggs had looked a little awkward, hurrying back out of that story, making Peter wonder if he was skipping over something he didn’t want Peter to know about. Peter didn’t push, he’d only just managed to get Miggs talking to him about their child, and he didn’t want to make Miggs regret letting him be a part of this by pushing too hard.

It was late by the time Miggs seemed to run out of things to say, sleepiness starting to show in his movements and voice, not to mention when he started yawning. Peter gathered the dishes from their dinner and set them in his sink to wash later, returning to offer Miggs a hand up off his couch. Miggs took it, blushing when Peter easily took most of his weight so Miggs could stand.

“Um. Thank you,” Miggs mumbled as Peter walked him back to his car, the night air cool and still with the after-chill of a storm. “For dinner, and—and everything.” Peter tilted his head, curious as to what Miggs meant by everything , and just nodded when Miggs gave him a nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work?” Miggs asked after a second, turning to look at Peter after opening the door to his car. Peter nodded, smiling when Miggs flushed a bit with clear pleasure. “Do you…” He stopped, biting his lip and looking away. Peter reached out to hesitantly brush his hand over Miggs’ knuckles on the top of his car door. Miggs looked up and seemed to gather his courage with a breath.

“Do you maybe want to eat lunch together?” he asked, and Peter’s breath caught as his stomach swooped with excitement. “I mean, if we’re going to both be in her lives, we should…get to know each other, really be friends, you know?”

Oh.

Peter nodded, not quite as elated but still happy. He didn’t need to have any sort of sexual relationship with Miggs, he could behave himself and be his friend and father to their daughter at the same time. And experience told Peter any sort of attempt at a romantic relationship would only end up hurting Miggs.

Still, Miggs gave Peter a brilliant, beautiful smile and Peter wanted to grab him and kiss him and spin him around with how giddy he was. The evening had been a success (a great big one, in his opinion) and Miggs wanted to be friends so Peter could be a part of his daughter’s life, and all of that felt…

Incredibly good. Better than he’d felt in a long time.

Miggs climbed into his car and drove away and Peter had to give himself a shake so he’d stop staring at Miggs’ taillights disappearing down the street and go back inside. The apartment felt more cavernous and empty than usual, and Peter ended up swapping out the Space Adventure disk in the player for the next, the familiar sound of episode 67 filling up the void trying to take up residence next to Peter on the couch until he fell asleep.

Lunch together became a regular thing. That first day, Miggs was having McDonald’s again, and the day after that Peter brought enough food for two, claiming it a happy accident. Miggs gave Peter a tiny, shy but pleased smile when that kept happening, mouth curling as Peter pulled out more than enough food for two people every day when Miggs mentioned lunch.

Peter watched Miggs’ belly grow almost comically fast over the next few weeks, his third trimester an explosion of development for the baby inside him. The only thing growing faster than Miggs it seemed, was their friendship, which Peter found himself treasuring more intensely as they grew to knew each other. The hint of Miggs’ personality that had drawn Peter to him when they’d first met came into full bloom as he grew more comfortable around Peter again. Despite Peter communicating in mostly charades and notes, they quickly found common ground in their shared affection for Space Adventure , and in a surprising mutual hatred of one of their more irritating coworkers.

Peter, watching Miggs struggle not to laugh so hard he gave himself hiccups over a crack Peter had made about Richards’ attitude, realized he hadn’t felt this close to someone since before his parents died. It was startling, exhilarating, and frightening all in one. But Peter was determined for his relationship with Miggs to be a positive, strong one, if only for the sake of their child. They talked about that a lot, too. Miggs told Peter about his prenatal visits and the general progression of his pregnancy, which Peter listened to intently. He managed, barely, after a while, to ask if Henry had found anything…wrong, with the baby so far in her development.

Frowning, Miggs lowered the bite of fried serrano pepper he’d plunked from the tupperware between them. “No, she’s fine. Right on schedule, as far as we can tell.” He’d hesitated, and Peter looked away, knowing the question that was coming. But the why was never voiced, and instead Miggs mentioned the craving he’d had for peppers lately, despite the fact they gave him a bit of heartburn.

Peter was still pleasantly surprised at how well Miggs could read him, without Peter having to struggle to convey anything at all. Sometimes Miggs saw things Peter didn’t want him to see, though.

Miggs was explaining something, a project he wanted to do with his class but might need Peter’s help with, since Miggs was too pregnant these days to be walking around supervising everything for hours. Peter was just barely paying attention, a small part of his brain cataloging what Miggs was saying in case he needed to respond or remember something later, the rest of his mind wandering the dangerous line of how attractive Peter found him. He was fond of Miggs immeasurably as a friend, but there was a dark part of Peter that longed for the physical intimacy they’d had in the motel and car. Carpooling had been full of tension the first few times, Peter vividly recalling Miggs crawling into his lap, desperate for another fuck, begging for his cock. Peter struggled to tame his selfish, unrequited desire, keeping mostly to quick, harmless glances at Miggs form and indulging himself late at night, not without a fair share of guilt.

But sometimes, like this time, Peter’s gaze lingered a little too long, a little too hot, and Miggs glanced up and caught him at it.

Peter’s cheeks warmed with a blush and he quickly looked away and did his best to feign innocence instead of the low-boiling lust that had been beginning to throb in his gut. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking in the view over Miggs’ shoulder, the soft swell of his chest as his body prepared to feed a baby, the heavy weight of his pregnancy pushing out the extra large t-shirt Miggs had tucked into the stretchy waistband of his jeans. Peter wanted to slide his hands around Miggs’ waist to hold him, one hand under the round shape of his abdomen as the other palmed his chest Peter imagined kissing up Miggs’ throat to his jaw, to the mouth that was slightly parted as Miggs stared up at him with a deep flush on his cheeks.

Peter quickly looked away as he realized he was staring at Miggs with barely-contained lust, and that Miggs was looking right at him. Peter glanced up to see Miggs was looking away now, cheeks dark and chewing his lower lip a little nervously.

