Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Miguel has been acting weird lately. Well, Miguel was always a little weird. With his disappearing acts throughout the day and the lack of energy when confronted with the sun, and in general. You very well thought he was a vampire. And in the world you live in where superheroes roam the skies, that actually might be plausible.

But today, Miguel was quiet and stationary. He was distracted. He was getting a little sloppy with his work; At first you reveled in it, watching him slip back into old ways making small jabs in his direction, like your 1st of working at Alchemax. But when he apologized you knew something was actually wrong.

It was unlike him.

He would typically snip back when you poked him, making a snide comment about a mess up in your experiment, and he would usually be more than happy to tell you what you could improve upon with your project and leading your lab associates. But not today, or yesterday or the day before. He apologized to you and kept on moving. Like a ghost of his former self.

It was unsettling.

You were reading your email as the timer ran, the soft hum of the electrophoresis poles filling the quiet lab space. Your team went to lunch and you told them you'd watch their portion of their respective projects.

You see a message pop up in the top right corner of your screen and almost roll your eyes upon reading the header.

“Ugh I forgot about the holiday party.” You groan, feeling the distinct tightness in your skull that occurred whenever you had to talk to executives and the board. It had to be done, but at the cost of your sanity and brain cells.

Luckily your team was excited to go, wanting to experience the posh exquisite fruits of their labor. You didn't discourage them, but you wanted them to get the experience of being with the people who fund their projects and see how far removed the business people are from them.

It was a prestigious right of passage at this point after being hired by Miguel and yourself.

“It's gallivanting like a show pony and brown nosing for more money. I know it's needed sometimes, but they don't understand what we do, ever. They just want results that yield profits. Whether it helps people or not. Usually not.” You muttered, scrolling past the email.

“... I have to go.” Miguel spoke for the first time after entering the lab at 8:30 this morning. He was the owner's son. It would look bad if he didn't show up. Or at the bare minimum raise some questions.

“Sorry Miguel, some of us are normal civilians who didn't have a billionaire as a daddy. An evil one at that.”

He didn't respond to your quip, still focused on... Actually you were certain he wasn't focused at all.

You decided to confront him. It was the only way you were going to know what was bothering him and making it hard for you to focus. You looked at the alarm on the ledge near your electrophoresis bath, noticing you still had time before needing to turn off the nodes. You decided to pounce.

“Is that what's got you acting weirder than usual?" You turn to glance at him from his spot at the chromatography station that he wasn't even using. He was looking at you intensely. You almost yelp from the unexpected intensity of his gaze, nearly knocking your clipboard off the desk in front of the computer. There were times when you looked at him, his eyes seemed to shift hue; they almost looked red. This was one of those moments. You weren't quite sure what triggered it in him. You just knew it was excitement that made them turn. Good or bad.

“Was it really uncalled for? Why are you looking at me like you want to murder me-”

“I need…” He interjects, interrupting your terrible apology, you both know it was true so he probably wouldn't have gotten offended anyway, “A date. To the party.”

You pursed your lips.
Miguel has never told you about his love life let alone anything that personal. He didn't seem like he had one. You didn't have one, for sure.

When you were here late, he was too. The both of you bickering over cloning standards, eating takeout, and revolutionizing genomic sequencing. You left almost at the same time as well. And if he was always disappearing, and then miraculously showing up again, scratched up and beaten, then a partner would surely notice and ring him out for it.

He was definitely single. If not, his relationship status was DNR from the lack of time spent together. You respond, surprised that something this trivial would cause him to be worried.

“-Is that why you're uptight?”

He nodded once, running his hands through his thick hair.

“My mom kept digging into me about not having a date or a partner yet. Especially since my brother Gabriel recently got engaged.”

“Go single. Who cares what they think.”
You shrugged, turning back to read the email. You were about to hit decline when he spoke up.

“Can't. Not after I, stupidly, said I have a girlfriend. They are expecting someone there. I also have an old fashioned investor who is interested in- our department who puts heavy emphasis on marriage. We would secure funding for the year.” He lifts his glasses, pinching his nose between his index finger and thumb.

You take a deep breath. You understood the pressure of performing and appeasing investors, and his parents but you were not understanding why he was so uptight about it this time. He could easily find an escorting service, pay someone to play the part for a while and split when it's time. Miguel has told his dad off multiple times and stood his ground well from the meetings you attended. What makes this any different?

You offer a quick solution.
“Why not try a dating app? Or an escorting service if you just want to pay someone for the night.”

Your friend in Seattle was a sex worker and she was an escort from time to time. If the work didn't involve ropes and chains, she's charming people at parties. She said it was fun to pretend and lie to rich people. You believed her after getting bored of meeting the executives of Alchemax. She would probably be glad to go with Miguel for the evening if she were back in Nueva York.

“I told them it was someone from my team and we're working long hours which is why I haven't invited y- her over.” Miguel tripped over his words. He never does that. Why did he do that?

“... Who are you supposed to invite?” You observe Miguel. He slants his eyes downward like a guilty dog who got into the refrigerator and ate your dinner; he isn't directly looking at you anymore.

“Miguel…?”

You begin connecting the dots: the odd behavior, him suddenly deciding to open up to you, looking guilty about needing a girlfriend. You don't like the picture he's drawn out for you.

“... You told them it was me you're bringing! Dammit O'hara!” You motion like you were going to choke him and you would have if it were not for the height difference between you two and you were fairly certain he could peel you off of him. He was a strong man. “Why!? Why would you do that?"

“... The investor likes your project and wants to fund it.” Miguel sounds exasperated.

"Not that, I understand that, your parents!“

"And as for my parents, you- were the first person I thought of in the middle of the argument. It's only one night. Just- come with me.”

You blink like Miguel threw a bucket of water at you. You honestly thought you heard O'hara ask you (or get as humanly close to asking as possible) to the Christmas party because he lied to his parents supposedly at the same meeting with an investor.

“How old are you?” You ask, entering his space, he takes a step back.

“Why does that concern you? I'm 36. Like six years older than you-”

You interrupt him, “I just find it a little weird that a grown ass man has to consider his parents or weird investors’ feelings in his personal life. You literally can do what you want. I get the person trying to fund the project. But your parents? Miguel-” You raise your arms in the air, exasperated.

Miguel confused you somewhat. There were times he could be professional and poised. His mysterious and well thought of plans made you admire him. This wasn't one of those events.

“My dad is all about appearances as of late and my mom was actually concerned that I was throwing myself into my work too hard. I couldn't handle the pressure. I get tired of hearing them rag on me.” You saw his eyebrow twitch.

Miguel was actually irritated.

He didn't exactly have the best relationship with his parents. His father forcibly poured all of his company knowledge into him, calling Miguel from his work at any moment to do God knows what, you just knew it was poisonous at best and explosive at worst whenever they were within 2 meters of each other. And he never talked about his mother. Will she be at the event? Will his brother? Why should you care? Shouldn't you be happy that he is in turmoil?

