Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You know what? Things had been fine. Good. Great, even. Franklin’s nearly two—been Hell on wheels since he got mobile. There’s been not a hint of any Galactus sized problems. 

It was even going well with that lady that’s drawing out the coloring book—they’ve been expanding into toddler products recently, Johnny wants everything Franklin owns to have his favorite uncle’s face on it. All the groundwork was laid out with her. 2.28 more encounters and he was gonna finally ask her out.

See? Going great.

Then villains started appearing out of thin air.

And no, not in the metaphorical sense. Like they weren’t paying attention and then AHH, attack of the robots. No, these guys have literally just been… appearing .

Of course, Johnny is a man of science. First time, he figured Oh, the witnesses must be wrong. Being scared can do strange things to the mind. Guy probably climbed up out of the sewers or something, that’s how he snuck up on everyone. Reasonable, just like always. He’s known for that kind of thing.

Then, it happened again. With about triple the witnesses. All of them saying the same thing, no he just poofed into existence. One minute not there, then the next— Like they said. Poof.

Still, Johnny held it together. Everyone around him is always looking to him for his steadfast surety, and his penchant to never overreact to anything ever. Besides, seeing is believing.

Then, Reed picked up some weird energy and they went to the site and yeah. Poof. Nothing one minute—the next, a flying angry guy rippling with electricity. Why not? It’s Wednesday, after all.

Johnny skids against the pavement as he comes to land alongside Reed and Sue. They’ve barely gotten started and he already feels like he’s running on empty. Of course, Sue realized almost instantly that the guy was sucking up electricity from all around him, so then of course Johnny had to fly across the city to tell the public works guys to shut it off. And yeah, it took a while. What, is he just supposed to know where the public works people are off the top of his head? Reed would say yes but his opinion doesn’t matter right now.

“What’s the sitch?” Johnny asks, eyeing their villain.

“Ben’s invulnerable to the attacks, but this Electric Man is able to stay airborne,” Reed analyzes, fiddling with some contraption in his hands. “It’s made getting any counter moves in very difficult.”

“He’s a good distraction though,” Sue appreciates, watching as Ben screams expletives up at Zappy Man and receives a barrage of Zappies for it.

“Okay, so he’s stupid,” Johnny cocks his head.

“Actually, I estimate his intelligence to be parallel with your own,” Reed mutters.

“Hah.” Johnny breathes mirthlessly. “I know where you sleep, Richards.”

“Next to my beautiful wife?”

Said beautiful wife uses her psionics to pick up a car and throw it at Ben. He catches it easily, and tosses it upward at their foe. It’s sliced clean in two before it ever gets close. Johnny is getting really twitchy now.

“Can I torch this guy or what?” Johnny demands.

“Give me just—Ah!” Reed looks up from the… thingy in his hands. “Yes, just as I suspected. There are traces of multiversal energy emanating from that man. Particles from multiple different universes, actually…”

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the trans-dimensional portal you’ve been toying with in our basement.” Johnny scathes.

“There is a difference between trans-dimensional and trans-universal. Peering into other dimensions is child’s work. What I’m doing is far more—”

“Johnny!” Sue snaps, and he’s not quite sure why he’s being yelled at, but he flames on anyway. 

Should be easy from there. Johnny can blast a little, block a little, fly a little faster. Maybe this guy will vanish like the other two, or maybe they’ll stick around long enough to be apprehended, but either way, Johnny dials back on the heat. It’s an unspoken rule that he’s not allowed to kill anyone unless his big sister says he can.

Unfortunately, the key word in that scenario is should. With that guy’s electric web, it’s impossible to get close. And even with Ben splitting his attention from the ground, Zappy Guy nearly fries his eyebrows off at least three times. Would be more if Sue wasn’t quite so fast with the shields.

And yeah, this is really starting to piss Johnny off. This guy like, isn’t even a real guy. He’s some trans-dimensional, multiverse hopping weirdo. There’s no history here. This is a fourth page story in the paper at best.

Besides, Johnny has his afternoon booked for watching cartoons with Franklin, and this is really cutting into that.

Lowering to the pavement, Johnny zips up next to Sue. “Encase him with all his electricity, then when I get close, drop it and let me at him.”

Sue’s only response is to narrow her gaze at him from the corner of her eye. She’s got that look in her eye she always gets when Johnny tries to give her orders in battle. Well, the look he gets when she secretly knows it’s a good idea. The other is a lot meaner.

Apparently, she’s the nice sister today. She does as suggested, warping the light and air around Zappy to encase him in a little egg. Finally, it allows Johnny to get in close. She drops it at the perfect time, right as he releases a streak of flame and—

It hits his nose first, the acrid tingle of electricity in his nose hairs. Then, every follicle of hair on his body stands on end. His vision preemptively whites out. And then Johnny gets slammed with an ungodly amount of electricity.

Just for a moment, he’s a missile.

He doesn’t remember landing. He doesn’t remember any pain. He doesn’t remember a single feeling.

He’ll always remember the sounds. Thunder cracking in the air as electricity disperses. His sister’s scream somewhere in the distance. Sirens and crying children.

Then, he’s pretty sure he died.

✦

Peter’s been having a shit day. Or maybe week. Or maybe life , he doesn’t know. All he knows is the last person he wants to see right now—or ever— is Doctor Strange. 

But that’s who he’s faced with now, flying beside him with his red cloak billowing. Really, Peter thought going to the top of the Empire State Building to eat his lunch was as good a way to get some privacy as any, but apparently he’s wrong. He swallows a sigh, and takes another bite of his partially stale sandwich.

“Spider-Man,” Doctor Strange greets, like they’re simply coworkers, and he didn’t wipe Peter’s entire existence out of the universe. Because of course, to the Doctor, that’s all they are. Sure, they fought Thanos together, but in his mind Peter always kept the mask on.

Peter only grunts in assertion, finishing up the last of his sandwich, and pulling the lower half of his mask back down over his chin. Momentarily, he debates throwing himself from the rooftop to simply lose Strange. He probably could. He’s spent a lot of time just swinging between buildings, trying to go as fast as possible.

He doesn’t know why he stays, but he does.

“Something I can help you with, Doctor?” Peter asks, and winces at how cold his voice is.

But Strange just smiles pleasantly—fake. “As a matter of fact, there is. A multiversal threat is awakening, and you’re the only person who can help.”

Peter’s chest tightens. “Oh, uh… All that multiverse stuff? I don’t really do that, you know. I’m just a… friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I try to stick to the ground. Well, not literally, but I—”

Doctor Strange holds one trembling hand up. “I’m well aware of your stance on non-neighborhood issues. But this is your neighborhood. Just a different version of it.”

Peter still hesitates. Yeah, meeting his alternate selves was cool and all, but the rest of it was… Well, he’d really just rather not mess with any of it. Multiverse has taken more than enough from him already.

But just as he’s inhaling a breath to refuse again, Doctor Strange beats him to the punch.

“Just come to the Sanctum and hear what we have to say. There’s a twenty in it for you.”

And that, stupidly enough, makes Peter pause. Strange must know he’s strapped for cash. Going to the cool wizard mansion to listen to some junk he’s going to refuse, and he gets paid for it? Yeah, he’s done a lot worse for a lot less.

“Throw in a hot meal and it’s a deal,” Peter bargains.

“Done.”

✦

Twenty minutes later, Peter is slurping at some weird looking gruel, wallet a little heavier, and is still finding it just as easy to say no.

“So, there’s a group of villains traveling trans-multiversally,” Peter sums up. “And you want me to stop them.”

“That’s not—” America Chavez winces. “Not entirely it—”

“It’s not a group traveling,” Doctor Strange cuts in. “Not like that incident from a few years ago.”

Peter forces himself to remain very still at the mention. He’s never been sure how much of that Strange remembers. Enough, apparently.

“This is essentially the essence of those villains.” Strange continues. “A conglomeration of parts of them from different universes. The idea of them, if you will.”

“And currently, they’re all manifesting on Earth-828,” America continues. “The heroes there have reached out to the multiverse for help. They’re mighty, but few, and they can’t face this danger alone.”

“I still don’t get why you’re asking me,” Peter admits.

“These are villains you’ve faced before,” Strange explains. “Besides, in the canon of the multiverse, it is statistically proven that if Spider-Man faces these foes, fatalities and structural damage decreases sharply.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugs. “Great. Find another Spider-Man. There are plenty of us running around. Hell, I’ve got two I can personally recommend.”

“It’s not that simple.” Strange narrows his eyes.

“We’re the only universe that has answered the distress call.” America’s voice is small—sad.

That makes Peter pause.

Strange leans forward suddenly, and for the first time, he’s a lot more like Peter remembers him being: very unkind.

“What exactly are you planning to do otherwise, Spider-Man?” Strange demands sharply. “Okay, you refuse. You walk away from a crisis. Then what? Go back to showing up late to Kate Bishop and Clint Barton’s gang busts? Wave from afar as Daredevil takes on Kingpin? Get trampled so the New Avengers can take their most recent photo op of a disaster? Maybe you can head over to Jersey—except, wait no, Ms. Marvel has things covered there too.”

Peter remains very, very still as Strange continues—unwilling to show his growing anger. He won’t rise to the bait. He won’t. Sure, he’s being forced out. He’s not stupid, he knows that. Every three blocks there’s a wannabe hero, and Peter just isn’t fast enough anymore. 

“Your friendly neighborhood doesn’t need you anymore.” Strange spits. “This one? It does. People are already dead. Twenty-one killed in an incident with Electro. He hit the hospital. There were kids. Kids, Spider-Man. And it’s only going to get worse. Once they start to stabilize they can take full form, become even more powerful.”

Peter stands up sharply, boiling. “Sounds like that universe’s heroes need to work a little harder.”

With that, he storms out of the Sanctum.

✦

That night, Peter can’t sleep. 

All he can think about is those kids. How many has he saved? Pulled from wreckage, or taken bullets for, or swung out of a crisis zone? Those kids in that other universe didn’t have him. Maybe that’s the whole problem.

All because of that asshole Electro. Peter can see why someone would have trouble with him. If he hadn’t had Peter 3’s advice… 

Pulling himself from his bed, Peter traverses the few steps of his shoebox apartment and pulls the window open. He scales the wall like he so often has. He’s only been caught climbing onto the roof once, but that guy was so high Peter is sure he thinks he hallucinated it.

There’s no one up there tonight. He sits himself right at the edge of the stone half-wall. Far enough that anymore person would scare. It’s not far enough for Peter. It’s never far enough.

He lets out a deep breath, and he closes his eyes. All his inhibitions fall away, and Peter’s hearing extends to its breaking point. It takes a while before he can parse anything. None of it is very clear, but he gets what he needs. Daredevil and Jessica Jones and Luke Cage. Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova. Bucky Barnes and Ava Starr and John Walker. They’re all out there. All fighting. And the scraps left for Peter are… nowhere to be found.

He’s going to get his suit before he can change his mind.

✦

At dawn, Peter thumps against the Sanctum's large, circular window. Inside, heading for the stairs, Doctor Strange only looks mildly surprised to look up and find a man-sized bug. He lowers the papers in his hands.

“How do I get there?” Peter calls through the glass.

✦

Two hours later, after a brief call ahead, America Chavez punches a hole in reality.

With one deep breath, Peter discovers a new world.

Chapter Text

Now really, Johnny would say this is all an overreaction. Yes , he almost died. But calling around the multiverse begging for help? Trying to get a new guy on board? If Johnny hadn’t been in a coma at the time, he would have been vehemently against it. And since he didn’t get a vote at the time, he is now making his opinion everyone else’s problem.

But then his mind flashes with those news lines. Twenty-one dead. Twenty-one dead. Twenty-one dead. And the more he thinks it the more he is willing to fall onto his knees beside his family, and pray . 

From the moment Johnny is made aware of Reed’s little message to the multiverse, it’s bad news after bad news. First, no one is responding. Then they’re responding and saying we can totally help . Then they go back and think on it and go actually we’re not gonna send a monk army like we said we would, we need this one guy . And then they go get that one guy and then say oh sorry that guy doesn’t want to help, get bent .

Then suddenly, Johnny is being given five minutes to pull some pants on—while he’s in a sling mind you!—and get downstairs to greet their new recruit.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Maybe the ground to split open? Or a tear in the fabric of reality? Or the classic, a poof .

Instead, a glimmering star cracks the air. There’s a moment where Johnny sees straight through the portal into what looks to be a house of some kind, with a few people crowded around. Then, a skinny guy in a mask is getting pushed into their reality, and the star collapses in on itself.

The masked guy—what’s up with the skintight suit? Nice view, but must be irritating on the armpits—looks behind him, like he’s just as confused by the sudden removal of the portal. Then, he’s turning to face the Four. Somehow, it’s easy to tell he’s smiling behind the mask.

“Uhm, howdy,” Masked guy is chipper. “Heard there was some multiversal trouble. So ah, here I… here I am.”

It’s almost impressive. If Johnny’s dose of pain meds hadn’t been lowered he might’ve patted him on the shoulder in sympathy. Instead, he settles for raising his eyebrows pointedly at Reed. This is the best he could come up with?

Reed, of course, doesn’t notice him—too busy looking desolate that the portal closed before he got a good look.

“Here you are,” Sue agrees, welcoming as she steps forward. “Spider-Man, is it? We can’t thank you enough for your willingness to come help us. The people of our world are in your debt.”

“Oh, hey,” Spider-Man laughs sheepishly. “I don’t know about that. Haven’t even done anything yet… Besides, that’s not what it’s about, y’know, I don’t really believe in debt, not for this stuff.”

Sue’s smile widens and her eyes glimmer with warmth. Correct answer. Great . Looks like Johnny’s plan to slap a Return to Sender sticker on him and be done with it is pooped.

“Well, Spider-Man, my name is Sue Storm,” Sue introduces. “This is my husband Reed Richards, my brother by soul Ben Grimm, and my brother by blood, Johnny Storm. We’re the Fantastic Four, the protectors of Earth-828.”

For what it’s worth, Spider-Man doesn’t seem at all put off by Ben. Johnny watches sharply as he takes the massive rock man in. Of course, the mask hides a lot, but his gaze doesn’t even linger—snapping instead to Johnny at Sue’s prompting. 

Johnny wonders what this off-worlder must think when he looks at him. Normally he’s a decently sized dude, but next to Reed and especially Ben he’s not exactly intimidating. Not to mention the sling holding his left arm and a colorful splattering of bruises and cuts across all his visible skin. He’s tempted to light himself on fire just to make his threat level clear, but he’s sure Sue would throw him into the river for it.

“I thought we’d begin by showing you around,” Sue explains. “I understand you’re also from New York, but it’s still unclear how much difference there is between our two worlds.”

“Well, we definitely don’t have that on my world,” Spider-Man muses, gesturing up to the Baxter Building. 

“This is our home,” Sue smiles. “The Baxter Building. Headquarters of the Fantastic Four, and home of the Future Foundation. It’s also where you’ll—”

“ Woah is that a spaceship?”

Okay, maybe this guy isn’t so bad.

“The Excelsior,” Ben explains proudly, walking down the path to get a clearer view. “State of the art. She’s completed six round trips so far, with more on the way.”

“You guys have been to space?” Spider-Man asks excitedly. 

“How else would we have gotten our powers?” Johnny questions, a bit genuinely.

“Oh cool, you have powers?”

Johnny and Ben exchange a glance. 

“How else would we be the defenders of this earth?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you guys were the powers kind of superheroes or the punching kind of superheroes.”

”I like punching,” Ben provides.

“You have worldly protectors with no pronounced genetic mutation or supernatural abilities?” Reed questions, finally finding something for his super-brain to lock onto that isn’t how sad he is about the portal disappearing.

“Uh, a couple, yeah,” Spider-Man shrugs. “Hey, did you say you got your powers from space ?”

✧

They tour around the city in the Fantasticar. Johnny wants to fly alongside to help with the crowding issue—and to show off—but Sue gives him a look before he can even suggest it. No “flaming on” until he’s better healed. That’s what Reed says at least, but when has Johnny ever cared what he said? When Sue backs him up, that’s when.

At least the Spiderling seems impressed by the car. 

It’s pretty damn clear to Johnny that the bug is intimately familiar with every street they pull down. But every once and a while, he does point out a building or park that’s different. It’s vaguely intriguing, but not enough to keep Johnny from getting restless. Reed is furiously writing on a notepad the whole ride.

Their visitor gets a little more animated when they tour the building. He keeps calling things “retro” and “old school”, and even though he says it like it’s cool, it still feels like a back handed compliment. Is he trying to not so subtly imply that his universe is far more advanced than theirs? Well of course they are, they’re some sixty years in the future. But does he have to rub it in?

They tour the quarters he’s been assigned—guy gets a whole floor to himself, and Johnny is certainly offended by that. 

“And here we provided a collection of books and video tapes detailing the Four’s history here,” Sue points out the neatly organized pile on an end table. “We’re happy to talk to you about anything, but I’d hate to forget something and leave you at a disadvantage. It’s all widely available knowledge.”

“And—” Reed swoops in now. “There is a collection of general historical retelling. Major events and such. If you would be willing to look through it and notate the differences from your own world, we might be able to pinpoint exactly when our two universes split.”

Most anyone would be put off by Reed’s request, but Johnny is beginning to realize this Spider-Guy isn’t quite normal . 

“Yeah, of course, that’s a great idea,” Spider-Man agrees. “I’d be interested to see where we differ too. Everything is so… nice here. I want to know what went wrong in my universe. Or I guess, what didn’t go wrong here.”

The last part is said as only half a jest. Either Spider-Man is a little too optimistic about the state of their reality—mole-men stealing buildings, and intergalactic gods coming to eat planets included—or things are really bad where he’s from. And goddammit, now Johnny’s curious too.

Now, Johnny figured the tour would end there, leaving Spider-Man to himself, but surprisingly, Sue leads them upstairs to their personal quarters. Johnny is more hesitant. Sure, they’ve let the press up here on occasion, but that was always a very controlled experience where the Four held all the power. And could clean first. But this ?

“Of course, everything we do is a group operation,” Sue is explaining in the elevator. “And truthfully, our team is larger than just the four of us. You should meet our last two, most important members.”

It hits Johnny at once then.

“Hey, wait just a second—” he tries to protest.

Sue glances behind him and gives him the shut up, it’s my baby look. Usually that gets him back in line. But this… They don’t even know this guy! He’s a total unknown entity, from a universe that’s apparently a lot more chaotic than theirs, and Sue wants to place a baby within his grasp on the first day. And not just any baby. A baby that a cosmic entity already went through all of space to get his hands on. 

But then the doors are opening. Johnny won’t say anything else, but he places himself firmly on their visitor’s heels—fists clenched and ready to spout flames at one singular wrong move.

Greeting them at the entrance is Herbie, dressed politely in an apron. Their newcomer is rushing forward then. Johnny tries to catch his arm, but he’s too damn fast. Goddammit he knew—

“No way, you have a robot!” Spider-Man is crying out in glee. “And look at that, he has full articulation. How did you get the hydraulics that precise—What’s his processing power like?”

Herbie tilts his head and makes a few whines and clicks.

“Well said, Herbie.” Reed steps forward. “Herbie here would like to welcome you to the Baxter Building. We don’t get many visitors who can appreciate his finer mechanical details.”

“He can talk ?” Spider-Man sounds like Reed just signed over sovereignty of the entire Eastern Seaboard. “What is that, binary? It’s nothing I recognize.”

“It’s actually a complex string of…”

As usual, Johnny tunes out the nerd talk. Robotics was never his thing. Herbert is perfect, that’s all Johnny cares about. Instead, he zeroes in on Sue as she smiles and steps away—straight towards the nursery.

Johnny runs up to fall in step with her, hissing his concerns. “What are you doing ? Dude’s been in our universe for six hours, we have no idea who or what he is, or what he’s capable of, and you’re about to hand him Franklin ?”

“If he can’t be trusted with my son, he can’t be trusted to protect our universe,” Sue says, like it’s that simple.

“I’m pretty sure the best way to test his trustiness with universal protection is to, you know, give him a threat to fight—not hand him quite possible the most powerful being in the universe!”

Sue stops just short of the door, turning to him with a flat expression. “Johnny, what will you do if Spider-Man makes one wrong move toward your nephew?”

Stupid question. “I’ll burn the head off his shoulders.”

“Exactly. Now help me change Franklin into his dinner clothes.”

Five minutes later—Franklin fought really hard to negotiate not having to wear shoes—they come back down to the living area. Surprisingly, Spider-Man is still entrenched in conversation with Reed about Herbert. The robot is absolutely preening over the praise. Ben has migrated to the kitchen to check on dinner.

“Boys, sorry to interrupt,” Sue calls. “But Spider-Man, there’s someone we would like you to meet.” 

It takes a second for Spider-Man to pull his weird, lensed eyes away from the robot. When he does, and spots Franklin in Sue’s arms, they widen further than Johnny thought possible. He freezes. And Johnny knows.

This guy has no idea how to interact with children.

“Oh, uh—” Spider-Man falls forward with a gentle nudge from Reed. 

“Spider-Man, this is Franklin. Mine and Reed’s son.” Sue smiles proudly.

“And my nephew,” Johnny adds sharply. “And big rock guy’s nephew. Have I mentioned I can light myself—and others—on fire?”

Either his insults fall flat—dumb sling making him look all weak and stupid— or Spider-Man is simply too caught up in being faced with a toddler, because he doesn’t react at all.

“And Franklin,” Sue softens her voice for him like she always does. “This is Spider-Man. He came from somewhere very far away to help us out. So that way Uncle Johnny doesn’t have to get hurt again.”

And that stings.

“Hi,” Franklin greets, less shy than normal.

“Uh, hi little guy,” Spider-Man stumbles over his words. “How are—How are you? How’s uh, preschool?”

“He’s two.” Johnny provides flatly.

“Oh, so no school? I think? How is uh, cartoons going? Wait, do you guys even have—”

“Your insides are wrong.” Franklin states plainly.

That causes a ripple of surprised silence in the room.

“Franklin,” Sue chides, pulling at his sweater. “That is not a nice thing to say—”

“You belong somewhere else,” Franklin continues—uncaring of his mother’s correction, which is approximately the first time that’s ever happened. 

If Spider-Man seemed out of his depth before, he looks like his reality has just been altered. Which, well, it has been. But he seemed to handle that pretty well, all things considered. Apparently, a mystically charged baby is a step too far, though.

“Son, do you remember when I explained multiversal theorems to you before bed last week?” Reed steps forward. “After we finished Green Eggs and Ham?”

Franklin blinks. “Yes.”

“Our guest here is from a universe parallel to our own. He is going to help us combat a threat from worlds beyond our own. Then, he will go home.”

That seems to sate Franklin.

“Can I have some Lucky Charms now, Mom?” Franklin questions, sounding much more like himself.

He’s instructed to wait until after dinner, and just like that, everyone starts acting like it’s a normal evening. Herbert goes over to help Ben finish dinner. Reed takes Franklin from his wife and works on getting him situated in his high chair at the head of the table. Sue pulls plates from the cabinets. And Johnny… is left with the new guy.

Assessing him out of the corner of his eye, Johnny feels the need to interrogate. “How many villains have you defeated?”

Spider-Man looks over at him, wide-eyed. “Uh, I haven’t really been keeping track.”

“How about space gods? Defeated any space gods?”

“Yes, actually. He snapped half of all life out of the universe—”

“Whatever. That’s not even that impressive. That’s like, Tuesday here. What about a team? Ever worked on a team before? Or are you the brooding lonesome type?”

To that, the bug-man hesitates. “Yeah, I worked on a team before. A long time ago.”

Just as Johnny is about to probe about what that means—he probably got kicked out, he seems like someone who would get kicked out of places—Herbert rings the dinner bell.

Johnny gives him one last narrow eyed look, and then heads to his spot at the table. 

“Spider-Man, you’re welcome to eat with us, or you can take a plate down to your own rooms.” Sue offers. “Whatever will make you most comfortable.” 

Considering they’ve been around the guy all day and he hasn’t lost the mask, it’s probably staying on. 

“Oh, uh, no, this is fine,” Spider-Man stutters over his words, sliding into the chair Sue offers him at the end of the table.

He’s just to Johnny’s right that way—and furthest from Franklin—and he decides that’s a perfect setup. Keep your enemies close, or whatever. He watches with some vague interest as the Spider-Man rolls up the bottom part of his mask. The rest of it stays on.

“I guess you probably want to talk about your villain situation,” Spider-Man guesses as Ben places a plate in front of him.

“No,” Reed says matter-of-factly. “That briefing is scheduled for 10am tomorrow morning.”

“We try to keep business and family as separate as possible,” Sue explains. “No talking shop at the table, that’s the rule. Besides, we’re in no rush. Reed has been measuring the time between anomalies and we have at least three days until the next is probable. You have plenty of time to settle in first.”

“Oh.” Spider-Man deflates lightly. “Okay. Sure.”

“Dig in, please,” Ben offers. “Ziti casserole is Herbie’s specialty. It’s—“

He does a chef’s kiss, and that small gesture eases a little more tension out of the Spiderling’s body. 

With Sue and Ben’s easy guidance, regular conversation picks up from there. It’s almost— almost— like a regular night. But then there are the times they rope in Spider-Man, asking no probing questions, but trying to get him involved. 

All the while, Johnny sits in silence, slowing boiling over this disaster waiting to happen.

✧

In the morning, they convene in the regular place—Reed’s lab. 

Johnny is already situated inside when Ben leads Spider-Man out of the elevator. Reed had insisted on taking another look at Johnny’s arm. Seriously, there’s no way it’s changing enough day to day to warrant this kind of attention, but whatever.

On his way to the yellow couches, Spider-Man’s attention seems to snag on no less than seven of Reed’s hodgepodge of projects. Probably wants to take what he can from Reed and patent it in his own universe to make it big… Because it doesn’t matter how “advanced” Spider-Man’s world might be—they’re at a huge disadvantage. They don’t have Reed.

“Spider-Man,” Sue greets, pushing to her feet with a smile. “Good morning. I hope your rooms are comfortable.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a bed that nice,” Spider-Man admits.

He’s still in the suit, but he’s at least thrown a red zip-up jacket over it. Still, he looks out of place. None of them wear their costumes to briefings. Johnny is seriously starting to wonder if this guy is super disfigured or something. There’d be nothing wrong if he was, but the hiding it is the weird part.

“You gonna come identify your baddie’s, or what?” Johnny asks petulantly, as Spider-Man gets distracted by the equations on Reed’s chalkboard.

“Oh! Right, uh, yeah, do you have—”

As he comes to the couch, Reed produces a hefty folder.

“ Ooh , it’s all on paper.” Spider-Man wiggles a little as he takes the stack. “That’s so official and top secret.”

Johnny has to scowl at the guy, but the others all seem to be holding their breath as Spider-Man flicks through the papers. They’re all counting on this. That last encounter really shook them all up. If Spider-Man can’t do what they say he can…

Well, Johnny knows they’ll figure it out. And probably a lot quicker and with less stress. They’re the goddamn Fantastic Four. Protectors of Earth. They don’t need some nobody from another world to swoop in to save the day. 

Just because Johnny screwed up doesn’t mean he needs to be replaced .

Spider-Man begins seeming overwhelmed by the papers, so he gestures to the floor. “Can I…?”

Reed steps back with a nod, ceding him the carpet. Spider-Man kneels there, laying and grouping the papers so he can see them all at once. He sits up, trying to get the bigger picture, and rubs his chin.

“Okay, this first incident—” Spider-Man taps the grainy frame of film footage showing a woman getting grabbed by a metal arm. “That’s Doc Ock. Or the stupider name, Doctor Octopus. Or his actual name, Doctor Otto Octavius. He had a degenerative nerve condition, so he invented the arms as an accessibility device or prosthetic. But the implant to control them is faulty, and instead it sort of controls him and makes him… like that.”

He moves to the next one, this time a collection of scavenged pictures of a man with metal wings. “This is the Vulture, Adrian Toomes. He’s actually one from my universe. Honestly, he’s been screwed over by the system a lot, but instead of doing anything productive he just became a career criminal. Robberies and stuff like that. He’s pretty greedy and single-minded, but he will try to kill anyone who gets in his way. Including me.”

He points to the last pile, and Johnny inadvertently averts his eyes. “And that’s Electro. Looks like you already figured him out. He’s able to harness electricity from nearby sources. He’s also a career criminal, but he mostly focuses on trying to steal the largest energy sources he can so he can become more powerful. I’d look into reinforcing your security, because I’m sure there’s any number of things in here he could exploit.”

Reed only nods grimly, eyes flicking from volatile experiment to volatile experiment.

Carefully, Spider-Man looks back to each of them sitting on the couches. “I’m sorry for what he did. There really is nothing he won’t do. I hope you all know it’s not your fault.”

His lenses seem to linger on Johnny at that last part, and something uncomfortable surges in Johnny’s chest. He expected himself to react with anger, but this is… He looks away.

“But hey, you know how to defeat these guys right?” Ben points out hopefully. “They show back up, we pound ‘em, everyone goes home safe. Easy, right?”

“Well, theoretically,” Spider-Man rubs a hand down his masked face, suddenly seeming tired. “Apart from Vulture I don’t have too much experience fighting them, but… The problem is that even if we defeat them, there’s no guarantee they won’t just show up again. They’re not concrete universal beings.”

“We need a way to stabilize and expel them,” Reed confirms.

