The first few days were ok. Outside of some attempts at overworking the first four days actually went rather swimmingly.
"Lyla, is he actually patrolling or just trying to be out of the house?" Peter asked the sprite.
"I mean…he's in his suit," she shrugged.
"How does that help? Is he patrolling?" Peter already knew her being evasive wasn't great and decided to call Migs, "Straight to voice-mail. Of course. Lyla."
"Yeah?"
"What is he doing? Has he eaten today?"
"He had 32oz of coffee, a croissant annnnd carrot sticks."
"Slightly better than last time. Where is he? Has he fought anyone tonight?"
"Not for hours"
"Put me through to him."
Mig heard his ringtone playing through his mask.
"I'm busy."
"Peter is calling."
"Still busy."
"Yeah, I'm gonna patch him through," his assistant answered the call for him.
"I said I was busy!"
Pete held the phone from his ear, "Doing what, exactly?"
"I'm working, doing spider-man stuff."
"How much spider-man stuff have you done and for how long?"
"I don't always keep track of the time."
"Give me a guess."
"Three hours."
"Three?"
"Four…five-ish. Give or take?" Mig toyed with his talon.
"And how much action have you seen?"
"I saw plenty in the first hour."
"Get to my house," Peter sternly commanded, "You are 2 hours past your bedtime and nothing has even happened."
"Something might happen."
"Miguel."
"It might! It's not like creeps email me their plans," 2099 complained.
"Get to my house. Now. So I can put you to bed."
Miguel groaned, "Something might happen that needs spider-man."
"Don't you make me come get you," Pete warned, "I'm heading home now and I suggest you beat me there."
Miguel was smart enough to get there first. After cursing his assistant of course.
So night five was off to a rocky one. Day six wasn't much better.
"I want milk," he complained, pushing the cuppie away.
"What's wrong with your juice? It's your favorite," MJ took the cup from table, "And you need to eat your food."
"I'm not hungry. I just want milk"," he swirled his finger on the table.
"You're not just getting milk, you need to eat Miguel," she tapped his plate, "Come on."
"I'm not hungry!" he whined louder, "Can I have milk, please?"
"You can have milk after you eat half your food," MJ pointed to his plate.
The man pushed the plate away, placing his cheek in his palm. Angry pout plastered on his face.
The redhead quietly huffed, taking his hand and pulling him from the table, "Ok, if you're going to have an attitude you can sit in the corner."
"I don't have an attitude!" he complained, resisting the guidance "How is not being hungry having an attitude?"
"Miguel," She warned, pulling him again, "First and foremost, you are hungry, you're just being difficult because I told you that you can't go to your society cafe for lunch. Secondly, do not pull away from me. Corner now."
He stamped his foot, following her pull, "How long?"
"You be less worried about how long and focus on changing your behavior," she scolded, watching him sit on the ground and face the wall, "I want less huffing and fussing about what you get to eat."
That was lunch. Eventually he did eat, with a pout but much less arguing and shouting.
"Home," Peter called, entering his home, carrying May on his shoulders. He could already see Mig on the stairs, avoiding eye contact, "That looks promising. MJ?"
"Hey Tiger, hey Maybug," she made her way over, greeting them both, "How was work and school?"
May listed off everything they did at school and made sure to show her mom the picture of a penguin she drew in class before rushing over to relay it all to Miguel.
"How was he?" Pete pointed to the giant on his steps.
MJ gave her husband a less than pleased expression, "Difficult. He had two sessions in the corner. One for his bad attitude at lunch and the other was for him kicking up a fuss over…something," she couldn't even remember what he was upset about, "I think there was a show he wanted to watch that wasn't on."
"Is that why he's on the step?"
She looked over, just now noticing him, "I didn't put him there. He was in his room. I think he's just trying to regulate himself at this point."
Pete sighed, "Yeah, well he's going to bed early tonight."
At least his bedtime routine was almost ok. He argued with Peter over wanting to patrol, but that was quickly squashed with a simple threat of no bedtime movie.
MJ sat up and stretched, glancing over to her sleeping husband. Pete was out like a light. She decided to go for a glass of water and to check on her wild child.
May was peacefully sleeping, buried beneath a pile of toys and pillows. Thankfully she was past the age where MJ was really worried about her suffocating. Since she was already up she figured she'd check on their guest as well, make sure he hadn't snuck off to go patrol since it was surprisingly quiet.
Mig was supposedly in bed, at least there was a sizeable form with it's supposed back to her. She tip toed over, leaning over to see if she saw breathing. Yeah, but she also clearly saw a yellow glow under the blankets.
"If you are playing your game, I'm taking it away and you're not getting it back until Jess and Virgil pick you up."
The blanket shuffled, the glow disappearing, "I'm not, it's in the nightstand."
Mary Jane pulled the blanket down, catching him with a book under the blankets. She assumed the yellow glow was Lyla illuminating the pages for him.
"Give it to me."
Mig pulled it into himself, looking at her open palm, "I'm not tired. I'm just reading."
"Give it to me."
"Pops lets me read if I can't sleep," That pertained more to naptime than actual bedtime, but he still couldn't sleep.
"You are not with Pops, are you?"
He groaned, holding the book towards her. He quickly brought it back to his chest when she reached for it, "Please?"
"I am telling Jess how poorly you've behaved today," her tone was stern as she plucked the book from his hands, "Go to bed, now."
"But, but I'm not being bad, I can't sleep," his voice cracked.
"If you can't sleep then I'll put on a playlist for you. But you are not to be hiding books under your blankets," she pointed.
"But I'm trying to put myself to sleep, please!"
"That is enough," Mary scolded, fed up with this back and forth, "If you wake Pete he is going to be really angry at you. And if you wake May we are BOTH going to be really mad at you. It's enough."
Mig stuffed his face into his pillow, quietly whining.
"Where is your pacifier?" she lifted the blankets, looking about, "Hm?"
"I can't find it," he bit back a sob.
"We'll get you another one tomorrow," she sighed, tucking him in, "I know you miss your mommy and daddy, but they are having a nice time. Now go to sleep."
She could feel the man's subtle shaking as she rubbed his back. He clearly was not having a very good week and it probably wasn't going to get better if her and Pete didn't think of something.