A breath escapes you.

“- Come with me to the Christmas party, please. You're the person they are expecting.”

He was desperate. You could tell him no and watch him go down in flames. It would be lovely, but you couldn't do that, it's not in your nature. Despite the trouble you are giving him now, and the way he has treated you in the past, you could not do Miguel dirty.

He wasn't that bad and he never intended to hurt anyone. But you still wanted to see him squirm. Just a little.

Still seeing the apprehensive look on your face, Miguel takes a deep breath, letting out a pained sigh as he clasped his hands together in front of him. You turn away from him as the timer rings.

“If you went with me, not only would you keep- my parents off of my back- I think- you are- formidable, and and I-” He clears his throat, staring at anything else but you. Like he can't believe what he is saying either “Would like to have- you as company.”

“Formidable is a weird word to use if you would like my company,” You mutter, trying to see the results of the western blot. You know you can't see it well in normal lighting, but still try anyway. “You usually refer to enemies and people you want dead as formidable.”

He lets out a frustrated huff of air.
“What I am trying to say is it would be nice to have you instead of grandstanding-”

“It'd be nice to have me attend with you? But Miguel, you just referred to me as an archenemy. Those are mixed signals Miggs.” You interject, toying with him.

“Are you going to question everything I say? If I'm going to have company at this- stupid thing, it might as well be someone I view as my equal.” That's the closest to a compliment you're going to get. You decided to be more obtuse instead, liking the blush that crossed his cheeks. It was cute. Was that freckling you see on his cheeks?

“...So I am a last resort. Also isn't this some sort of quid pro quo thing what if people think I am sleeping around to go higher up. We already have enough HR training as it is. This could be BIG. I can see the headlines now: Scandalous the company owners son and a lead scientist caught in debaucherous scandal-”

He growls, exasperated. You think you see his eye twitch. You smile more.

“Ay coño- Is that what you got out of me literally trying to compliment you and you turned into a telenovela-”

“I'm pulling your leg, Miguel. Cool it. Though I did bring up a good point. You were literally my PI in school. Technically you still are; It's going to look a bit like quid pro quo.”

You didn't hate Miguel. Hate was too strong and didn't apply to your dynamic you learned after being at alchemax for 6 years. After spending nights in the lab working on research together you realised he was imperfect and had some amount of humility in him. He didn't goof off or mess around. Usually when he comes back he looks like he got his ass beat. You assume whatever Miguel kept leaving for was something important.

Your heated misunderstanding melted to just an ever-stewing, yet playful beef. Miguel could be an asshole when pressed, and you had some unresolved tension. But you both loved what you did and that meant clashing personalities sometimes. You were also adults. Both capable of talking about your problems instead of eating your feelings only for them to be regurgitated in an ugly manner later. Your thirties provided some clarity and ability to handle confrontation.

Everyone did sleep with everyone at Alchemax. You, lying about dating Miguel and holding hands with your boss is quite tame compared to the shit storms you know happens in other departments. And those people kept their jobs. Most of them. Some of them. You'll be fine.

And it's not real anyway. You'll break up as soon as the party is over.

“It probably won't be that big of a deal…” You inhale, hold your breath for a little while and exhale. “I'll go with you. But you owe me for taking time out of my precious Saturday to be locked in a room with you, stuffed suits and your parents.” You take the support grid containing the agarose gel out of the buffer solution. Miles, Gwen, and Pav will be happy with their results. And happy to know that you were making an appearance.

“You literally spend your waking moments when you aren't working playing video games with your team and torturing your cats.” He gives you a massive side eye. You take offense to his observation.

“I told you it's called team building exercises, Miguel. If you were cool you could join us, it helps me get to know them better and see the inner machinations of their minds.” He sighs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “And my cats torture me first, its an mutual yet annoying relationship. Kind of like ours.” You mutter, finishing up the agar gels.

“I don't think I have anything to wear.” You don't get out much, as Miguel just eluded. The last time you spent an evening like this was your same friend's wedding 3 or 4 years ago. You spend most of your time in large sweaters, overalls or leggings, and lab coats. A lot of lab coats. You dress for comfort and functionality.

“We can go shopping and I'll buy your dress and whatever else goes with it. I figure paying is a kind gesture seeing that I got you into this mess.” He takes a deep breath. The weight is lifted off his shoulders finally as he sits down at the computer station by the window and leans back in the office chair. How it doesn't get crushed under the size of him is beyond you.

“...That is really nice of you,” You pause, still not letting him off the hook, “But you still owe me.” you wash your hands, getting ready to take your lunch. “Something on my terms.”

Somehow he makes it obvious that he is rolling his eyes despite his eyes being shut beneath his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"When you think of it, tell me.” You walk over to him, and hold your hand out. With a sixth sense almost, Miguel looks up at you, eyebrow quirked up behind the glasses.

“You have a deal. We will be amicable until the Christmas party is over and done with, of course.” He gets up to shake.

“Fine. Deal.” He shakes, firm and with passion. “I have your number. We can come up with a real plan tonight after work.” He told you. You form an evil grin on your face. He freezes

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Now its his turn to be freaked out.

"You're my boyfriend now. What's a cute nickname that I can call you to let people know?” You chuckle and he stands up almost bristled at the sound.

“Stop.” Miguel's lips thin to a straight line, brushing past you.

“Pookie? No- Schnookums! NO EVEN BETTER-” Your laugh gets louder as you chase him.

“Leave me alone! Dammit Y/N!”

He practically runs out of the lab you chase after him, giggling as you do.

“Sugar tits!”
He hides in his office.

Chapter Text

“Staying late again, y/n?” You heard Miguel call through your open office door.

“Yeah my project isn't working out, so I am doing some reading.”
You were going to try and replace the need for heavy antibiotics by modifying the genetics of bacteriophages to target specific life threatening bacteria and their ability to produce toxins.

If you did your due diligence on bacteriophages correctly. When you find yourself stuck on concepts you end up reading, lost amongst the papers and peer reviews until you find an answer or data that backs up your hypothesis.

Miguel entered your office, immediately met with fairy lights and whacky nic nacs from your late-late night internet impulse purchases. You had a whimsical sense of fashion and design. Miguel has never made a comment about it, but he always looked at the newest edition to your treasures first. He puts his stuff down in the chair across from your desk, looking like he was about to leave for the night. You glance up at him again.

“You should go home and rest. You've been working with the Masters degree students all day.”

Miguel said softly, aware of the quiet stillness and not wanting to disturb it.

“Thats my job.” You mutter glancing at him as you hunch over your laptop. “And I am still doing my research for my own project. Didn't you help them too? Isn’t this a bit hypocritical?”

"At least I am leaving. You'd stay here all night if I didn't check on you.” He leans over to shut your lap top lid with the pads of his fingers. He was close, you smelled the light cologne on him that you liked the scent of. You never asked him what it was. You recoil-

“Hey! I was going to leave-” and grab your laptop, but you still don't move from your spot.