“Right. Usually a portal would work, but we’re not sending them back somewhere. So we’ll have to come up with our own way to make sure that when they dissipate, they stay gone.”

“Well, no problem,” Johnny cuts in boldly. “I don’t know if you know this, pal, but you’re talking to the smartest man in the entire multiverse. If anyone can figure this out, Reed can.”

One by one, Sue, Ben, and Reed all turn to look at him with the most bewildered look in their eyes. He suddenly worries they’re going to throw him back in an MRI to check for brain damage from his concussion. He throws his good hand up in surrender. 

“Look, I have never once doubted Reed’s intelligence,” Johnny argues. “It’s the everything else about him that’s the problem.”

Apparently feeling like that’s more like it, they all turn back to the situation at hand.

“Okay, so three doses of go-away serum,” Ben sums up. “We fight ‘em, stick ‘em, everyone lives happy ever after, yeah?”

Spider-Man is hesitant. “I’m not sure it’ll stop at the three. There was… Well, on my world… We had a multiverse problem, and some of these guys got through, but… I would just expect a bigger group. They like to travel in herds.”

“How many are we talking here?” Johnny asks trepidiously. 

“I had five,” Spider-Man shifts uncomfortably. “I’d plan for at least that. But probably no more than six. Or well, hopefully, I guess.”

If Johnny had any worry about them having to create such a nebulous substance—he wouldn’t even know where to begin—it’s all assuaged as Reed marches up to his chalkboard and wipes a section clean. He begins to write. And write. And write.

Sue stands, and Johnny and Ben easily follow. They know what’s up. She crouches to help Spider-Man collect the rest of his papers.

“Come on,” She says softly. “Best to let him work in silence. Give him a week, he’ll have this all figured out.”

Spider-Man nods hurriedly, letting Sue usher him to the elevator. Just as he steps over the threshold, he looks back over his shoulder at Reed, like he has something to say. Apparently, he thinks better of it. 

Maybe he does have a good head on his shoulders after all.

✧

A day goes by. Then two. Johnny doesn’t see Bug-Boy. He doesn’t come to dinner, but only with the promise that he’ll join them on Sunday. 

And you know what? Things are looking up for Johnny. He’s finally out of his sling. Day or two more and he’ll be cleared for “flame on” duty. He could probably get away with taking a small flight around now, but he decides otherwise. His restlessness is going another direction.

The elevator opens onto the guest floor. Either that means he doesn’t have a lock available, or he’s just choosing not to use it. Johnny doesn’t know which option he’d prefer. He’s suspicious either way.

He saunters out into the living area. It’s very similar to the Four’s, with its inlaid couch and rotund tv set, wide windows that lead out into a balcony, kitchen off to the left. Johnny is very tempted to go snooping to see the rest of the area, but that’s a little hard when his quarry is sitting right in the living area.

“Ah, Bug-Boy,” Johnny announces himself brashly. “Just who I was looking for.”

The dude doesn’t even give Johnny the courtesy of looking up at him—he’s just glued to the book in his lap. “Not what I’m called.”

“Well, see, it’s a whole new world for you, pal.” Johnny throws himself down on the couch, leaving enough room for Jesus and most of his disciples. “Perfect time for a rebrand. Because Spider-Man ? Really? That’s the best you could come up with? I don’t know, dude, I think it’s lacking a certain je nais se quois , y’know?”

Spider-Man finally raises his head from his book—one of the history ones Sue left for him. “Yeah, and the Human Torch is the best you could come up with?”

“Hey, that has flair. It’s good branding, you know. Fits in with the group, but has its own sort of pizazz. Plus, it’s very descriptive. Oh who’s he? Human Torch. Oh yeah, so he can light himself on fire? Exactly! It gets the whole thing across. But Spider-Man ? What does that even mean? What do you do ?”

The lenses of Spider-Man’s eyes narrow. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what I am doing here? It’s my building. I go where I want. Maybe I hang out on this floor all the time. You don’t know.”

“No, but I know that you don’t trust me, so I’m not exactly sure why you sought me out.”

Ah good, he did pick up on all the signals Johnny was putting down. Namely get away from my family, get off my planet, don’t even breathe near my nephew . Now if only he could flirt as effectively.

“Of course I don’t trust you,” Johnny narrows his eyes right back. “Why would I trust you? You’re some unknown mutated entity from another plane of existence. And you have landed squarely in the middle of my family. Explain to me why I should trust you with something as precious as that?”

“You shouldn’t,” Spider-Man admits, and Johnny pauses at how genuine he sounds. “No, really, it’s good instinct. I wish I’d kept my guard up like you have. I’d probably be a lot better off. A lot better off.”

Somehow, the air has started to feel very thick in here.

“Do you have family, Spider-Man?”

“Not anymore.”

“But you did once.”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know exactly why I can’t let anything happen to them. Because they mean everything to me. And without them, I’d have nothing. I’d be nothing. I would die a thousand deaths if it kept them on this world, happy.”

He leans forward, letting his voice drop very low.

“So you need to know. If you hurt any of them, I don’t care where you go. How far or how fast, I will find you. I will track you through the multiverse, I will burn entire realities if that’s what it takes. Your death will be slow, and I will burn the ashes of your ashes. Do you understand?”

Spider-Man is quiet for a long moment. But strangely, he’s not tense. He’s fidgeting with something—a canister of white fluid?—in his right hand, but that just sort of seems to be how he is. 

“You’re a good man, Torch,” Spider-Man finally decides. “I wish I’d had more of that suspicion. Your family is lucky to have you.”

Before Johnny can say anything in response to that—that condescending drivel , his wristwatch is beeping. As it goes off, Spider-Man sits up, straight as a rod, eyes flying to the wide windows. Merely a second later, the side of a nearby building sloughs off.

“You stay right—” Johnny commands as he rushes to the window, but Spider-Man is right there beside them.

Without a hint of hesitation on either of their parts, Johnny Storm and Spider-Man leap off the Baxter Building, and join the fray.

✧

Okay, so ‘Spider-Man?’ Starting to make a bit more sense now.

After getting his suit, Johnny can’t even concentrate on the miniature dinosaur running amok, because there’s this little red blob flying through the air and sticking to walls .

Johnny flies up beside him as he’s swinging, eyeing the webs. “Is this stuff coming out of you?”

“No,” Spider-Man grunts, spring boarding off the side of a building to kick the dinosaur thing in the face. “I built these web shooters and—Well, there was a version of me that did have it coming out of him and it was really gross but—Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Not really,” Johnny keeps an easy pace with him. “I’m more interested in whatever the heck is going on with your and your pow—”

He’s cut off as a car goes flying between them, nearly catching and pinning Johnny. Really, it’s only the microsecond of a hand on his chest, pushing him back, that saves him. He looks down at the dinosaur in outrage. 

Is it grinning at him?

“Okay, now I’m pissed,” Johnny announces. “Time for dinosaur extinction round two.”

He flies in, blasting the dino with flames. The force of it knocks him backwards, but doesn’t otherwise seem to harm him. Why’s that happening so much with these guys? It’s really starting to make him feel less like a formidable foe and more like a flashy target.

“He’s not a dinosaur,” Spider-Man calls, falling back into swing with Johnny. “He’s the Lizard. Doctor Curt Connors. He lost his arm and became obsessed with lizard limb regeneration, accidentally turned himself into a lizard, and now is obsessed with turning everyone else into lizards.”

Johnny does another overhead dousing of fire. The Lizard hisses and steams, roaring up at Johnny in outrage. He grabs the nearest car and throws it at them. They both dodge easily, and the automobile lodges itself head first in the nearest building.

Johnny’s heart is in his throat, but Spider-Man beats him to the impact site. He sticks to the nearest window, searching inside for civilians. Apparently it’s clear, as he rejoins Johnny’s side a second later.

One thing about the people of New York, they’ve gotten very efficient at evacuation.

“Well, at least he got his arm back?” Johnny muses.

The Fantasticar pulls up then. Johnny goes down to rendezvous with them and plead with Reed for a way to get rid of this guy. Behind him, Spider-Man makes some stupid quip and slams his fist into the Lizard’s eye. As he steps out of the car, Ben whistles.

“I thought we were dealing with baddies of the human variety.” Ben gestures to the Lizard.

Now really, Spider-Man acted like he was stupid for calling it a dinosaur, but what else was he supposed to think? The Lizard is about five times larger than a regular human, with clawed feet and hands, spikes down his spine, and a tail longer than a semi-truck.  

“The Lizard,” Johnny decides to get them up to speed. “Crazy scientist type. Turned himself into a lizard. Wants everyone else to be lizards. That sort of thing.”

“Is no one else perplexed by the number of animal related villains this guy has?” Ben questions. “First an octopus, then a vulture, now a lizard. Doesn’t that seem a bit extreme?”

“Technically speaking, none of those are classed as what we traditionally refer to as an ‘animal’—” Reed muses.

“Reed, tell me you figured something out,” Sue prompts, eyeing the Lizard nervously.

“A few more days would’ve been helpful, but I do have this.” Reed pulls out a syringe.

A totally regular, human sized syringe. The type the doctors used to give Franklin his vaccines. Johnny stares from its tiny needle, over to the monstrous beast biting a car in half.

“Reed,” Johnny says tightly. “Buddy. Are you seriously telling me you expect us to stab that thing with this ?”

“It shouldn’t be too hard.” Reed is busy analyzing the Lizard—and the way Spider-Man is ricocheting off it. “It’s just a matter of getting close. Just be careful not to break the needle on his scales. You’ll have to target the fleshy area between—”

“Why are you saying this like I’m the one who’s gotta stick the guy?” Johnny demands.

“You’re the fastest,” Reed says, like it’s obvious. “Not to mention the clear advantage of flight, allowing for far more angles of entry than—”

“Won’t my fire just evaporate all your multiverse juice or whatever?”

“You’re in better control than that.”

“It’s multiverse juice , Reed! You have no idea how it’ll—”

They’re interrupted as a psionic field goes up around them. Hanging just over their heads is a chunk of building debris, caught by Sue just in time. Johnny glares at Reed.

“Sorry!” Spider-Man calls, from where he’s stuck in the Lizard’s month on the side of a building. “Good catch Sue! Now, Doctor Connors, if we could just have a civilized discussion—”

“Boys!” Sue snaps. “Enough with the complaining! Johnny, take the syringe. Ben, Reed, help me try to lure it back to the ground. When it gets street level, Ben, see if you can pin it. Johnny, you go for it when it’s down.”

“And Spider-Man?” Johnny demands, just to be contrarian.

Sue raises her eyebrows at where the Bug-Boy has just kicked one of the Lizard’s teeth onto the pavement. “I think he knows what he’s doing.”

They’re forced into action then, as Sue launches the rubble back at the Lizard—effectively turning his attention to the ground. With a sigh and a few grumbled curses, Johnny snatches the syringe from Reed, tucking it into his belt. Whatever. Whatever! He’s gonna cosmically vaccinate that dinosaur so hard—

He flames on, and with a little finesse from him, thankfully the syringe doesn’t burst or melt. Johnny flies overhead the Lizard, bathing it in flames. The beast hisses and cries, leaping to the ground in order to escape it.

“Connors, you’ve put on weight since I last saw you,” Spider-Man slams into the Lizard’s neck, shooting out webs on either side to pull him face first into the concrete. “You gotta tell me your secret so I can avoid it. Not a big fan of the spikes, dude.”

Johnny joins Spider-Man on the beast’s back, unable to stifle a snort.

“Should we really be making him more mad?” Reed asks tightly, stretching his arms around the Lizard’s claws to bind them.

“I dunno.” Spider-Man shrugs. “Makes the job a bit livelier though. Feels good to annoy them into submission, y’know?”

“See!” Johnny shouts. “This guy gets it!”

Ben comes to pin the Lizard’s snout to ground, easily snapping its seething jaws closed. “Not helping, Johnny.”

Light bends around him as Sue comes from behind, layering them in a blanket of psionic energy. The Lizard’s thrashing turns to nothing more than muscle twitches under her force. This is only helped as Spider-Man spits out balls of webbing, sticking the Lizard to the ground.

Well, that was easier than expected. Johnny pulls the syringe from his belt, kneeling between the Lizard’s spikes. He finds a spot between the scales, just like Reed suggested, and stabs.

And the needle slips off his hide.

Frankly, it’s a miracle the needle didn’t just snap in half. The Lizard begins writhing harder under them. Johnny has to grab onto the nearest spike to avoid being bucked off.

“ Reed !” Johnny yells. “The needle won’t go in!”

“Did you aim between the—”

“ Between the scales , yes! Yes I did! It bounced off!”

“We’ll have to find softer tissue. Maybe his underbelly—”

“Whatever you’re doing, do it quick!” Sue shouts. “I can’t hold this thing forever!”

“Yeah, he’s really nibbling on my fingers, you guys,” Ben provides.

Reed’s voice cuts back in. “Johnny, bring the serum to me, and we’ll—”

Three things happen at once. Underneath them, the monster gives a massive shudder as it pounds against Sue’s shield. Ben loses grip on his snout, and the Lizard snatches him between his teeth, dripping with saliva. Beside Johnny, Spider-Man disappears.

Johnny is just a few seconds too late on the uptake. But he turns around just in time to recognize the one part of the Lizard none of them have given enough attention to: the tail. He sees it begin to lash, and he’s just too slow.

“ Sue! ” Johnny screams.

The tail winds up, and she looks up, eyes wide. Her reflexes are fast, but she’s already extending herself to pin the beast down. She’s going to get hit, she’s going—

A flash of red. It barrels into Sue, sending her skidding across the concrete. That fleck of red takes her place, right as the tail connects. More red, darker, thicker, spreading as the spikes of the tail enter flesh. 

Spider-Man goes flying into a nearby building—a crater left in his wake.

“Sue!” Johnny yells again, flaming on to reach her.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She’s shaking, but sits up on her own. “Is he—Oh, god, Spider-Man—”

Johnny has to put a wall of fire up to ward off another tail attack. The beast wails as he’s singed. With Sue’s concentration on her field broken, the Lizard is back up. It’s spit Ben out, probably realizing there’s no getting through him, and is going after Reed now.

The tail lashes out again, heading for Spider-Man’s body and—a field of shuddering light guards him just in time. 

“I’ll take care of him, you send that thing back where it came from,” Sue commands.

Johnny’s chest tightens with assertion at her words, but it takes him a second to tear his eyes from Spider-Man’s limp body. He shoots up into the sky. Another cascade of fire flows through the Lizard’s spikes, causing it to roar in outrage. It swings up, biting at Johnny’s trail of fire. 

Reed is completely on the defensive, scaling a nearby fire escape to get out of claw range. Sue is crouched behind a force field, pressing on Spider-Man’s chest. Ben is pummeling the Lizard’s forearms, successfully drawing its attention but not doing much damage. The beast tears up on its hind legs, roaring down at Ben in a hail of saliva.

The position gives Johnny a good view of its stomach and—no, that skin’s too tough. There’s no way the syringe will go through it. God, for being the smartest man alive, Reed really loves to be wrong all the time—

Ben yells back at the beast, launching himself in the air to clock its jaw and Johnny’s eyes stick on the pink skin of its mouth.

Bingo .

Johnny flies lower to pummel its eyes with fire, temporarily taking its attention from Ben. 

“ Ben , get its jaw open and keep it that way!” Johnny shouts as he zips overhead.

“Are you really tryna test whether I can withstand a giant lizard’s stomach acid right now?”

“ Just do it! ”

Ben grumbles, but does as told, leaping into the air to catch the beast by the lower jaw as it roars up at Johnny. It hits the pavement with a crack . The Lizard cries in outrage, pushing forward and snapping at Ben. He withstands, catching it by the teeth and holding its mouth open. 

Johnny hits the ground running, sprinting forward, syringe in hand. He tries to go for it and nearly gets his hand chomped off when Ben loses his grip. It’s only momentary though, and he quickly regains his hold, giving Johnny a hurry it up look.

The syringe meets the flesh interior of the Lizard’s mouth, just behind his teeth. It goes in easy. Johnny lets out a massive sigh as the fluid goes in.

“Get back!” Reed yells from somewhere above.

When Reed says that, it’s always a good idea to listen. Johnny and Ben both rear back at once. Something like a reverse black hole appears around the Lizard and swallows him whole in half a second flat. And just like that…

Poof.

Any sense of victory they might be feeling is interrupted by Sue’s panicked shout.

“Reed!” She begs. “Reed, please help, he’s losing blood, I can’t stop the blood—”

Oh, right. Spider-Man. Ben and Johnny exchange an uh-oh glance.

After all, they’ve just killed an alternate universe’s superhero.

Chapter Text

Peter dreams of Aunt May.

Nothing specific. Just her. Her smile, and her hugs, and the nervous way she looked at him whenever he spoke about spider-business. All the while, he hears sirens, and smells smoke and blood, and feels a body in his arms.

When he wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed—which is probably in the top ten weirdest things that’s happened to him lately.

He’s not in his suit, and his immediate first thought is they took the mask off. But when he reaches up, he finds familiar fabric. Torn and frayed, but still there. Still enough to keep him safe.

He sighs, sinking back against the bed. There are no wires or tubes on him, which is surprising. He’s not really familiar with hospitals—he’s always taken care of the wounds himself. For good reason too. Whoever’s got him now is probably salivating at the way his wounds are closing.

“You almost died,” a newly familiar, irritating voice provides unhelpfully.

Peter sighs again, rubbing at his face through the mask. “Yeah, I got that part.”

He glances over to his bedside, where Johnny Storm is lounging in a chair, notebook in hand. It’s the one Peter has been using to document the historical differences between their two worlds. Yes, he always meant to show it to the Four, but he at least wanted to clean it up a little. Johnny, he’s learning, cares very little for what he wants.

“You saved my sister.” Johnny claps the notebook shut, staring those deathly blue eyes directly into Peter.

“She’s okay?” Peter asks hopefully.

“All thanks to you,” Johnny leans forward. “And I want to know why.”

Peter frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You saved my sister, and you almost died for it. You almost sacrificed your life for hers. Why?”

“What do you mean why? Why wouldn’t I? I’d do it for anyone, but especially her. She’s kind, she’s welcoming, she has a child, and a husband, and brothers—a family. She does real good in this world. Of course I’d trade my life for hers.”

“You’d do it for anyone.”

“I would.”

“But you did it for her.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Peter challenges again.

Johnny narrows his eyes. Analyzes him. For someone so charismatic and ostentatious, he sure knows how to lock down his exterior, make sure no hint of emotion shows. 

The people of this world see him as the goofy one, the silly younger brother who goads and jokes his way through being a superhero. He’s the charmer that no one takes seriously. But Peter is starting to see the meat of it. Johnny cares deep down into his bones, and that makes him the most dangerous one of them all.

All at once, the tension breaks as Johnny flops back into his chair, propping his legs on the hospital bed.

“I guess I should say thank you,” He muses.

“I don’t do it for that.”

“No, but it’s usually the nice thing to do.”

Johnny gets quiet for a second, like he’s debating something. Peter lets him stew in silence. If he’s going to be so combative, his thoughts can eat him alive for all Peter cares.

But when Johnny speaks, it’s with a kindness Peter didn’t think he could possess. “You know, we almost lost her a few years ago. And sometimes, when I close my eyes, all I see is her lying pale on that pavement. Even if she’s here, and she’s okay now, I can’t stop thinking about it. She practically raised me, and I just can’t—”

He stops short, scowling at nothing that Peter can see.

“So, thank you,” Johnny says, with a kind of force Peter knows can’t be falsehood. “I mean that. And I won’t forget it either. I owe you, webhead.”

With that, he stands abruptly, and strides towards the door.

“Keep working on that notebook,” Johnny calls back from the doorway. “In its current stage, I estimate about an eleven hour session of Reed badgering you with questions. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

He slips out then, and Peter decides that he actually probably has really died.

✦

Secret identity aside, there is one very specific reason that Peter has never gone to a hospital. He is, very painfully, faced with that reason now, as Reed Richards paces back and forth in his lab, muttering about the science behind Peter’s healing factor. On any other day, Peter might find it fascinating. Today? He’s tired.

“And your other abilities are extraordinary,” Reed continues. “Clinging to surfaces as you do… Is there a time limit to it? Have you tested it on different surfaces? Is it touch based, or are you manipulating the fabric of reality on a molecular basis?”

“I… actually don’t know.”

“Fascinating. We should start running tests immediately. Am I correct in assuming you have superior strength as well? You accomplished quite a few feats that I have previously only been able to ascribe to Ben. Do you know the upper limits to such an ability? We have many ways to ascertain such a—”

“Babe,” Sue cuts in sweetly. “Take a breath. You’re doing too much too fast. You’re going to overwhelm the poor boy. He just got discharged from the medical bay, let’s not push him.”

“Oh, yes, good point.” Reed scowls at Peter. “Just answer me this for now. How did you come upon such wonderful powers?”

“Uh, bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“A radioactive spider...” Reed mutters to himself. “What sort of radiation could cause such pronounced mutation in a human? Perhaps when exposed to the venom…”

And… they’ve lost him. Reed is back at his chalkboard, brushing away some equations to make room for his latest string of thoughts. Peter can already spot three flaws in his logic, and contradictions to Peter’s own hypothesis about the spider, but he doesn’t interject. He’s too busy trying to quell his fight or flight.

It seems like the group is about to disperse, so Peter cuts in before they’re gone. “Just one question before you go.”

His voice is strangely authoritarian. It’s something he only developed after the spell that wiped him from existence. There was less room for his bumbling, socially awkward self in the world that he was left with.

They all clock the change in mood, freezing and looking at him.

“Yes, Spider-Man?” Sue doesn’t portray an ounce of nervousness or even surprise.

He sucks in a breath. “Did you take my mask off?”

A minute bit of tension eases from Sue’s shoulders. “No, we didn’t. By the time we got you to the med bay you were already healed enough that you didn’t need oxygen. Even if you did, we would go through the mask before we took it off.”

Peter nods numbly. He knew. But he can’t stand to think of himself like that, completely open and helpless in his unconscious state. He’s lucky this group is so kind—in another world… Well, there’s just no telling.

Then, of course, Johnny opens his big mouth to ruin things. “Uh, not sure if this has totally sunk in for you dude, but there’s not exactly an identity for you to protect on our earth.”

Peter glares at him. “Yes, I am aware.”

Johnny throws his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. “Then I’m having trouble understanding the whole mask and no name thing. Especially not around us.”

“I’ve revealed my identity to peers before. It hasn’t exactly gone well.”

It still stings to think about Quentin Beck. Just how trusting Peter was of him, just because he and Fury said he was a hero. Because Peter revealed himself to him, he lost everything.

“So you don’t trust us.” Johnny decides.

“I didn’t say that,” Peter argues. “You are not the problem. The thing is, when—”

Peter cuts off with a huff, trying to find his words. Surprisingly, Johnny gives him the space to do so. Those sharp blue eyes stay on him, watching. Studying. Like if he stares hard enough, he’ll be able to put all the pieces of Peter’s puzzle together.

As if Peter would even give him the chance.

“When you start revealing your identity, it can be hard to stop,” Peter explains tightly. “You trust someone, and they tell you to trust someone else, and suddenly it gets to the wrong person. And once it’s out there, there’s no taking it back.”

Not unless you give up everything, Peter doesn’t say. He’s never told anyone about the spell. Never had anyone to tell, anyways. Besides, saying it on his own world just seems… dangerous. Like it might break the whole thing.

“Well, I don’t mind it,” Ben cuts in, before Johnny can even finish processing—and Peter is grateful to the big guy. “Mask or no mask, name or no name, it don’t matter. You’re a good kid, we all can tell that. Damn good superhero too. We really don’t need anything more than that.”

Some of the tension leaves his body as Sue nods along to Ben’s words. Even Reed detaches from his chalkboard long enough to glance over his shoulder and give Peter an affirming nod. Johnny doesn’t react at all, still staring Peter down. Finally, Peter gives him his attention, staring right back at Johnny, unblinking.

It only takes a few seconds under his scrutiny before Johnny crumbles and looks away, starting to fidget. Chicken. All bravado, no substance. If only he wasn’t so good at getting under Peter’s skin.

The air is starting to get uncomfortable, so Peter pushes to his feet. “I need to stretch my legs. I’ll be up in my room if you need me.”

He’s given a myriad of soft farewells, but as the elevator door closes, he feels all the attention in the room zero in on Johnny. There’s the sound of rock against skin as Ben cuffs him. His cry out in pain is mostly muted by Sue’s angry hissing.

“What is your problem? You can’t keep treating our guest this way. You need to get your act together before…”

Her voice fades as Peter ascends a fifth level. He could stretch his hearing to spy on Johnny getting reamed—and maybe he should—but it feels wrong. It’s one thing to accidentally spy, it’s another to do it on purpose. Considering that they’re literally defending him right now, it’d be gross to turn around and violate their trust that way. 

Peter makes it to the inlaid couch, and falls face first onto it. They’re being too nice to him. And what is he doing in return? He won’t even show them his face. Even though it doesn’t matter if his identity was revealed—he doesn’t exist here. And if it made it all the way back home… Well, what does he even have to lose anymore?

He cocoons his arms over his head, and forces his eyes to close. 

He knows he won’t sleep, but it feels good to at least pretend.

✦

The next morning, the elevator dings open. It’s not totally unexpected—Peter left it unlocked for them. What is unexpected is who exactly the sliding doors deposit.

“Spiderling,” Johnny proclaims to the room. “I am here.”

Peter doesn’t look up from his place at the kitchen counter. He’s in the middle of sewing his suit back together, and really would prefer not to be disturbed. It took less time than expected to get the blood out with the soap they provided, at least. One of Reed’s patented products, apparently.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks flatly as Johnny comes to stand on the other side of the counter.

“I have been informed that I have been, and I quote, a ‘huge dick.’” Johnny says. “So, to make it up to you, I have brought breakfast.”

He slams a box of Lucky Charms on the counter between them. Peter looks from them, up to Johnny, raising his eyebrows. The other man has a completely straight face.

“Is this what passes for home cooking on your world?” Peter questions genuinely. 

“No, but I don’t waste my time on useless things like cooking,” Johnny explains, ripping into the box. “But look, I brought you my favorite. And see, totally fresh box. No stale cereal for you. Cherry on top, a gift in every box.”

He places a tiny action figure of himself on the counter. For effect, he presses the button on its side. The little plastic man echoes with a catchphrase: Flame on!

Peter drags his eyes up from the toy. “Is that seriously something you say?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Johnny questions, shoving a handful of cereal in his mouth. “It’s good branding. The kids love it. And like, how else would you describe what I do? Flame on! It just fits.”

“Do not light yourself on fire in my kitchen.”

“Hey, technically not your kitchen, and also we don’t have smoke detectors in the building.”

Peter rolls his eyes—hoping the expression shows properly through his mask. There’s no telling if it does, because Johnny doesn’t react. He’s had an entire lifetime as the annoying younger brother, it’ll take more than a huff and a puff to scare him away.

Whatever. Peter focuses back on the suit in his hands. None of the punctures were big enough to need extra fabric to fill. Just some stitches and he’ll be good to go. If only he were allowed to concentrate.

“You know, Reed really will make you a new suit,” Johnny says through another mouthful of cereal. “It’s like no problem, and that one… Man, it’s seen better days.”

Peter bites down on a sigh, unwilling to let Johnny see just how much he’s wearing on him. “I don’t need charity.”

“It’s not charity, it’s helping a fellow out,” Johnny argues. “You’re our guest. And frankly, we have an image to maintain. Being seen with you in that… I mean, is that craft fabric?”

Peter lets his project fall to the countertop, glaring openly at Johnny. “Not all of us have the resources of a multimillion dollar superhero conglomeration.”

“Except that you do. Right now. All you have to do is ask—”

“I’ve relied on others for that before. The suits, the tech, all of it. And look how that turned out for me, flamebrain. So, you know, I think I’m fine figuring it out for myself.”

Johnny shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to him either way. “Just saying, it would help us out. If you got a little more durable suit we wouldn’t have to worry about you getting shredded in a fight. But whatever. You keep going with this self sufficiency complex.”

That’s… a better point than he’s made during this whole argument. And just a good point in general. But Peter will be damned if he ever let that on. Thankfully, his ears prick then. He leans over to the radio on the counter, turning it up.

“Did you turn that into a police scanner?” Johnny demands.

“Yes, now shut up.” Peter listens intently, but quickly realizes it’s nothing more than a fender bender.

“You do realize that if anything happens, we’ll get alerted, right?” Johnny asks, tapping the device on his wrist. “You don’t need to be so hyper vigilant. Reed does enough of that for all of us.”

“Not all of us only focus on the major supervillain problems,” Peter mutters. 

Johnny freezes, eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter shakes his head. “That I actually very rarely deal with these sort of… city ending problems that you guys do. I spend all my time out on the streets, helping people out with the everyday. Muggings and robberies and car crashes and cats stuck in trees. That’s what I do.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it now?” Johnny challenges. 

“Not my world. Figured you guys wanted to keep an eye on me, not have me swinging through the city.”

“You’re not under house arrest.”

“So you’d be fine with me having free reign of your city?”

“Well, we just need a way to contact you in case of an emergency, so you’ll need a band but…”

Johnny slams his box of cereal back on the counter, chewing one last, huge mouthful. He dusts off his hands. Half the crumbs land on Peter’s suit. 

“That thing ready to go?” Johnny nods to the suit.

Peter frowns. “Just about. Why are you—“

“Cool,” he marches to the elevator. “You have five minutes to get suited up.”