Peter quickly signed sorry, got distracted , and gave Miggs his most disarming smile. Miggs let go of his lip to flush even darker and stare for a second, mouth working but no words coming out. Peter had been slowly teaching Miggs some sign language over the course of their friendship, and Peter had just enough time to wonder if Miggs hadn’t understood him before Miggs stopped gaping and went back to explaining his idea. Peter did his best to contain himself after that, paying rapt attention to the words coming out of Miggs’ mouth rather than how much Peter wanted to touch him.

“A-and, Peter, I was wondering…” He looked up as Miggs turned around to touch Peter’s forearm, drawing his attention. Peter tried not to swallow hard when Miggs leaned back on the desk, pushing his belly far enough forward that it brushed against Peter’s softer stomach. “I got the second set of Space Adventure DVDs last week, and um. If you want, we could watch them this weekend at my place? You could see the baby room, too.” Peter brightened with that, nodding and leaning closer automatically before he caught himself. Miggs blushed and bit his lip again as Peter wavered between just barely being in his personal space and totally invading it, Peter was tempted to believe that Miggs’ eyes got a little darker when Peter leaned close for that brief moment, but it was likely just his imagination.

“Cool,” Miggs said, mouth curling with pleasure as he gently rubbed at the swell of his stomach as was his habit. He nibbled at his lower lip as Peter watched, and Peter cleared his throat as he looked away, willing the erection trying valiantly to rise in his pants back down. Peter nodded again and turned away, wondering how much longer he could keep pretending he wasn’t interested in Miggs in a way he’d only been with people he shared a much shallower relationship with before.

Chapter Text

The baby room seemed ready to welcome the child any day, fully painted, decorated, and primed for a baby to arrive and live in. Peter paused at the edge of the crib, taking in the stuffed panda bear lying between the small pillows.

“What do you think?” Miggs asked nervously from the door, both hands cradling the heavy swell of his belly. At just over eight months, Miggs was due to pop within the next couple of weeks, and Peter’s heart started to race every time he so much as glanced at him. It was partially due to the frankly startling amount of desire Peter felt for him, and partially because Peter was going to be a father , they were having a baby in mere days and the thought was more terrifying than any Peter had had before, which was saying something.

Peter grinned and picked up the panda bear plush, squeezing it a little before putting it back, sitting up between the pillows.

Looks great, Peter signed, and Miggs flushed, pleased, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“It’s been like this since a couple weeks after I found out,” Miggs said, rubbing his distended stomach absently as he looked around. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do much towards the end since I’d be by myself, so I finished the room as fast as I could.” Peter nodded, running a hand along the rail of the crib as he looked at the modest but cute decor of the room. Neutral colors and furniture, everything ready to be personalized as the baby grew into her own personality. Peter smiled at the story books lining the shelf on one wall, and as Miggs talked about having to repaint half the room and Peter nodded along, he pulled down a couple and found a picture book with seven different fairy tales inside, and a baby book. Curious, Peter flipped it open, and paused as he found a scrap of notebook paper between the first few pages.

Peter pulled it free and looked up as Miggs fell silent.

“Ah,” he said when Peter met his gaze, flushing a little and giving Peter an awkward smile. “Yeah, that’s, um. Your number. In case…I don’t know. Just in case.” Peter glanced back down at the note he’d written Miggs months and months ago, the words on the paper testament to how much he’d wanted to see Miggs again after the hook up that had eventually brought them here, standing in a nursery together. Peter noted that the baby book was still blank, and slid it back into place, note nestled safely between the pages. Peter turned back to Miggs, who was frowning and rubbing the high curve of his stomach as he tried to glare a hole in the carpet. Peter wanted to run his fingers through Miggs’ curls and bring him back from wherever his mind had wandered to, but as soon as Peter moved in his direction, Miggs looked up, attention returning to the moment.

“Anyway, I’ve already got the second set of DVDs in the player, if you want…” Miggs smiled when Peter brightened with interest, the two of them making their way to the living room and settling onto Miggs’ couch to start their marathon. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds over the window gave the room a soft, warm feeling as Peter sat on one end of the couch and Miggs curled in the other, turning to prop his feet between them as the episode started to play. He was too tall to fit comfortably across just two cushions, and before he could second guess himself, Peter wrapped his hand around one of Miggs’ bare feet and pulled it into his lap so Miggs could sit comfortably.

“O-oh, uh, um, okay,” Miggs stammered, and Peter patted his foot as reassuringly as possible. Miggs’ feet and ankles were swollen, and Peter found himself running his thumb over the bone of Miggs’ inner ankle as they watched the cheesy theme to Space Adventure play. A soft sigh escaped Miggs when Peter wrapped his whole hand over the arch of Miggs’ foot, stroking gently. It felt…good, to touch Miggs. It wasn’t sexual or anything, but something warm and soft spread through Peter as he slowly, gently rubbed Miggs’ feet, relieving maybe a little discomfort he was feeling.

“This scene is part of why I love Fresno as a character so much,” Miggs mentioned a few episodes in, and Peter lifted an eyebrow, inviting Miggs to continue. He did so with a small smile, sharing with Peter a passion he probably hadn’t expressed with anyone else. That Miggs trusted him with this part of himself, any part of himself actually, made Peter feel even warmer, and as Miggs talked, Peter found himself unable to resist turning on the couch to face Miggs instead of the TV. Miggs sat up and folded his legs under himself as he continued to talk, explaining the different scenes with his favorite character that really fleshed him out without Fresno playing much of a huge part in the plot like Sharkboard tended to.

Miggs was grinning, a little flushed, not quite looking at Peter, enthusiastic and bashful in almost equal measures as he went on, explaining his theory about how he believed Fresno was coded gay (or at least bi, if you accepted the comics as canon), and Peter didn’t realize his resolve had broken until he was pressing a soft kiss to Miggs’ mouth.

Miggs kissed back, the movement almost automatic, a few more words coming out of his mouth like nothing had happened, but he trailed off as Peter slid a hand around Miggs’ neck and drew him closer, pressing another gentle kiss on Miggs’ lower lip.

“Oh,” Miggs huffed, growing still as Peter kept kissing him, and Peter pulled away. He was nearly dizzy with how much he wanted Miggs, wanted to keep kissing him, wanted to keep seeing him so happy and confident. But he wasn’t going to force Miggs to accept any form of advances from Peter just because Peter couldn’t control himself.