“Yeah…” He looks at his watch, “At 6 AM at this rate. You fall down rabbit holes and lose track of time. We're both too old for that. Go take care of yourself and your cats.” Miguel speaks from experience.

In the past, you would both lock eyes leaving your respective offices, both of you falling asleep during your pursuit of knowledge, sometimes together in the same room. And it was getting harder to do longer nights at Alchemax. Maybe it was easy for you to sacrifice your time because you wanted to complete your degree. Now, it's just old habits that don't serve you anymore.

“Again pot meets kettle Miguel. You'd do the same thing.” He turns off your ambient lights leaving the lamp by your door on so you can see. You sigh and begin to pack up seeing that he won't leave until you do.

“You also start finding unconventional methods in older articles to solve your problems that don't fit our standard for research. We can both do more research tomorrow.” He spoke with finality and an authority that left no room for rebuttal.

Your lips form a tight line, nodding slowly. He caught you. You were looking at unconventional articles that didn't meet Alchemax's or Miguel's standards. But you were also going to find a more recent article with similar information. It's part of your process. But he was right. No need to risk writing down bad data due to being exhausted.

“Fine. Did you eat?” You ask him, changing the subject.

“Why do you ask?” He stands up straight after looking at the newest pins on your pin board.

“Aww can't I show concern for my big beautiful sugar tits?” You pout smushing your cheeks together.

He glares, and you notice a quick flash of red in the darkness of your office. You hold your breath.

Miguel seems to catch himself. He cleared his throat, catching your change in behavior.

“... No. I did not eat anything.” He spoke more reserved, not quite looking at you anymore.

“... I was going to go to the cafe up the street and grab a panini before heading home. I know you didn't eat much today so I thought you could get something too.”

He didn't skip meals unless he was busy.
You hang your lab coat up on the hook near your desk and grab your cardigan cape from off the chair in front of your desk. He looks at your cat clock near the door.

“It’s 9:32, are they still open?” He glances back at you waiting for you to lock up.

“I swing by there after I leave some nights. It’s near the university, I am sure they are open til 2 AM.” You clean your desk, and turn off the other lights in your office that Miguel didn't get.

“Should we be eating this late?” He asks,

“We both know we aren't immediately going to bed when we go home,” You grab your phone from the dock on your desk. “Besides; think of this as a dry run for ‘dating’.” you put your barrette on over your twists.

He hums, and waits for you. You'll take that as a yes, he is going to walk with you. You lock up and awkward silence falls between the two of you. He shifts his satchel from his left shoulder to the other.

“Is this really the first time I have actually tried to hang out with you amicably?” You ask, leaving the building. It was brisk, winter slowly making its way into the city. Frost would be on the ground in the morning. You see the plaza where the Cafe is just beyond the upper deck of Alchemax’s parking lot.

“... I suppose so. We are usually working in the lab or researching our troubles until I don't think we have ever talked about much else.” He states.

You both knew enough about each other to make sure quality of life in the lab wasn't disrupted. You were both strict on reagent storage and proper pipette technique, any good scientist was.

But you knew he didn't like sweet things or candy. So you get him dark chocolate or trail mix as a snack if he's crunched for time, or something savory. He knew when you got out of meetings, you were drained from talking so he gave you 20 minutes before approaching you unless it was an emergency. You both liked closing the blinds and working in a dimlit space, and spicy foods. If you both could turn the glaring overhead fluorescent lights of the main lab off, you would in a heart beat. You worked in tandem with one another in the last couple years. Something you wished for from the start six years ago. He was much more aloof than he was now; Way more rigid and absent. It made it harder for you to complete your PhD, which strained your relationship with him.

“It’d be good to try and come up with a list of things other than work to talk about or see what we have in common to sell this to the investor easier.”

He hums in agreement.
“Call me tomorrow evening. We can discuss the logistics then.”

“Logistics… When it's literally just you telling me if you like long walks on the beach or not.” You scoff, he could be so formal and rigid, despite being overly nimble and graceful and knowing just what to say at the right times.

“What else would you call it?”

“Literally just getting to know each other better. Logistics makes you sound like an instrument. Or a machine.” He was a person. Or is he? Are vampires people? You glance at him.

“... We can set up a time so we can quote get to know each other better unquote.” He glances at you, acutely aware that you are examining him. Miguel lifts his eye brow.

“Why do you keep staring at me like I am about to bite you.”

He just might one dag. You shrug.

You enter the cafe, asking to get your sandwich to go.

“I'll pay.” Miguel states and swipes his card. The silence is still stiff despite the preppy pop music playing a bit too loud for the calm of the shop.

“Have you been here before?” You ask him, breaking the silence.

“No actually I haven't.”
Silence falls upon you again. You thought he would talk more about himself. You try another topic.

“How do you find the time to work out?”

He arches an eyebrow.

“You can't be that buff and not work out.” You huff, as your number gets called. You both get your panini's and bags of chips. Or maybe he could.

Miguel was well cut. Cut enough to give you an idea that he worked out, but you knew he was not one for skipping meals or eating small if he had the time. He was smaller when you met him years ago, thinner and more prominent cheek bones.

But recently, you caught a glimpse of his arms when he was deep inside one of the analyzers at work trying to grab a few cuvettes that fell and jammed up the conveyor belt on the inside. His sleeves were rolled up and you blurted that he should be a life drawing model in his spare time. Miguel He filled out nicely. Now, he was certainly a specimen. An enigma of a specimen that managed to irritate you.

“... I do, I just wondered what made you ask.”
He murmured into his drink. A cute irritating enigma.

“This-” You gesture between the two of you, “-Is a bit stiff Miguel, if I am supposed to pretend to be your partner, we can't be this stiff. The dry run, remember?”

He blinks, the realization hits him. “Right- I am just tired. More tired than usual. That's why I am a bit more absent right now. Also I wouldn't have thought you would be interested in my routine.” You sigh.

Miguel explains his work out, it sounded over the top. Like he literally beats himself up 4 to 5 times a week.

“How do you have time for all of that? I'd be exhausted.”

“You said it back in your office. We both aren't going to bed when we go home tonight. Except I might this time. I am more tired and sore than usual.” He sighs, rotating his shoulder again. “My warm up is sufficient- I just throw myself into it.”

He did a lot of cardio, some boxing and weight lifting. He needed to stretch.

“You should do yoga poses.” You suggest your routine, mundane and simple. “Just do 20 minutes and you'll feel more relaxed when you work out. That's how I get through the day.”

He hums, “I'll try that. What made you come up with that?” You can see him trying to connect now.

“I like being able to go up the stairs without feeling like I got kicked in the ribs. I also like dancing. I'll just dance around the apartment and turn it into a makeshift club and I don't want to pull a muscle or hurt myself.”

“I think about lifting weights but it intimidates me.”

He nods.
“You start small with weights. Don't over exert yourself.”