“What are you—”

“You wanna do some crime fighting?” Johnny demands with a grin. “Oh, I’ll show you crime fighting, webhead.”

He disappears behind the round sliding door then, and Peter is left staring after him in shock. Did he really just offer to…? The radio crackles beside him. Bicycle thief. Too fast for the police but… A manic grin breaks Peter’s face.

Johnny better be able to keep up.

✦

Turns out, he can do better than simply keep up. When he puts on the speed, it’s up to Peter to build momentum to stay at his pace. It should be irritating. Peter should be hating every second of it.

But as he weaves between the buildings, wind in his face, chasing after a man on fire, Peter can’t remember the last time he felt so alive.

With Johnny routing the police radio through his wristband, they’re able to follow the chaos. When that fails, Peter opens his senses and tracks the screams and cries himself. It takes them both a bit to get into habit of following the other, but soon they’re falling into a rhythm of trust.

As expected, Johnny is a beast. It doesn’t take much to scare off muggers when there’s a man literally engulfed in flames staring them down. It means Peter has less grunt work to do—which is more than fine by him. The violence was always the part he hated about the job. So, he lets Johnny do the scaring off, and he does the helping out and comforting.

It works. It actually works really, really well. 

This version of New York is quieter than Peter’s. He thought as much, just listening to the scanner and the amount the Four are called upon. In the time between incidents, he and Johnny just end up racing between the buildings. And frankly, if every day of being Spider-Man was like this, he’d sacrifice Peter Parker entirely.

When the sun starts to dip, they both get a little slow. But they’re both proud, and neither of them wants to say they need to stop, so they go until they’re running literally empty. Eventually, they both just collapse on the same rooftop, breathing heavy.

“No one’s ever kept pace with me like that before,” Peter admits.

“I have no one to keep pace with me.” Johnny laughs, sitting up. “They just follow in the car but…”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s not the same,” Johnny agrees.

They sit in silence for a long time. Long enough for Peter to start rethinking every assumption he’s made about Johnny. Frankly, he’s confusing as all hell. Openly challenging Peter one minute, offering to spend the day in the city with him the next.  

Just as he’s about to ask Johnny just what his deal is, the man cuts in.

“C’mon, I need to eat.” Johnny leaps to his feet. “I know you’re not very liquid right now, so dinner’s on me. If you don’t piss me off between here and there, I’ll even show you my favorite hanging spot.”

Peter frowns at that, but follows when Johnny flames back on—and decides that’s still such a stupid thing to call it. They swing and fly a few blocks over, landing on the sidewalk. With confident steps—uncaring that everyone can see his flagrant use of power—Johnny ducks into a nearby pizza place.

It takes Peter a second, but as he crosses the threshold, he’s hit with a wave of memories.

“No way.” Peter trots behind Johnny. “This place closed when I was a kid. My aunt used to take me here. Best crust in Chinatown.”

Johnny flashes a winning grin back at him, and winks. That freezes him in place for exactly three seconds. Just when he thought Johnny might be done messing with him… He’s not sure why something so benign caught him so off guard though.

“Hey Manny,” Johnny calls, coming to the counter. “Two pepperoni please, large. If you throw on that garlic butter I like so much on the crust there’s an extra dollar in it for you.”

It takes Peter a second to remember that a dollar is probably worth a lot more than he thinks it is, and that Johnny’s not just messing with them.

“You spoil us,” the man behind the counter drawls, shouting the order back into the kitchen.

For a second, Peter just has to marvel at it. Here’s an unmasked hero, in full costume, just… waltzing into a place and receiving a perfectly normal welcome. Sure, there are a few girls in the corner whispering and giggling, but everyone leaves them alone.

“Oh hey, you’re that new guy,” the cashier, Manny, addresses Peter. “Insect-Guy. You helped defeat that dinosaur thing.”

“Uh, it’s Spider-Man, actually,” Peter says tightly. “But yes, sir, that was me.”

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expecting exactly, but it certainly isn’t the man sticking his hand out for a handshake. Gingerly, Peter grabs on and shakes. The man’s hand is firm, the kind of handshake that comes with respect.

“Thank you for helping our pal Johnny out,” he smiles, crooked. “Business might go under if he wasn’t here to fill up.”

“Now, hey, he didn’t really help me specifically out—” Johnny tries to cut in, but is shut down by an eyebrow raise from the cashier.

Rule one, never piss off the guy giving you pizza.

Peter is left shaking the man’s hand too long, a little stunned by the whole thing. He can’t remember the last time someone thanked him on such a human level. After the Mysterio fiasco, the tides changed on Spider-Man, and even the spell never quite put things right. And with Jameson twisting his every action, Peter never quite got back to ‘neighborhood hero’ status.

Johnny nudges him sharp in the side, and Peter snaps out of it, dropping the man’s hand. Peter clears his throat. Thankfully, the pizza comes out barely a second later, already packed neatly in two boxes. Johnny tosses a wad of cash on the counter that looks decent even to Peter, taking the boxes in a practiced routine.

“Thanks Manny and friends!” Johnny calls, pushing his way back onto to the street.

He doesn’t stop on the sidewalk. No, he backs all the way into the center of the street, like he owns all of New York City. There’s a dangerous kind of twinkle in his eye as he grins at Peter.

“Try and keep up, webs,” he balances the pizzas in one hand, palming fire in the other.

When he jets off, Peter is already airborne. He’s forced to follow though, because Johnny hasn’t told him where they’re going, and also he’s holding his dinner hostage. Still, he refuses to give him an easy win, neck and neck with Johnny the whole way.

He nearly gets whiplash when Johnny pulls short, skimming along the water. It’s starting to look unsettlingly familiar. With the decades of changes it takes Peter a second to realize it.

Bastard lured him across the river to Jersey.

Just as he’s about to web him from behind and slam him into the concrete, Johnny blasts off in another burst of fire. The setting sun glimmering off the river makes his surroundings hard to sparse. But there’s no making that silhouette.

Peter snorts. Of course he would choose maybe the most iconic monument in America, and certainly in New York, to have a pizza party on. Jack ass.

Webwings out, Peter skids over the surprisingly clean river. With a little bit of leap-frogging off the ferry, he lands on the railing. It takes exactly two webs to propel himself up onto Lady Liberty.

“The Human Torch’s favorite hangout spot is the torch of the Statue of Liberty?” Peter sits down heavily beside him. “Little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“You have absolutely no sense of branding,” Johnny mutters through a mouthful of food.

He’s already downed two slices already. And Peter thought he had a post-patrol appetite… Guess the fire has to be fueled by something.

Peter glances over the edge of the burnished gold fire, down to the statue. It’s copper-green still, unlike that awful cleaning they did to her on Earth-616. No shield either. Although, Peter kind of ruined that addition anyways…

“You good?” Johnny asks through another mouthful of food. “The pizza is actually for you too, y’know. I’m not evil enough to eat two pizzas in front of you. That would be really funny though.”

Peter sits back up. “No, it’s just… been a while since I’ve been here. Last time wasn’t exactly a trip worthy of the t-shirt.”

“What happened? Drop your ice cream cone?”

“Something like that.”

Peter cracks open the pizza box, stealing a slice as he rolls his mask up with one hand. It’s a practiced motion by now. He doesn’t think twice about it since he’s eaten with Johnny and his family a few times by now. 

“You get so cagey sometimes,” Johnny scoffs. “You’re gonna have to let me in eventually, Bug-Boy.”

“Is that a challenge? Because I really assure you I do not.”

Johnny just rolls his eyes, relaxing back on his hands. Peter nibbles on his pizza. It’s even better than he remembers it being.

This should be harder, he thinks. Eating pizza he used to share with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, at the site where the spell to erase him from the earth was cast. But here, post-crime-fighting-tired, in a world apart, his mind is oddly quiet.

“Thanks,” Johnny cuts in softly, suddenly.

Peter raises his eyebrows at him. “For what?”

“Today. It was fun.”

“Yeah… thank you too.”

They sit in silence for a moment, just staring into the sunset.

“It is a good view,” Peter murmurs.

Johnny smiles at him. “It is.”

✦

He’s woken suddenly the next morning by the alarms blaring. Seems Reed’s predictions are still marginally off. This next baddie wasn’t supposed to arrive until the afternoon. 

Peter is out the window in an instant, always hesitant to shed his suit these days. Not a moment later, the Fantasticar sidles up under him. Letting himself drop, Peter lands on the passenger side of the windshield. 

“Hey, wipers!” Johnny calls. “Wipers! Bug on the windshield!”

Peter is getting increasingly good at ignoring him. “Where are we headed?”

“There was a spike in multiversal residual energy in the Upper East Side,” Reed explains.

“Evacuations?” Peter asks. “That’s something you guys do, right?”

“Already working on it.” Sue is tapping at her wristband.

“Wow, you’re so efficient,” Peter breathes. “Hey, wait a second, if Reed is tracking this guy, and Sue is heading the evacuation, and Ben is driving… what exactly are you doing Johnny?”

“Not blocking the windshield, unlike some people.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Last one there is a rotten egg.”

He leaps off the car, falling into a sharp dive to gain speed. When he finally shoots out a web, the force of his swing is enough to make his shoulder wince in protest. He lets out a happy holler to the wind.

“That is not fair!” Johnny is screaming from above him, having just leapt out the car. 

With the speed he’s able to build up, it takes Peter no time at all to reach the Upper East Side. He swings down and lands in a crouch on one of the larger streets. It’s already deserted. Damn, these people are great at running and hiding.

Peter stands, hands on his hips. He looks around, finding nothing out of the ordinary. His senses reach far out around them, but nothing. Behind him, the Fantasticar and the Human Torch land.

“I don’t know, I don’t see any—Shit—!” His spider-sense zips down his spine like a live wire.

There’s barely a hair’s breadth between Peter’s skull and a fist twice its size. He does a few flips back, landing in a crouch to assess. Only a gray blur is visible, charging straight towards Peter. With an undignified yelp, he shoots upward, catching himself on the third floor window of a brownstone.

The building shakes as something big, heavy, and mean impacts its lower levels. Peter winces. Hopefully they have fantastic Fantastic Four insurance here.

“Ben!” Sue shouts.

“On it, boss!” He yells back, mid-run. “Hey, ugly! Pick on someone your own size!”

Reed slings himself up to the rooftop just above Peter. “Who is that?”

Peter has to squint his eyes to peek through the dust and debris. What he sees is a figure more Hulk than man, layered in a patchy gray armor. At the crown of his helmet—is that a rhinosaurus horn?

“Oh, have you come to play, little thing?” The guy yells out in a Russian accent.

“Actually, I’m a pretty big Thing,” Ben cracks his neck to one side.

Johnny flies up on Peter’s side, also looking at him skeptically for an answer.

“I… have no idea,” Peter admits.

“What do you mean?” Johnny demands. “These are supposed to be your villains right? You’re supposed to have the know-how to defeat this guy!”

“Well, I think I’d remember fighting a heavily armored, nine foot tall Russian!” Peter snaps. “And it’s really not ringing any bells!”

“No matter,” Reed cuts in. “His defeat will come the same way as the Lizard’s.”

From his belt he pulls an auto injector, larger and longer than Peter’s hand. It’s gray, ringed, with a comically red button at the end. Peter lets out a breath. Just like the Lizard. Get between the armor, send him back to… whatever demiplane of existence he comes from.

“Alright, let’s go,” Johnny holds his hand out expectantly. 

Reed holds it even further out of reach—which considering his stretching ability, is pretty damn far. “Not you. This one is for Spider-Man. He has a better chance of getting close with this one. All he has to do is get on its back, and hit it in the neck.”

“I can do that too!”

“But can you adhere to the surface of its armor to avoid being bucked off?”

Silence.

Reed’s stretchy arm curves around to present the auto injector pen to Peter. He takes it gingerly. There’s no telling what this thing will do if it comes into contact with anything or anyone not dressed like a rhino. Personally, he’s not interested in that particular experiment.

“Okay,” Peter sounds more resolute than he feels. “Let’s get this guy outta your universe.”

They break with a fluidity that Peter doesn’t expect. Johnny flies overhead of the Rhino, dousing it in fire and hurling insults. Reed winds his arm around the Rhino’s neck like a lasso, causing him to fall to his knees. Peter comes in, injector in hand, reading to hit the soft spot where his head meets his neck. 

As soon as he touches strange, polymer armor, the Rhino rears his head back. Peter momentarily sees stars at he goes flying, rolling ass over tea kettle across the pavement. Peter didn’t know it possible to laugh in a Russian accent, but this guy is doing it. 

“Ow,” he whines into the cracked concrete.

“Spider-Man!” Sue screams. 

Flickering light shimmers over him, just in time. The Rhino’s massive foot—easily able to encompass Peter’s whole chest—is stuck a mere two feet above him. Grimacing, Sue turns from defense to offense, throwing the force field into him.

The man goes skidding back into Ben and Reed, who work on restraining him again.

“Spider-Man!” Ben yells. “Why are all your villains animal themed?!”

Peter shakes concrete chunks off as he pushes upright. “Uh, good branding?” 

Thankfully, Johnny is too busy dousing this guy in another fire bath to notice that Peter is picking up on his wording. Just as Rhino is winding back for a brutal blow to Ben, Peter shoots his webshooters at either of his massive hands. Digging his heels in, he pulls with all his might.

The Rhino falls back one step, two steps. Then one more. Peter realizes too late the slack in the lines. Rhino tugs his way into a turn, holding his hands tied in front of him. Then, he pulls.

Peter isn’t sure the expletives that come out his mouth as he goes flying face first into the concrete at the Rhino’s feet, but he knows they can’t be aired on the news.

“Puny little pauk,” Rhino goads. “You will die like all the rest of them.”

A burst of psionic energy just manages to throw Peter out of the way of Rhino’s massive boot aiming for his skull. 

“Not today,” Sue challenges, hands raised and flickering with fractured light. “Johnny!” 

She throws her hands out, making a barrier of light between her and the Rhino. Peter isn’t sure of the purpose, until Johnny comes swooping in from behind. His body pulsates with fire as he throws it out, straight through Sue’s wall of light. 

They just made a magnifying glass, Peter realizes in wonder.

The Rhino cries and shouts in pain, throwing his hands up. The tip of his horn is melted. In a blind rage, he started lunging towards the area of the attack. Sue has to throw up a barrier and turn invisible to avoid getting crushed.

Johnny isn’t so lucky.

The worst part is, he’s moving. Blasting out of the way. But that attack must have winded him, because he doesn’t get far enough. The Rhino gets him by the ankle. If the monster of a man even feels the burning, apparently he doesn’t care.

With an incoherent cry, the Rhino winds up his arm, and he throws.

Peter is moving without thinking.

He’s not gonna be fast enough, he’s not gonna be fast enough, he’s not gonna be fast enough—that’s all he’s thinking as he flies after Johnny. Please be fast enough. Just this once be fast enough—

Peter grabs Johnny by the arm. Pulls him forward so Peter is behind him. Grabs on tight, and covers his head. Then, his spine cracks into a building.

✦

“Spidey, Spidey come on. Stay with me. I still owe you for saving my sister. I owe you for saving me now too. You can’t leave me with that kind of guilt, man—”

Peter groans, rolling onto his side. “Shut up. I’m not going to die.”

“Hey, no,” Johnny pulls Peter back to lay on his back. “I don’t know a lot of first aid, but I’m supposed to keep you on your back so you don’t aspirate.”

“I’m not going to aspirate.”

“You can’t be sure about—”

“What about if I had a neck injury and you’re trying to roll me on my back and accidentally decapitate me?”

“You’re not going to be decapitated, drama queen.”

“See! Finally we’re on the same page.”

With a very unsexy groan, Peter lifts himself into a sitting position. Surprisingly, Johnny’s hands are on his shoulder and arm, steadying him. Even when he’s upright, Johnny doesn’t let go.

It’s completely dark, and a little dank. There’s concrete dust heavy in the air. Sparks of electricity from broken circuits, and the stink of glycol seeping from air conditioning units. 

“Where are—what?” Peter’s chest is getting tight.

There’s not a lot of space around them. Less and less so as things shift and lower and squeeze around them. He doesn’t even need a spidersense to know there are layers and layers and layers of rubble above them.

They’re trapped.

Johnny is explaining just that, but Peter only catches the last half. “…and I made a little flame to look around, but there aren’t any clear exits. We have some input of oxygen, but using my power will gobble it all up.”

Peter is nodding absently, when a chunk of rubble above him shifts downward suddenly. It’s not close enough to hit him, but it might as well have buried him alive. He presses his face into the concrete under him. He’s breathing too hard.

“Spidey?” Johnny questions tentatively, hands still on him. “Hey, come on. Deep breaths. It’s okay, we’ll get out. Ben will get us out.”

“How?” Peter demands—or begs, the line is thin right now. “I have the pen, Johnny! They can’t beat that thing without me!”

“Just trust them. They won’t leave us here. They would never leave us here.”

Peter shakes his head. “No one comes. No one will hear us. We’re trapped. We’re gonna die here. They did it, they won.”

“Hey, now, let’s not—”

“You don’t get it!” Peter screams at him, and it takes him a few uneasy breaths before he realizes he’s crying.

He remembers this feeling. It’s just like it was then. All this weight on him, burying him. No help, no matter how long he screamed. And he did, he screamed himself raw. But he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe. It was like all the strength in his muscles was being extracted from his body and put right into the weight burying him, crushing him, erasing him.

“Spidey, buddy,” Johnny is gentler than Peter has ever heard, laying flat on the ground to be eye level with him. “You gotta breathe, okay. Gotta lose the mask, it’s impeding—”

“No,” Peter seethes. “I told you no, I told you why—”

Johnny grabs his hands, presses them together, and encompasses them entirely. “I won’t look. I promise. It’s too dark in here anyway, but I will close my eyes, and I won’t open them until you tell me to, okay? But you need to breathe.”

“Promises mean nothing,” Peter’s voice is thick with a sob.

“I’ll swear it, then. Spider-Man, I swear to you on my nephew’s life that I will keep my eyes shut until you tell me not to.”

And that makes Peter pause. Because Johnny loves his family—his sister, his best friend, his brother-in-law he pretends to hate. But Franklin… Peter’s only seen them together a few times, but he knows. Johnny would burn the world for him. 

And Peter, more than anyone, understands how deep an uncle’s love can go.

“Okay,” Peter’s voice cracks. “Okay.”

Johnny takes their conjoined hands, pressing Peter’s to his eyelids so he can feel them close. Peter keeps them there, feeling the way his eyelashes flutter as his eyes twitch around under their lids. Slowly, he peels his mask up from under his skin.

It feels like coming up from the ocean. No, it’s not clear air. It’s marred with concrete dust and smoke and probably all kinds of nasty chemicals. But it’s the first breath he’s taken that feels like it goes down all the way to his lungs.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, hand covering Johnny’s eyes. A primal fear still sits in him, but his mind is clearing to at least work on a plan. He shuts his own eyes, takes another deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs. “This uh… this happened before. I was fifteen and Vulture dropped a building on me. I really thought I was going to die. I kept yelling but…”

“I’m here now,” Johnny promises. “I hear you.”

Peter cracks a crooked grin. “But can you lift a four story building off of us?”

“Uh, well…”

“Well, don’t worry. Some of us actually have useful powers.“

Whatever snarky remark Johnny was going to come up with is cut off as Peter gingerly removes his hand from over his eyes. But just as promised, he keeps them closed. With shaking fingers, Peter pulls his mask back on.

“Open up, flamebrain,” Peter orders. “Help me find the way out of here that has the least likelihood of crushing us both to death.”

It’s long, it’s grueling, and far too many close calls for Peter’s liking. But with a few solid lifts from him, they’re able to crawl back up to street level. Thankfully, the fight has moved further down the street. He doesn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if Rhino had hit the building again…

Peter and Johnny share a look.

“Ready to kick some Russian ass?” Peter prompts.

“Dude, I don’t think you really understand that we have this global citizenship thing going so…”

“That’s for the best. You would’ve hated the Cold War.”

With that, Peter thwips to the nearest building and begins his pursuit. A ball of heat is right on his tail. Peter really doesn’t know when that became a comfort. 

They find the battle a few blocks over. Sue is shaking with a rage Peter has never seen before, burying the Rhino in psionic force. Reed is hiding behind a taxi with a bleeding head wound. Ben is digging himself up out from under a semi truck.

He spots them first. “They’re back! They’re alive!”

Johnny gives him a salute as they zip past.

“Douse him in all you’ve got, then leave it to me,” Peter orders lowly, refilling his web canisters with practiced ease. 

“Since when do you give me orders?” Johnny demands, but it lacks heat—is he teasing?

“Who just unburied you from a collapsing building?” Peter snarks right back. “Just do I say, flamebrain!”

Johnny rolls his eyes, but does as asked, flying around the Rhino’s head like a gnat and yelling stupid things like: “Ever heard of the Cold War, buddy? Well, I’m about to start the Hot War!”

His eyes nearly roll straight from his skull with that one.

Peter swings over Sue’s head, shouting his plan. “Keep his arms down, don’t worry about the rest.”

He finds Reed next. “Wrap up his legs.”

Sticking onto the truck Ben has just extricated himself from, he glances down at him. “Think if I get him down, you can keep him from head butting me off again?”

Ben crackles his knuckles—do rocks have knuckles?—and grins. “On it, bossman.”

Standing Peter turns his attention to the sky. “Johnny, playtimes over! Go get a snack for nap time!”

“Hey!” He shouts indignantly, but does as ordered and stops his flames.

Peter launches into the air as soon as Johnny is clear. He doesn’t have much of his webfluid left, so he was hoping to conserve it but… Whatever. End of the city, and whatnot.

Hitting a peak right over Rhino, Peter shoots one web into the ground on either side of him. Using gravity and his own might, Peter launches himself downward. The brute cracks face first into the pavement with a few Russian curses. 

“Yeah, doesn’t feel so good, does it?” Peter mutters.

He launches back in the air, flinging webs as he goes. His webs blanket the Rhino’s hands, his feet, his head. Just as quickly, they begin to tear. But Peter isn’t alone. Each of the Four have performed perfectly, taking their respective places in holding him. 

Driving himself down into the small of the Rhino’s back again, Peter pulls the autoinjector from his belt. Whatever Reed made it out of is pretty hardy stuff. Finding an exposed bit of skin, Peter presses it there, and clicks the very inducing red button.

Then, his entire spider-sense goes on overdrive. It’s almost enough to stun him. From the spot of the injection, something like a black hole is opening—and growing quickly. He’s going to get sucked in. There’s no way, even isn’t face enough—

“Spidey!” Johnny yells.

His senses sharpens to one place. Without even looking, Peter fires a web that way. The darkness is spreading, but he needs to stay here. Needs to wait. To hope. To trust. 

Just as it’s about to consume him, that web Peter shot out pulls tight. He goes flying in a way he’s never gone before. As he goes, all he can do is stare at the place that Rhino is blinking out of existence. What a marvelous and utterly terrifying thing.

It comes as a complete shock when Peter hits something warm and solid. They hit the pavement and roll—but it’s gentler and more controlled than the other times today. When his back finds concrete, Peter lets out a sigh and falls limp.

Just as quickly, he sparks back to life. There’s heat above him, and around him, and consuming him. It’s familiar, but somehow new. Peter’s eyes fly open behind his mask and…

Johnny is over him, hands bracketing either side of Peter’s head. Currently, he’s looking over at the place Rhino just disappeared—and where his family no doubt still lingers. There’s something fierce in his expression. A set to his jaw that Peter doesn’t know how he’s missed, but from this angle it’s all he can pay attention to.

Blue eyes sweep to find him. “Are you okay?”

Honestly, Peter’s chest is feeling really tight again. Not quite like when they were buried, but something equally as terrifying. He moves to push Johnny off him, but the action ceases as soon as he touches his chest. 

“You saved me,” Peter breathes out, deciding that’s answer enough.

Johnny looks up from where his eyes had locked on Peter’s hands on his chest. “Well. You took the brunt of me colliding with a building, and then extracted me from the rubble.”

“Call it even then?”

Johnny smiles sardonically. “Now, I don’t know about that…”

Something is warm and wet under Peter’s palm. He removes it, finding his glove redder and stickier than normal. Positioning it so that Johnny can see, he tilts his head.

“I dare say we both need medical attention,” Peter suggests, starting to feel his own aches and pains.

“To that, I concur,” Johnny agrees, but it takes him a moment to sit up and let Peter out from under him.

Peter doesn’t have the faintest idea why, but he thinks he would rather have stayed there too.

Chapter Text

The newspaper slaps down on the table in front of Johnny and his cereal.

“So, you’ve been crimefighting with Spider-Man?” Sue asks, in a way that appears casual but is actually very threatening.

“Oh, sick, we made the front page,” Johnny says through a mouthful of cereal. “Yesterday was only a blurb on page three. But hang on, this is the Bugle. Don’t tell me we didn’t make it into any reputable papers—”

Sue snatches the paper from his hand, smacking him over the head with it. “The paper is not the problem here! I knew you two were going off together, but I really hoped you were just showing him around. But this? Getting into—into fist fights over stolen purses? Have you lost your mind?”

She gets up then, pacing and chewing her thumbnail. It’s been a while since she’s been this cross with him, and it’s starting to piss him off. Because this is exactly the way she acted when he was sixteen and snuck out to drink for the first time. She’s acting like he’s a kid who doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.

“Hey, why are you saying it like that?” Johnny can’t help his voice from rising. “That’s important work! I get we’re all about fighting space gods and molemen, but sometimes you gotta look out for the little guy!”

Ceasing her pacing, Sue comes to lean on the table, lording over him. “Street crime does not warrant the mobilization of someone with your abilities. That’s what the police are for. And you butting into their business? It’s already starting to get some kickback.”

“Well, heaven forbid I want something to do. Something to help people. You do all that stuff with the Future Foundation, Reed is revolutionizing the world every other day, and Ben! Ben has been visiting that school recently! And what about me? I’m just supposed to keep sitting here as some pretty face?”

“If you want to be more involved—”

Johnny stands up, unwilling to be talked down to anymore. “I don’t want to do bureaucratic crap, or science crap, or community service crap! I want to help people, Sue. Right then, right there.”

Sue’s frown is deepening, but she hesitates. Maybe she’s finally getting what he’s saying. Or maybe the puffs of smoke coming from the ends of his hair are telling her he needs a minute to calm down.

“I mean, Sue,” he tries really, really, really hard not to sound like he’s whining. “You should see the look on these people’s faces when we show up. They’re there, they’re alone, they’re going through the worst experience of their life. And then we come in and just…” 

Sue softens—just a little bit, but he sees it. Yes, he’s in the clear. They’ll be back to their crime fighting ways soon enough. Man and Torch. Spider and Human. Spider-Torch. Human-Man. 

Yeah, they need to workshop the duo name a little.

“Okay,” Sue elongates the word like she’s about to come in with the metaphorical right hook, and Johnny wants to stomp his feet. “But Johnny… You do realize you’re one of the most famous people on the planet, right?”

“One of is a bit of an underestimation, I think.”

“We’ve been able to fend off questions about Spider-Man with just our team battles. But a member of the Fantastic Four running around Manhattan with a strange, super-powered, masked hero? That’s a little harder to explain away.”

“Okay… So we can just release a statement about it, right? That’s a thing we do.”

Sue narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest—which she always does when she’s about to checkmate him. “Yes, Johnny. We need to announce the existence of a masked, reclusive, secretive hero to an entire world. Do you think he’ll proofread it for me?”

Yep, there it is.

Check and mate.

✦

“You taking up skywriting as a side hustle, Torchie?” Peter asks as he lands on Lady Liberty beside Johnny, making him jump. Hah.

See, he’d been minding his own business, out on the town like usual. Then there’s this burning message hanging over the city like a bad omen. Most of the citizens probably read it and felt some relief. For Peter, it actually was a bad omen.

‘Spidey, meet @ regular place, have pizza :)’

Except he’d royally screwed up the @ so it took Peter a little too long to decipher.

“This better be good,” Peter warns. “I was watching a really riveting game of chess in Central that I had to ditch for you.”

Johnny grins up at him, sheepishly—the picture of innocence. Peter narrows his eyes. He flops down beside Johnny, on his right, just like they’ve done a half dozen or so times before. Frankly, he didn’t notice it’d become a ‘regular place’ until Johnny’d said so.

“Meat lovers?” Peter assesses the pizza. “Geez, what body do you need me to help bury?”

“Uh, well, see—” Johnny isn’t even eating—weird, weird, weird. “You know how me and the family are like, incredibly famous?”

“I did notice, yes.”

“And y’know, we’re the only super powered people on our world. So, when we show up fighting these extra-dimensional—”

“Not what they are.”

“—villains, there are some questions, you know? And like Sue is perfect and amazing, so she had it all handled. But then, well, you know, I started tagging along with—”

“You mean instigating.”

“—your crime fighting, and suddenly people are getting up close and personal with an extra-dimensional superhero—”

“Not what I am either.”

“—and then I’m right there like, totally rocking with what you’re doing, so basically what I’m saying is that there are some questions about—”

Peter holds a hand up, properly interrupting him this time. “So, you wanna have a little meet and greet with the press to let them know what’s up with me. Or some sanitized version of it.”

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re being surprisingly chill about this.”

“Not all of us have charcoal for brains, Torchie.” Peter cracks open the pizza and takes a slice. “You really think I waltzed into your world and your city and thought no one would have questions? Especially when your group is so media friendly? Honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”

“So, I didn’t even need to butter you up with the pizza,” Johnny complains. “That’s a buck seventy-five I’m never getting back.”