Sorry, Peter signed when Miggs sort of just stared at him, blinking big pale eyes at Peter for a minute with his mouth open, pulse fluttering under the thumb of Peter’s other hand. Miggs’ mouth gaped for a second, a blush slowly staining his freckled cheeks darker. Peter wanted to brush kisses over every single freckle on Miggs’ body, and he swallowed down that desire as Miggs tried to find his voice.

“What for?” the words were a little strangled, a little breathless, barely audible over the sci-fi battle happening on screen that neither of them were paying any attention to now.

Peter’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he hesitantly leaned forward again, and Miggs made a soft sound as Peter drew him into another kiss. It was slow, hesitant, Peter pressing a kiss to Miggs’ lower lip and feeling the gentle pressure of Miggs kissing back. Peter opened his mouth a little and shifted his weight so he could lean forward, deepening the kiss. His heart was racing, and as he slid his hand to cup Miggs’ jaw and tilt his head back, he could feel Miggs’ pulse thudding frantically under his skin. They paused for a moment, still close together, breathing each other’s air. Miggs’ eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he trembled a little in Peter’s hold. Peter selfishly took another kiss, a wet slide of lips and just a hint of his tongue tracing the seam of Miggs’ mouth, and then he pulled away, struggling to contain himself.

Miggs blinked his eyes open, looking a little dazed, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallowed up all of the iris.

You okay? Peter asked hesitantly, biting his lip as Miggs just blinked at him for a minute.

“Yeah,” Miggs breathed, sliding his legs underneath himself so he could come up on his knees and lean towards Peter, sliding his hands into Peter’s hair and bringing their faces close together again. “As long as you don’t stop .” Peter whimpered at that, grabbing Miggs’ hips and feeling how much softer he was now than he had been almost a year ago, pelvis spread a bit wider as his body prepared to give birth to their child, stomach pressing full and firm against Peter’s front. Peter held Miggs steady as he leaned over Peter, tilting Peter’s head back by his grip in Peter’s hair and bringing his head down to kiss Peter again. Miggs quickly grew eager and needy, pulling on Peter’s hair and kissing him deeply, sucking on Peter’s lip and biting when Peter’s breathing started to pick up.

“Fuck,” Miggs breathed, dropping quick little kisses on Peter’s mouth and then his cheek, down to his throat, scraping his teeth along the column of Peter’s neck. Peter moaned at that, shifting, tightening his grip on Miggs’ waist and managing to pull Miggs nearly on top of him. Miggs whined and started squirming, managing to straddle Peter’s thigh and starting to grind down against him a little. Peter nearly passed out at that; he hadn’t expected Miggs to be interested at all, let alone be ready to climb into his lap and start grinding on him at a moment’s notice. Maybe Peter should have known better, Miggs had been nothing if not desperate during their fling, and he seemed the same now, if not even more so.

“Please—” Miggs gasped, throwing his head back as Peter slid one hand around Miggs’ back to draw him closer, the other guiding Miggs’ hips in a steady, long drag against Peter’s leg. He could feel the heat of Miggs’ body through their pants, and Peter wanted to reach down and touch him, but instead he pulled Miggs into another kiss, determined to enjoy this for as long as he could draw it out. Miggs moaned into Peter’s mouth, nearly trembling as his arousal heightened, squirming until his knee bumped against the fork of Peter’s legs. Peter gave a slight growl of both discomfort and need, the hand on Miggs’ hip dropping to the hook of his knee, holding Miggs still so he could grind his already throbbing erection against Miggs.

“Oh, Christ,” Miggs gasped, hands sliding out of Peter’s hair and down his neck to his chest as he rested his forehead against Peter’s to breathe. Peter hummed, stroking one hand along Miggs’ thigh as the other slid up to cup Miggs’ face, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone a couple times.

“Peter…” Miggs fisted his hands in Peter’s shirt, pushing closer to him, the firm roundness of his belly pressing hard into Peter’s softer gut. Peter moaned and Miggs blushed, shrinking back as if suddenly self-conscious. Peter let out a helpless noise and managed to drag his eyes open, barely aware he’d closed them in the first place. Miggs blinked down at him, flushed and clearly nervous, chewing his lip with wide, wet eyes.

“I…” Miggs swallowed weakly, letting go of Peter’s shirt as his hands hovered over Peter’s form like he wasn’t sure what to do. “I can’t stop thinking about you, I want—” Miggs took a shuddering breath, squeezing his legs around Peter’s thigh, hot where his body met Peter’s. “Peter, please.” Peter stared up at him, wondering how much Miggs wanted, if he just wanted a one-off again, a quickie on the couch that they’d ignore later, if Miggs wanted to fuck on the side of their friendship. If Miggs wanted him and all that entailed, if he wanted Peter to commit . A year ago, before he’d met him, Peter would have recoiled from the idea. He’d never had a relationship fare well in his life, they always ended in fights and soured friendships. He didn’t want to lose Miggs to that, to bitterness and complicated feelings of fondness but not love, of needing more and never being enough .

“Peter,” Miggs murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over Peter’s mouth, as gentle as anything. “I…I’ve seen the way you look at me, I just…I want you to. So badly. Please say I’m not imagining it all.” Miggs laughed weakly, and Peter shook his head, feeling almost helpless in the face of everything he wasn’t imagining about Miggs. It felt like a tsunami of emotion he couldn’t name, sweeping over him in a way that made him feel helpless and powerful all at once. Peter tilted his head up to kiss at Miggs’ neck, something low in his stomach trembling with desire when Miggs moaned and started rolling his hips against Peter’s thigh, tiny stuttering movements that spoke of desire he was trying to hold back, either due to embarrassment or uncertainty. Peter, suddenly brimming with the need to bring Miggs back to the confident, happy place he’d been a few minutes ago, started petting eagerly at Miggs’ body, wanting to show him just how desperate Peter was for him.

“Oh, God,” Miggs gasped as Peter pulled him closer, mouthing at his throat and reaching around to grab his ass, hauling Miggs against him and lifting his hips to rub his dick against him, so hard he was leaking enough to wet the fabric of his jeans. “Fuck, Peter—” Miggs gasped and threw his head back, shaking in Peter’s arms as he grabbed Peter’s shoulders and let Peter start to ravage him, kissing and biting at his throat, sucking a bruise at the collar of his t-shirt. Miggs jolted when Peter bit down, hips jumping against Peter’s thigh and a moan breaking from his throat. Peter gave in to his rampant desire to feel the weight of their baby again, pressing his palm against Miggs’ stomach and stroking the fullness of him, shuddering when he felt his child shift a little inside Miggs.