You click your teeth and inhale a sharp breath of air, still not convinced.
“One day, not too soon. I know myself. I am going to try and take on more than I can handle and end up trapped under my weights with my cats sitting on my chest looking down at me.”

He gives a soft chuckle. It's not the first time you made him chuckle. It was breathy yet deep. You both finish your paninis and chips with your drinks in hand and head back out into the brisk weather.

“Despite our bickering I think we could pull it off. With the investor I mean.” You say, “I think the arguing adds to it actually. Like… An old married couple.”

“If we're both like that in our thirties, we are doomed by our sixties. Grumpy and set in our ways.” He mutters, sipping his dark chocolate matcha drink.

You chuckle to yourself.
“Just dump us in the nursing home at that point. I can see you in a nursing home already, yelling at the nurse about proper medication etiquette.” Miguel rolls his eyes trying to hide his smile, but you are infectious.

“Oh yeah? I could see you taking over the arts and craft class and causing mutiny over the teacher not using the proper stitch pattern for crocheting a hat.”

You laugh harder, knowing it was semi true.

You make it back to your car, on the lower deck of the lot, parked off by itself. The horn honks when you unlock it. Decorated and customized to your hearts content.

Miguel looked at it with an unusually stony face. He was holding his face still. Similarly to when he was in a meeting with someone he did not like or when someone said something out of pocket.

He didn't like your car. You ignore it for now, choosing to get in the driver seat.

“I am going to go and work on my yoga poses, Miggs. Good night.” You wave to him, starting the car.

He waves you off, heading lower into the garage.
—--
Luckily the traffic died a bit since it was near 10 PM. But it’s Nueva York. There is always traffic.

Your brown stone, luckily came with a garage in the back. Some might complain about the lack of a backyard, but you were happy you didn't have to park on the street. Much of the garage was storage, and enough space for your car. When you let the door down you feel more at ease, more relaxed after coming home and being in a familiar place. You were a homebody by nature. If you could melt into your fuzzy rug, you would.

You turn the key and your cats Viola and Cabbage greet you. Meowing at you as if they were scolding you that you came home late. Naturally, you baby talk to them when you greet the two at the door. Viola was trying to jump in your arms and Cabbage was chirping to you about his day while bumping into your legs.

“I have a fake boyfriend, you two. It's Miguel, the jerk I'd rant to you about after work.” You filled their feeder, and gave them both a little treat. Both cats loved eating frozen Broccoli. You dipped into the freezer, breaking off part of a stalk that each cat could handle. They chirp and meow, jumping gracefully to the counter top, awaiting their delicious treat.

“You two deserve a treat because you waited for me to come back all day. Luckily, Miguel wasn’t a jerk today. Or recently.”

They sit on the counter as you watch them eat. You admit something you felt all along.

“... Maybe he wasn't ever really a jerk- Maybe he was going through something. Miguel is still aloof and hidden, and doesn’t really communicate as much as I would like. I still think he is a vampire.” They glance at you as you talk, used to hearing you verbally journal your day. It was cathartic for you, even if it was a little crazy.

Viola finishes her stalk first headbutting you as thanks for the frozen foliage and you respond to her by scratching her chin, and smashing your face into her fur. Cabbage was still delicately chewing his piece. Your boy was a slow eater.

“Tonight wasn't bad. He is hard to read sometimes, still after spending so much time together. If we are supposed to be in a relationship we at least have to be convincing. I also think it's just time I try to understand him better. He is not the same person I met.”

Cabbage taps your face with his paw before licking your cheek. You kiss his forehead.

“I should try to get to know him better, right? I mean… He can’t be that bad. He looks out for me and I look out for him.” Viola chirps again and cabbage licks Viola's tuxedo coat.

“I see him growing as a person, I should grow too. I will use this opportunity to see who he really is.” You pick both of them up off the counter, and head to your bedroom. You put them in their cat hammock and grab your pajamas. You decide to do your poses and you roll out your yoga mat.

“You guys are great listeners.” You joke, kissing them both. Cabbage, who was over-stimulated, hit Viola, who didn't register what had happened in time to react and jumped down, choosing to sit on the mat you just rolled out. You sigh.

Chapter Text

You managed to get to the office around 7:30, waking up at 5:50 for your morning commute. Disgustingly early for you, but it was a paperwork kind of day. You weren't going to work on your own project until later in the week so you arrived early and intended to leave early.

You polished your chicken scratch notes, adding more detail about the bacteriophages you were working with and your own cultures. You were not going to add the information from the articles you found to your notes until you had the right sources that lined up with Miguel's standards. You would try to adhere to the standard.

You also managed to answer emails, keeping note that The Board has finally responded to your budget proposal for the Masters degree students. You did not want to digest that first thing in the morning. They were later than ever and you could feel your blood pressure rising even seeing the note come through.

“Y/n?” You look up from your paper work to find miles in your office. A kind young man you picked from NYU. He was definitely going to be an innovative mind once he officially started his project.

“What's up?” You welcome him in, happy to talk to him and have a distraction.

“I've been struggling with this concept, and I am trying to make sure that I understand it before trying to start my project.”

And you helped him sort through his thoughts process, but you could tell something else was on his mind. You push politely, seeing that it was kind of eating at him.

“I was thinking of switching to molecular chemistry with Dr. Drew.”

“Are we not treating you right over here in Genetics?” You joke, happy that you can make that joke. Miguel's lab along with Dr. Drew and Dr. Parker's labs were much more innocuous compared to the others. They were also hired around the same time you were finishing your PhD. You weren't sure if Miguel had anything to do with their hiring but it felt like it from the projects they published and the way they conduct themselves.

“Oh yeah this is bad. The working conditions are awful. You guys don't have my favorite snack in the vending machine.” He jokes with you, but continues, “You and Miguel have been very accommodating. I just realized I need to do something different. I thought my research would align with biochemistry, but I realise it's more closely linked to molecular and physical chemistry, in Dr. Drew's lab. I just don't want you guys to be mad-”

“I would never be mad at someone making their decisions for their future and their passion. Especially someone as exceptional as yourself. I'm sure you've talked to your academic supervisor by now.”

He nods, “It's a simple switch of like 3 upper level classes. But I have to take 2 senior level courses too. It might delay me.”

You knew the feeling. When you realised Miguel was going to be of no help early on, you told your academic supervisor that you were going to take 3 years. You learned early on that this was a marathon, not a sprint. You didn't care, it didn't make you any less capable of being a scientist, and you were still here.

“Trust me, it is not going to look bad because you graduated a semester later. I graduated a full year later.” You told him your experience, leaving the leadership of the lab out of your story. You didn't think pulling Miguel's name through the mud was right, or accurate.

Miles left your office seemingly in a better mood than before. You decided it was time to do your rounds and check on the others in the main laboratory.

They were still getting acclimated to their surroundings, only being hired six months prior. For Miles to open up and admit that early will spare him the trouble of completely re-routing all of the work he started with you and moving to Jess's lab and having to do more courses in the future. He'll be fine.