“Not necessary, but very appreciated,” Peter hides a grin behind his slice. “Thank you for being sensitive.”

“Whatever,” Johnny grumbles, throwing himself back to lay flat on his back. 

Peter doesn’t try to hide his laugh this time, patting Johnny sympathetically on the knee. He’s kicked at in response. Peter webs him to the gilding of the torch.

Johnny doesn’t stop complaining about that for three days.

✧

“Oh, Torchie,” Spidey sing-songs from the newly opened elevator. “I know you’re in here, flamebrain.”

“Well, yes, it is my house,” Johnny responds from his place reclined on the couch in the living room. “Great detective work, webhead.”

Spidey leaps to stick onto the ceiling over his head, like the freak he is. Johnny is about ninety percent sure Spidey keeps doing weird things with his powers to spook him. It worked for a while, but it’s starting to wear off. He needs to get more creative.

It does however work on Franklin, who is looking up at Spidey with an open jaw.

“Oh, hello, little child,” Spidey is immediately awkward. “I didn’t realize you were here, sorry.”

He decides to be civilized then and lowers himself to the floor next to where Franklin is playing on the carpet.

“It’s okay,” Franklin responds very politely—he gets that from Johnny, well known fact.

Spidey turns to him next. “Uh, are we going out tonight? I want to survey the docks, I think something’s going on down there.”

Johnny holds a hand up. “No can do, Bug-Boy. I am in full uncle mode tonight. My one and only beautiful sister has entrusted me with her one and only beautiful child. I am charged with keeping him safe and fed and in bed by 7pm.”

“You’re babysitting,” Spidey sums up.

“I’m babysitting.” Johnny nods sagely.

For a second, Spidey seems… disappointed. But no, that’s not right. Johnny is an annoyance, a thorn in Spidey’s side. It’s his brand. His brand. Except well, maybe seeing Spidey disappointed makes Johnny feel disappointed and maybe that’s why he’s blurting out his words without thinking.

“You could uh, hang out with us?” Johnny suggests. “Herbert made us dinner and we’re having cartoon time now.”

“I don’t know how to be around kids,” Spidey admits. “Usually I just do a backflip and swing away and that’s enough.”

“For what it’s worth, I think Franklin would love to see a backflip. But don’t worry. He’s less ‘kid’ and more ‘tiny adult.’ Reed just finished reading him the Odyssey as their bedtime book.”

Spidey glances nervously at Franklin, who’s already back to his dinosaurs. But he does stiffly come over to sit on the circular couch beside Johnny. He leaves just enough room for one pizza box, like usual.

Immediately, Spidey is frowning. “Are you seriously making him watch the Fantastic Four cartoon?”

“Of course! He loves it! We sing the theme song together! Changed by cosmic rays from space, now they save the human race—”

“Yes, I’ve heard it before.”

“No way,” Johnny lights up. “You’ve totally watched the show.”

“No, no I have not.”

“Yes, you definitely have.”

“Okay, maybe I watched one or two episodes, but only because there’s nothing else on TV except that and reruns of your Ted Gilbert interviews, or your Coppertone commercials.”

Johnny waggles his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw there?”

Spidey just crosses his arms over his chest, sinking back petulantly into the couch. He looks like… Well, like Johnny. Maybe he’s rubbing off on him.

He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed that Spidey didn’t answer.

“Where is everyone else anyway?” Spidey finally asks.

“Reed and Sue are having date night. Something about ‘keeping the marriage healthy’ or some other bull crap.”

“Ben?”

“Also having date night. He’s seeing this teacher slash religious leader slash total hottie with a city accent.”

“So, you’re left with baby duty because you’re sad and alone?”

“Well, you are also here on baby duty, so what does that make you?”

Spidey freezes for a moment, and Johnny worries he crossed one of those ill defined boundaries of things not to mention to Bug-Boy. But then Spidey is cocking his head to one side and shrugging, like Johnny won. It doesn’t feel much like a victory.

“Here, I’ll teach you how to play with Franklin,” Johnny suggests, scooting to the floor. “Even Reed figured it out, you’ll be fine.”

It takes a long moment before Spidey comes to gingerly sit on the floor with them. When he does, Franklin gives him a small smile. Thankfully, it seems like the toddler’s moved on from the whatever he was doing about Spidey being from a different universe.

“Hi Franklin,” Spidey says lightly.

“Hi Spider-Man,” Franklin responds politely—again, totally gets that from Johnny. “Do you want to play dinosaurs and robots?”

“Do I ever?” Spidey displays the appropriate amount of enthusiasm, and Johnny decides he’s got this locked down.

They both sort of forget about him for a bit then. For someone so hesitant, Spidey is a natural with it. Unlike Reed, he does actually have an imagination and is able to follow Franklin’s baby logic. 

Johnny leans back on his hands, watching the whole stage production. Usually, when Franklin’s playing, Johnny finds himself entranced by the little man. Just how smart and funny he is, and how lucky Johnny is to be his family. But with Spidey there…

Now, contrary to popular belief—his excellent yet unfortunate branding—some people concur that Johnny is a little bit stupid. And while that can be true with some things, he knows his feelings. He knows that Spidey is hot, and funny, and he enjoys spending time with him. And if Spidey wasn’t so able to kick his ass, he might flirt a little harder.

But it’s like it always is, it’s surface level. Maybe he can flash a smile and get Spidey flustered and feel like he’s still got it. Sneak a kiss or two and make sure they both always wonder ‘what if?’ It’s a crush, warranting a fling at most. And Johnny’s a professional, so it hasn’t been a problem.

Watching Spidey with Franklin, he’s starting to worry it might become a problem.

Webhead is able to keep track of time better than Johnny is, stuck in his own head, and prods him when it’s time for Franklin to go to bed for the night. And Johnny may be losing his sense of professionalism but he’s still a professional, so he smiles that smile and winks at Spidey like nothing is the matter. He scoops Franklin up, and is glad for the distraction of reading him to bed. Thankfully, he lets Johnny stick to the Seuss books instead of scientific papers.

Once he’s completed his unclely duties, he comes back out into the living area and is surprised to find Spidey still there. He’s out on the balcony, leaning on the rail as he looks out over the city. With Spidey’s superior senses, Johnny wonders just what he might be seeing and hearing.

Having lost the energy to tease, Johnny comes to sidle up beside Spidey. He doesn’t leave enough room for a pizza box this time. Spidey doesn’t even give him a look for it.

“You know this was probably an elaborate plan to keep us from causing any problems before the press conference, right?” Spidey asks suddenly.

Johnny cracks a grin. “Of course. I’m not actually as stupid as the cartoon makes me look, you know.”

“I wouldn’t know. Like I said, I haven’t watched it.”

“Yuh huh. Just keep saying it, buddy.”

He takes a risk. He leans in to bump his shoulder good naturedly against Spidey’s. Again, he doesn’t get a nasty look for it. Instead, Spidey pushes back at him. Even that gentle shove is enough to make his strength clear, so Johnny decides not to push his luck and get into a fight he knows he can’t win. 

“Hey, come on.” Johnny nods his head towards the living room. “I think they’re rerunning all the Ted Gilbert Fantastic Four anniversary specials. You could use a history lesson. Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate me more.”

Spidey groans, but follows him inside. “I have never met someone as obsessed with themself as you are. And I knew Tony Stark.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I will take that as a compliment, thank you. I’m a winner in all areas of life, you see.”

Spidey snorts. Somehow, Johnny can tell he’s rolling his eyes. Amazing how expressive he is even behind the mask. Johnny can’t help a smile—he hopes it comes across as more shit-eating than beaming.

They sit together—leaving room for the pizza box again—and Spidey is patient as they watch and Johnny cuts in every few seconds. For what it’s worth, he does seem to be genuinely trying to take some of it in. Johnny doesn’t like his tone when he talks about Reed though. He seems like he’s developing a science-crush on him, and Johnny can’t let that stand. How to poison him against the evil that is Reed Richards…?

Unfortunately, he doesn’t figure it out before Reed and Sue get back. They seem surprised to find the two of them there hanging out. Which Johnny thinks is pretty ridiculous, considering they obviously were trying to keep them inside tonight. 

Whatever.

The next morning when Ben asks him how his night was, Johnny is honest.

It was fantastic.

✦

Peter has trouble breathing through the lump in his throat on the way to Reed’s lab. All he knows is that Sue asked for him, so here he is. His mind can’t help but run through the hundred things she might want to ream him out for.

It better not be about Franklin, or Peter is about to give Johnny the headache of his life. Because Peter didn’t even feel comfortable around the little dude and then suddenly they’re playing together and Peter realized he’s actually really cute and sweet and—He tried to be nice to the kid but he doesn’t know what to do with a two year old!

The elevator dings open and Peter exhales sharply. He can do this. He went to space. He stopped the multiverse from collapsing. He almost passed his driving test. He can face an upset mother.

“Look, Sue, I mean, Mrs. Storm, or Richards, or Storm-Richards—I’m sorry if I did something wrong with Franklin. I thought the whole dinosaurs killing robots thing was a little violent, especially with Herbie right there but…”

She turns to him with a smile, like they just happened to run into each other in the hall. Peter stops short. She’s in the lab’s red circle area, surrounded by all of Reed’s really really cool machines that Peter hasn’t been brave enough to ask to use.

“Spider-Man,” she greets, like he wasn’t just word vomiting. “You’re a science type, right? Like Reed?”

Peter lets out a hefty breath. “Well, ma’am, that’s a mighty high bar but—”

“Good,” Sue sighs, turning to the table in front of her. “Because he ordered all this extra fabric and we have nothing to do with it. It’s the same stuff as our suits.”

Peter looks down at what she has. Rolls of blue fabric—just like theirs—but also… red. She sighs again.

“It’s all a patented design, so we can’t just throw it out and risk it falling into the wrong hands,” she explains. “But since you know about proper scientific protocol I was hoping you could dispose of it for us.”

Something is prickling at the back of his neck, and it’s not his Peter-Tingle. “Right…”

“Thank you.” Sue smiles, and it reminds him of Aunt May so sharply he has to suck in a breath. “You’re doing us a big favor. Oh! And… Well, I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“No, uh…” Peter tries. “What do you need?”

“His 3D printer has been acting up. I’m guessing you have some experience with delicate mechanisms like that, I’ve seen your webshooters. Would you mind taking a look at it?”

He’s starting to get it, and he doesn’t have it in him to say no. “Yeah, of course Mrs…”

“I still go by Storm, but you can call me Sue,” she says, brushing by him to the door. “Reed will be out of the lab until after the press conference tomorrow morning, so take your time.”

“Right…”

“Oh, and before you go, would you mind replacing the lock on the chemical cabinet over there? Reed keeps all sorts of useful things there, but he always forgets to secure it properly.”

The lock is sitting primly on the table by said cabinet, looking like it was just removed.

“Yeah, that’s uh…” Peter breathes. “That’s no problem. I’ll handle all of it.”

Sue smiles again. “Thank you, Spider-Man.”

“No, uh, thank you, Mrs. Storm. Really.”

“Sue,” she corrects.

“Thank you, Sue.”

With that, she steps into the elevator, and suddenly Peter is alone with the most advanced technology on Earth-828. 

He remembers his conversation with Johnny, weeks ago.

“Not all of us have the resources of a multimillion dollar superhero conglomeration.”

“Except that you do. Right now. All you have to do is ask.”

Turns out, he doesn’t even need to do that. Lead a horse to water and all that… His fingers are starting to twitch.

He should say no. He should say he’s fine on his own. He should say he’s done all this before, and he lost it all, and he can’t do it again. He should say anything.

But he can’t. All he can do is look from the fabric that he’s already measuring in his mind, to the printer that can add some finesse, and the chemicals that can replenish his webs. It’s all here. 

“It’s not charity, it’s helping a fellow out.”

Just for while he’s here, Peter reasons. Once he’s back on 616, he’ll figure it all out for himself again. But he doesn’t have an industrial chemistry lab he knows how to break into to make his webs here, and he doesn’t have the lady at the flea market who weaves the material he uses for his suits that he’s able to bargain with. 

It’s just for now, he promises himself.

And then, Peter stops holding himself back.

✧

They’re gathered in the room they always do before a press conference, just beyond the Baxter Building lobby. All four of them are in their suits, specially cleaned by Herbie. It feels like a big day.

Except for one missing detail.

“Hey, Johnny.” Ben nudges him. “Don’t know if you know this but we’re supposed to have a Spider-Guy with us. About yea tall, sticks to walls, less annoying and way smarter than you—”

“Hey!” Johnny sidesteps him. “First of all, rude. Second of all, why are you telling me? What am I supposed to do, wave my hands and make him appear? Ask Sue, she’s the one who can actually do those things!”

“Well, I mean, aren’t you like his keeper?”

“His keeper? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always the one hanging out with him, and talking to him for us, and getting into public debacles that we have to hold press conferences for with him.”

“That is not—I am not—”

Johnny breaks one of his steadfast, immutable pacts in life. Does one thing he swore he would never do under any circumstance, no matter how dire. He looks to Reed for help.

Reed looks like Johnny just showed a spotlight on him in the middle of Times Square. “I mean—he isn’t wrong. Out of all of us you are clearly the closest to him. If I had questions about his behavior I would also turn to you. Which at this stage, I’m starting to.”

“Why is that upsetting to you?” Sue questions. “You’re friends, aren’t you?”

Johnny opens his jaw, snaps it shut, and opens it all over again. But nothing comes out. Sure, they’re friends. They’re friends, right? It’s really hard to tell with their banter and now Johnny’s got a crush—

The elevator dings.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! The webshooters were malfunctioning so I had to reprint them, and I was working out the bugs, and then I totally lost track of time—”

Johnny spins on his heel, some snarky remark on his tongue, and promptly feels his mouth go dry.

Bastard actually listened to him.

Spidey’s kitted out in a full new suit. It’s got the same black web pattern as before, the same general structure, but now it’s accessorized with bits of hard white. And no, it’s not lost on Johnny that the blue of Spidey’s suit matches the blue of his. 

And no, he doesn’t linger on that particular fact at all.

Ben whistles behind him. “Lookin' good, Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, well, it’s…” Spidey seems like he doesn’t quite know where his hands should go. “You guys have an image, right? Can’t go around tarnishing that in some grubby suit.”

“You look very nice, Spider-Man.” Sue smiles like she just won something.

“I have to say, thank you so much for letting me use your lab, Dr. Richards,” Spidey rambles, coming to stand with their group. “The tech in there is incredible and I have to request a whole tour—”

“I let you use my lab?” Reed questions.

Sue elbows him in the ribs so hard his entire chest stretches away from his torso. 

“I let you use my lab,” Reed confirms, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You’ll have to walk me through all the alterations you’ve made to your suit. Those shooters look sublime—”

“Okay, as much as I have been dying for you two to have this geek out session together,” Sue interrupts. “We do actually have a room full of press waiting for us. So, gentlemen, if you will…” 

She ushers them towards the door, and they fall into a regular lineup. Reed at the front, then Sue, Ben, and Johnny. It lets them fan out in the way Reed designed to be most ‘aesthetically pleasing.’ As if he even knows what those words mean.

Except for the first time, Johnny has a shadow. Spidey is obviously nervous. Johnny thinks he should clap a hand on his shoulder or wrap him up in a hug or throw him across the room. Just something productive. Instead, his mouth refuses to run for the first time in his life.

Spidey glances at him nervously. “You like the suit?”

Just then, the doors crack open, and he decides he can say whatever he wants and deal with the consequences later. Just for effect—and maybe his own enjoyment—he gives Spidey a good once over. To his credit, Spidey doesn’t falter under the attention. And that is a dangerous thing.

Ben begins walking out, and Johnny cracks a smile.

“Your ass looked nicer in the other one, but yeah, you look good.”

As much as he may want to, he doesn’t stick around to see Spidey’s reaction. Instead, he messes with his own hair, making sure it’s laying flat, and puts on his best Storm smile. They could sell water to a whale with that look, people say. And yes, Johnny abuses it.

There’s the murmuring of the press as they step into formation. Reed at the lectern, Sue just behind him on the right, Ben next to her, and Johnny next to—barf—Reed. Of course, Spidey doesn’t know what to do. And Johnny doesn’t know how to help him. But Sue waves him over and has him stand at her side, bracketed on all sides by the Four.

The press are really murmuring now.

“As some of you have noticed, we are currently facing an abnormal threat,” Reed begins. “Villains of a world that is not our own. They come from nowhere, and have no true purpose other than destruction. These villains originate from the multiverse.”

More chattering, the flickering of camera bulbs.

“After an incident with the individual we now know as Electro, that ended with casualties and Johnny nearly losing his life—”

Johnny tries really hard not to flinch at the mention. His smile has faded naturally, and now he’s careful to make sure his expression doesn’t turn to a grimace. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Spidey glances at him. Johnny wishes he were closer so he could stomp on his foot to cut it out.

“—we turned to the multiverse for help, hoping to find a solution to our newfound problem. I will admit that I know very little of the multiverse and its functions. We are really only beginning to scratch the surface. But there are other parallel universes to ours that are much further along in the research. We hoped they could send help. And they have.”

Reed takes a step back, closer to Johnny—barf again. Sue steps to the front, maneuvering Spidey along with her. The flashes of the cameras are blinding for a moment. Sue waits patiently for it to die down.

“Our earthly counterparts were gracious enough to research our particular villains. They found that one individual across all worlds has been able to beat these enemies with the fewest amount of casualties. That hero is Spider-Man.”

More blinding flashes. Johnny is a trained professional, so he manages to keep cool. Spidey isn’t so lucky, flinching back a bit. Awkwardly, he raises his hand in a wave.

“Spider-Man has already been at work, alongside our group, dismantling these phantoms as they enter our world. With his help, we have already defeated two of these beings. We will continue this fight with him at our side, and vanquish this otherworldly threat, together.”

She finishes strong, just like always. Johnny resists the urge to clap for her, but luckily the reporters break out into the usual applause anyway. Sue relaxes—having held a tension that only her family can see—smiling that same, beautiful Storm smile as Johnny. The press eats it up.

“Now, questions?” Sue opens it up to them.

She begins pointing them out, and Johnny knows she’s being very particular about the journalists and papers that she’s allowing to speak.

“How many of these threats are there in total?”

Johnny looks to Reed, who as always—barf, barf, barf—has the answer.

“There are six anomalies in total. As Sue stated, we have already taken care of two of them, with minimal damages and no injuries.”

Not quite true, considering Spidey got whacked with a spiky lizard tail and then they both got a building dropped on them. But Johnny learned a long time ago they don’t really count for those statistics. Part of the job, they say.

Johnny does perk up at the supposed number of villains though. Since when did Reed have that figured out? Hard to say, since he’s been locked in his lab lately and Johnny has been too busy with Bug-Boy to go properly bother him.

Sue points out another journalist.

“How long will Spider-Man stay in our dimension?”

“Just until the work is done,” Sue answers pleasantly. “Then I’m sure he’ll be anxious to return to his own world. He’s being very kind in offering up his time to us.”

Another.

“Is Spider-Man the new crime fighter we’ve seen on the streets? The one accompanying Johnny?”

Hah, Spidey reduced to accompanying Johnny, like a sidekick. Yeah, he’s gonna get mileage out of that one. He can practically feel Spidey’s frown through the mask.

“Yes,” Sue confirms. “An effort is being made to take a more direct role in the civilian crimes in the city. Spider-Man has been integral to that initiative.”

She hesitates a moment, before pointing out another journalist.

“Only one question, and this is for the Spider-Man. Why? Why come from another universe to help stop muggings?”

Sue steps a little further in front of Spidey. She’s full on scowling. No wonder she hesitated when choosing this guy—he’s a dick.

“Spider-Man will not be answering any questions today—”

Then, he surprises them all. Spidey puts a hand on Sue’s shoulder. He holds so much strength, but in that moment, he’s gentle. God, he’s always so gentle, and now the press are trying to tear him apart.

“No, it’s okay,” Spidey insists softly. “I can do this one.”

Sue looks unsure, but relinquishes her spot to him at the podium. Spidey steps up with a certain confidence he’s been lacking all day. That kind of stubborn heroism that drew Johnny to him in the first place. Johnny clenches his jaw and strains his ears to make sure he catches every breath of every word.

“Someone very dear to me told me something once,” Spidey begins, and for once, his voice doesn’t waver. “She said, ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ Because if you can do the things I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

The room is dead silent.

“And I’m still—I’m still trying to figure out what all that means. But I see it. Every day I’m here, I see it in the Fantastic Four. They do… so much for this world. Things you don’t even know about. I never see them and they’re not busy. They do a ton to make your world better every day and it’s working, because this place is a lot better off than my world in a whole lotta ways.”

He grips the podium a little, and Johnny is starting to see some of his Spidey peek through.

“So, yeah. I’ve been going out. And I’ve been helping stop people from being mugged, and ending assaults before they happen, and pulling people out of car crashes. Because that’s what I’ve always done. And if they can do everything that they do… I can do my part too.”

It’s quiet for a second, like the whole world is hanging on his words. Then, the room breaks out into an applause that usually only Sue can conjure. And well, Johnny can’t help himself. He gives Spidey a few claps too. What can he say? Webhead did good.

“Oh, uh, thanks—” Spidey is stopped from ruining his big moment as Sue pulls him back from the mic.

“Thank you all for coming,” Sue says loudly. “And thank you Spider-Man for the kind words. We will be sure to keep you all updated on the situation as it progresses. Get home safe, thank you.”

With that she’s ushering all her boys—Spidey now included—into the back. But before Johnny can get two steps away, he’s stopped by a voice in the crowd. He’s used to people yelling after him, but something makes him stop this time.

“Johnny! Johnny, just one question,” a reporter is vying for his attention. “Why have you decided to take to the streets? Is this a coordinated effort with PDNY?”

“Yeah, Johnny!” Another joins the cacophony. “Why now?”

He’s supposed to walk away and let everyone stew. It’s usually a pretty poor headline when Johnny speaks up without running his words by Sue first. But well, if he’s gonna pretend to wear his heart on his sleeve, he’s actually gotta do it every once and a while.

Besides, he can’t let Spidey show him up that bad.

Sue will have his ass for it later. He doesn’t care. Johnny steps up to the mic without any real plan. He’s been winging it his whole life and it’s gone okay so far.

“Well, the why is that guy.” Johnny gestures back to Spidey. “He did a good job making himself all nice and pretty for you guys, but actually he’s a real jerk. Because really, he made me realize that I’m a pretty lousy superhero.”

There’s chattering and bulbs flashing, but Johnny’s got a rhythm, so he forges on.

“Because as much I want to be, I’m not like my sister. I’m not some sage diplomat, I can barely get my words out most the time. And I can’t connect to the community like Ben does. But thank God I’m not like Reed…”

That earns him a good chuckle—annoying little brother, bad brother-in-law, it’s an easy way to get a laugh.

“I’ve never really known what I’m meant to do when I’m not beside my family. And I think I really am dim because it’s been staring at me this whole time. There are people in this city having the worst experience of their life every single day. Not just because of molemen or baby-eating space gods—because of other people. And who’s really looking out for them?”

Johnny makes a duh face and gestures back to Spidey again.

“That guy, actually. He’s a freak really, doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, just goes from one end of the city to the other helping people out. And he really, actually loves it. I think that’s pretty cool. So, yeah, I’ve been… following him around, doing what I can. Learning from him, every step of the way. He’s been nice enough to keep my ugly mug around.”

Johnny shrugs one shoulder. 

“Please don’t be fooled though,” Johnny leans into the mic. “He is actually a huge jerk, and he beats me up all the time, and webs me to things even though I bring him pizza, and—”

Sue pulls him back. “Thank you, Johnny! That’s all! Thank you all again! Good afternoon!”

He doesn’t fight it as she drags him back behind the doors. Everything he wanted to say, he got to say. And he really doesn’t think he screwed anything up this time. Or well, not with the public but—

As soon as the doors shut, Sue lets out a breathy laugh and turns back to the group—and specifically, Spidey.

“That was great!” She reaches for him. “So much better than anything we could’ve written. You’re such a natural—Can I give you a hug?”

Spidey tenses. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure, um, that would be—”

His words are cut off as Sue scoops him into her arms. It’s funny. They’re about the same height but somehow, he looks small in her arms. Probably the same way Johnny looks, honestly.

Sue pulls back, hands on his shoulders. “You did amazing. Better than anyone could have asked. Be proud of yourself. Not everyone can do that sort of thing, I mean, look at Johnny.”

She says it with another light laugh, so he knows she’s not actually mad at him.

“Hey!” He still shouts, offended.

Sue gets pulled aside by Ben congratulating her, and suddenly Johnny gets an aside with Spidey. He actually wasn’t expecting to be faced with him so soon after being so nice. It goes against the entire rapport they’ve built up, and Johnny isn’t sure how Spidey will react.

Spidey eyes him, almost cautiously. “You mean what you said out there?”

Johnny narrows his eyes right back at him. “You should know by now, webhead. I don’t say stuff I don’t mean.”

Whatever Spidey’s reaction to that might be—considering the wider implications—is taken from him by the source of all of Johnny’s problems. Reed comes up, patting Spidey on the shoulder and congratulating him quietly. And God, that damn science-crush. Spidey looks a little like he might freak out.

But then, strangely, Spidey’s focus snaps back to Johnny like a laser.

“Well, you’re wrong.” Spidey announces in a way that can’t be argued with. “I think you’re a damn good superhero, flamebrain.”

And he means it. It’s clear in every line of his body. The way his voice doesn’t waver. How he holds Johnny captive under that stare. 

Before Johnny can stumble out a response, Ben is swooping in and sweeping Spidey up onto his shoulder.

“Great job, kid!” Ben laughs. “I got Herbie making us some brunch to celebrate. I don’t like what Johnny said about you not eating!”

“He’s being over dramatic, with my heightened metabolism I actually…” Spidey explains as Ben takes him toward the elevator.

But as they go, he does glance back at Johnny and holds his gaze—just for a moment. It settles something warm in Johnny’s stomach. Yeah, he’s so screwed.

✦

Ben is with Herbie in the kitchen, fixing up something that smells delicious. Sue is setting the table. Meanwhile, Peter has been commandeered by Franklin so the little boy can explain the intricacies of his building blocks to him. The kid actually has a pretty good grasp of architectural principles already.

And of course, Johnny is—

“Look, they’re already twisting my words!” Johnny is yelling in front of the TV. 

“They’re playing your statement in full,” Reed points out calmly.

“No, no, but see! Look at the byline! Johnny Storm Praises Spider-Man—what the hell is that? That’s not what I was doing!”

“Is it not?” Reed questions genuinely.

Johnny groans loudly and throws himself back on the couch. Peter is glad for the mask. It hides the smile he hasn’t quite been able to work off his face since Johnny’s little speech. Of course, Peter knew their banter was always just that, but to hear something genuine from the guy?

Well, Peter’s mind just keeps going back to it. And to the way he winks at Peter every now and again. And how he’s always reining Peter in to make sure he takes it easy on patrol. And what he said about Peter’s ass in his suit—

He’s glad Franklin is there to keep his mind occupied so that he can postpone dealing with his apparent break from reality.

Luckily, the Four give him plenty to focus on. Like Ben narrating to Herbie. And Sue going over to comfort Johnny by petting his hair lightly. And Reed coming to sit with Peter and Franklin, forcing their conversation to be a little less math focused.

Peter sits back as a son gets swept up in his father, and really lets it all sink in.

There’s a sort of lightness in him. A comfort he hasn’t felt since… Well, before May died. Before he lost his best friend, his girlfriend, his whole life. For the first time in over three years, Peter feels… safe.

They sit down for dinner. Peter has a spot now—how strange is that. At the foot of the table, across from Franklin, beside Ben and Johnny. He doesn’t have to worry about rolling his mask half up—or the fact it’s there at all. They accept him for what he is, what he’s willing to give. Meanwhile they give everything openly, without hesitation.

Maybe Peter can give a little back.

“Peter,” he speaks up, interrupting the conversation that’s gone on without him.

The name feels foreign on his tongue after all this time. He can’t remember the last time he introduced himself to someone. But now, four heads all swivel to him.

“What?” Ben asks, frowning.

“That’s my name,” Peter shifts uncomfortably. “Peter.”

Something ripples across the table that Peter doesn’t have words for. It feels big and heavy and like nothing he is equipped to handle anymore. But he doesn’t have to deal with it alone.

Sue smiles at him so sweetly, so proudly. “Thank you for telling us that.”

“Could you pass the butter, Peter?” Reed follows up, aiming for casual, but it feels important.

Peter doesn’t try to stamp down his smile, as Ben punches him good naturedly in the shoulder. “Of course.”

And Johnny… Johnny just won’t stop staring at him.

✧

Johnny offers to do the dishes so he can have a moment to himself, and run his slowly heating hands under some ice cold water.

Spidey—Peter—stays for the rest of the afternoon, while they monitor the news coverage. Even when the family gets disgruntled by something a broadcaster says, Spidey—Peter—seems relieved. ‘The press are so nice here’ according to him. And well, if he’s not upset, none of them can really be either.

Surprisingly, he stays even when they shut it off, once the sun starts setting. Ben breaks out the Yahtzee instead, just like he always does when they have guests. After being ’reminded’ of the rules, Spidey—Peter, Peter, Peter—promptly kicks all their asses. Reed, chronically bad at board games, has to take a trip to check on a napping Franklin to calm down. Johnny eats it up.