“Nn—I—if you want, you c-could—” Miggs gasped and arched as Peter nuzzled his face against his collarbone, pushing his shirt aside to press gentle kisses to the soft skin there. “You could—! God!” Miggs keened as Peter’s hand slid from his belly to his chest, gently thumbing at the rise of his nipple, not knowing how sensitive Miggs was. Very, going by his reaction, but in a good way from the shuddering, helpless turn his breathing took. Peter hummed and glanced up at Miggs as he carefully tweaked at the raised peak through the soft cotton, drawing forth a moan and driving Miggs to fist a hand in Peter’s hair again. Miggs was grinding helplessly against Peter’s leg now, any sense of embarrassment he’d had quickly fading as Peter eagerly teased him into a higher state of need.

“Peter, please!” Miggs choked, and Peter let up a little, leaving Miggs’ chest alone in favor of grabbing his hips and slowing his desperate grinding to a slow drag as Miggs buried his face in Peter’s hair and breathed shakily.

After a minute, seeming to recover his ability to speak, Miggs murmured, “You could, um…take me from behind. If you want. Because I’m, uh. A little…big, if that’s…um. Fuck. Y’know. Bad.” Peter blinked, wondering how the hell Miggs had gotten it into his head that Peter didn’t find the swell of their baby embarrassingly attractive. Hot on the heels of that came the thought that Miggs was expecting them to fuck, and Peter quickly reached up to pull Miggs back a little so he could see his face. Miggs was flushed and sweating a little, eyes dark but not looking at Peter, mouth twisted a little with embarrassment. Peter reached up to grab Miggs’ chin and pull his gaze to Peter, who let go to sign.

You’re lovely, Peter said, watching Miggs’ cheeks heat and eyes darken. And I want you.

“Okay,” Miggs said softly, breathless as he plucked hesitantly at the edge of his t-shirt, biting his lip. Peter saved him the trouble and slid his hands under the edge of Miggs’ shirt, pushing it up over his stomach and then his chest, watching Miggs lift his arms above his head so Peter could pull the fabric off him completely. Miggs’ upper body had changed drastically since he’d last seen him naked, chest filling out enough that he’d taken to wearing a sports bra for comfort and a little bit of compression, his stomach ballooning out with their child. Miggs flushed and shifted in Peter’s lap, crossing his arms over his chest awkwardly as Peter dragged his gaze over Miggs’ body. Peter leaned back into the couch, hands coming to rub over Miggs’ thighs, smiling as Miggs glanced at him hesitantly.

“What?” he mumbled, and Peter grinned, looking away for a second as he felt a bit embarrassed over how much he liked this, Miggs being close to him and looking at him. The need pulsing low in his gut was nice, Miggs’ desperate rocking on his lap was better, but Peter really just…loved being with Miggs. He’d never imagined something like this being his , this moment, this man and their child, a family , if a bit unconventionally started. But Peter’s life had always been a little bit unconventional.

Lovely , Peter repeated, and Miggs ducked his head, a shy smile playing around his lips as Peter reached up to pull him into another kiss. It was slow, just a gentle give and take of pressure between their mouths for a bit, their breath catching whenever one of them dared further, nipping or sucking a little to tease. Miggs shuddered in Peter’s lap when Peter slid his tongue into Miggs’ mouth, tracing over his lower lip before sliding along Miggs’ tongue and the roof of his mouth, exploring after so long without. He’d seen a few people since he’d been with Miggs, but Peter hadn’t felt this bone-deep need with anyone, not even with Miggs himself that first time. He wondered if it was because Miggs was full of his baby, or maybe because he’d spent so long denying himself. Or maybe it was just because he knew Miggs now, and despite being terrified of losing him, Peter wanted him so badly. Everything Miggs was and had, Peter wanted, and he wanted to give Miggs everything in return.

“Peter,” Miggs breathed when they broke apart, nearly trembling, clinging to Peter’s shoulders as he squirmed on Peter’s lap. “Peter.” Peter hummed, running his hands up the length of Miggs’ mostly bare back, tracing the shape of his spine and his scars, feeling the curve of his hips and the spread of his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as Miggs leaned back to bare his throat for Peter’s mouth. Peter kissed and mouthed at his skin, traveling down the soft rise of Miggs’ chest now that his shirt had been removed. Miggs made soft, helpless noises of pleasure as Peter touched him, rubbing at Miggs’ lower back and kissing at the skin over his heart. Peter felt Miggs’ stomach shift and the baby kick at him, and he laughed softly, letting Miggs droop in his hold a little so Peter could lean down and press kisses to the top of Miggs’ belly, one hand supporting Miggs’ back as the other came to stroke the heavy swell of his abdomen. Curling a couple fingers into his palm, Peter pressed the slang sign he’d tossed around with his parents to the side of Miggs’ stomach, knowing the baby would never hear him vocally declare it, but he’d be damned if she ever felt anything but loved. It was a little dizzying, really, how swollen his heart felt at the thought of her, his daughter, right here, pressing against him from inside of Miggs. He’d never loved someone so much in his life.

Miggs twitched and snorted a laugh as Peter kept kissing his stomach, and Peter grinned, finding the ticklish spot with a bit of exploring before mercilessly exploiting it by blowing air hard against Miggs’ skin.

“Peter!” Miggs cried, laughing helplessly and trying to squirm away but trapped by his own inhibited movement and Peter’s arms around him. “Oh, my God—stop, I’m gonna—” Miggs heaved for breath as Peter let up, not wanting to drive Miggs to the point where he didn’t want to be close anymore. Pressing some apologetic kisses to Miggs’ sternum, Peter felt Miggs’ body wander the line between relaxed and unsatisfied arousal, twitching and tensing in his hold a little. Peter brushed kisses along Miggs’ collarbone, and paused in his administration of affection when Miggs shifted his weight forward, sliding all the way into Peter’s lap, knees pressed to either side of Peter’s hips. Peter looked up to see Miggs biting his lip again, eyes hooded as he leaned back and pushed his hips forward to bring the fork of his legs right against Peter’s crotch. His erection, which had wilted slightly at the cease of grinding, quickly came back to full attention, and Miggs moaned as he felt Peter throb against him through their jeans.