You enter the main lab and see Miguel helping Pav and Miles. Gwen has yet to arrive. Miguel looked at his watch, probably aware of the same thing.

“Can you check to see if Gwen is alright? She hasn't come in yet.” You ask Miguel, and he nods in response.

“I'll call her in 45 minutes to see if she's coming in.”

The time goes by quickand you help Pav with his project. It was 10:15. You were about to call Gwen when she called Miguel.

“Hey Gwen. We were about to call you. Are you alright?” His voice held concern.

“Work from home if you can and write your findings. You won't get written up or fall behind. I will make sure of it. I'll look after your cultures in the incubator. Take care of yourself this week.” She hung up.

“Gwen is sick and won't be in until Friday. I'll look after her cultures.” Miguel heads to the incubator, doing basic maintenance and

You nod, making note of where she was in her project. Pavitr and Miles settled in after Miguel

“I can look after her cultures.” You volunteer,
Seeing that he was taking care of the commotion in the lab while you were doing paperwork and trying to complete inventory this morning. “I am sure you have desk work to do. I was in my office sorting through it all until you called Gwen.”

Miguel nods once, “Alright. We also need to go over your research from last night as well.” He states, opening the door for you to the cultures room, you walk under his arm, and he follows after you. You immediately put gloves on.

The culture room was where you made relatively harmless and very specific bacteria grow and fester. Depending upon the type of bacteria there might be a smell. Today was a rather fruit-like smell, but you still wouldn't know what it was until you looked. Gwen's project was more about evolution and the ever changing diversity of bacteria. You needed to be careful with her project.

“Don't remind me. I did not add them to my notes but I did highlight what I needed to find from other standard sources. It should be easier to find more reliable information to help me come up to a conclusion about the next steps of my experiment.”

He nods.

“Good. I just want you to have the right information for your project, y/n.”

You take a look inside the toasty incubator and note the growth of Gwen's bacteria. You noticed one of the samples wasn't wrapped in parafilm to ensure the lid stayed on tightly. You took the bacterial plate out and started looking for more parafilm. Miguel notices and starts looking for the film with you.

“I understand. But I have to start somewhere. I can't just dismiss something that might lead me to my answer. Granted it is cutting corners to use it as research.”

 

“It is.” He agrees. “... And I understand what you are trying to do by looking at other sources, we just need the right data.” Miguel finally acknowledges your methods.

You spot it on the top shelf. The ladder was nowhere in sight. Part of you thought about jumping on to the counter to get it but this wasn't your kitchen and even though you cleaned the lab thoroughly before ending your day you were not going to put your knees on the counter and potentially bring a pathogen home to your cats.

“Miggs, where is the ladder-”

He puts his hand on your shoulder, and reaches past you, you feel the strength of his torso on part of your back. You feel hot suddenly, not an unwelcome feeling. But he places the parafilm sheets in your hand, none the wiser to how you reacted to him being so close.

“It would take longer to get the ladder. We should actually organize the inventory we keep tossing in here and put the stuff we need closer to the floor and counter level.”

You play it off, choosing to dig in and poke at him for shrugging off organizing the lab space. You both have been putting it off; It's not something you look forward to doing and it needed to be done yesterday. But you needed a distraction from his proximity.

“I've been saying that for a while now, Miguel. Maybe we can knock it out this Friday.”

“It should be a Monday. So we can get used to where we move things throughout the week.” You handled the box back to him after grabbing a tape roll and adding it to the dispenser.

He puts it back, still painfully close to you. Close enough that you were acutely aware of him and the cologne you liked.

“I just don't want to feel rushed. You know how Mondays are.” He sighs, “I guess we could discuss it later during our one on one also, Gwen should be here as well, so she won't entirely be lost when we do.”

“Okay, fair.” You wrapped it quickly and put it back in the incubator, looking at the 3 other cultures she was working on.

“Let me know if you need anything else.”
He calls out to you.

You hum, letting him know you heard him. He shuts the door.

You work in the culture room until it's half past 2 PM. Hitting two birds with one stone by working on the cultures for your own project as well. What stops you from working is the distinct rumbling of your gut. You were hungry. Sometimes you went longer than intended to, just get more data or more out the way.

You discard the gloves in the biohazard bin, wash your hands exceptionally well at the clean sink near the door and leave. The cafeteria might be closing up now. You have snacks in your drawer in your office. You hang your disposable lab coat up at the door and head to your office.

“You guys alright?” You ask Miles and Pavitr.

“We're doing good y/n.” Pavitr spoke. “We'll look at our Agarose gels you helped us with when Gwen gets back in.”

You nod.
“Don't let the gels go too long without the buffer solution. Sometimes they go bad quickly. If you guys want to, you can take pictures of the gels in the dark room if you think they won't make it.”

“I'll do it,” Miles agrees. “I don't want to have to do it again.”

Miguel's door was shut and you didn't hear any noise coming from the inside. He must've been out for a meeting or at lunch. You hunch over, trying to see if he had the light on, which was useless in daylight. Your offices let in a lot of natural light. You wouldn't see anything, regardless. You sigh, standing back up. You were just trying to be courteous and give him a heads up that you were getting a late lunch-

“Are you trying to spy-” You nearly jumped out of your skin, your reflexes kicking in. You punch him. Or would have, if he didn't dodge you with impeccable speed.

The worst part of it all he dodged you with a blank expression, his eyes slightly widening. Maybe Miguel was surprised at the thought of you punching him. Miguel caught you before you fell, helping you stand up right with his arm.

“No! Shocking- Dammit Miguel! You squabble away from him back to his door. “I was going to see you to say I was going to find lunch.”

He holds a bag up. It was food from the panini place you took him to. Miraculously he saved your drink too. He was a vampire. He had to be. The bastard was really good at keeping the smile off of his face. But you could see it in his eyes. They flashed again. More dull than when he is annoyed or angry. He puts the food bag in your hand.

“I was over that way for lunch myself and I remembered your order from Monday night and got you the same thing again. You need to eat, I don't want you passing out on me,” He used a nickname you hadn't heard before, something not in English, but in Spanish. You heard him mutter to himself in Spanish or have a phone call with a relative. He never directly called you a nickname in Spanish, until now. You were blushing, burning. You tried desperately to keep a straight face, and you were failing. You were going to get him one day.

Miguel noticed one of your hair clips on the floor and clipped it to your jumper strap.

“... T-thanks.” You look behind you into the main lab and find Miles and Pav working heads down. Dutifully and diligently. Almost too diligently; they were definitely within ear shot; they heard and saw everything. You took the food and practically scrambled into your office.

Chapter Text

On rare occasions you manage to be home early by 5:00 PM. Which was enough time to watch your favorite show, practice yoga and cook a scratch meal for once. Yesterday was one of those days after Miguel flustered you. Today you were not so lucky.