Peter really is something special.

They eat dinner together, and Johnny is getting far too used to Peter sitting at the end of the table on his left. During dessert, Franklin asks to sit in his new Spider-Friend’s lap. Peter lets the boy feed him bits of brownie, and Johnny almost keels over.

Just as Johnny is going to try to cajole Peter into watching more Ted Gilbert Fantastic Four reruns, Sue announces they should all turn in for the night. Johnny is tempted to go off and join Peter on whatever antics he’s about to get up to. But he figures he’s pulled on his leash enough for one day.

Besides, he’s been too nice to Peter already today, he can’t risk saying something else sappy.

Peter waves to them from the elevator as it closes—like an absolutely dork. Johnny is too busy smiling after him to notice Sue and Reed head upstairs. He just barely manages to shout up his goodnights after them, still staring at the place Peter disappeared.

“Peter,” Johnny mutters to himself, all too pleased.

Just as he’s about to turn around and head upstairs, a voice startles him.

“You oughta be careful, Johnny,” Ben tells him, giving him an odd look.

Johnny’s brow furrows. “About what?”

Ben looks him over cryptically, before heading for the stairs. “You know what.”

And yeah, Johnny thinks he does.

He only makes it to midnight before he’s flaming on to find Peter out in the city.

✦

They’re halfway to Lady Liberty for a regular afternoon celebratory pizza when Johnny’s watch starts going off.

Peter and Johnny both immediately give up their race, screeching to a halt above Chinatown. Sticking to a nearby building, Peter shoots along the glass to try and catch a glimpse of Johnny’s watch. Torchie’s too far, hanging in the middle of the wide street. Damn him and his super cool flying. 

Just as Peter’s starting to estimate how long he could stand Johnny’s flames if he jumped on him, Johnny finally speaks.

“The anomaly just crossed over from Queens onto Manhattan. It’s in Yorkville. No, wait, Central Park. Uh, no, Hell’s Kitchen. Well, now—I think this thing is bugging out.”

Peter’s stomach sinks. “It’s Vulture.”

Johnny looks over at him, raising one flaming eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Unless Doc got himself a jet pack, yeah.”

“Okay, okay, no need to be snotty about it.” 

Huffing a dramatic sigh, Johnny swoops down to bestow their pizza onto a group of middle school kids that should definitely be in class right now. Peter’s stomach whimpers. Stupid bird and his stupid timing—

Johnny blasts off heading north. Like usual, Peter’s hot—hah—on his tail. He lets Johnny lead, following the directions on his watch. They keep having to suddenly swoop down different streets, adjusting their approach with a heartbeat’s notice. Johnny is quietly swearing under his breath.

Yeah, this is pointless.

“We’re not gonna be fast enough like this!” Peter calls, aiming his next web at Johnny’s chest. “Mind if I hitch a ride?”

Johnny is staring down at him wordlessly, a look between offensive and bewilderment on his face.

“I know you can go faster than this!” Peter snaps defensively. “But there isn’t time for you to hang back with me right now!”

Before Peter can fully process it, his web is burning up like tissue paper, and suddenly, he’s in the lurch. Luckily, he has a superhero there to save him. Rolling his eyes, Johnny swoops down and catches Peter by the forearm. 

His grip alone wouldn’t be enough to hold him, but Peter is sticky. The flames on the hand holding Peter have subsided, but he can still feel their warmth. He tries not to think about it.

“You’re stupid,” Johnny decides. “Hold on. I think I can intercept this guy.”

Finally—finally—he puts on that burst of speed he’s been holding back. The world seems to bend around them for a second, as they turn into a comet. Peter whoops and cheers loudly, the adrenaline going straight to his head.

As promised, they come out of flash speed just in time to collide with a hulking metal wing.

It takes a bit of webbing on Peter’s part to both save Johnny from getting chopped up, and to jam Vulture’s wing. They all go tumbling to the pavement in various states of disarray. Peter is the only one who manages to land mostly on his feet. 

“Hey, Adrian!” Peter calls out as he ducks toward Johnny. “How’s the family?”

The bird-man snarls at him. Johnny is already on his hands and knees, rubbing a bit of blood from his nose. Peter is careful as he pulls him up. The Four are made of tougher stuff than regular people, but aside from Ben, they’re not quite as sturdy as Peter.

“You gotta be careful with this guy, okay?” Peter commands. “Unlike the last two, he’s not some mutated monster. Toomes is just a guy in a metal suit. If you blast him with your fire, you might just kill him.”

“Didn’t he bury you alive when you were fifteen?” Johnny demands, wiping his nose.

“And he threatened me with a gun when I unknowingly took his daughter to Homecoming. Well, I mean, I knowingly took her to Homecoming, I just didn’t know he was her dad.”

Johnny is staring at him like Peter grew a second head, and Peter is starting to worry he got a concussion.

“Just, be good!” Peter tries to sound stern. “No frying bad guys to a crisp! I don’t care if they technically cosmically don’t fully exist! Heroes don’t do that kind of thing!”

With that, Peter shoots himself up into the air. Just as Adrian is tearing himself out of Peter’s webbing, he shoots a line down on either side of the hulking metal wings. Propelling himself downward, Peter’s feet crack the metal plating.

Vulture cries out like he was physically hurt. And well, maybe he was. He doesn’t look exactly like Peter remembers. More like a hodge podge of what people think Vulture is. The wings look more advanced than what the Adrian that Peter knew had, which is impressive but also really annoying.

“Hey, man!” Peter quips as Vulture throws him off his wings. “Been a while! Hope prison is treating you well. I heard Rikers is doing art classes now!”

“You’re picking the wrong fight, Spidey,” Vulture snarls.

“Yeah? Well, you picked the wrong universe. Time to go bye-bye!”

Vulture propels up into the air, but Peter has already predicted his movements. He meets him halfway between the ground and the seventh story roofs. Webbing himself to either side of the street, Peter throws himself forward, landing a two footed kick to Vulture’s chest. His suit gives a satisfying crack.

As retribution, Vulture headbutts him, and well, metal respirator beats cloth mask any day. Just as Peter is sure he’s gonna get his ass kicked before he can get his bearings back, there’s a flash of light overhead. A burst of fire flares out along Vulture’s back.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Johnny taunts, zipping around overhead. “We had to miss lunch, so I’m just frying up some wings. You bring any buffalo sauce, Spidey?”

“No, but I do have some garlic parmesan handy.”

“Oh, very fancy.”

Vulture roars—what a spoil sport, this guy has no sense of whimsy—and revs his wings. Johnny throws down another wave of fire, but he must be really watching the temperature because Adrian swoops through no problem. Great, a chase. Just the thing Peter was thankful not to have to deal with today.

Peter and Johnny shoot off after him in tandem.

They make it three blocks before Vulture banks right—and runs directly into the Fantasticar. A sound is erupting from the car reminiscent of jerks who have the bass boosted in their cars too much. As the sound waves wash over him, Vulture cries and holds his head.

Unfortunately, the sound is also getting to Peter. He has to sling himself up him on a nearby building, sticking to the glass panels. With one hand, he holds his ear and winces. 

His senses clear just in time to watch Vulture fling something small, round, and metallic onto the underside of the Fantasticar. Before he can yell a warning, it’s detonating. The car goes careening downward, cratering into the middle of the street.

Peter dives down, heart in his throat. No, no, this is his fault. He got too close and look what happened. Peter got a leg up on Adrian last time, but now he’s going to take everything Peter cares about. 

But then heat is at his side. All consuming and so, so frightening. Peter leans into it like a flower into sunlight anyways. There’s a hand at the small of his back, and Peter is able to suck in a breath.

“Go,” Johnny orders. “They’re gonna be fine, Sue shielded them. I’ll take care of them. You catch him and make him pay for it.”

And when he speaks like that, so firmly, what else can Peter do but listen? Besides, Ben is punching the door off the car to free them as Peter slings into the air anyways. They’re okay.

Make him pay for it.

By all accounts, this Vulture should be able to outpace him, but thanks to the damage to his wings, all he can do is limp along at half Peter’s speed. As he’s zipping after him, Peter is seeing red. He has to make the conscious decision to pull his punch as he winds up to clock Vulture across the back of the head.

But Toomes is Toomes, and unfortunately, Toomes is smart. As soon as Peter is in his airspace, he’s whirling around. His spider-sense comes too late, too busy ringing with all consuming worry for the Four to be useful. 

Metal strikes across his face—the electric charge comes a second after. Peter’s body seizes up. He goes careening into a nearby brownstone, crumbling the molding as he tries to find out which way constitutes upright. 

There’s snarling, and the whirring of wings. Vision still blurry, the Peter-Tingle rings true. Peter moves his head out of the way just in time, as Vulture’s fist crumbles the brick wall just beside him. Mind a mess, he doesn’t know much in that moment.

But he still knows how to punch.

He clocks Vulture on the side of his head, causing the bird-man to curse up a storm. Before he can recover, Peter is grabbing him by the arm, using his superior strength to throw him into the ground. Vulture yells in pain.

Yeah, doesn’t feel so good, does it?

“C’mon, Toomes,” Peter chides as he lands in a crouch on Vulture. “You can’t be swearing like that. Superheroes are all the rage for kids in this universe! You’re never going to make it onto the cartoon at this rate!”

“I detest every second I spend in your presence,” Vulture’s voice is warped by the mask.

“Man, if only there was some way to avoid me… Have you tried not doing crime?”

“My intentions are beyond your lowly comprehension.”

“Adrian, you wound me!”

Vulture seethes loudly again, and his wings rev. Ah, he was stalling. Of course. Every time—Peter falls for it every time… Who can blame him though, when everything that comes out of these guys’ mouths is some whole new brand of crazy that needs to be studied?

Peter leaps off him just as Vulture goes rocketing across the sidewalk. He slams into a few trees, a parking meter, and a newspaper stand, but eventually he gets airborne. With a sigh, Peter launches into the air after him.

The winged menace has a bit more speed on him now, and Peter’s head is still hurting from the electric slap to the face. His vision swims a little through the first few swings. He’s never gotten vertigo before—he hates it.

It’s gonna be really embarrassing if he has to take a pit stop to barf in a trash can.

A burst of flame sidles up beside him—it takes Peter a second to make out Johnny’s features through the light. “You good?”

“Oh, you know,” Peter calls back to him. “Electric baton to the face. Just another day, really. I wish he was corporeal so I could take a look at it.”

“Dude…” Johnny huffs a laugh, and tosses something at him.

Peter catches it on reflex. It’s another automatic injector, filled with the same dangerously clear liquid: Go-Away Juice. That’s what he’s been calling it at least, he should ask Reed what the technical term is… The device is smaller this time, fitting more cleanly into the palm of his hand.

“Reed said there’s a better time delay now, but you still gotta be careful not to get slurped up,” Johnny is stern… is he worried? “Don’t you dare do something stupid like sacrificing yourself for the greater good. I already called dibs on being the first hero in this universe to die tragically, okay!”

Peter rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling behind the mask. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll be careful. Do me a favor, flamebrain. Blast ahead and cut him off from the front, would you?”

Johnny does a salute, before rocketing up into the air—presumably to mask his approach. Hopefully, at least. Maybe he did just ditch Peter to die, who knows with that guy…

“Adrian, I really think we should talk about this!” Peter calls, hoping to distract him enough for Johnny to get close. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not real, buddy! You’re a figment of your own imagination! This is all just a really bad and detailed dream! But I can help—”

“You will do no such thing!” Vulture spits back at him. “Cease with your endless yapping—”

“Wow, very hip word, nice one. They teaching you TikTok slang in prison? That’s pretty tight, man.”

Just as it seems that Vulture might just turn around to grab Peter by the throat, Johnny blasts down from the heavens like a mini sun.

“Boo!” He shouts, blowing a wall of fire on either side of him, so Vulture is funneled directly to him.

Unfortunately, the pissing-Adrian-off thing seems to have worked a little too well. If anything, he seems ready for Johnny. He doesn’t slow down, instead raising one clawed metal hand. The sound of it clawing into Johnny’s forehead rings and rings and rings in Peter’s ears.

For the first time, Peter watches as Johnny’s flame goes out—he falls to the ground, motionless.

“Johnny!” Peter cries.

All he wants to do is dive down after him, but Peter’s chest is clenching like it hasn’t since he was facing down Norman Osborn. One string of web, lightning quick, sticks to the center of Vulture’s chest, and Peter zips to him. 

Before Toomes can even process that Peter is in his face, Peter is ripping the metal glove off his hand, and slapping it into his metal respirator. Metal plus force beats metal stagnant, and the device half crumbles and tears away. 

Peter lands a hit to his bare cheek, one to his chest, another to the side of his head. Pieces of Vulture’s suit slough off with every hit. Clasping his hands together, Peter slams his fists into the top of Adrian’s head, sending him crashing into the pavement.

Wasting no time, Peter lands on top of him. The autoinjector is already in hand. Pressing it against Vulture’s exposed abdomen, Peter finally sucks in a breath.

“Do not touch him!” Peter seethes. 

He presses the button on the injector. As the portal snaps open, Peter launches himself into a backward flip. By the time he lands, some twenty feet away, Vulture is gone. Peter doesn’t feel any better.

Heart in his throat, Peter runs back to where Johnny fell.

“Johnny, Johnny…” Peter is begging to no one in particular.

As he comes to the crash site, he rounds a car, and his heart settles. Johnny is sitting up, wincing but okay. He’s trying to stand, but wobbling. Peter runs up to him. Immediately, he’s helping pull Johnny up, steadying him.

“Are you okay?” Peter is rushing, giving him the once over. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he would do something like that—I shouldn’t have told you to—You were hurt, I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”

“Pete,” Johnny breathes out an approximation of a laugh. “It’s okay. I’m okay, seriously. One bitch slap from a second rate villain isn’t enough to do me in. It’s okay.”

But Peter is still fussing, analyzing every bit of Johnny. His hands are on his shoulders, like he needs to feel that he’s real. Fingers trailing up, he finds blood and soot on Johnny’s neck. His head—there’s a gash across his forehead, bleeding into his eye. Peter’s got his hands on Johnny’s cheek, his chin, angling his head to get a good look at it. 

Even once he’s done, and Johnny has moved back to look at him head on, Peter’s hands remain on his face. For a moment, all he can do is look into Johnny’s eyes, sharply blue, and tell himself that he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay. Without meaning it, Peter swipes his thumb gently across Johnny's cheek.

“Pete…” Johnny murmurs, a little wide-eyed.

Reality comes crashing back in all at once. Coughing sharply—something heavy and big and overwhelming is sitting in his lungs—Peter detaches himself from Johnny, taking a few steps back for good measure. He can’t look Johnny in the eye. 

He doesn’t know why.

Salvation comes in the form of the rest of the Four sprinting onto their block. At the sight of Johnny’s injury, Sue is mothering all over him. She pulls Reed over sharply to assess the wound. Johnny is trying to shove them off, but they won’t have it.

He’s their baby, after all.

“You okay, kid?” Ben comes up behind him, clapping one rocky hand on Peter’s shoulder—causing him to jump.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Peter nods numbly, unable to look away from Johnny. “Just a little… shaken up, that’s all.”

He’s so screwed.

Chapter Text

“We need Excelsior protocol,” Reed is saying as he exits the elevator into the Four’s living quarters.

The room seems to stop dead at the words. Peter looks around confused from his spot in the kitchen, rolling cookie dough with Ben and Franklin. On the couch, smoke is spewing from Johnny’s ears.

“Like, right now?” Ben finally breaks the silence hesitantly.

“Within the next 42 hours.” Reed is fiddling with something in his hands. “The space storm I’ve been tracking, Scylla III, has changed direction and will be intercepting the sensor area over the next few days.”

“This is the storm similar to the one that gave us our powers, right?” Sue asks for clarification, though it seems more for the rest of the group’s benefit.

“Yes, exactly. If we’re able to collect data and samples from this cosmic occurrence, it could lend more credence to my hypothe—”

“We’re going back to space?” Johnny demands loudly, excitedly. “Does Peter get to come?”

Because, sure, that’s the most important thing to worry about right now—Well, it sort of is. Peter was wondering the same thing. But he doesn’t want to impose—

“If he wants to,” Reed nods at him. “I already have half a suit—”

“Hah, yes!” Johnny cries.

“What about the villain incursion?” Sue questions. “Don’t some of us need to be here in case another one of them shows up?”

Reed shakes his head. “With the amount of traceable multiversal energy, I estimate we won’t see another incident for roughly thirteen days, eleven at the earliest. I really only need a few hours to monitor the storm’s finer components—”

Peter’s chest seizes as he’s grabbed from behind. His body gives no resistance as he’s spun around and arms tighten around his middle. Of course, his spidersense never warns him about anything actually dangerous, he laments as his face is shoved into Johnny’s chest.

“We’re going to space,” Johnny sing-songs. “I’m taking you to see the stars, webhead. Your mind is about to be blown.”

Peter whines as his feet leave the safety of the floor, and Johnny twirls them around. 

“I have actually been to space before,” Peter throws in, just to be contrarian.

“Not the way we do it,” Johnny drops him back to the ground and lets go of him. “I am going to recontextualize the way you perceive your own place in our universe.”

“I didn’t know you knew so many big words.”

Johnny flicks him between the eyes, but Peter doesn’t flinch behind his mask. 

As loath as Peter is to admit it, Johnny is right. His last space excursion… Well, hijacking an enemy ship, fighting a big purple space god, and then getting snapped out of existence for five years didn’t exactly leave time to be a tourist. 

Getting to go space exploring for non life-or-death reasons sounds pretty damn fun.

“We are gonna have the best time,” Johnny declares, his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “The stuff we see—incredible. What do you wanna see most? I bet I can get Reed to stop at a neutron star for you, Franklin was born in orbit of one. Ooh, I wonder if we’ll see any of those space whales again, last time—last time one did try to swallow me, that was pretty cool, here I can show you on the helmet cam—”

Before he can stop it, Peter finds he’s being dragged away toward the stairs. He looks helplessly to the rest of the Four, but they’re in deep adult conversations about going to space now. Franklin is busy evading Herbie to scoop more cookie dough into his mouth. 

It would be so easy for him to fight Johnny off—he doesn’t know why he doesn’t. But as the other man rambles on, Peter follows dutifully up the stairs. They turn down a hall, and Johnny busts the door at the end open. From that action alone, Peter can tell this is his room.

Frankly, it’s a mess. But not quite like Peter might’ve expected. There’s no clothes strewn around or old pizza boxes or cups piled up by his bed. Instead, the papers laid out all across the floor look to be of a very controlled chaos.

“Oh, don’t worry about all that,” Johnny waves it off. “I was just messing around.”

He begins stepping carefully, but familiarly through the papers, toward the back wall where his spacesuit is slumped. Peter thinks he should question exactly why he’s keeping his spacesuit in his room. But it’s also so quintessentially Johnny that Peter thinks he has all the answers he’s ever going to get.

Johnny is continuing to ramble, but Peter finds himself taken by the notes scattered in front of him. Lowering himself down, Peter decides to be nosy. If Johnny’s gonna let him into his room, he can’t expect him not to, right?

Now, Peter heard the story. How the Four defeated Galactus. It was an important part of his world’s history. Of course he knew. And with that, he heard how Johnny had translated the Silver Surfer’s language. But well, he—like most of the universe it seems—sort of skimmed over that fact. 

Knowing something and seeing it are two entirely different things.

“You did all this?” Peter asks, shuffling through a few overlapping papers.

He’s never been particularly linguistically minded. Sure, he wrote a couple good English papers and got a pretty alright grade in Spanish, but his talents have always been more science focused. Most of what’s written is going straight over his head, but what he does pick up…

Goddammit, Johnny is a genius, isn’t he?

“Huh?” Johnny looks up from his helmet and where he’s fiddling with his watch. “I mean, uh, yeah. It’s nothing, really. Like I said, I was just messing around.”

“Johnny,” Peter says slowly, seriously. “You realize this is seriously impressive, right?”

Johnny is frowning at him. “Dude, I told you to just leave it. Come over here so you can watch—”

“No, Johnny,” Peter surprises himself with how sharp his voice is. “Because this is… God, do not let this go to your head, but this is genius level stuff. I mean, I don’t understand how you would even begin to figure this all out…”

Johnny is quiet. Maybe Peter’s gone too far, but he doesn’t see how. There’s no way that Johnny doesn’t know, he has to see it… He has to.

“You should compile it all,” Peter continues, brushing one gloved hand over a few of Johnny’s scribblings. “Put it together into a paper. Let everyone see all the work you’ve done. I mean, in terms of translating alien languages, you’re probably the foremost expert—”

Johnny scoffs. “Come off it—”

“I’m being serious,” Peter stresses. “I wouldn’t jerk you around about this, you have to know at least that. There are a whole lotta people who would be interested in looking at what you’ve got. Me included.”

It’s quiet for a second as Peter scans over a few more pages—suffocatingly so. Maybe he went too far. But he just… something in him really wanted Johnny to know. Peter is really starting to wonder how much of the perception that Johnny is dumb comes from Johnny himself. And that’s not fair.

Peter pushes to his feet, turning his full attention back to Johnny. “Okay, where’s this video of you almost getting eaten?”

Johnny cracks a smile, and Peter thinks he must be using his power considering how warm he suddenly feels.

✧

“There,” Johnny steps back, admiring his handiwork. “You’re ready for space. But is space ready for you?”

Peter is, as usual, unimpressed by him. Still, he stands pliant in his newly fitted spacesuit. It’s the same blue as the Four’s, but all the little number details have been swapped out for tiny spiders. It’s cute.

Of course, Johnny was wholly and totally professional when fitting Peter. He kept his touches to only what was necessary. And well, maybe he relished in it a teeny bit. Really drunk in the feel of his hands on Peter, even if it was through material so insulated it can withstand space. But he tried to be as unselfish as possible.

Seeing Pete all dressed up in his space gear… it’s not good for Johnny’s heart. Trying to snap himself back into a state of reality, Johnny smacks down the blue visor over Peter’s eyes. When in doubt, be annoying. It’s his core tenant in life.

Unimpressed, Peter shoves it back up with a clumsy, glove ridden hand.

“Nothing better than a man in uniform,” Johnny announces, slamming it back over his eyes again.

Peter pushes it back up again. “Does a spacesuit count as a uniform?”

He’s like that. Johnny will flirt so shamelessly, and Peter will go along with it in a dry manner. It’s all the encouragement Johnny needs. This whole time he’s been waiting for the slightest indication that Peter is uncomfortable, but… there’s nothing.

And well, Johnny had never learned to quit while he’s ahead.

✦

There are people cheering when they walk out to the Excelsior. They stand at the edges of the river and wave and cheer like they do in the old movies when a ship leaves. Frankly, Peter can’t blame them. If he could go see a rocket ship launch in the middle of the city, he would be right at the front.

When they reach the elevator, Ben nudges him and says they’re louder than they’ve been in a while. It’s for him, Ben claims. And Peter has a hard time rectifying that in his mind. Last time he went to space, no one even knew. No one could even care considering half the planet was killed a few hours later.

Now, he’s being celebrated for being a useless passenger.

He’s having a really hard time understanding the people of this universe. They hardly criticize the Four, and when they do it’s pretty warranted. Yet, they still treat them just as normal people, like local celebrities rather than gods. It’s really, really weird.

They get into the ship. A seat has been added specially for Peter, just behind Ben and Sue, with Johnny and Reed on either side. The straps are a confusing mess, but Johnny is there without Peter having to say anything, tightening him in. When they trade thumbs up, Johnny is beaming like Peter has never seen.

It’s a little hard to look away, but then the thrusters are bursting and Peter is thrown back into his seat.

As they enter the upper atmosphere, Johnny is hooting and hollering—like he can’t do this at any time with his own power. But his excitement is infectious. Peter finds himself letting out a little cheer as the engines level out.

It’s an act of precision as Ben and Sue maneuver the ship into the FTL device. Peter can’t help but be more than a little peeved they couldn’t figure this stuff out in his universe. World peace and the genius of Reed Richards does great things for technological progress it seems.

Apparently, it’s an unspoken thing that they can all unbuckle while in the wormhole. Thankfully, Johnny is gliding right over to him—yes, gliding in the zero gravity—and undoing his straps before Peter can fumble with them like an idiot. Without something holding him down, Peter lifts into the air like… well, like he weighs nothing.

“This is weird,” Peter decides immediately. 

“Thought you’d been to space before,” Johnny points out, mostly teasing. 

“Yeah, well, they had artificial gravity on the ship. The planet had less gravity than Earth though, so that took some getting used to. It’s both easier and harder to punch than you’d think it would be.”

“Don’t worry, this way is infinitely more fun,” Johnny grabs Peter’s hand and uses a handhold on the roof to get them some momentum. “C’mon, let’s check the view.”

As if they weren’t watching the bending light of the wormhole through the windshield, but whatever. Peter doesn’t know why he doesn’t pull from Johnny’s grip. He does a lot of things that Peter maybe shouldn’t let him, but he can’t find it in him to move away. 

Better not to dwell on it, and just convince himself it’s because Johnny can move so well in the anti-gravity. Probably helps that he can fly in a normal atmosphere. Annoying bastard.

They come to the wide circular window. Just next to them at the table, Ben, Reed, and Herbie are going over the actual mission plan. Sue is monitoring the wormhole transversal. Peter doesn’t know whether it’s lucky or disappointing that he’s not being included in the science of this trip. Probably the former. He’s overwhelmed enough as it is.

There’s a click as Johnny takes his helmet off, immediately brushing his hair down. He leaves it floating precariously. Once again, Peter doesn’t move as Johnny reaches over to click Peter’s own helmet off. It’s probably not quite as satisfying as it is for Johnny, considering Peter’s mask, but he does at least feel a little less claustrophobic.

They’re quiet for a long moment after that, just staring out into the wormhole. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once. And nothing like FTL on 616. Why that’s different between worlds, he doesn’t know, but he’s itching to start notating it somewhere…

“This is so cool,” Peter finally admits.

“Isn’t it?” Johnny asks giddily, knocking their shoulders together. “Doesn’t matter what villains New York cooks up, or what things we invent, nothing beats this. I think it’ll always be my first love.”

Then, he gets that dangerous, dangerous smile of his—the one that’s been showing up more and more. Suddenly, he’s lunging for Peter. His spidersense never triggers with Johnny, but he wishes so badly it would. Some warning would be nice.

A warm arm circles his waist, and another trails up to find and lift his hand. And suddenly Peter’s being held like he never has before. More than that, Johnny is swaying them. He’s dancing with Peter.

“Ah, if I could I’d hold the whole galaxy just like this,” Johnny announces. “I’d sing all the hits to her, the very best romance songs I can find. This feels like a reverse of Beyond The Sea, you know. Like, I need to go sailing all the time.”

“You’re stupid,” Peter decides.

He doesn’t move away.

“I’m excitable,” Johnny corrects. “And a hopeless romantic at heart. I get why you’re mixing those up, but trust me, it’s very different.”

For some reason, Peter isn’t able to come up with a rebuttal.

“Whatever,” he manages.

Johnny seems content, but not cocky with his apparent win like usual. There’s a sort of vulnerability in him, with Peter this close. He releases Peter around the waist, floating back to extend their arms, and moves to spin Peter. He goes along with it.

Why, why, why, does he go along with it?

But Johnny is holding him again, swaying them and humming some old song under his breath, and Peter feels all the fight leave him.

They stay just like that until Sue calls them back to their seats to exit the wormhole.

✧

It’s all going exactly to plan, and that’s through absolutely no merit of Johnny’s own. In fact, he seems to be trying to sabotage it, what with him getting his hands all over Peter for a dance. A dance. And he didn’t even ask first. Since when is he that forward—

Whatever. It’s fine. Because Peter still looks to him when the ship slows, and lets Johnny direct him how to undo his buckle, and sticks to his side when they exit the ship. And sure, that’s probably just because Johnny is the only one not wrapped up in some scientifical device. But he’s allowed to kid himself for just a little bit longer.

They’re parked in an asteroid field, on one of the larger rocks. All around, the sky glimmers with the reds and purples and blues of a nebula. A huge bursting of it is flowing overhead, which Reed and Sue are setting up equipment to monitor. 

For a while, they just stand and watch it. With the mask it’s hard to tell, but Johnny thinks Peter’s mouth might be hanging open. It’s cute. He’s cute. It takes conscious effort to watch the sky instead of him.

Once the nearby science talk starts to grate, Johnny nudges Peter and leads him to the edge of the asteroid—far from any prying eyes. Underfoot, there’s a sheer drop into space. If there were proper gravity here, Johnny might think to be nervous—but probably not, considering his ability to fly. It sort of takes the fun out of most thrill seeking activities.

Apparently, so does sticking and swinging, because Peter doesn’t hesitate to look over the edge. Johnny busies himself by cracking open his own case of ‘equipment.’ He produces a little stake, sticking it into the ground and pressing the button at the top. Immediately, his feet are suctioned to the ground with artificial gravity. It’s not quite powerful enough to not make him feel a bit floaty though.

“Well, let’s hope Reed is really as smart as everyone thinks he is.” Johnny reaches up for his helmet, twisting it off.

Thankfully, he doesn’t immediately shrivel and explode. The air’s a bit thin, like it is in the upper atmosphere, but it’s enough. Johnny grins at Peter, who seems totally impartial behind his mask. Johnny can tell his interest is piqued though, as his whole body turns towards Reed’s little device.