“There,” Miggs mumbled, flushed all the way down his chest, and Peter gave in to the desire to kiss every freckle on Miggs he could reach, peppering little brushes of his mouth over Miggs’ chest and shoulders and throat. “Nn, g-good. Feels good,” Miggs panted, and Peter groaned, the desire in his body quickly stoked back to a wildfire. He wanted to hear Miggs screaming his name again, feel him coming on his tongue or his dick, see him so blissed out he could barely keep his eyes open but still wanting more.

Peter slowly dragged one hand down Miggs’ front, tugging at the edge of his top until Miggs tugged it up and off, tossing it aside. Peter dragged his teeth from Miggs’ jaw to his collar bone, just enough sting to make Miggs moan in a way that reminded Peter of hotel sheets and rain on a car window. He kissed the dip in Miggs’ clavicle and drifted further down, breath coming shaky and weak as his entire being seemed to focus on Miggs and only Miggs. Peter’s hand slid down between them to hesitantly stroke his fingers along the crotch of Miggs’ pants, rubbing at the denim and earning a soft moan when he got it just right. Peter’s mouth drifted to Miggs’ chest, gently kissing at the dark circle of his areola, tongue darting out to tease until Miggs whimpered. Peter carefully pulled the raised bud of Miggs’ nipple into his mouth, giving a firm suck as he rubbed at Miggs’ sex with a couple fingers.

“Fuck!” Miggs gasped, fingers tightening in Peter’s shirt so hard the seams creaked, but Peter barely noticed, absorbed in his task as Miggs’ hips jumped forward to grind against his hand. Peter hummed and Miggs cried out, shuddering as he wandered the edge of orgasm. Peter let up on the pressure for a moment before going back to it, keeping Miggs from coming but dragging him so close he nearly tipped over the edge.

“Peter, please!” Miggs sobbed after a few times of nearly coming but not quite, and Peter stopped torturing him. Lifting his head, Peter used his free hand to draw Miggs into a kiss and rubbed firm little circles between Miggs’ legs. Miggs jerked and moaned into Peter’s mouth, breathing hard through his nose as he came.

Miggs all but melted in Peter’s lap, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the crook of Peter’s shoulder and clinging to him, hips moving in tiny, needy circles as Peter pulled his hand free to hold him close. Peter tried not to moan when Miggs started grinding on his cock, spreading his knees and lifting his hips to push his stomach into Peter’s enough that he could drag his crotch against the bulge in Peter’s jeans.

“Don’t stop,” Miggs huffed into Peter’s throat, and Peter moaned.

If Miggs hadn’t been eight months pregnant, Peter probably would have just picked him up, dropped him onto the coffee table and fucked him right there, and they probably would have broken it in their enthusiasm. But the absolute last thing Peter wanted was to risk Miggs, or the baby in him, getting hurt, so instead Peter wrapped his arms around Miggs and carefully turned them, getting one leg under himself on the couch to lift them up so he could lean down and lay Miggs on his back across most of the cushions.

“Oh,” Miggs huffed, looking a little surprised that Peter could lift and move him so easily. Peter gave him a crooked little smile and slid his hands down the length of Miggs’ body to unfasten his pants and start pulling them down his legs. Miggs arched and squirmed as Peter stripped him of his jeans and left him in a pair of soft cotton boxer briefs that were visibly damp where they clung to his sex. Peter leaned down and kissed the rise of Miggs’ stomach, lips brushing over the bump of his navel, which had been pushed out by his rate of growth over the last few weeks. Miggs whimpered as Peter pushed his legs up and apart, pressing more kisses to the inside of Miggs’ thighs. Miggs groaned and grabbed at the couch when Peter’s mouth brushed against the thin barrier of his underwear, tongue darting out to press against him through it.

“F-fuck,” Miggs panted, body trembling with need as Peter pulled back a bit, tugging at the edges of Miggs’ last bit of clothing until it slid off his hips and down his legs, leaving him naked under Peter at last. Peter dropped Miggs’ boxers off the edge of the couch and sat up to look him over, wondering if Miggs could see in his face just how hungry Peter was for him. From the blush that spread over Miggs’ skin when Peter caught his gaze, he guessed the answer was yes.

Miggs squirmed a little as Peter put his hands on the back of Miggs’ thighs and spread his legs up and apart again, and Peter hummed curiously when Miggs put both hands over his face like he was hopelessly embarrassed.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—it’s been a while—well, actually you know exactly how long it’s been since I haven’t—um. Anyway, and I’ve never—I’m all—um. God.” Miggs stumbled his way through trying to explain, hands still over his eyes, until Peter just leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, earning a whimper. Peter let go of one of Miggs’ legs to instead reach up and pry his hands away from his face, grabbing Miggs’ chin so he’d look at Peter again.

Want you, Peter said, watching Miggs’ eyes grow darker. You look so good. I remember everything from when we met. Want you even more now than I did then. Miggs blushed, brow furrowing a little as Peter started using signs he didn’t really know but hopefully got the gist of.

“Touch me?” Miggs asked after a moment, propping himself up on an elbow so he could reach up to grab Peter’s shirt and pull him closer, kissing Peter slow and hungry. “Please,” Miggs breathed when they broke apart, and Peter nodded helplessly, wanting nothing more than to please the man beneath him. Peter ran his hands over Miggs’ body, feeling the shape of him and trying to commit it to memory. He kissed every inch of Miggs’ skin he could reach, treasuring every pleased sigh and moan Peter earned, until he was laying between Miggs’ thighs again, mouth teasing at his clit. Miggs shuddered every time Peter’s tongue traced over the sensitive bundle of nerves, still a little on edge from coming in his pants earlier. Peter traced his tongue along Miggs’ slit, earning a helpless groan and a twitch of Miggs’ hips. Peter gently slid a couple fingers into Miggs’ body, feeling how wet he was and growling when Miggs rocked down onto his hand, eager for more.