You and Miguel were bogged with paper work. Why? That sudden request from The Board that popped up in your respective inboxes demanding that the two of you re-plan a budget for the projects in the new fiscal year. You sent in your proposals with Miguel’s approval back in August. So you find yourself sitting in the spare seat at Miguel's desk in his office going over Gwen, Pavitr and Mile’s plans for their thesis.

“Why didn't they say anything about this months ago?” You grumble, “They were literally hired in June. This should have been sorted out back in September."

You and Miguel agreed on certain things at this point: Toppings on the pizza he has ordered way too many times for you to count, storing reagents properly and the people who owned the company, sucked. His father included.

Miguel came back with one pop can, two water bottles and napkins in his hand. Miguel set the water and the pop down in front of you.

Miguel didn’t answer your complaint immediately, a usual sign that he agreed with what you said. He grabbed a slice of pizza he ordered.

“Luckily the sheets we used are relatively organized enough for us to put a detailed excel sheet together and make modifications. And The Board at least used the excel sheet to say what they didn't accept this time. We'll get home much earlier than we did on Tuesday.”

The both of you should be finished modifying it in an hour or two. It was already 4:30 PM. Wednesday traffic would be abysmal. You would be better off waiting for the traffic to subside and head back home. You could work on your project after this is complete and maybe pick on Miguel more. Or rather, pick his brain.

You sigh. He was right. This could go by super quick with the detailed spread sheets they gave you and luckily The Board gave a detailed list as to what they were rejecting. Thank God it wasn’t the whole project. They’d be dead in the water if that were the case. You take a drink from your pop and continue going over the excel sheets.

Miguel’s office was standard. Not much betrayed his personality, unlike yours. The both of you hated overhead lights so you sat in his office, nearly in the dark discussing numbers and rearranging the budget and stock needed for their experiments. Mid century modern, sleek lamps and accents of emerald green.

You started clicking your pen subconsciously when you were stuck on how you were going to find test subjects for Pavitr. Test subjects soon at least. They reject the Non- Animal testing method you and Pavitr worked out. Did it cost more money, yes. But you were not one to do animal testing. Maybe you could do some Invitro work on unfertilized chicken eggs-

“Can you stop?” You look up to find Miguel glaring at you over his glasses. You look up at him, perplexed.

“Stop what?”

“Clicking.” He says, looking back at his laptop.

You pause. You didn't even know you were doing it. If you didn't have a truce right now, you would have clicked it again for the sake of tomfoolery. But you were going to honor the truce and stop.

“Fine, but you need to stop tapping your foot. It’s also annoying.” Did it actually bother you? No. Were you being petty? A little.

He pauses, realizing that he was in fact tapping his foot. He sits back in his chair looking at the ceiling.

“... Sorry.” He mutters.

“You keep apologizing to me lately. I am not used to it.” You shake your head.

“What?” Miguel sounded offended, which made you scoff. He has got to be joking.

“You-” You point at him- “Apologizing-” press your hands together.

“You never do that. At least to me. It's weird.”

He still looks confused.
“Well, I can see you trying to be a bit more amicable, given our recent truce. I guess I should do the same,” He takes a drink of seltzer water, opting for it instead of a can of pop.

“I do apologize to you.” He said quietly.

You laugh again, dry and lacking humor.

“Miggs, I hate to burst your bubble but you literally have never apologized to me when I prove you wrong, or when you realise that you are wrong.” You write your notes about the chicken eggs, not wanting to forget your idea and continue to tell him the truth.

“Sure; you don't do it again but you never explicitly state that you are sorry. You just summarize what happened and why and move on. You did it yesterday when you were tired at the cafe.”

You didn't have any ire in your voice for this. You knew his mannerisms. You knew when he was truly sorry and how he changed his behavior when he recognized what he did. But it still didn't help that he simply wouldn't acknowledge what he does.

Miguel nods, leans forward to grab a napkin and wipes his mouth. “What do you want me to apologize for?”

You scoff. “Please-”

“No. I am dead serious right now, Y/N. I know that sounded like something an absolute shocking dick would say to gaslight you, but I am not gaslighting you; I mean it. What do I need to do? I will make it up to you.” You read him well. After many nights holed up in his office, trouble shooting, brain storming and planning, you understood his expressions and his intent.

It's where you learned he really wasn't the asshole you envisioned in your head. He was actually attentive, caring and would in fact change if you were mad at him.

Right now was no different. As he watched you with 100% of his attention awaiting your answer. He was serious. Miguel wasn't trying to gaslight you; he really wanted to know. And as much as he knew you and what you liked and disliked, you were shocked he didn't have a clue about what to apologize for.

“ I am surprised you don't know what it is... The biggest offense you have ever committed, obviously, is simply that you never really apologized for your behavior when I first started working here. I didn't know what to think when you kept disappearing and reappearing in the worst shape I had ever seen. But that's not an excuse for the way you treated our work. How you treated me. We were supposed to be a team and you gave the worst first impression.”

And Miguel listened. He listened to you talk about your first year at Alchemax. You were more optimistic, albeit a bit forceful and blunt. You double majored in undergrad, became a TA for genetics and microbiology and managed to finish your PhD while working at Alchemax under a lab manager/PI who was absent much of the time. And when he was there, he was barely aware of what you were doing and had a shit attitude when he was aware. It was by the grace of whoever was watching over you that you managed to get through your PhD with him, it took three years instead of two. Partially because of him and partially yourself. You didn't want to rush through and fail all together. Slow and steady wins the race.

“Its not like you tried to make me fail. I came to that conclusion early. You just- didn't help. You were just there. Sometimes you would get in the way but if I pushed you, you would eventually come around. I shouldn't have had to do that. To justify myself.”

You stare at him, letting out a deep sigh after you finally get that off of your chest. It felt good.

“I am sorry,” Miguel starts, “That I wasn't there to help you through your PhD. And when I was here, I basically treated you like a nuisance when you have only ever been an asset to me and now the other team members.”

“Were you the one who hired me?”
You ask him.

“Yes. I did. But that was before-” Miguel's lips form a tight line. The front lines in his chin are more prominent.

“Before what?” You question. “That major incident?”

He looks more tired suddenly, but Miguel nods and continues. “You deserve an explanation since you have continued to work here. With me. I am not going to gloss over this. It doesn't make up for my behavior and I am not using it as an excuse. But I should be honest with you. I think I should've been honest from the start.”

He told you why he was acting removed and strange until about three years ago. An experiment with Rapture went south and he was exposed to the deadly toxin. Luckily no one died or was around to be exposed. Just him. He was having withdrawals from the highly addictive substance and it caused him to be volatile and unstable. Unable to take time away due to the urgency and imperative nature of the failed experiment he had to solve the cure, clean the mess and manage you. The Board and executives wouldn't allow their top scientist to recover. Failure was not an option, but disappointing others around you was. Something you were all too familiar with, but not of this scale.

Miguel managed to cure the fatal effects of Rapture. But at a cost.