“And now,” Johnny reaches dramatically into his case. “For a test of our own.”

He produces a flat cardboard box, and feels Peter’s whole affect switch into his usual flat irritation.

“You seriously brought pizza to space?” Peter demands.

“Of course!” Johnny chirps, going to sit at the edge of the asteroid. “Think about it. We are about to be the first people to ever eat food in unsheltered space. You have to admit that’s at least a little cool.”

Peter huffs dramatically, but plops down beside Johnny anyway. He clicks his helmet off. And no, Johnny’s eyes don’t linger as Pete rolls his mask up. He’s totally focused on his own gloves when Peter reaches for a slice.

“This is disgusting.” Peter barely gets it into his mouth before he’s made up his mind.

But well, Johnny can’t really disagree.

“No one has ever said that Leo’s travels well, okay?” Johnny tries to defend. “But yeah, maybe the rocketing it into space thing didn’t help.”

Peter scoffs a laugh then, shaking his head. Even still, the pair finish two and three more slices respectively. Both their gloves are stained with pizza grease. Johnny knows he’ll get an earful for it later. Worth it.

They sit and watch space for a long moment.

“Do you miss home?” Johnny doesn’t know why he asks. 

Peter is quiet for a long, long moment, and Johnny worries that he’s messed everything up.

“I don’t know,” Peter admits. “Guess I realized there’s not much left for me to miss. The city’s what I care about, and it’s just about the same here.”

There’s so little he tells them, but Johnny hates all of it. He sounds so alone when he talks about Earth-616. And Johnny just doesn’t get that. How is there a planet in the universe where people aren’t flocking to Peter? How are they not tying themselves to him so he’ll stick with them? At this point, there’s not much Johnny won’t do for an ounce of Peter’s attention—and the rest of the Four aren’t much better.

How can Peter not be drowning in love?

“Well, I’m glad that you’re here,” Johnny announces. “Not just to help with the extra-dimensional villain problem. But just… in general. I like having you here.”

Peter smiles shyly, but it twinges into sly. “That’s still not what they’re called.”

“Oh, come off it.” Johnny smacks at him—Peter dodges—but he’s laughing all the while. “You’re so pedantic. It’s no wonder you have such a giant crush on Reed.”

It’s total teasing, but Peter still tinges pink where his mouth and lower cheeks are exposed.

“Hey, I do not! I just respect him as a scientist and academic. I admire him a lot, but not like that. If you didn’t have your head so far up your ass about him, maybe you could understand—”

“As if. You’re totally just deflecting now. You can admit it to me. We’re friends, right? I promise I won’t tell Sue, because trust me she gets very territorial. Your hopeless crush is safe with me—”

“Oh yeah? What would you even know about that kind of thing, huh?”

All the wind leaves Johnny’s sails at once. He tries a smile, but it feels forced. Everything in him wants to look away and curl into himself, but he can’t shy away from Peter now. He deserves to hear it.

“I really thought I’d made my feelings quite clear, Pete,” Johnny says quietly, gently. “I know you’re not that dense.”

Peter’s jaw snaps shut, and clenches. Because no, he isn’t that blind, nor deaf, nor comatose—because Johnny has been clear. Maybe he’s just sucked himself into willful ignorance. 

Or maybe he’s just trying to keep Johnny from screwing everything up.

But when has Johnny ever heeded a warning signal on its first flashing red light?

“I didn’t—I didn’t—” Peter is trying, he’s really trying.

Johnny doesn’t know why he does what he does next. To take pity on him and his fumbling words, maybe? No, it’s probably totally selfish. Because right now Johnny is still able to excuse himself as stupid—but is quickly losing time to be reckless.

Johnny leans forward and kisses Peter.

Presses against his lips once, twice—figures he’ll leave it there. Take a souvenir for himself so, so selfishly. Because that’s all he is, all he has been when it comes to Peter. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

But just as he’s making the mental move to pull away, Peter is kissing him back.

It sends electricity straight down his spine, as they come together, and apart, and together again. In the dryness of space, Peter’s lips are cold and chapped. But considering Johnny feels like he just might burn up from the inside out, the chill is welcome.

His gloved hand comes up, cupping the side of Peter’s face. The fold of his mask is bumpy. That silver of skin along his jaw is somehow addicting. Johnny has half the mind to rip his gloves off—maybe his whole spacesuit too—just to feel him.

Just as Peter is opening up for him, as the pizza box is being shoved aside so they can get closer, closer, closer, Johnny’s watch beeps.

They startle apart. Like usual, Johnny’s heart starts going, figuring something is the matter. But it’s just a message from Ben, telling him to come back to ship. It even has a smiley face. Johnny wonders—not for the first time—just how hot he’d have to burn to melt rock.

“We should, uh…” Johnny clears his throat harshly. “We should get back.”

“Right,” Peter is a little distant—or dazed. “Yeah, of course.”

Of course, because the moment was always going to come to an end. And really, it wasn’t Johnny’s to take in the first place. But he did. He did, because he’s stupid, and selfish, and reckless.

And he doesn’t regret a single damn thing.

✦

Johnny kissed him.

Worse than that, Peter kissed him back.

It’s all Peter can think about as they wormhole home. His mind replaying it over, and over, and over. The mask pressing against his lips is nothing like the pressure of Johnny against him, and the chafing of the fabric just brings his mind back to it. 

He’s never liked a guy before.

That’s not too hard to come to terms with, in the grand schemes of things. He got bitten by a radioactive spider. He helped break up the Avengers. He became an Avenger. He died. He came back. He was forgotten by everyone he ever knew and loved. He likes dudes. See? Drop in the bucket.

No, the problem is that he’s pretty sure he likes Johnny. And he doesn’t know what to do with that because he has never liked anyone like Johnny before. But then again, is there really anyone who is like him? That’s probably something someone with a crush would think. Goddammit.

Okay, so he likes guys. And he likes Johnny Storm. And he kissed a guy—he kissed Johnny Storm. Unfortunately, the world decided not to end for once, so now Peter has to look that guy in the face and move on—he’s going to have to hang around Johnny Storm and pretend like his entire world didn’t just flip on its axis.

He’s pretty sure he felt less discombobulated when traveling between universes.

Then the ship is entering the atmosphere and beginning its fiery decent, forcing them all back into their chairs, and Peter’s outside is finally matching how his inside feels.

✧

The elevator door swishes open just as Johnny is pretty sure he’s getting a permanent indention between his brows.

“Hey, be a champ and pass me the three eighths inch socket, would ya?” Johnny calls. “And get me the blue torque while you’re at it, this one is getting loose.”

“Sure, if you want to explain what any of those things are to me.”

Johnny straightens up so fast he slams his head into the undercarriage of the Fantasticar. Even the blinding pain can’t stop him though. Holding his head and swearing under his breath, he skids out from under the lifted car. And yep, there he is.

“Uh, hi Pete,” Johnny squeaks. 

It’s hard to tell if Peter has been avoiding him since the incident, because Johnny has also been avoiding him. Not entirely. Any group setting was fine, but being alone together? Well, Johnny has made it clear that they need a chaperone to keep things civil.

“Hi, Johnny,” Peter says patiently, like he’s speaking to a child. But he’s got a smile in his voice, and he’s here, seeking Johnny out. And frankly, Johnny does feel like a kid in a candy shop with how he wants to bounce out of his skin with excitement.

Johnny disguises his flattening his hair as more rubbing at his sore spot. “Do you seriously not know what a torque wrench is?”

“No, I do but...” Peter gestures vaguely to the mounds of various tools on the workbench. “I think expecting me to find one in this very impressive mess is overestimating my superior senses.”

“To be fair, I thought you were Ben,” Johnny reasons, turning back to the car. “He’s like me, the pile speaks to him. Everything is exactly where it should be, trust me.”

“Mhm,” Peter hums lightly, sidling up beside Johnny.

There’s only about half a pizza box between them now and Johnny is feeling a little lightheaded about it. 

“I didn’t know you worked on cars,” Peter notes.

“Oh, well, yeah,” Johnny shrugs, pawing at the Fantasticar’s engine. “I’m usually the one who fixes her up when she takes a tumble like she did when we fought Vulture. Dad was pretty phobic of cars after the accident, so it was up to me to fix up Sue’s old beater. Picked up what I could, improvised the rest. It’s worked out so far.”

“That’s cool,” Peter sounds genuine, which takes Johnny off guard. “I’m pretty hopeless with cars, honestly. May never had one when I was growing up, and then after the bite I could kind of just swing anywhere I need to go, so…”

Johnny picks up on the slip—he should let it go, but it’s been established he’s not very good at that. “May?”

Peter stiffens beside him. “Oh, uh, my aunt. She—She’s the one who raised me. She and my uncle, Ben.”

They’re both dead. It’s clear enough in his tight tone of voice. Johnny knows better than most what it means to talk about dead parental figures. Feels like one thing he’s been doing his entire life.

And this time, he knows not to push.

“Are you gonna go grab my other torque wrench or what, webhead?” Johnny grins over at him.

How an eye roll translates through the mask’s lenses, Johnny isn’t sure. But Pete manages it. It feels familiar, how he huffs and puffs his way over to the workbench. No, making him bristle won’t ever get old, Johnny thinks.

They should probably talk about it. You know, it. But Johnny is too relieved that Peter is still talking to him to go and chase him off. If he can get outta this whole mess without ruining their entire friendship… Well, he’ll definitely be the luckiest man in Manhattan.

Peter returns to his side, brandishing the tool.

“Great, thanks, babe,” Johnny says, absentmindedly. “Hey, you’ve got all that super strength, right? Think you can lift—Oh, yeah, that’ll do it. Hold tight.”

And unbelievably, Peter does.

✦

It’s been exactly nine days, thirteen hours, and roughly twenty minutes since Johnny kissed him, and Peter is just about to lose his mind.

It was really, very much alright by him when Johnny didn’t immediately bring it up. But then a whole afternoon in the shop passed. And an evening crime fighting. And rinse and repeat, and now it’s been over a week and Johnny seems content to just pretend like nothing happened.

Maybe it’s like nothing did for him. He’s supposed to be some hotshot playboy, isn’t he? Some dark part of him wonders if he’s just Johnny’s latest conquest, another notch in his belt.

Then, Johnny smiles at him, and Peter knows there’s something between them.

And he’s getting pretty fed up of ignoring it.

Because now that he knows he likes Johnny, he can’t stop it. He’s ridiculous, noticing all the little things that Johnny does. How he always exits an automatic door first, but stops to hold a manual one open. How he cuts his food too big and has to cram it in his mouth. How he fiddles with his hair when he’s feeling self conscious or wants to impress. He does it a lot around Peter. 

Johnny’s got warm, calloused hands that like to brush against Peter’s arms, his back, his nape. It’s all casual, like it’s purely second nature to him, done without a second thought—and somehow that’s even more swoon worthy than if he was meticulously thinking out every touch. He’s dialed back the flirting, but he still winks at Peter every once and a while, draws him in with that awful smile. It’s like he just can’t help himself.

That is so dangerous—and Peter wants more.

He’s first to arrive at their spot—their spot—on Lady Liberty’s torch. Usually, it’s Johnny’s job to get the food. Ever since their kiss, he’s been mixing up the menu. Chinese, Korean, Thai, Vietnamese—it’s like he’s tracing his way down the Western Pacific coast. 

More than that, it seems he’s very specifically avoiding pizza. As if that’s what made him finally break and kiss Peter. Which yes, sounds like something he would 100% believe and refuse to compromise on. So, Peter didn’t give him a chance to.

Dinner’s on him tonight.

Well, on Sue actually, Peter had to ask to borrow two bucks, but whatever.

Finally, a flaming comet comes barreling for the statue. Johnny lands so hard he skids on his feet. Peter hardly looks up from his pizza slice.

“You’re late,” Peter drawls.

“Yeah, well,” Johnny huffs, flopping to sit beside Peter. “There was a mugging along the way. And, y’know, some of us pride ourselves as being protectors of the neighborhood. So, I was caught up.”

Of course, Peter figured as much. Figured Johnny totally had it on lock too, so didn’t feel the urge to go track him down. Hard to be too concerned about him facing off with guys with pocket knives when he can light himself on fire. Perks of having superhero friends.

Johnny leans back to get a slice with a huff. He’s fallen perfectly into Peter’s trap. By positioning the pizza box slightly behind him, Johnny has settled right against Peter’s side instead. Right where he should be.

They sit in companionable silence for a while. It’s crazy how they can just sit comfortably in the quiet for hours, and the time just slips away with ease. The only other person he’s ever had that with… well, that was MJ.

Peter fiddles with a web canister as Johnny licks the pizza grease off his fingers—gross.

“Are we gonna finally talk about it?” Peter asks, a little impatient, a little nervous.

Johnny raises his eyebrows at him. “Talk about what? The fact you have pizza sauce on your cheek? Because—”

He reaches over, swiping his thumb across the skin just beside the curve of Peter’s lip. Then he does the most unthinkable thing. He presses the thumb against his lips and sucks at it. All while looking Peter dead in the eye. 

Why doesn’t he believe in napkins—Peter wants to scream.

“There, all better,” Johnny beams—it’s all unintentional, he has no idea what he’s doing to Peter. “For someone who has a good twenty years on Franklin, you’re surely as messy as—”

“Oh my god, you are so dumb,” Peter hisses.

Grabbing Johnny bodily by the front of his suit, Peter finally drags him into place—right against Peter’s chest. There’s no grace when their lips connect. Not like before, when Johnny was shy but so sure, guiding Peter into a rhythm.

Now, it’s Peter who’s setting the pace, and he doesn’t go easy. But Johnny is right there, kissing him breathless. Opening easily when Peter licks at his lips. God, he’s like a furnace inside.

His hands have migrated up to cup Johnny’s jaw, holding him close. Johnny’s got one hot hand burning into his hip, the other brushing along his rip cage. It feels lewd, doing this in their suits, out where anyone could see them. Well, anyone with binoculars at least.

It’s messy and hot, with tongues fighting for dominance and teeth biting at lips. But really, Johnny had it coming. Startling him awake like that just to let him stew… What did he think was gonna happen? That Peter would just go shyly into that good night? As if.

But all the want and the heat and the slickness of his lips is starting to tighten his chest and make his head light. Stupid, that his senses would get so overwhelmed from making out. 

They’re both needing air though, so Peter is able to pull back with little resistance.

“I like you too, idiot,” Peter gets out between big breaths. 

Johnny smiles, crooked and happy. “Yeah? Yeah, that’s… Uhm, should we… talk about that? Apparently you’re the conversational type.”

Peter lets his head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder—hopefully hard enough to knock some sense into him. It won’t be enough, Peter knows that. It will never be enough. He’s okay with that.

“No,” Peter smiles, happy and sated. “I think we should wait a week and a half and pretend like nothing’s changed.”

“Okay, look, I just didn’t want to screw things up with you, because even without the wanting to make out with you part, I like hanging out with you and—”

“I kissed you back, didn’t I? I think you did alright.”

Johnny seems to puff up a little at that. Peter maneuvers them so he can keep his head rested on Johnny’s shoulder and look out onto the river as it turns to ocean. His arms wrap around Johnny’s arm. Being this close settles something in his chest.

Johnny hums old romance songs and Peter sinks against him.

✧

Johnny is having the snooze of his life on the couch with Franklin when he’s startled awake by his suit hitting him in the face.

It takes a lot of self control not to scream and/or light himself on fire as he shocks upright. His poor sweet beautiful nephews falls over without his equally poor sweet beautiful uncle to lean on. Full face right into the cushions. Johnny stares up at Sue like she just threw the toddler off the balcony.

“Hey,” he whisper-yells. “You can’t do that, what if he wakes up!”

“Suit. On. Now.” Sue commands like Johnny is the toddler in the room. “You forgot your watch.”

“I didn’t forget it, I purposefully detached myself. It’s important to be present in the moment sometimes, you know—”

“Suit. On. Now.”

Johnny ughs as loudly as he can without waking up Franklin, but does as he’s told. Thankfully, Sue leaves him to change on his own. He got over her needing to dress him by the time he was like, nine, okay?

As he’s clipping his belt on, he makes his way to the balcony. He can hear the newly repaired Fantasticar revving without him. They never take a second to consider that sometimes he might just want a ride… It’s all noo, you can fly Johnny. Do it yourself, Johnny. You’re so cool, Johnny.

Exhausting.

“Herbert.” Johnny turns dramatically to the little robot. “I’m trusting you to look after the kiddo. If you let him get grabbed by Galactus again, we’re gonna have to have a serious talk, buddy. Be good.”

Herbie gives him a little salute—Johnny returns it and leaps off the balcony.

Thankfully, the car hasn’t gotten too far ahead of him, and he’s able to trail along. They fly all the way to Central Park. It’s about as dark as night gets in New York, probably around four in the morning. As such, Johnny doesn’t see anything wrong at first glance.

They land, the car opening up, and it’s oddly quiet.

“So uh, what now?” Johnny asks trepidatiously.

“All readings suggest that a villain has materialized here in the park,” Reed is fiddling with something in his hands—why is he always doing that? 

“Well, Stretch,” Ben has his hands on his hips. “Gotta say, I ain’t see a big rhino man or a bird thing.”

“We’ve already dealt with those.” Reed still can’t take a dang joke once and a while. “It’s more likely to be that electric fellow.”

At the mention, Johnny feels his throat tighten up. Then immediately chastises himself for feeling that way. Still, he has to shift on his feet as he glances around.

“Where’s Pete?” Johnny questions. “I know he went out tonight. How are we gonna let him know? Don’t tell me I have to skywrite, I’m not awake enough for that.”

“I gave him a watch.” Reed still won’t look up from his doo-hicky. “He should be here soon. Oh, speaking of…”

Reed pulls something from his belt and wordlessly holds it out for Johnny. It’s another watch. Johnny takes it gingerly, like it might be rigged to explode. That’s what this has all been about, right? He’s been playing the long con just to finally get one over on Johnny. Bastard.

“Okay,” Johnny says slowly. “Does this have the multiverse juice or something?”

“No, that’s right here,” Reed produces the injector. “Also, stop calling it that. I knew eventually you’d forget your watch, so I’ve been carrying around an extra.”

“Look, I didn’t forget it, I was trying to unplug and be in the moment with my nephew—”

“Protectors of the planet, Johnny,” Ben reminds unkindly. “We don’t unplug.”

“Yeah, well, have you ever taken a moment to really examine how that might be affecting us and our collective psyche—”

Johnny’s words catch as his ears pick up a distant yelp.

“That’s Peter.” Johnny is sure of it.

Before the rest of the Four can even blink, Johnny is blasting off into the trees. Just as he’s worried he’s gonna get lost in the dark, there’s another cry—this one tinged with pain. He hits the ground like a meteor, blasting fire at an unknown foe. Without looking, he runs to the crater Peter’s just dug into the ground.

“Pete,” Johnny tries to keep his voice level as he grabs at his arms. “Hey, hey. Careful, now.”

“Oh, hi,” Peter’s voice is high and dazed. “Your hair’s still on fire a little. Also, I found our guy. He’s really uh… really nice, you should get to know him, y’know.”

“Yeah, okay, you need a second,” Johnny decides. “Sit your perky little butt down right here, and I will—”

He’s cut off with a yelp as something metal and distinctly mean grabs him around the middle and yanks. Considering his flying abilities and the whole rocketing into space thing, Johnny has experienced some pretty significant physical forces. This one? This one makes him nauseous.

“Oh, come on, Otto!” Peter calls out, more disappointed than annoyed. “I get that he’s really annoying, but this can’t be necessary! Why don’t you put him down and we can talk this out?”

Johnny’s head stops spinning long enough for him to piece together a sneering guy staring at him upside down. Or, actually, Johnny is the one who’s upside down. That’s new.

“Hey, I like the goggles, man.” Johnny wiggles a little in the metal grip. “Really helps the whole octopus thing. Gotta say though, weird motif to aim for. I really don’t get why—”

His words are cut off as the guy scoffs at him. Then, Johnny is getting yanked around as the metal gripper he’s stuck in winds back, and chucks him like a baseball. Johnny is lamenting that this is what his life has turned into, when he remembers that oh yeah, he can fly.

He’s not quite able to stop himself, but he’s at least able to angle his momentum back toward the ground. Octopus guy has turned his attention back to Peter, bits of metal gleaming in the low moonlight. And Peter… oh, precious sexy stupid Peter is still trying to talk the guy down.

Taking a hunk of metal to the stomach, Peter goes sprawling backwards and Johnny sees red.

Johnny slams in the Octopus’s back, sending them cratering into the ground. He presses the Octopus face first into dirt. It takes a bit of self control not to burn up the dingus’s clothes. 

Then, Johnny’s being grabbed by the nape and yanked backwards. With a very uncool ooof he hits the ground and rolls ass over tea kettle until he hits a tree. Fingers crossed Peter didn’t catch that one.

“Ow,” Johnny laments, struggling to push himself onto his elbows.

He’s grabbed around the middle and panics. Just as he’s about to flame on, he recognizes that rocky, strangely gentle grip. Johnny goes limp like a baby animal as Ben sets him back on his feet.

“This guy sucks,” Johnny tries really hard not to whine.

“If only you could light him on fire,” Ben sighs, shaking his head in mourning.

“Alright, alright. I was trying to be respectful of Peter’s approach because he seemed to want to talk to the guy—”

“Well, Octopus Guy just knocked your boyfriend in a pond.”

Johnny flushes so hot he’s pretty sure he starts actually glowing.

“Not my boyfriend!” Johnny shouts, flaming on both to get away from Ben and to rescue Peter.

Just as Johnny reaches the water, Peter surfaces with a wet gasp. Catching sight of Johnny, he holds his hands up over his head. Johnny catches them, swinging Peter up onto the bank.

“Ah, thank you,” Peter winces, falling onto his butt. “That was mean.”

His teeth are chattering, so Johnny crouches down and places his hands on Peter’s deceptively muscular arms.

“You’re too nice to these guys, Pete,” Johnny chastises, heating his hands lightly. “It’s very obvious how much they all want to kill you.”

“God, that’s nice, thank you,” Peter relaxes into Johnny’s heat. “Used to have suit warmers but then, y’know…”

No, Johnny really doesn’t—but he won’t push, not with this.

“But I mean, these guys aren’t so bad,” Peter insists, shoulders rising defensively. “They’re just very broken people, and they deserve a second chance. I can’t let myself write them off like the rest of society, because then I’m no better than the people that got them into this situation.”

Oh god. Johnny’s chest is all tight again and he’s pretty sure his hands are too hot now, but he just holds onto Peter. He’s too good. It’s a miracle the world hasn’t chewed him up and spit him out yet. Or maybe it has, and Peter is just too stubborn to change. 

Johnny needs to marry him.

“Well,” Johnny tries to reason. “These guys aren’t exactly real, so I think you can hit a little harder than usual. And maybe not let yourself get thrown into ponds. Can that be tonight’s plan?”

“Fine,” Peter grumbles. “I really don’t want to do the pond thing again. But thank you for drying me out.”

That’s probably a sign that Johnny should let go of him—which he definitely needed because he’s not sure he could do it on his own. Awkwardly, he rubs his hands on his pants as he stands. They're still warm, and Johnny is convinced it’s Peter’s heat, not his own powers.

“Round two?” Johnny asks, holding his hand out.

Peter takes it gladly, and lets Johnny pull him to his feet. “Final round.”

Johnny grins. “That’s more like it. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Peter probably rolls his eyes, but he’s swinging away before Johnny can tell. A little giddy, Johnny blasts off after him. His mood is definitely not matching the situation right now, but it’s hard when Peter is so… Peter.

Luckily, seeing his family in battle sobers him up a little. Sue is doing a good job fending off the Octopus, easily trapping two of his weird metal arms in her light fields. It looks like Ben has already crushed one’s pincher, and Reed is pulling the last taut.

“Hey, Otto!” Peter yells as they get close. “See, I brought friends this time! And they’re not just alternate versions of me!”

Whatever that means.

Getting his eyes back on Spider-Man, Dr Octavius roars in outrage. With an uncanny burst of strength, he pushes the Four—or well, Three—away. All the metal arms burst out at once, sending out bits of flying metal their way—lightning fast.

Johnny flies over the first, and finds himself face to face with another. Just as it begins sparking, and Johnny lets out a sigh, knowing this is about to hurt, something impacts his shoulder. For what feels like the seventh time today, Johnny goes flying into the ground.

He hits, rolls once, twice. Then, he hears Peter crying out, and is back on his feet. Red light splashes across the grass in pulses, stinking of something metallic and putrid.

A band is lashed around Peter’s middle, tethering his arms to his torso. It flickers and shakes with electricity—red, which even Franklin knows means bad, bad, bad. Peter is held taut, letting out a cry of pain. Johnny feels his whole body heat.

“Reed!” Johnny shouts roughly.

Apparently, that’s all a genius needs. He whips the multiverse juice injector from his belt, winding back a throw. His fingers stretch as the little device leaves them. Now, Dad only took Johnny to play catch like, once, but apparently it paid off because Johnny steps back twice and catches it easy as a wide receiver.

Keeping the injector safe in his left hand, Johnny bursts into flames. His right hand lashes out at the Octopus, and he goes up in a geyser of heat and fire. The villain’s scream temporarily drowns out Peter’s, and Johnny calls that a win.

He launches himself forward, barreling into the column of fire with one fist reared back. It meets the Doctor right in his abdomen, and sends him flying. Johnny hovers just above him, landing with his feet on the Octopus’s shoulders when he skids to a stop.

Seething, the Octopus yells out as all four of his metal arms activate to try and grab Johnny. Throwing his arms out on either side, he lets out a ring of fire that paralyzes them. Each lands in a heap of mostly melted metal. Huh, been a while since Johnny burned that hot.

“Ooh, I get it now!” Johnny smacks his forehead. “Four arms plus four limbs—you’re an Octopus! Clever, but you need to work on the branding. If I didn’t know your moniker, I’d be stumped.”

The Octopus screams in rage, writhing under Johnny. Half of his goggles have been burned off, and the other lens is cracked. Nothing but rage simmers in his eyes. Embarrassing for this to be what the universe conjures up as the essence of you.

“Time to go bye-bye!” Johnny kneels, pressing the auto injector between the Octopus eyebrows and presses.

With a burst of fire, he’s able to avoid getting sucked into the black hole of nothingness that eats the Octopus up.

Immediately, Johnny is flying back to where Peter is, heart in his throat. But Reed is there, working on the band. Ben holds Peter still by his shoulders, unaffected by the shocks. Sue is trying to get a forcefield up between Peter and the band, but it’s probably only minorly easier than neurosurgery. Still, her brow sweats with the effort.

Just as Johnny hits the ground, something clicks mercifully, and Ben immediately shucks the now dead restraint onto the ground. It’s still sparking. Johnny gives it a nice heat bath to silence it. Never again.

“Ah, ah,” Peter winces. “That was uh… ouch.”

Letting out a light laugh, Sue grabs Peter and hugs him—which only makes Peter wince harder, but he hides it well enough that only Johnny seems to notice. 

“Thank you, Dr Richards,” Peter gingerly lets go of Sue. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here—”

And suddenly, Johnny is fuming.

“Oh, let it go. He has a wife, webhead!” Johnny shouts, getting all up in his face.

Peter immediately stiffens, then folds his arms over his chest—all too ready to match Johnny’s energy.

“Sure you’re not just projecting, flamebrain?” Peter demands.

Johnny cuffs Peter by the back of his head. It has so little to do with his words. Peter actually falls a step back, holding the back of his head—as if Johnny could ever actually hurt him.

Well… he just did, didn’t he?

“Fuck’s your problem, man?” Johnny spits. “Think you’re some big hotshot hero that can go around sacrificing himself for other people all the time? I’m the one who wasn’t fast enough, I should’ve taken that hit!”

Peter narrows his lensed eyes. “Yeah, well, you weren’t fast enough, idiot. And I was. So, yeah, I took it. Because I’m stronger than you, I can heal quicker than you, my pain tolerance is—”

“Boys—” Sue’s voice is rising dangerously, but Johnny’s too far gone.

He lunges forward, grabbing Peter by the front of his suit. And yeah, he is stronger than Johnny, but he lets Johnny pull him closer anyways. Even with Johnny—a few inches taller and broader than him—seething right in his face, Peter doesn’t waver.

“You’re such a shitbrained idiot.” Johnny hisses.

He untangles his hand from Peter’s suit. Instead, he graps him by the shoulders. Wraps his arms around him and shoves him right up into his chest. Peter goes stiff, and then horrifyingly still.

“Don’t do that kind of thing,” Johnny chides softly. “Better to let me get hit by a sparking heap of metal than give me a goddamn heart attack.”

At his words, Peter loosens up. Ever so gently, he curves his arms loosely around Johnny’s back. When he presses into Johnny, it’s so minuscule that he’s sure no one else notices. But he does. It doesn’t feel so tiny to him.

One rocky hand lands in Johnny’s hair, the other on Peter’s masked head. Then, Ben is slamming their heads together. Both of them let out a half-hearted ow. Oh well. It’s deserved.

“No more fighting,” Ben commands.

Then, he scoops both Johnny and Peter into his arms, and pulls them up into his chest. There’s a familiar weight as Sue presses into their other side, arms wide and welcoming as always. Falling into her arms never gets old. Abnormally long arms twist around them all, and Johnny feels warm even at that.