“S’good,” Miggs slurred from above Peter as he licked at the hooded bud of his clit and gently worked his fingers in and out of Miggs’ hole. “Fuck, Peter.” Peter hummed and Miggs arched, trembling at the sensation. “Peter—Peter, please, I need—” Miggs gasped for breath and Peter eased off, pressing wet kisses to the inside of Miggs’ thigh as he pulled his fingers free. Miggs groaned at the loss but managed to push himself up onto his elbows, starting to look more like the flushed, desperate bedmate Peter remembered. It was all the more better, because now that he knew Miggs, he could read almost every expression that flicked across his face, read the lines of his body language and know that, while nervous, Miggs really wanted him. And that felt better than any hook up Peter had ever had, no matter how enthusiastic.

“Take me to bed?” Miggs mumbled, chewing his lip as he turned one leg to rub against Peter’s neglected dick, making him gasp with need before nodding. A giddy smile appeared on Miggs’ face, and Peter’s heart clenched at the sight. He didn’t know what it was about this, Miggs spread out beneath him, heavy with their child, looking at him like he could hardly believe Peter was here …it made Peter feel like he’d taken a hard knock to the head, dizzying and exhilarating and frightening all at once.

Peter slid off the couch and scooped Miggs up, making him yelp in surprise as Peter carried him off to the bedroom, leaving Space Adventure playing in the living room.

Chapter Text

Miggs’ bedroom was darker than the living room, blinds drawn shut over the window as Peter gently laid Miggs out on the unmade sheets. Peter crawled over Miggs’ naked form and buried his face in Miggs’ neck, kissing at his skin and breathing in his scent. Miggs groaned and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, breath coming fast and weak enough that Peter pulled back to look at him with concern.

“You do realize I’m eight months pregnant, right?” Miggs huffed, putting a hand to the huge swell of his stomach, the weight of which was probably pushing on everything inside him as he laid on his back. Peter flushed at his thoughtlessness, quickly coming up onto his knees to help Miggs sit up with Peter kneeling over his legs.  Peter cupped Miggs’ face in both hands and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth and Miggs nearly melted in his grip, kissing back and reaching up to start unbuttoning Peter’s shirt. Peter hummed, pleased as Miggs pulled his shirt open and started touching him, moaning softly into Peter’s mouth.

Miggs pushed Peter’s shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, and Peter let it fall behind him so his hands were free to touch Miggs again. Miggs shuddered as Peter pulled him close, eagerly kissing him as Peter ran his hands over Miggs’ stomach and chest and back, teasing until Miggs was quivering in his arms like a plucked guitar string.

“Please,” Miggs murmured, squirming a little under Peter, his hands stroking down Peter’s chest and soft stomach, fingernails scratching through his body hair to the waistband of his jeans. “I want you, please, please, Peter.” Peter nodded in agreement, sliding his hands down to cup Miggs’ stomach, stroking the heavy weight of him a few times. Miggs leaned back on his hands, pushing his stomach into Peter’s palms. Peter bit his lip and glanced up to see Miggs watching him with the same dark eyed expression he’d had the first time Peter had felt their daughter moving inside him, soft and affectionate and happy . Peter felt a little breathless when he met Miggs’ gaze, everything feeling soft and dark and intimate in a way that was new to Peter.

“You okay?” Miggs asked after a second, goosebumps rippling over his skin visibly as Peter kept touching him, feeling his stomach and hips and chest. Peter nodded, leaning close to brush a kiss against Miggs’ mouth. Miggs let out a pleased noise and kissed him back for a moment before Peter pulled away again to slide off the bed and unbutton his jeans. Miggs’ eyes immediately fell to Peter’s hands, mouth parting slightly as he watched Peter push his jeans down and kick them away. Peter climbed onto the bed next to Miggs, toeing off his socks before laying down next to him. Miggs shifted his weight to lay on his side facing Peter, sliding his arms around Peter’s shoulders and hooking one leg over Peter’s hip. Peter pulled him closer, pressing kisses to Miggs’ throat and shoulder. Miggs let out a soft sigh of pleasure as he let his head fall back so Peter could continue to lave attention on his skin. Peter ran his left hand down the length of Miggs’ body, feeling the slight dip at his waist and the curve of his hip and ass. Miggs moaned when Peter slid his fingers around to squeeze, pulling Miggs’ hips tighter against his own. Peter’s fingers wandered the crack of Miggs’ ass, earning a soft whimper. Peter dragged his hand down to stoke at the damp curls between Miggs’ legs.

“Please,” Miggs huffed, squirming a little as Peter teased him. “Please, Peter?” Peter hummed and pressed a few more kisses to Miggs’ throat. He lifted his hips a little to quickly shimmy out of his own boxers, and Miggs groaned when Peter’s cock came free to nudge at him.

“God, fuck me, Peter, please!” Miggs groaned, but Peter hesitated. He’d never fucked anyone who was pregnant before, and even just the brief stint flat on his back had proved Miggs unable to comfortably enjoy some positions. Maybe he’d feel better on top? He’d also mentioned from behind, but...Peter wanted to see his face.

Peter slid his arms around Miggs again and rolled onto his back, bringing Miggs on top of him. Miggs whimpered and sat up with a hand on his belly, and Peter reached up to feel their baby move around inside him a little.

“She hates when I roll around like this,” Miggs mumbled, wincing as the child inside him kicked at him. “Takes her forever to settle down.” Peter hummed, willing to wait as long as it took for Miggs to enjoy every second of this as much as Peter was. He rubbed his hands along the swell of Miggs’ stomach, tangling the fingers of his right hand with Miggs’ left over where it rested on his belly. Miggs bit his lip and shifted a little so he was sitting right on Peter’s dick, rubbing the wet fork of his legs over Peter’s flesh. Peter swallowed a moan as Miggs rubbed over him, slicking them both with his arousal. Miggs groaned whenever the head of Peter’s twitching cock rubbed against his clit, and Peter was quickly growing desperate to be inside him.

Peter was on the edge of doing his best to get off just with the mutual grinding (it probably wouldn’t take much, honestly) when Miggs planted one hand on Peter’s chest and reached beneath himself to wrap his fingers around Peter’s cock and start sinking onto his length.