“I can't- tell you the cure, the cost or the technical details. I knew I would die if I didn't act fast. I have worked through the majority of the Schedule 0 exposure and can function relatively well again. I didn't keep in mind that I would be the first ever person who lived long enough to go through withdrawals because I took care of the fatalistic portion of the drug. I just-” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I kept moving forward for the sake of the work that needed to be done. I didn't think about who I was hurting while doing so. I didn't consider you or anyone else for that matter. I have been trying to be more like the person I was before the incident. I would not have treated you this way if I was never exposed and had to clean up the mess. I am truly sorry. It was unprofessional of me.”

You sit silent, astounded at all he revealed to you so readily. It’s been 3 years since it happened, he has made a marked difference all because Miguel did the impossible.

After dealing with such a fatal drug no one survives if they stop taking it yet alone if they take too much. And yet here he was crunching numbers with you, eating pizza. Full, healthy and telling you part of his life's story.

“... That makes more sense. I am assuming whatever you did can't be replicated to cure or help the people who get exposed to it or its knock offs?”

He nods.

“I am trying, in secret. It’s hard to keep it off the books and away from the board. It's part of the reason I am looking at other investors and condoning their foolish quirks and ideals. I am close to normal or as normal as I will ever be again. And hopefully, anyone exposed will be too once I finish.”

He sits back in his office chair, eyes not trained on anything in the room. He's looking past you, past the door. Contemplating the do or die experiment he has lurking under the surface of Alchemax.

“... You aren't the same man as when I met you and started working with you during my PhD. If you stayed the same, I would have left by now since I'm now post doc.”

Miguel huffs in agreement a dry humorless laugh leaving his lips.

“I wouldn't blame you if you did. I am- finally- getting used to the changes I went through. Again I know it doesn't excuse my behavior, but I am trying to make a difference. Really- I- I am sorry.”

And he has. In ways that made you know he was serious and consistent. You just wanted him to acknowledge it. And he did. You thought that would be harder, but it's been a while since it happened. Maybe that's why this conversation now was so easy. You were a bit older, and didn't take things as personally anymore.

“It makes more sense now. Jesus Christ Miguel.” You run your hands through your twists. Now you feel tired.

“I almost feel bad asking for an apology.”

“Almost?” He quirks his eye brow.

“Yes, almost.”

You eat your pizza, spinach and mushroom with sausage worked well together.

“You nearly cost me the meat of my academic career. You know… The very career that I have been working my whole life to obtain and basically allows me to sit in this very office. And how big of a bomb you actually would drop; I severely underestimated that. You should be dead right now.”

Miguel nodded understanding the risk he put you in while working at Alchemax during such a sensitive time.

“I ... Can see that. Just keep it between us. I don't want you involved with that project in any capacity.” He murmurs.

“Okay. But if it does get out of hand, please let me know. You shouldn't be doing everything alone. You need help at some point, I'm certain.” You were helpful to a fault sometimes and with him, you seemingly couldn't stop yourself.

There were few people he trusted here. Maybe Jess, but this wasn't her field. It wasn't like she couldn't learn quickly but she also was very pregnant. She shouldn't be anywhere near that secret project.

“I've already hurt you enough. I don’t want that to be another thing to make you hate me more.” He threw his plate away.

“Miguel, I don’t hate you. I-” You sigh, you slump back in your chair.

“I knew you were going through something... I didn't think that was the reason. I thought you had a bad break up or your hedge fund ran out, or drugs- Not that drug, maybe Fentanyl? Anyway- Despite my need to rattle your cage in the beginning, I could sense you weren’t yourself. But it's your personal business, I didn't want to pry. But it was affecting your professional business. I had to do something.”

“Is that why you stayed?” He asks, and you nod.

“Despite all the shit you would give me, you followed through with what you said you'd do. That meant it was something else other than work or a personal issue with me. Plus that, do you know how many other labs try to poach me because I worked here and you're in my connections on LinkedIn? I can't let you go that easily.” You joke, but he doesn't like the joke.

“Sorry, that made me sound like I am a shitty opportunist.” You adjust in your seat.

“You aren't. I know that.” He states slowly.

“Look...Just let me know if you need help? You shouldn't be doing this all on your own.”

Miguel sighs, putting his glasses on.
“The research gets dangerous and I happen to enjoy your company. I wouldn't want you to get hurt. I hope it doesn't come down to you getting involved.”

He grimaces, “Now, we have lighter, more tedious work to do.” He leaves no room for more discussion and continues to work on budgeting adjustments.

—--

You work in tandem with Miguel, combing through the specifics of their inventories and finding ways to adjust their projects without taking away from their original meaning and setting them up for failure. Like Miguel estimated, you were done before 6 PM.

You told him you were working from home tomorrow and emailed your team that they could do some as well.

“I'll schedule meetings with them individually to see if they agree with the adjustments.” You say to Miguel, after he finished going over the proposal for Mile's project.
“Miles is planning to transfer to Jess’ lab. I want him to tell you more details.”
You didn't want them to be thrown under the bus or denied. Of course you doubt that would ever happen now that Miguel is normal-ish again.

“We can talk about that on Friday.” Miguel stated.

You nod, and begin to pack up.

“Hey y/n.” Miguel speaks, you look up.
“Thanks. For sticking around and putting up with me. You didn't have to after you finished your PhD or even during. To be honest, you kept me from sinking lower by pushing me. I won't let that happen again.” He placed his laptop in his satchel.

“Let me know if you need anything.” His eyes were soft when he looked back up at you. He was very vulnerable with you this evening. He probably hasn't told anybody about this secret and he trusted you with it.

And there were more. You knew it, but this was the one that fucked up your relationship. And he was trying desperately to make it right.

You straighten up, collecting your garbage. The weight of that realization made your heart feel heavier.

“No problem, Miguel. I will.”

You managed to get home at a decent hour, so you decide to call Miguel and plan for the Alchmax gala.

“It's November 3rd now.”
You say, as you both work in a presentation/collaboration app wearing your glasses and your hair pulled back under a pastel purple bonnet with bats on it.

“Stage 1 is the preparation, Stage 2 is the performance and Stage 3 is the break up. We use the rest of November to prepare by getting outfits, coming up with a fake romance story about how we decided to date and all the fluffy first date romance bullshit. We can even get lunch and-” you fake gag coughing and choking on air- “Hang out more around work to make it look legit.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“We can just have little dates and get lunch for each other or something, no need to do too much.” He states.

“Then December 16th is the live performance. We perform in our fancy outfits, the night of the 16th. We re-tell our fluffy bullshit story and look like we like each other.”

“Then Phase 3. We will break up. We break up amicably late January early February, not messy enough to lose our jobs but messy enough to maintain our initial rivalry.”

He nods, leaning forward. Miguel's perfect hair is a bit more uncontrolled, like when he gets home he doesn't care if it's not neatly in place. He has a pair of glasses, their coke bottle shaped.