“You’re stupid,” Johnny mutters in Peter’s ear, just to get it out of his system.

“Well, you’re an idiot.” Peter grumbles back.

“Yeah? Then you’re an imbecile.”

“Guess that makes you a moron.”

“Annoying twit.”

“Blockheaded nincompoop.”

“That’s not even a word.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too—”

Chapter Text

Peter is neck deep learning about all the amazing things that happened on Earth-828 instead of a Second World War when Johnny speaks up abnormally meekly.

“Uh, hey Pete?” Johnny is trepidatious, which means he’s probably about to say something stupid.

On the roof of the Fantasticar—its hood open so Johnny can poke its insides—Peter flips a page of his book. “Hm?”

“When you said I should put all my notes about the Surfer’s language together… Did you mean that?”

Yeah, it’s something stupid.

At that, Peter does look up from his book. It’s hard to see Johnny around the car’s hood, but he spies the top of his head. Even it looks shy and unsure. God, he’s such a loser.

“Why would I lie about that?” Peter asks genuinely. “I know I like messing with you but c’mon.”

Johnny turns to his toolbox, propped open on a stool next to him. He’s busy picking up and putting down tools with no real purpose. Normally he’s not someone who fidgets much. Not like Peter does, anyways.

“I don’t know,” Johnny mutters. “I’ve just never been smart before, I guess.”

Sighing, Peter sets aside his book. Making sure Johnny’s hands are clear, he webs the support rod keeping the hood up, and yanks it away. When the hood slams down, Peter slides down the windshield onto it, sitting right in front of Johnny. The other man is eyeing him carefully.

“You are very smart, Johnny,” Peter insists, staring Johnny down. “You did something no one else could’ve done. The whole world was working to defeat Galactus, and you’re the only one who pieced that language together.”

“A computer could’ve done it.”  Johnny scowls down at his hands. “Reed just didn’t have the time—”

“But a computer didn’t do it. You did.”

“And any number of people also could’ve done it if they had access to my resources!”

“But they didn’t. You did.”

Johnny huffs, grease beginning to smoke off his hands as his frustration grows. “Look, Pete, I know you’re a little genius in your own right, making your own tech and all, but not all of us are like that. Every day I have to stand next to Reed, who has like every PhD ever, and my sister, who also has a doctorate and is now the diplomat of the entire world or something, and the greatest pilot on the entire planet. And I’m not like them.”

Peter is quiet for a second, allowing Johnny a chance to get his breath and cool down—quite literally.

“Yeah, but have you ever given yourself the chance to be?” Peter asks lightly.

Now Johnny’s scowl turns full force to him and Peter thinks he’s really about to get it now. He’s starting to feel very exposed in his Fantastic Four sweatpants and hoodie. After the whole shocking fiasco with Doc, his suit’s in repair. 

He’s still holding onto the mask though.

Peter puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying. Seems to me you’re just a different kind of smart than me or Reed or Ben, and probably even Sue. You don’t need to be an inventor or a pilot or a diplomat. I think being a living language machine is pretty cool too.”

Figuring he’s pushed his luck enough, Peter slides back up the windshield and grabs his book. He perches on the car roof and cracks open to a random page. It’s just for show, he doesn’t even try to read—too worried what Johnny’s reaction will be. They’ve never really disagreed about something this serious before…

Johnny gives him an indecipherable look for a few seconds. Then, he cracks open the car hood again, putting a wall up between them. Ah man, Peter’s really screwed it now. Just as he’s trying to figure out what to say to make it better, Johnny is speaking.

“So, are you gonna help me out or what?” Johnny demands petulantly.

Peter blinks. “What?”

“I’ve never like, done any of this academic crap before. I don’t know how to compile everything into a paper or anything. I wouldn’t even know how to start sorting my notes.”

Peter resists the urge to smile—not that it matters under the mask—but keenly doesn’t look up from his book. “Well, let’s start there. A little organization goes a long way, or so I’ve been told.”

Johnny peeks around the hood of the car at him. “We can start after dinner?”

“Only if you bring some Maisie’s cookies. And a glass of milk for dunking.”

“Deal.”

Peter grins. “Deal.”

✦

That’s how Peter finds himself sprawled out on Johnny’s carpeted floor, the hour going on ten. And frankly, he feels really freaking dumb. Johnny keeps trying to explain his notes to Peter, but it’s all going way above his little arachnid head.

But he does what he can. Helps sort things into more manageable groups. Nods along like he knows what’s happening. Gives input on how he should present it all.

And it seems to light a damn fire under Johnny’s ass—which is saying something, considering how much that actually happens.

There’s this spark in his eye, a little crooked excited grin playing on his lips. The later the hour gets, and the more Peter’s head goes fuzzy from all the things he doesn’t understand, the harder it is to look away from him. Now, Peter promised himself when they went up to Johnny’s room that this wouldn’t end up as some teenaged make out session.

He’s sorely regretting that now.

“Okay so, this is all together.” Johnny sits up excitedly. “I’ll go to ESU like you suggested and see if their library has some similar papers I can sample. With my endless charm I don’t see how they can say no. And then… what?”

Peter shifts. “Well, uh, I’m actually not sure. I was never able to get far enough in my degree to publish anything. And even if I did it would be totally different here. So, that sounds like a problem for Reed.”

To his credit, Johnny seems to have been expecting that. Still, he flops back to the ground dramatically. Peter wants to yell at him to be careful not to crumple any of the papers—then has the horrifying realization that all this knowledge is probably just sitting in Johnny’s brain anyway. And Peter can’t even begin to wrap his head around it. 

“I don’t wanna talk to Reed though,” Johnny whines. “He’s always so weird and brittle and also he stole my sister away.”

“Well, considering you still live with her, I don’t really see how he took her away.”

“You wouldn’t get it, webhead. You don’t have any siblings.”

Peter sits up and crosses his arms. “How do you know? Maybe I’ve just never mentioned it. I could have ten siblings. Twenty. Full, step, half, and adopted.”

“No, because if you had any siblings, I think you’d be a hell of a lot more motivated to get off our Earth.”

And that… God, why does he have to be perceptive? Peter’s been able to get away with a lot throughout his life just by listening a little closer to what people say, but with Johnny it feels like he’s always two steps behind.

For the first time, Peter wonders if Johnny pays as much attention to his little details as Peter does to Johnny’s.

Johnny sits up sharply. “Oh, hey, this is one of my favorites.”

He hops up, going to the record player to turn it up. It’s been going the whole time they’ve been in here, Peter’s just been tuning it out so he can focus. Ever since the bite, he’s gotten really good at picking and choosing which stimuli to react to.

It’s an old song—at least to Peter, they all are. Something May would turn up, but not necessarily seek out. She always preferred nineties grunge. Even so, the old nostalgic sounds pull at Peter.

And then something else is, as Johnny is over him, tugging him to his feet. Usually, Peter is so strong. Enough so to decide who gets to do what to him. But with Johnny… it all just fades away, and he goes pliant.

He’s that way now, as Johnny pulls him into a now familiar hold—hand on his waist, the other gripping his. They sway to the beat, fast and loose. I wanna hold your hand, Johnny croons, close enough that Peter can feel his hot breath on his mask.

And why? Why, why, why? This isn’t… this can’t. It hits Peter all at once—he’s been so stupid. He has to leave. He has to go home to Earth-616, and keep on just as he’s always been. There, he can go back to being Peter Parker—the one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to be here.

Not that there’s anyone to really know him as Peter Parker. But it’s better that way. Because otherwise, he starts hearing the Goblin’s cackle, and Strange muttering a spell. All this… it’s gone too far. He’s let it go too far.

But he doesn’t move. He lets Johnny hold him, and sway him, and sing to him. Even once the song is over and another begins, he lets it go. Why? Why?

He’s quickly finding the answer to simply be because it’s Johnny—and that is so wholly terrifying, he can’t even comprehend it.

✦

Peter doesn’t know when the Statue of Liberty became his comfort spot. He’s had a lot over the years, places he’d go to think. Empire State, the Chrysler Building, Avengers Tower… And now, apparently Lady Liberty.

Nestled amongst the spikes of her crown, Peter sits with his knees to his chest. He stares out at the river, and the city skyline beyond. From here, if he extends his hearing all he gets is silence—apart from the tours and the ferry, of course.

There’s only one downside to this particular spot—it’s not just his.

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of warm orange light. As much as he might want to, Peter doesn’t turn towards it. He doesn’t do anything at all, even as that rush of heat brushes up beside him.

“I was wondering where you were.” There’s a smile in Johnny’s voice—why is he always smiling? 

“Did you need something?” Peter asks flatly, hoping he didn’t ditch the team when they needed him.

“Just to see you.” Johnny bumps up against him.

His chest is to Peter’s shoulder, the whole of him turned towards and pressing into him. One of his hands comes up, brushing Peter’s ear through the mask. It’s all so casual, so easy for him, that it makes Peter recoil.

“You don’t even know me, Johnny,” Peter snaps.

Johnny frowns and keeps his hands to himself. “Of course I do. You’re Peter. Spider-Man. My arch nemesis turned make-out buddy.”

“Yeah?” Peter demands. “What’s my last name? What color are my eyes? Where was I born?”

Johnny’s face curls into a dangerous scowl. “That’s not fair, and you know that.”

It isn’t. And Peter does know that. Johnny would gladly know all those things, but Peter won’t let him. He can’t let him. 

“I do know you,” Johnny insists. “I know what you’ve let me know. I know that you’re funny, and you’ve got a wicked sharp tongue, and you’re genius enough to actually keep up with whatever Reed says, and that you want to help people.”

“That’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t say that,” Johnny sounds genuinely hurt. “It matters to me. You matter to me.”

“I have to leave, Johnny.”

“I know that. But you’re here now. So, I don’t get why—”

Peter snaps, pushing to his feet and balling his fists. “That’s exactly it. You don’t get it. You don’t know that this is exactly what I swore to myself I would never let happen again. Not just you, all of it. And it’s so much worse now because there’s already a time limit on it and—”

He sucks in a shaky breath, and curses himself for saying too much. 

“Just leave me alone,” Peter mutters. “I’ll help with your villains, but I can’t do the rest of it.”

Peter launches himself off the statue, aiming to catch the next ferry back to Manhattan. For what it’s worth, Johnny listens. He doesn’t try to catch up.

✦

Days go by just like they used to. Peter in his suit, swinging between the buildings, listening out for the slightest hint of something he can help with. If he doesn’t look too closely at the cool architecture, or what people are wearing, or the robot dog walkers, Peter can almost convince himself he’s home.

He left the watch on the Four’s balcony. Figured he’d notice when the next baddie comes by, since he’s out anyways. It hurts. He won’t pretend it doesn’t. But this break has to happen eventually, better it’s on his own terms.

Work is good. There’s less to do than there is on 616, but it’s fine. People are a lot nicer to him without Jameson to poison the well, so they don’t mind if he hangs around watching street performances or chess games.

And everything is fine. It’s just like it’s supposed to be. No more Peter Parker. He doesn’t exist here, just like he doesn’t back home.

Just the way it’s supposed to be.

✦

Everything is no longer fine.

Yeah, okay, maybe he hadn’t slept for a few days. Maybe it was making him sloppy. Maybe his Peter Tingle got sluggish, and he couldn’t react fast enough when one of the thugs pulled out a knife.

But hey, he’s been stabbed before. And it’s always fine. He waited until he had things wrapped up—literally—and then got himself some place high and yanked the blade out of his side. 

Except his webbing isn’t staunching the blood. It just keeps soaking through. And he’s pretty sure his whole abdomen isn’t supposed to be throbbing the way it is. He is sure his heart shouldn’t be going so fast.

The sight of his own blood has always made him nauseous. But he’s pretty sure it’s also making him panic this time. No, wait, that’s his spider sense, ringing like a fire alarm and making his whole body shiver. 

For the first time in a long time, Peter is pretty damn scared.

There’s really only one option in this situation, and taking the time to overthink it will probably get him killed. So, Peter stumbles off the rooftop, and swings toward the East River. Each web he shoots off lands a little off target, but he’s able to stagger his way through the city regardless.

He lands on the balcony of the Baxter Building, wound leaking through his hand.

“Please help,” Peter begs weakly.

There’s a blur of light and heat rushing toward him just as his knees give out and his vision clouds.

✦

Peter blinks himself awake and immediately gets deja vu. A flood of uncomfortable emotions wash over him as he recognizes the interior of the Fantastic Four’s medical ward. Sighing, he curls his arms over his masked face.

God, he’s been so stupid. Pushing everyone away just to rush back to them the second he gets hurt. What must they think of him? It’s a miracle they didn’t just leave him on the balcony to bleed out…

At least he’s alone in the room. He’s hooked up to a few devices, but he can tell immediately his wound has closed up, so he gingerly takes out his IV. The computer makes a nasty noise when Peter takes the heart monitor off.

From the label on the IV bag, it looks like they just pumped him full of steroids to send his healing factor into overdrive. It’s exactly what Peter would’ve told them to do had he been conscious. Obviously, Reed must’ve thought about the what if. Planned for it too, if the massive dosage on the steroid is anything to go by…

Something about that sets a pit in Peter’s stomach.

The machines screeching and shutting off doesn’t draw anyone in. His newly fixed and cleaned suit is laying over the back of a nearby chair. The window is open. If he wants to be alone, they’ll leave him be. 

For a second, he hesitates. Considers pressing the panic button in the wall, just to have someone look at him, care about him. Instead, he pulls himself into his suit, writes a thank you on a nearby notepad, and dives out the window.

It’s not right—but Peter doesn’t know how to belong to someone anymore.

✦

It’s sunset, and Peter is on the roof of the Chrysler Building. He’s quickly running out of thinking spots. There’s no Avenger’s Tower here, last time he was at Empire State he got ambushed by a wizard, and Lady Liberty… Well, it’s just off the table.

Apparently, he’s about to lose this one too, as a pillar of heat gingerly settles down beside him—room enough for a whole dining table left between them. 

Peter holds in a sigh, pressing his eyes shut. He should just jump, swing away into some grimy corner of the city where no one will ever find him. That’s probably what’s expected of him right now. Johnny isn’t saying anything.

He’s all drawn into himself, looking smaller than Peter has ever seen him. There’s the look of a kicked dog in his eyes as he stares down into the city. He’s fiddling with his hands. For probably the first time in his life, Johnny doesn’t know what to say.

There are a few things Peter should. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny looks over at him, wide-eyed. “That’s not—Aren’t I supposed to say that to you? I’m the one that screwed everything up.”

“No, you really didn’t. I shouldn’t have… lashed out at you like that. I’ve just been so stuck inside my own head and… There’s just a lot you don’t know about me.”

Johnny starts to scowl, like he’s about to rant about how that’s not his fault—and it really isn’t—but Peter keeps going.

“And a lot of those things make it… hard for me to be close to people.” Peter forges on, voice tight. “I’ve lost a lot—a lot of people, Johnny. And those losses have made me… difficult.”

Johnny frowns. “I don’t think you’re difficult. I think you’re hurting. And I just so happened to be standing in the way. I know what that looks like, just ask Sue. I don’t blame you. I just want you to talk to me.”

“I know.”

“And if you could do that without interrupting family dinner by almost bleeding out in our house, that would be nice.”

Peter winces. “I didn’t scare Franklin, did I?”

“A bit,” Johnny admits. “But mostly just because he was afraid he was going to lose his new best friend and favorite hero. Ben took care of him, don’t worry. And Herbert cleaned up your blood. You do owe him for that.”

Peter laughs softly. “I know. I owe all of you… a lot. Not just for yesterday but for… everything.”

“What? Almost getting you killed a couple times? Forcing you to leave your home reality and enter an ill defined time period of indentured servitude? Triggering your abandonment issues?”

“For being nice. And understanding. Even when I really behave like a child. But I get it this has made you guys not—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Johnny digs something out of his belt. “They’d been reining me in, but Sue asked me to make sure you were okay. And ask you to take this back.”

He’s holding out the watch they made for Peter.

“I am to formally promise that we will not use this to track you,” Johnny states seriously. “And will only signal you when a multiversal threat appears. But we also understand if—”

Johnny cuts off with a yelp as Peter zips across the ledge and catches him in a hug. He’s stiff for two long seconds, before melting like butter and falling all over Peter. It feels good. He’s warm—safe.

“Thank you.” Peter pulls back, taking the little device from Johnny’s hand. “It’s… really an honor to work with you guys. I hope you know I’m trying not to take it for advantage.”

“Well, I could say the same to you.”

“I should really apologize to everyone else too…”

“It’d make it up to everyone if you came to dinner,” Johnny grins, crooked. “We’ll be a little late, but everyone would love to have you. It’d be good for Franklin to see you up and about.”

He knows exactly what to say to get Peter to listen to him… It takes him a second, fighting with himself, but Peter nods. Smiles behind his mask when Johnny beams at him. 

No matter how much of him says he shouldn’t get close, he can’t stop this—he’s addicted to the way Johnny looks at him.

✦

Just as Johnny said, everyone is ecstatic to see him at dinner. 

After a brief pit stop on his own floor to get a change of clothes—no super suits at the dinner table, apparently—they all meet him by the elevator. Each of them hugs him, and they just look… relieved. Like they’re glad Peter came back. 

Most surprising is Franklin. He runs up to Peter, shoving Ben aside to get to him. Now, Peter isn’t really sure how to hold a kid, but Franklin is pretty much begging for it. When Peter lifts him, Franklin clutches onto his Fantastic Four sweatshirt like that’ll keep him from bleeding out again.

And well, those little hands really make him want to look after himself better.

They sit at the dinner table—Franklin in Peter’s lap—and everyone seems content just to move on with the evening, but Peter can’t.

“Uhm, I just…” Peter clears his throat. “I need to say thank you. And I’m sorry. I—I haven’t behaved well these past few days. You did nothing wrong, you’ve been so… so wonderful, but I still took it out on you, and…”

“Hey, Pete, it’s okay,” Johnny reassures. “We talked it through, it’s—”

“No,” Peter insists. “It’s not okay, but you guys say it is, and that’s part of why… I just need you to understand why this is… why this is hard.”

Everyone is quiet then. A big part of Peter is screaming at him that he shouldn’t do this, that he should just take advantage of their good nature and move on. But it’s not right. 

Johnny doesn’t even know Peter.

“I… I’ve lost a lot of people.” Peter begins, voice rough. “My parents, when I was a baby. Then I got my powers, and the uncle and aunt who raised me died because of it. And my—my mentor, I couldn’t save him. Then, uh… then everyone forgot about me.”

“Peter…” Sue is soft—she’s so much like May, she has that same massive heart. “I’m so sorry. It’s not right for children to be forgotten by the system—”

“I don’t mean left behind in foster care or whatever,” Peter argues. “I mean the entire world forgot who I was.”

Reed and Sue share a look. Johnny is staring Peter down like he’s trying to commit his every syllable to memory—just like he does every time Peter reveals something about himself. Ben is looking down at Franklin, who is still staring up at Peter.

With no other option, Peter forges on. “It’s a long story, but… I screwed a lot of things up. Like, everything, basically. And it caused a multiversal incursion, and the only way to stop it was for the wizard—I think you met him—to cast a spell that erased me, Peter, from the world. So my friends, my girlfriend, all the people I had looking out for me…”

“They all forgot who you were,” Ben finishes. 

Peter nods roughly. “Like I never even existed in the first place.”

“You exist.” Franklin lays his head on Peter’s chest. “Listen, I can hear your heart.”

Peter softens, holding onto Franklin a little tighter. So few words, but it fills up something in Peter. He brushes a hand through the boy’s mess of blond hair, whispering a thank you.

“That’s…” Johnny tries.

“A lot,” Sue provides. “That’s a lot. I’m sorry you went through all that, Peter. Thank you for sharing that with us. I think we can all understand why you might…”

“Why it might be hard for you to find comfort in others,” Reed picks up where she left off—two complementing halves of a whole. “Seeing as, in your mind, it might all go away again. But I can assure you, as you don’t inherently exist in this universe, your chances of causing an incursion are next to zero.”

“Also we don’t have magic here,” Johnny adds fumblingly.

Peter can’t help a smile. “Thank you. You’re the first people I’ve been able to tell about all that… And thank you for letting me back in. I won’t throw away your trust again. I promise.”

“You can always talk to us, kid,” Ben assures. “We’re here for you.”

“Thank you…” Peter shoves down the tight feeling in his throat. “Thank you. Now, uh… dig in?”

✦

After dinner, Johnny accompanies Peter down to his rooms—apparently intent on making sure Peter gets a full night’s sleep in a real bed. Feeling every fiber of his being drag, Peter can’t fight him. Doesn’t want to.

With that familiar heat beside him, Peter wants to just grab hold of him and refuse to let go for a few hours, or days, or centuries. Just as they were starting to get comfortable, Peter had to go and screw everything up. Now, he wishes so badly to go back to that afternoon on the Statue, where Johnny was pressed up against him and reaching for him.

As the elevator deposits them onto Peter’s floor, the air turns awkward. Johnny should go. Peter doesn’t want him to. And Johnny seems… undecided. Totally unsure of what he is and is not allowed to do.

Thankfully, Peter can always count on the Torch's impulses winning out. Johnny quickly ducks down, pecking Peter’s exposed lips. It’s so chaste, Peter blinks and the touch is gone. 

Peter’s quick enough to catch Johnny by the collar as he tries to pull away. For a second, neither of them does anything. They just linger there, with their noses barely an inch apart. Peter tightens his hold on the front of Johnny’s shirt.

“What is this?” Peter begs, even if he’s terrified of the answer.

Johnny cracks a smile, but it’s lacking. “Doesn’t have to be much, Petey. I know you gotta go, so… We’re just a couple friends helping each other out.”

“Helping out with what?” Peter demands.

Johnny flushes a lovely shade of red, opening and closing his mouth. His tongue coming out to wet his lips—like that will solve this—tips Peter over the edge. One hand fisting his shirt, the other grabbing him by the hair, Peter pulls Johnny in.

Their lips slide together in a way that makes Peter lightheaded. Johnny’s got his hands on his waist, roving to his spine and back. Both Peter’s hands are in his hair, messing it up so thoroughly that he knows Johnny won’t be able to just pat it back into place.

Whether it’s a push or a pull, Peter can’t say. But his back is hitting the nearest wall, and Johnny is pressing into him. They’re finally pressed together from toe tip to shoulder and it feels so right. Peter groans as Johnny begins mouthing at his exposed neck.

“How far does this go?” Johnny asks into his skin.

Nerves ball up in Peter’s stomach. “Nothing below the belt.”

“Oh, no,” Johnny pulls back to look at him. “I wouldn’t wanna—I mean I would—but not—now, not so soon.”

“Yeah.” Peter nods dumbly.

“Yeah.” Johnny flushes again, tugging at Peter’s oversized sweatshirt. “Can this go?”

Peter thinks on it for a second, before he’s nodding hurriedly. “You first.”

Johnny grins, and it’s dangerous, he’s so dangerous. In a flash, his shirt is off, discarded on the floor. Peter doesn’t even get a chance to take him all in, as Johnny is immediately back on him, pressing him into the wall.

His hot hands trail up under his sweatshirt as his lips seem determined to bruise Peter’s. He spends a long, long time just running his hands up and down Peter’s abdomen, his waist, his stomach. It doesn’t seem fair, so Peter runs his hands across Johnny’s taut shoulders, and the roll of his biceps.

It’s not like Peter never noticed that Johnny was fit. He’s caught himself more than once staring at Johnny in t-shirts, his chest and his arms on full display. But feeling the mass of muscle on him is totally different.

If someone had asked him, Peter would’ve said that wouldn’t do it for him—he’s become increasingly wrong about himself lately.

The fabric between them is starting to feel thick, and hot, and itchy. So, Peter doubles up on breaking away for air, and pushing Johnny away just enough to shuck his sweatshirt. He just barely catches a twinkle in Johnny’s eyes on him, before Peter is pulling him back in.

It’s all skin on hot skin then, and Peter shivers under the force of it. Lately he’s been starved for any type of skin contact, seeing as he’s always in his gloves—unable to fully feel even his fist meeting a nose. Suddenly being chest to chest with someone, while his tongue’s in his mouth, is enough to send Peter reeling.

Everything is getting a little fuzzy, a little heady, so Peter extracts himself from Johnny. He presses their foreheads together, breathing heavy. His eyes are pressed firmly shut. Just a moment, he just needs a moment.

“Are you alright?” Johnny asks, a breath against Peter’s lips.

Peter nods tightly. “Senses.”

Somehow, that’s apparently enough for Johnny to understand. He loosens his grip on Peter. But he doesn’t go. His eager lips trail across Peter’s jaw, finding their way back to gingerly kiss his neck.

“Okay?” Johnny questions.

“Okay.” Peter confirms, hand in Johnny’s hair to keep him close.

As his breathing evens out, Peter’s senses right themselves. He takes a moment to just let himself rest, as Johnny continues mouthing at his skin lightly. His skin is prickling with it. He sighs, drunk on the feeling.

But it’s getting a little hot, pressed all up against a literal human furnace like this. His neck is starting to twinge, unhappy to be craning up the few inches necessary. Something needs to change.

Peter shoves Johnny away, who goes easily. He’s got a face like a puppy—not understanding what he’s done wrong. Peter resists the urge to snort at him. He just uses his superior strength to maneuver Johnny, pushing him all the way to the edge of the inlaid couch.

Twisting him around, Peter pushes. Johnny squeaks as his ass lands among the cushions. He repeats a similar noise as Peter drops down with him, and promptly straddles him. He’s a little too dazed to kiss Peter back at first, and that feels a bit too good…

But Johnny gets the hang of it soon enough. His hands wander along Peter’s side, hot hot hands sizzling lines across his ribs. Peter has decided it’s really satisfying to mess up Johnny’s hair, plus it allows him to angle him to just right.

It’s a bit ridiculous really, just how caught up in Johnny, Johnny, Johnny Peter has become. The whole of New York could be sloughing off into the rivers and Peter wouldn’t notice a damn thing—much less care. This moment right here, pressed all up against Johnny, is all he needs.

Johnny pulls back minutely from him, their lips still touching lightly.

“You better stop moving your hips like that unless you want this to become a below the belt situation very quickly.” He warns, genuine.

Peter’s lips break into a smile, clumsy as he starts kissing on his lips again—but he listens and holds himself still. He didn’t even fully process that he’d begun to move against Johnny. Usually he’s so in control over his every movement but…

Not with Johnny.

But he’s quickly finding there are also a lot of ‘Only with Johnny’ things, so he thinks he’s willing to take the really good with the slightly terrifying.

✦

In the morning, Peter pulls his curtains open to find the world tinged brown and dusty. Wind blows particles against the glass, leaving dirty smudges. Just looking out into it is making Peter need to cough.

Dread consumes him.

His sweats and hoodie are off in record time as he slams out into the hall, leaving him in just his suit. Not willing to waste time on the elevator, Peter heads to the big window wall and twists one of the panes open. The drop down to the Four’s balcony would break most people’s knees, but Peter is pretty far from being most people.

”We need to go,” Peter cuts through whatever conversation they were having. 

“Pete?” Johnny sits up, willing to match Peter’s energy at the drop of a hat. “What’s going on? Who should I fight?” 

Peter is suddenly confused why none of them are in their suits.

”Villain?” He says dumbly, gesturing to the dusty air. 

”Ah, the storm,” Reed nods, monitoring a device on the kitchen counter. “Yes, I’m currently trying to track its origin. As of now, it doesn’t seem to be a threat to public safety—”

“No, I mean—” Peter gestures around wildly this time. “This is one of mine. Sandman. He’s the one doing this.” 

Sue frowns, turning to Reed, but she’s rising from her chair as if to find her suit. “We would know if it was one of them, wouldn’t we? The residual energy, yeah?”

“Bit hard to get a reading on a guy when he’s split into a million different dust particles,” Peter points out.

“Wait, this stuff is him?” Johnny asks in disgust, also rising from his chair.

“Like always, it’s a little complicated, Johnny! Just come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

“Well, hey,” Ben stops them all. “If we can’t get a reading on this guy, how do we know where to go? And I mean, this dust is all over the city. If that’s him, how are we meant to contain this guy?” 

Great questions—what else should Peter expect from Ben? Also, really, really annoying questions because Peter doesn’t know. It was easy on 616 because Peter had something to lure Flint out, but if he’s not even a solid multiversal being, how is Peter meant to…

Outside, something cracks, and it’s quickly followed by screaming. Apparently, it’s loud enough for the Four to hear too, as they all sit up sharply. Peter turns toward the empty balcony, then back towards them. 

“Uh, I guess we figure that out as we go?” He suggests lamely.

Not waiting for a response, Peter runs onto the balcony, shooting a web out. In a second, he’s airborne. Extending his senses out, he finds himself unsettled by the quiet. It’s like New York has been covered by a thick wool blanket, and all its denizens put to sleep.

Well, he is called the Sandman, after all—maybe that’s some secondary ability?

Whatever, no time, threat to the city, people in peril. He and Reed can debate it after. For now, Peter finds himself minorly overwhelmed by the sounds of a city in crisis. He’s unsure where to start—the sand seems to be all over the Upper East Side, stretching out into Central Park and spilling into nearby boroughs. 

When in doubt, head to where the yelling is loudest.

He finds a four car pile up, where a tornado of sand has barreled through. People are crying out, leaping out of the way as it crashes through the street. With no way to stop the spiral, Peter instead works to clear people out of its path. They spill out onto a larger street, and the swirling sand dissipates. Peter lets out a breath, but quickly finds his feet sinking under him.