“Oh,” Miggs gasped as the head of Peter's cock slipped inside his body and the rest of his length quickly followed until Miggs was flush with Peter’s hips again. Peter groaned at the wet heat around him as Miggs rocked slightly on top of him, Miggs’ expression going hazy and pleased as Peter twitched inside him.

“Missed this,” Miggs mumbled, grinding down on Peter and tightening around him so much Peter almost saw stars. “Missed you.” Peter whimpered, grabbing at Miggs’ hips to lift him up enough that Peter could brace his feet on the bed and start to thrust into him, gentle and slow. Miggs loosed a weak sound of pleasure as Peter started to fuck him, tightening around Peter every time he lifted his hips to bottom out inside him. Miggs arched his spine and let his head tip back, rolling his hips just a little with every slow thrust Peter made, and Peter felt a sharp thrill run through the pit of his stomach when Miggs moaned helplessly.

“So good,” Miggs breathed, the hand he had on Peter’s chest tensing and relaxing in time with the gentle movements of their hips, nails catching in Peter’s body hair slightly. Peter groaned in agreement, nearly shaking as he kept his pace steady and controlled. While Miggs had proved himself more than able to take a little rough treatment before, Peter didn’t want to risk it this time, when Miggs was so pregnant he might pop any day now.

Peter gripped Miggs’ hip tighter with one hand as he slid the other along the heavy swell of his abdomen and down to the fork of his legs, thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden there and stroking quick little circles against it.

“Oh, fuck,” Miggs gasped, lifting his head to look down at Peter. He was flushed and sweating a little, curls sticking to his forehead and temples, mouth parted as he stared at Peter with half-open eyes that were so dark they looked black to Peter. Biting his lip, Peter applied a little more pressure with his thumb and Miggs tensed, hips jumping forward against the stimulation as he tightened around Peter. “G-gonna--!” Miggs’ jaw clenched and he keened through his teeth as he came, dropping his weight to pin Peter’s hips to the bed and spasm around his entire length. Peter dragged in a ragged breath as he felt Miggs flutter and clench around him, a wet sound accompanying every grind of Miggs’ hips as he milked his orgasm for everything it was worth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Miggs huffed, shuddering and grinding on Peter’s cock as he drew out the shuddering of his body, probably to the point of overstimulation going by the almost-pained gasp he gave. Peter pulled his hand away from Miggs’ crotch and stuck his wet fingers in his mouth to taste him, watching the blush on Miggs’ face darken. Peter made a pleased sound at the taste before grabbing Miggs’ hips to lift him up again. Peter only managed a couple of thrusts before Miggs winced a little, and Peter immediately paused, tilting his head in question.

“Sensitive,” Miggs mumbled after a minute, squirming a little on top of Peter. “Feels...weird.” Peter made a thumbs down and then gave Miggs a questioning look, who made a so-so sort of face in return. “Give me a minute,” Miggs said after a second, lifting off Peter’s cock and bending over to kiss him, slow and sweet. Peter melted inside at that and put aside his own throbbing need to come, hands wandering over Miggs’ body as they kissed, but careful to stay away from any spots that might be too much for Miggs’ nerves to handle right now.

Peter twitched in surprise when Miggs reached down to stroke him, fingers gliding over his length and catching a little in the sticky wetness his body had left behind. Miggs’ lips curled against Peter’s mouth when he groaned deep in his chest, hips lifting eagerly into Miggs’ hand as he raised one leg to settle to the side of Peter. Peter rolled to face him again, and Miggs wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck instead to keep kissing him. Peter held him close, Miggs’ heavy belly pressing against him. Peter was embarrassed to admit that Miggs being full of his child stirred something possessive and infinitely pleased in his chest, something that wanted to worship every inch of Miggs’ skin more than he already had, something that had him carefully rolling Miggs onto his back again. Miggs wheezed a little but seemed okay once Peter grabbed a couple of pillows and put them behind him, propping him up so the weight of his pregnancy wasn’t quite squashing all his organs more than it already was when he was upright.

Okay? Peter asked, using a slang sign that had become commonplace use between them.

“Mm-hm,” Miggs replied, hands wandering over Peter’s body as he knelt over him. “I’m great.” Peter tried not to feel too proud at the state of Miggs, heavily pregnant and happy and satisfied, soft and pliant under Peter. He found it far more attractive than he ought have, but he put that bit of self-examination away for later, leaning down to brace his hands on the mattress to either side of Miggs and press soft kisses against his neck and shoulder. Miggs arched into the attention, stomach pressing against Peter’s cock, and Peter’s hips pushed automatically into the pressure. He shuddered at the friction, a little too rough for his usual tastes, but Miggs’ skin was warm and pulled taut, and Peter was quite suddenly and shamelessly rutting against him, breath coming hot and heavy in the crook of Miggs’ neck.

“Fuck, Peter,” Miggs whispered, sliding his arms around Peter’s torso to hold onto his shoulders, shifting a little restlessly under Peter as he worked to get off. Peter whimpered, hoping Miggs wasn’t too weirded out by how much Peter was into this, thrusting against the heavy curve of Miggs’ stomach. Miggs moaned under him as Peter’s breathing gained a needy whimper with every exhale, teetering on the edge of release.

“Peter, please,” Miggs huffed, grabbing Peter’s hips and bringing him to a stop. A broken, desperate sound broke from Peter’s throat, a tremble running through him as he wandered close to orgasm but was denied. “Please, I want--” Miggs pushed at him a little and Peter quickly scrambled off him, worried Miggs wanted to stop, but instead Miggs just crawled toward the middle of the mattress and bent over, hips swaying a little as he looked over his shoulder at Peter.

“Please,” Miggs said again, reaching back with one hand to grab his ass and spread himself open a bit. Peter whimpered helplessly at the sight, mouth watering a little as he shuffled up behind Miggs, reaching up to rub his fingers along his wet slit, fingers brushing over the sensitive bundle of his clit before sliding into his body. Miggs shuddered and moaned, arching his back so his heavy stomach pressed into the mattress underneath him, pushing his hips back onto Peter’s fingers.