You might not be immediately attracted to anyone sexually but you would have to be legally blind to not see that Miguel was attractive. You see Grey hairs peeking up at the temples on his head already. If he was on Rapture it certainly didn't show except for the irritation to sunlight and his eyes-

“Y/N, are you listening?” His voice brought you back to reality, practically shaking you out of your analysis of his features.

“What? Sorry. No. Cabbage was being stupid.” Cabbage, an orange cat, was the usual criminal suspect in your house. But tonight he was being a good boy for once. He was grooming himself on top of your glasses enclosed figurine case on a ledge you built for him. Cabbage peeked at you, as if he knew you were referring to him, and continued to be a good boy when you needed him to be a little bad.

Truly, he was an agent of chaos.

“... Right.” Miguel ignored your poor excuse.

“So I was talking about what we should compile in our tale, and how it should be semi truthful. So it's easier to believe and we don't have to come up with something on the spot.” He presses his finger tips together.

“Yeah. As much as we are quick witted, I would prefer not to have to do improv...” You nod in agreement. He stays quiet thinking of a logical and plausible story.

“... We work well together and are constantly with each other. Maybe we could just say that we overcame our differences and you asked me out to dinner.”

“Why is it me who had to ask you out? Why can't it be you who asked me?” You pursed your lips twisting them into a dissatisfied scowl.

“Well it's obvious, you couldn't resist my charm.” He responds, dry and like that was a fact.

You laugh. Miguel does have charm. A mysterious charm that breaks once you hear how dry and sarcastic he is. Unfunny yet somehow that makes him funnier than anyone else around you.

He gives you a smile.

“I feel like you would ask me out,”
You place a hand on your chest and your other cat, Viola, a sweet and fluffy black cat, hopped on your lap.

“... And why is that?” he leans on his elbows, waiting to hear your explanation.

“You admitted today you enjoyed my company. It makes perfect sense.” You play with her tail.

“You just couldn't keep your feelings for me secret anymore and you professed your unbridled love and undying passion for me and it only burns brighter now that we are together.” You give theatrics, leaning back in your swivel chair and placing your hand to your forehead. Your cat remained in your lap, unbothered and just happy to be involved. She was used to your antics by now.

“Also I am stacked.”

“You are ridiculous is what you are.” Miguel mutters.

“Ridiculously stacked. Since you're the one who started this whole thing, I think it's reasonable that you should be the one who asked me out.” You rebut, poking the camera.

“Fine. Fine. I will go with it.” He writes that fact on the shared project sheet.

You both worked out the finer details, in case someone asks, but you both doubted anyone would interrogate you. Nothing wrong with being thorough. You quite liked plotting to lie to rich people with him.

“You're actually sneaky, Miggs. You know how to bamboozle people.” You say, writing personal notes about him on the board. He liked soccer. You couldn’t imagine him yelling at a TV over his favorite sports team.

“I did it a lot as a teenager. Rich people don't get out much.” He scoffs. “They surround themselves with yes men. Say yes at the right times, you'll get what you want.”

“So what made you different?” You ask Miguel, getting a glimpse into his personal life might help you talk about him better. “Or at least aware of that fact?”

“My mom. I grew up with her instead of Tyler who, at the time, wanted nothing to do with us. Me. Then by 14 he suddenly wanted me in his ‘life’. He just wanted an heir, and I guess I was the chosen one.” He shrugs.

“I'm surprised he didn't try to genetically alter or mutate a little miniature version of himself at this point. I guess he still thinks he can get something out of me.”

“But not your brother?” You ask. If he was willing to share some insight into his life this might help you understand him better. You pause, wondering if you should get to know him better. It’s not like this is going to turn into an actual relationship. But he was kind of aloof. And curiosity killed the cat. Hopefully your satisfaction brought you back to life.

“Gabriel isn't his. He is obsessed with lineage lately. My family is messed up all because of him, despite the success. He has my mom tricked right now, I think. He tolerates Gabriel being around. For now.” He looks more tired than usual all of a sudden.

“I'm sorry, Miguel.” You murmur. After all he has told you, you aren't really sure how you felt about him anymore. You did feel guilty for being so hard on him but you also realise he had a duty to make sure your projects went well.

“It… Is what it is. You won't have to worry about it after the 16th of December.” He grimaced, brow furrowing like it did in the lab at lunch time.

“Despite all that has happened, or what Tyler or anyone else thinks, I want to actually have a decent life and make the right choices.”

“You are doing an excellent job.” You blurt.
“Miguel, as I have obviously stated before, you should be dead right now. But you aren't because you literally created a cure for an unstable, volatile drug. AND you're working on a way to streamline and recreate whatever you did! You're still very annoying and dry to me. But you are nothing like Tyler and you will never be. Not in the slightest. I-” you jokingly gag again “-Can't believe I am saying this- but I enjoy your company, too. Certainly much, much more than Tyler's.” You pretend to vomit.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Miguel rolls his eyes.

“You have done a lot of good, Miguel. For the team, for others around you, for yourself. It's just who you are. You don't have to worry about being like your father, or proving you're not him. You've always been your own person. And you're a good one at that. Even if you had never been exposed to rapture. It took me a while to see that in you. And after learning more about you today, I realise you weren’t in a good spot when I first joined Alchemax and started working with you. We really started off on the wrong foot. Luckily with time we've been kind of amending that. I hope talking about it now makes it go faster.”

He chewed on your words, his worry melting from his face. His eyes softened behind the bottle rimmed glasses.

“... Thank you, Y/N.” Miguel had mirth to his tone. “That actually made me feel better. Today made me feel better.”

“Of course it did. I know exactly what to say, sometimes. You should probably find a therapist. If you aren't seeing one.”

“I mean- I was before this-

Miguel scoffs.

“ I can just hear it now: ‘Hi Miguel, haven't seen you in a while. How have things been going?’” He uses the calming voice and demeanor that most therapists tend to have.
And he pretends to be a more upbeat version of himself. Something even you haven't seen.

“Hi Megan- I am alive! I was exposed to Rapture and cured it and for the past 3 years I've been trying to perfect the cure under the tables of the company I am going to own one day and not alert my evil biological father who basically put me here to begin with and I have directly or indirectly hurt everyone close to me as a result. On top of all of that I-” He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“-Have daddy and or mommy issues?” You fill in the blank. “Megan could help with that at least.”

He closes his eyes and runs his hands through his hair as he leans back in his chair.
“... She is going to look at me like I am a crazy man, y/n.”

“... You kind of are, Miguel.” He sits up stares at you blankly, as if you have insulted him. you correct yourself “Listen; You have to be a special kind of crazy to be at Alchemax, but everyone, in general, is a little… off. In one way or another.” You shrug.

Migules lips tightened to a fine line, his brow furrowed. He wasn't going to accept the fact that he is crazy.

“I'll start going again, but just know that I am insulted that you think I am crazy.”

“I-” You sigh. “Let's just discuss our first date. You gave me a headache.”