“Feels good, please, more,” Miggs huffed after a minute of Peter testing to be sure Miggs wasn’t too sensitive. Peter carefully pulled his hand free and slid into place behind Miggs, leaning down to press soft kisses over his back and hips, mouth brushing over the twist of scarring there. Peter wondered if Miggs was experiencing any discomfort or danger with his back due to his pregnancy, but Miggs hadn’t mentioned it or acted like he was in pain, so Peter set the thought aside, instead focusing on wrapping his fingers around Miggs’ hips to pull him back onto Peter’s throbbing cock.

A long, low moan escaped Peter as he sank into Miggs, the wet clutch of Miggs’ body better than water after being stranded in a desert. Miggs made soft, desperate noises as Peter bottomed out inside him, hips flush to Miggs’ ass. Miggs’ hands were tangled in his sheets, hips shifting slightly in Peter’s grip as he grew more needy for friction.

“Please,” Miggs moaned after a minute of Peter just enjoying being buried within him, feeling Miggs tighten and flutter around his dick. “Please fuck me, Peter, God, I want you so badly.” Peter made some sort of strangled noise that might be interpreted as uh-huh if he was lucky, adjusting his grip on Miggs hips to keep him steady as he slowly withdrew to press into him again. Peter kept the pace steady and slow, not wanting to be too rough with his heavily-pregnant partner, hips rolling forward to thrust into him as Peter leaned forward to press a few sloppy kisses to the skin between Miggs’ shoulder blades. Miggs hummed and arched into the affection, keening softly when Peter pressed deep into him. Peter slid one hand under Miggs to feel the weight of his belly, shuddering at the taut, warm skin under his palm. Miggs whimpered when Peter reached higher to gently palm at his chest, thumbing at his nipple and making him moan. Peter carefully pinched and rolled the taut tip between a couple fingers, not wanting to overstimulate Miggs again but desperate to pull more noises of pleasure from Miggs’ throat.

“Oh, fuck,” Miggs huffed, bracing himself on his elbows a little more securely so he could push back to meet Peter’s thrusts, inviting him to go faster, harder. Peter put both hands on Miggs’ hips again and straightened up to guide Miggs’ rocking, pulling him on and off his cock with a little more force. Miggs began to cry out every time Peter bottomed out, the lewd smack of their bodies meeting a testament to their eagerness. Peter was trying to hold back coming, wanting Miggs to come at least once more before Peter. He wanted to feel Miggs come on his cock, hear him screaming for Peter in pure need as Peter filled him with come again, even as Miggs was nearly full to bursting with their child.

“Haagghk--!” Peter threw his head back and tensed from head to toe, trying so hard not to come but it was hopeless, he yanked Miggs back onto his dick a little harder and the tension in his body reached its peak.

“Oh, God!” Miggs gasped, goosebumps rippling visibly over his skin as Peter spilled inside him, clutching at his hips so hard he was sure to have bruises. “Fuck, Peter!” Miggs shuddered around him, body drawn as tight as a piano wire, vibrating with tension. Peter could see stars behind his closed lids he’d come so hard, and his breath heaved in and out of his lungs as sweat dripped down his skin. It’d been awhile since he’d felt so winded after coming, but he had to admit that he’d been pent up for ages now, wanting Miggs but not having him for months.

“Peter,” Miggs groaned underneath him, laying on his face against the mattress, still impaled on Peter’s softening cock, which was being milked for all it was worth by Miggs’ body as he tried to get off. “I...I can’t reach from here,” Miggs admitted in a small voice, and when Peter looked down he could see Miggs trying to reach beneath himself to stroke at his clit, but from how his back was arched and hips lifted, he could only reach just below the heavy curve of his belly. Peter hummed and slowly pulled free, his hands on Miggs’ hips keeping him from moving. Peter slid down to start pressing gentle kisses against Miggs’ lower back, mouth sliding over the curve of Miggs’ ass to the fork of his legs.

“Ah-!” Miggs gasped when Peter slowly dragged his tongue along his slit, tasting Miggs’ slick and his own come dripping from Miggs’ hole, hot and thick. Miggs whined and squirmed when Peter used his thumbs to open Miggs up and press his mouth to his hole, tongue sliding into him. “Fuck,” Miggs huffed as Peter lapped at his opening, eyes half lidded and growling a little whenever Miggs so much as twitched. Miggs let out breathless praise when Peter’s mouth wandered down to his clit, teasing a little for a minute before setting to work, tongue dragging over him and sucking gently until Miggs was knotting his hands into the bedsheets, crying out as he pushed his hips back onto Peter’s tongue.

Carefully, so carefully because Peter knew Miggs was more sensitive than he had been the last time they’d been in bed together, Peter dragged his teeth over Miggs’ clit, sucking firmly, and was rewarded almost immediately.

“Oh, God--oh, God, oh fuck, Peter, Peter, please, Peter! ” Miggs’ voice rose to a cracking shriek as he came, burying his face in the bed sheets. Peter flinched automatically when a wet gush came from Miggs’ hole, a mix of Peter’s come and hot fluid from Miggs’ orgasm, which was new. Peter barely blinked before quickly dragging his tongue up Miggs’ slit to lick it up. Miggs gasped and shuddered but didn’t protest, and Peter kept mouthing at him until Miggs let out a soft sound of discomfort from overstimulation.

Miggs slowly slid onto his side to gradually relax until he was completely limp, breath coming heavy and slow as Peter crawled over the bed to lean over him. Miggs’ eyes fluttered open when Peter reached up to brush Miggs’ damp curls out his face. Miggs smiled softly at Peter, prompting something weak and frightened to tremble in Peter’s chest like a newly formed butterfly, spreading its wings for the first time.

“Hey,” Miggs breathed, and Peter smiled at him, lifting his hand to wave a little before returning to stroke over the shell of Miggs’ ear and down to his jaw, tracing the line of Miggs’ throat. “Fuck, I haven’t felt so good in ages.” Miggs huffed, and Peter’s mouth curled into a satisfied smirk, laying down next to Miggs to nudge his way under his chin in order to kiss at his throat and collarbone. Miggs hummed and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, tangling their legs together. Peter put his hand on the side of Miggs’ bulging stomach, a long soft sigh leaving Peter’s lungs like he’d been holding his breath for years, waiting for this exact moment.