The sand has gathered against the concrete here, piling up into dunes—burying cars and abandoned strollers. It turns to quicksand now, trying to eat him and a whole block full of people alive. Peter quickly swings himself up, webbing people onto balconies or bus roofs. 

His path has led him out of the dunes, but peace is limited. The wind quickly picks up, blowing hats and scarves, and soon people straight down into the pavement. The electric light rail jitters overhead. Taking a sharp turn, the train pitches in the wind. It disconnects from its rail, and Peter doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast.

The train hits the street with a crack, but the splintered concrete crater does little to stop its speed. Peter tries webbing it up—as he also frets around pulling people out of the way—but zilch. The thing barrels its way toward Central Park, where a crowd of disenfranchised drivers are gathering. 

With little other option, Peter throws himself in front of the train.

His feet dig into the pavement, and it comes apart in chunks under him. Entire spine groaning, every muscle in Peter’s body clenches as he pours all his weight and strength into countering the train’s force. He’s done a lot of things—catching cars, holding a ferry together, lifting buildings—but nothing has ever had this much speed.

But his feet keep digging. And his hands keep pushing. And his teeth keep clenching. The train jumps the lip of the sidewalk into the park, but the crowd has been able to disperse. It only makes it a block more before the dirt and trees and rocks help stutter it to a stop.

Letting out a woozy sigh, Peter collapses to his knees. 

“Woah, big guy, hold on.” Johnny flames down beside him, quickly propping him up. “Slow down, hey, hey, you’re good. No one’s hurt. And that was seriously hot.”

If Peter wasn’t still tuned in to people’s scared gasps and yelps all around, his ears might think to glow pink. But as it is, he leans into Johnny for a moment, before struggling back to his feet. For what it’s worth, Johnny doesn’t try to stop him. Hopefully he knows one runaway train isn’t enough to stop the Spider-Man.

“The others?” Peter’s voice is raw—God, he could use some water right now.

“In the car, getting Sue a good vantage point.” Johnny is still holding onto him, and Peter doesn’t know what to do about that. “She’s gonna try to trap it or condense it or something. She’s never bubbled anything that big, but if she says she can, I trust her.”

Peter too. He nods, looking around. The haze seems to be getting thicker, but it looks like it’s stopped spreading so far. It’s barely spilling over into the park now.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Peter admits helplessly. “Peter Two did everything with this guy before. And he wasn’t nearly this big.”

Johnny scowls. “Peter Two?”

Peter sighs—seriously, what is his life? “It’s an exceptionally long story. Look, this guy’s name is Flint Marko. He fell into a super collider and well…”

Peter gestures around wildly.

Johnny winces in sympathy. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Actually, I have no idea what a super collider is. That may just be a me thing, but I’m also pretty sure if that was a thing on our Earth, Reed would be all over it, so I don’t think that exists here.”

“Good. Nothing good ever comes from particle acceleration, got it? Instead you get guys made of sand.”

“I will admit that I also do not know how to fight sand, so don’t worry, my absolute genius is not leaving you behind this time.”

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes. “He has a human form. If we can find a way to just get him to be a guy then we can stick him and this all can be over. But to do that we have to condense him, and then he can take his sand form, and punch us really hard and get sand in places we can never get out.”

“Not fun.”

“Yeah, putting it a bit lightly there, Torchie.”

“Well, the only option I see is my regular ghost fighting method. Piss him off until he turns corporeal.”

Peter scowls. “I don’t know if that’s the best—Since when do you fight ghosts?”

But Johnny is already gone, flaming on down the street further into the storm, yelling insults. Peter curses quietly, and swings along behind him. He nearly misses a webshot as the sky blooms a flickering, iridescent blue. Just as promised, the Upper East Side is now encased in a beautiful, shimmering force field.

“Cool,” Peter mutters.

As they jet down the streets, Johnny takes to blasting any large portion of sand he can find with fire. Dunes, tornados, smokey looking clouds—all of it. Every blast comes with a new, creative insult. 

Peter shuts up about questioning his methods though. The longer they go, the thicker the sand gets. Hard to tell which Storm sibling is to thank, as the forcefield overhead also begins to shrink and contain the dust. He decides it’s best just to let Johnny have his fun. Besides, he’s doing a good job at getting civilians out of a bind. His flying is still so cool. Damn him.

“Hey, Sand-Guy!” Johnny shouts.

“Sandman,” Peter corrects.

“Sandman! I can’t tell if that’s a really cool name or really lame. Regardless, it’s too on the nose. Great song though, you have good taste.”

Johnny takes to singing obnoxiously then. Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum. He does a nice falsetto though, and is surprisingly good at harmonizing with himself. A man of many talents.

Somehow, it works too, as a sandy fist appears out of a dune and smacks Johnny out of the air. His song lets out with a cry. On instinct, Peter hurls two hunks of web at it, but the webbing is quickly ripped away by undulating sand. Cursing, Peter lands beside Johnny, who is picking himself off the pavement with a nasty scratch along his cheek, and a madman’s grin.

“Hah!” Johnny cries. “You big jerk! Apparently you don’t have good taste in music!”

Fisting flaming, Johnny blasts the fist. It rears back, a sound echoing around them like a whale in pain. The windows of nearby windows rattle with it. Another fist crawls up out of the ground, trying to stamp both them out, but Johnny blasts it as well.

Okay, this thing doesn’t like fire, great for them.

“Hey, Flint!” Peter calls out. “You don’t have to do this man! You genuinely seem like the misunderstood type! And like, you have a daughter, or something, I think? Think about her?”

“Very convincing,” Johnny mutters.

This time, the sand comes lurching off the sills and stonework of the brownstone behind them—grasping like hands from the underworld.

Peter swings into the air, sticking a web to Johnny’s chest to tug him along like a sandbag. “Better than putting on a cabaret performance for him!”

“Hey, don’t insult cabaret like that! If that’s what I was going for it would be way more intricate, and maybe I’d find out where to buy tap shoes—”

For whatever reason, Johnny doesn’t flame on and fly himself. Instead, he lets Peter fling him into the grass of a park on the riverfront—Carl Schurz maybe? Whatever people were milling around apparently know heroes equals things are about to get messy, so they all scurry away for shelter. Peter seriously loves the citizens of this New York.

Landing next to a strewn out Johnny, Peter whirls around to find a sandstorm barreling down the street to them. There aren’t enough vantage points in the park to swing himself high enough to avoid it. Great thinking, Parker.

But before he can get blasted in the face and maybe eaten alive by sand particles, Johnny is reaching up to tackle him to the ground. He pins Peter under him, flaming on only his back as the storm rushes over him. The wind whips them, and Peter gets a few minute cuts in his suit from it. Sand, heated from Johnny’s fire, gets through Peter’s mask and sits in his mouth.

He tells himself that’s why his mouth is dry—it’s certainly nothing to do with his self proclaimed make-out-buddy pinning him to the ground, that would be wildly unprofessional.

It feels like forever—and also not nearly long enough—before the last of the sand is retreating. It’s whipping itself into a frenzy of a tornado around them, but it gives them enough time to get to their feet. They stand back to back, ready for… Well, Peter doesn’t know what. 

Overhead, the blue force field, quickly closing in on them, flickers once, twice, and then dissipates. It doesn’t seem to be a problem. The Sandman’s attention is firmly on Peter and Johnny right now. Even more so as the Fantasticar comes screeching to a halt on the pavement path beside them.

“We have to make sand guy into a real guy,” Johnny shouts as the rest of the Four come to join them.

As Sue sidles up beside him, Peter reaches out in instinct the balance her. She’s looking pale, with a bit of sweat around the brow. No doubt she’s exhausted after that feat of power. Peter wraps an arm around her waist, and lets her lean against him as she catches her breath.

“Well, that’s great in theory,” Ben grumbles. “But I can’t exactly punch a sand tornado into submission.”

“He doesn’t like Johnny’s fire,” Peter provides. “Sue could probably disrupt his cyclones pretty good too.”

“Hey, Ben, maybe you can just level with him,” Johnny suggests. “Mineral guy to mineral guy. That’s gotta be something, right?”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” Ben is looking pretty out of sorts not knowing what to do with himself.

With Sue getting back onto her own two feet, Peter turns to their only hope. But Reed is… lost. He’s shifting on his feet, mind obviously running eight million miles a minute. Unfortunately, Peter has seen genius superheroes scowl like that before. It means they’ve got nothing.

There isn’t time to panic about that, as the wind whips more intensely. The force of it rips a few more tears in Peter’s suit. A tsunami of sand rears up all around them, ready to swallow them whole. 

“Johnny!” Peter shouts.

Somehow, Johnny knows exactly what he means.

“On it!” He rockets up into the air with blinding speed.

Peter simultaneously webs himself to the flying man, and the rest of the Four. Arm aching with the force, he yanks them all off the ground as Johnny pulls them higher. Waves of sand crash together right where they were standing, leaving dunes twelve feet high. All the sand condenses there, bubbling ominously. Somewhere, Flint groans in displeasure.

It’s a great plan, until Peter is suddenly airborne with three people. As Johnny levels out, the web connecting them burns out, and Peter is left falling himself. All he can think to do is web himself closer to Ben, and pull Reed and Sue along with him. Thankfully, Ben’s arms are always wide open for them.

Ben’s back hits the ground, and they skid. Grass is uprooted all around them. With the impact, they lose hold on Sue, and she goes tumbling away with a yelp. Not fast enough—he’s not fast enough to grab her. 

Perhaps as punishment, Peter gets dislodged quickly after, rolling fast enough to give whiplash until he collides with a tree. Either he breaks or it does. Thankfully, it’s the bark that bends. He’ll be digging splinters out for the next month though.

Checking to make sure Reed and Ben slow to an easy stop, Peter staggers to his feet. A fresh round of adrenaline rushes through him at the sound of Sue crying out. She’s belly first on the ground, clawing at the dirt as slow moving sand begins encasing her from behind. 

Peter runs. He has to be fast enough, he has to be fast enough—He doesn’t need to. A blur of light slams into the ground at her feet. Fire burns against the sand, and it loosens and retreats.

“You do not touch my sister,” Johnny spits, letting out another fire bath.

As his heat burns a little too hot, Peter gets to Sue’s side and helps pull her to her feet. She’s got a gash in her brow line, and the blood is dripping into her eye. She’s not steady on her feet. Probably concussed. Dammit, Peter has to get her out of here—

But Sue is Sue, and Sue is good. With an incoherent shout, she trusts one hand out toward Johnny. She’s just in time, bubbling him as three sandy fists all slam down on him as once. It lasts only a second though. Sue’s legs are giving out, and she’s struggling to stand. Luckily, Johnny seems able to dig himself out of the now loose and lifeless sand.

Moving as quickly as they can without Peter picking Sue up, they skitter back to where Ben and Reed landed. They only get halfway before the pair are rushing them. Sue is gently grabbed from his arms, being worried over immediately by Reed. 

Peter looks up to Ben, but before he can even say anything, Ben nods. “I’ve got her. Just gimme a good distraction.”

Mouth still so dry, all Peter can do is nod hurriedly. He uses the trees the web zip back to where Johnny is continuing to burn his way through the sand. The tornado is picking up now, easily enveloping an entire block. In the flashes of light from Johnny’s power, something like a face is beginning to form.

God, Peter wishes Peter Two were here.

“Hey, Flint!” Peter tries to snark, but he’s not feeling it. “That all you got, man?”

Johnny gives him a look, obviously not keen on goading him into trying any harder. Peter shrugs mid-swing. It works though, as just for a second, the face flashes in the whirlwind again. Bingo.

Tapping the last of his equipped web cartridges, Peter continuously webs up the face. All around them, the storm stutters and keens. Flint’s angry grunt rattles the nearby buildings—which seem to be empty, so Peter gratefully uses one last web to zip over and stick onto one’s side.

He’s quick as he digs out fresh canisters, swapping out for fresh webfluid. From up here, their situation looks even worse than on the ground. Down there, it seemed like Sandman was at least coming together into something solid. But from here, Peter can see just how wild and wide the storm still is. His chest sinks lower and lower.

Johnny sidles up beside him, breathing a little hard. He’s scowling in a way that Peter has never seen before. It almost looks like he’s debating something. As he looks over at Peter—no doubt noticing how tense he is—it seems like Johnny makes up his mind,

“Hey, I got something,” Johnny smiles like he’s offering up a place to get lunch. “But you gotta promise not to get mad at me.”

Peter’s brows furrow. “Johnny—”

Bringing his watch up, Johnny speaks into it. “Reed, be ready with the injector.”

All the while, his eyes don’t leave Peter. As he brings his watch down—even as it begins chattering with questions—he smiles again. Soft this time. There’s this awful look in his eyes. And Peter knows what this is.

He’s saying goodbye.

“I’ve had fun,” Johnny tells him earnestly.

With a wink, he begins burning brighter, and jets off into the storm. And Peter can’t get a damn word out, can’t web after him, can’t scream and pummel Flint with his own two hands. All he can do is stick to that window and stare into the storm as Johnny begins burning brighter than Peter has ever seen. 

Even from here, he can feel the heat. Johnny’s form is like a light on the sea shore, guiding ships through the storm. His whole form quivers as the air begins to smell of smoke. Then, he lets go.

A burst of fiery power bursts out from him, flying out in all directions. The flames connect with the sand, turning it to inert ash. Flint groans and cries as the storm comes to a screeching halt. 

Heat, enough to leave a sunburn, washing over Peter is what brings him back to his body. Because the storm is gone and Johnny is—falling. He’s falling.

“No,” Peter whispers. “No, no, no—”

He dives. But there’s nothing to zip against, no way to build momentum. All he can do is fall at the same speed as Johnny, arms outstretched. He’s not fast enough, he’s not fast enough, he’s not fast enough—

Johnny hits the ground with a crack. 

Peter is barely able to break his own fall, rolling against the grass and pavement. Even if the storm is gone, the air is still thick with dust and sand. Peter struggles to his feet, sprinting faster than he ever has to where he can still hear Johnny’s stuttering heartbeat.

There’s no great crater where he’s landed, just a divet. Peter skids onto his knees, bumping right into Johnny’s thigh. All the while, he’s whispering, fretting, reaching for Johnny.

But his mouth is dry, and his eyes are stinging, and he can’t see and he can’t breathe through this stupid mask—it comes off without a second thought.

And Johnny is there, staring at him with those bright, baby blue eyes and a gaping mouth. There’s blood all over him it feels like. Flecking every bit of his white-purple tinged skin. He’s going grayer by the second.

“No, Johnny, no,” Peter whispers, eyes burning as he holds Johnny’s arm, his head, his chest—like if he presses against him it will put Johnny all back together.

He’s stopped as a shaky hand reaches up, holding him by the jaw. 

“You’re beautiful,” Johnny’s voice breaks, but his words are colored with awe.

The touch, the words, last only a second before Johnny is retreating back into himself. As Johnny closes his eyes, it seems to happen in slow motion. Peter hears as that stuttering heartbeat slows, and struggles, and it’s stopping, it’s stopping, it’s stopping—

He’s crying, he’s sobbing, he’s begging. He doesn’t realize how much until there are hands on him, pulling him back. And Ben and Reed are there, hands taking over from where Peter was trying to put the pieces back together. But Peter is pulled away and away and away.

And he can’t fight it because he’s already lost.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” Peter mutters. “I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Oh, God,” Sue is holding Peter a few steps back, but her eyes are on Johnny’s broken form. “No, my baby, no…”

She’s shaking just as hard as he is as she pulls Peter into a hug. She’s kind, making sure to angle Peter away so he can’t see as Reed and Ben inject Johnny with something. Or maybe she just does it so she can watch him herself with wide, unblinking, crying eyes. Her hand pets fretfully through Peter’s hair.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” Peter holds onto her. “I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t fast enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sue whispers, but he can’t tell if it’s for him, or for herself. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

But Johnny’s heart stops, and Peter’s legs give out anyway.

Chapter Text

The sun is shining when Johnny wakes up.

The blinds are pulled down, but Johnny can tell. A sliver of it shines against one of the monitors to his right, stinging him in the eye. It’s what woke him up, he thinks. He thinks. He doesn’t know.

Everything is slow, and he can’t quite feel most of his body—it’s weighed down and sluggish. And it’s all a bit blurry around the edges. And he really just wants to go back to sleep.

A chair creaks. “Johnny. Johnny.”

“Hi, Mama,” Johnny mutters.

Sue’s hands are warm on his face, cradling him just like she would when wiping his tears away. When he fell off his bike. When Dad didn’t come home at night. When he lost his favorite toy car. He cried a lot back then. But he doesn’t think he is now.

Someone is though, the tears are hot and salty when they fall against his lips.

“Don’t do that,” Sue whispers, begging. “Don’t ever do that again. Don’t you ever do anything like that ever again, please.”

“Won’t,” Johnny promises, because Sue never begs for anything. “Don’t wanna make you sad.”

There’s something like a wet laugh or maybe a sob. “You almost made me very sad, Johnny. My life would be over without you in it. We’ve been through so much together, I can’t…”

“‘s okay, ‘m here now,” Johnny tries, even if his words are slurring and his eyes are drooping.

She clasps his cheeks a little tighter. Tips his head ever so slightly in that way she does when she kisses his head. She lingers there longer than normal, nose buried in his hair, breathing him in. Johnny is fine with it. It’s almost like a hug, and Sue gives the best hugs. 

“My baby boy,” She whispers, kissing his hair one more time before pulling back. “Sleep now. We’re all watching after you. You’ll be okay.”

“I will,” Johnny promises, even as his eyes close, and he repeats his earlier words. “Don’t wanna make you sad.”

With that, the darkness takes Johnny once more.

✧

The blinds are up the next time Johnny wakes up. 

The sun is warm where it trickles in, casting across his sterile white blankets in streaks. There should be the sounds of the city, he thinks, but it’s quiet here. Even the machines don’t beep.

He really wants to stretch out his limbs and groan, shaking off a good nap, but his body is heavy. He frowns and scowls and does a lot of things he thinks his face shouldn’t do. But even if he’s weighed down and vaguely numb, he’s just surprised he can move at all.

It’s not like he doesn’t remember. Frankly, it’d be nice if it was all fuzzy and hard to think about, but Johnny knows what he did. Seemed like the best option at the time. He’s strangely bitter about waking up, unable to shake the feeling that he’s failed somehow. 

He didn’t want to die—it’s just that he values the lives of his family more than his own.

Whatever. Figures, really. Can’t even dramatically sacrifice himself correctly. What else is new? This is starting to feel like a lame practical joke at this point.

Just as he’s starting to boil over with his frustrations, Johnny’s eyes stray toward the window, and his whole world freezes.

There’s someone there that Johnny knows implicitly, could know blind and deaf, yet is totally new. He’s got a sharp jaw, and thin, tight lips. Light brows, despite the scowl. A nose with an easy, clean slope. Dark eyes, darker hair—it’s curly. How did Johnny never consider his hair could be curly?

“It wasn’t a dream,” Johnny announces, quite dumbly.

Peter’s eyes flick over to him, not all that surprised to find Johnny awake. He really is scowling something fierce, and Johnny hates that he looks so serious. Is that his fault? It’s probably his fault. If he could move properly, he might throw himself at Peter’s feet, beg him to smile. Please don’t look like that because of him, please…

As is it, Peter frowns. He’s in the pseudo hospital room’s chair. It’s angled toward the bed, but Peter is twisted to stare out the window, one hand propping up his chin. It’s a small mercy that he turns his full attention to Johnny, leaning forward—close enough he blocks out the sun. Johnny could live every day in darkness, just like this, with Peter’s brown eyes on him.

“Scared me there, flamebrain,” It’s Peter’s voice, just like it’s always been, and Johnny’s lips tick upward.

Understatement, Johnny picks up on. Has to be, because he remembers Peter crying and fussing over him, totally unsure of what to do. But if Peter wants to pretend everything is fine, Johnny will too. Whatever Peter wants, Johnny will give it. He’ll give and give and give.

“Mm, sorry,” Johnny mutters, but he’s still grinning like a damn fool. “Worth it though, for this view.”

Peter scowls at him—its annoyance, this time, and it sends a thrill through Johnny. Without the mask, he’s so expressive. All this time, he’s been studying Peter’s body language, trying to find the slightest sign that Johnny is getting to him, but he doesn’t need it like this. 

Peter shifts back, making as if to leave. “I’ll go get the mask, I shouldn’t encourage this—”

Johnny gets just enough feeling in his body back to lunge forward, grabbing pathetically at Peter’s hand. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It was just a dumb joke. You know me, Peter. You know me.”

And miraculously, he does. At Johnny’s touch, he settles back in his chair—Johnny secretly knows he was never actually going to step out, it’s all just part of their game. He doesn’t try to shake off Johnny’s grip on him. Instead, he angles their hands so he can hold Johnny’s properly. He scoots forward, elbows resting on the edge of Johnny’s bed.

Johnny is grinning again. “You’re beautiful.”

“You said that already.”

“And I’ll keep saying it, how about that?”

“If you do, I’m going,” Peter warns, making as if to stand again.

“No, no. Don’t do any of that. I’ll behave, okay? But even if I don’t say it, you have to know I’m thinking it.”

Peter is frowning still, but it’s turning more to a pout. Giddy, Johnny spies the slightest bit of pink on the tips of his ears. He blushes. When Johnny says these things, he’s been blushing. God, it takes a lot not to start running his mouth to make Peter turn bright pink.

Staring right at him, seeming to be drinking him in, Peter absentmindedly brings their hands up. He brushes his lips against the back of Johnny’s hand. Somehow, Reed doesn’t rush in due to Johnny flatlining.

“My last name is Parker,” Peter provides then. “My eyes are brown. I was born in Queens.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smiles.

“Yeah. Just the answer to some questions I dangled in front of you. If the mask’s off, I don’t have much left to hide. I’ll tell you what you want.”

“Man, if I’d have known all I had to do was almost die to get some answers outta you, I’d have thrown myself in that lizard’s mouth.”

Finally, Peter cracks a smile at one of his jokes. Johnny can feel Peter’s lips pull back against his skin. It’s perfect, it’s gorgeous, it’s everything Johnny has ever wanted. He’s got the best smile lines, and the hint of a dimple on the right. 

“No need for anything that drastic,” Peter chides. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“I want to know everything.”

“Well, I’m only gonna tell you once, so let’s wait until you’re not hopped up on pain meds, alright?”

“I’m perfectly lucid!” Johnny purposefully slurs his words a little.

It works, Peter lets out a breathy laugh. Jackpot. Peter clasps Johnny’s hand a little tighter, bringing it close enough he can give it a tiny kiss. Johnny’s stomach seems to leap right out and take the forty-ish story drop out of the Baxter Building.

Peter’s never been this sweet with him before. Johnny’s still trying it, but all their usual heat and banter is muted here. It partially feels wrong, like they lost something integral, but Johnny sort of wants to lay up bedridden forever and let Peter coddle him. 

They’ll be back to normal soon, Johnny vows, but for now, he’ll let Peter baby him.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny finally gets the words out in a whisper. “I didn’t wanna scare you.”

“Well, you did,” Peter tells him plainly, letting their joined hands fall against the blanket. “You did a lot. And not just me, everyone was pretty broken up about the whole thing. You’re not like me Johnny, you have a lotta people who really care about you. You can’t be doing these things to them.”

Johnny frowns. “You have people who care about you too.”

Peter smiles, but it’s tight, dry. “Yeah, but I don’t have a sister who would level the city if anything happened to me.”

Johnny winces, at least somewhat remembering waking up with Sue there to cry over him and beg him not to do anything stupid like that again. Before he can feel bad about it, Peter is taking his mind off it by kissing the back of his hand again.

“You should rest,” Peter decides. “I know you say you’re lucid, but you are genuinely starting to slur your words now. Reed’s worked some miracles, but you still need time.”

Fear swoops through Johnny’s chest. “Will you stay?”

When Peter smiles this time, it’s soft—almost fond. He stands, leaning down to press a kiss to Johnny’s hairline. Having him so close settles something in Johnny’s chest that had gotten knocked loose. He wishes he could move enough to kiss Peter properly, but he settles instead for squeezing his hand.

“Of course I will,” Peter reassures, still sweet with him. “You just rest now, okay? I’ve got you.”

Peter does, and that’s all the reassurance he needs to press his eyes closed and slowly drift back to sleep, a warm hand still clasped in his.

✧

Johnny should’ve known something was wrong the second the three other members of the Fantastic Four came into his pseudo-hospital room.

But in that moment, he’s just so relieved to have some sort of reprieve from the unending boredom of being stuck in bed that any stimuli is welcome. And of course, out of all the world’s stimuli, they have to be his favorite. Or at least top five. Top ten. Well—

Reed is being Reed, going straight to all the monitors and bags hooked up to Johnny. But Ben comes right over, cuffing Johnny lightly around the head. It’s always been amazing to Johnny just how gentle his touch can be when he wants it to.

“Hey, kiddo,” Ben’s been unusually soft the last few times he’s visited. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

“Oh, you know,” Johnny shrugs—he’s able to sit up now. “I’ve thought about lighting the sheets on fire a few times. When can I leave?”

It’s embarrassing how whiny his voice goes when he turns to Reed at his right. He’s got another of those oddly incandescent vials. The motion to hook it up to the IV should be practiced by now, but Reed still struggles.

Frankly, he looks horrible. All dark circles and frumbled curls. His shirt is buttoned wrong today—Johnny has the weird urge to fix it for him. It’s a miracle Sue hasn’t already. 

If Johnny thinks about how crazy Reed looks right now, he’ll start feeling things he really rather would not, so he mostly tunes it out.

“You need a few more doses,” Reed mutters, half lost in his own head. “Couple of days. Then you’ll be out. But no powers for—”

“For a while, I know,” Johnny grumbles.

There have been a lot of times in his life that something Reed has done has vaguely saved his life. The whole Galactus thing, for a start. He could’ve been eaten with the planet—just like everyone else, not just him specifically. But then Reed built a machine that manages to zap a space god across the a galaxy. So, he’s good for that.

But Reed actually really totally saved his life this time—if it wasn’t for him, Johnny would definitely be toast.

It doesn’t have a name yet, that’s how early stages the whole thing was. Turns out all those space storms that Reed’s been studying have actually been for a purpose. After Sue almost… yeah, well, Reed’s apparently been working overtime to make sure it doesn’t happen again. 

Now, Johnny doesn’t totally get it, but he’s able to blame the pain meds this time. Basically it’s like a space steroid that’s sort of similar to the cosmic rays that gave them their powers, so it jumpstarts their superpowers, or something. It won’t work for an awful lot of things, but burning out like Johnny did? Yeah, that’s exactly why Reed made the thing.

Johnny doesn’t know if he’s supposed to say thank you or try to hug the guy or what, so that’s another thing he’s mostly been avoiding.

Lately he’s found that it’s just best not to look at or think about Reed Richards. Which hey, he has years of experience doing just that. It’s harder than usual, which Johnny will once again blame on the pain meds. Being high on morphine all the time is a really good “Get Out Of Jail Free” card.

Sue finally steps forward out of the corner, and really, Johnny should’ve known he was done for right then.

“And when you get discharged,” She begins, in a voice that leaves no room for argument. “You will be going to see a psychologist, first available appointment.”

For a second, all Johnny can do is stare at her. Then at Ben, then at Reed—who both look resigned and oddly serious. What the hell is this?

“Excuse me?” Johnny demands. “Are you being serious right now? Sue, I don’t need to see a fucking shrink, I’m fine—”

“You almost died, Johnny.”

“You did die and you don’t see one!”

“Yes, I do, and this is exactly why I never told you.”

“Well, I’m not like you, Sue,” Johnny is almost at a shout now—both of their voices have been rising with every word. “I’m not dealing with some—some kind of trauma or whatever from this. I’m just bummed I’m stuck in here! Talking it out won’t help, I just need to get back out there and I’m right as rain!”

Sue reverts to that stupid steady voice she uses at the Foundation. “It’s less the dying part and more the sacrificing yourself part.”

Johnny’s jaw drops. “What? Sue, you were going to die! You were all going to die! Everyone in the city was in danger! What else was I supposed to do—”

“If you had waited just two seconds you would’ve heard that Reed had a plan,” Sue is spitting her words, vicious. “You could have tried anything. Just talked to us. Instead, you wanted to go out sweetly beloved, and you almost took me with you.”

“I made a decision, and just because you don’t like it—”

Sue points one accusing finger at him. “This isn’t the first time. When Galactus was here, you tried to do it then. You told us that you talked to the Herald and you offered yourself up to become Galactus’s slave, and you fucking laughed about it. Like it was some joke? Like I would ever fucking forgive you?”

Johnny can count on one hand how many times Sue has sworn in front of him, and on approximately zero for how many times she’s sworn at him.

“No, I’m done with this,” Sue says, like it’s final. “If you want a place on this team—in this family—you are going to go speak to a psychotherapist, and you are going to work this out.”

“That’s not—”

“This isn’t a discussion, Johnathan!” She snaps.

God, she never calls him that. She hates it as much as he does—it doesn’t feel like his name. But she’s using it now, because maybe he’s pushed her to the point that she can’t see him anymore. That leaves his mouth dry.

“I just want you to be okay,” Her voice cracks, and for one horrifying moment it seems like she might cry.

But instead she’s pushing out the door, and marching down the hallway like a hurricane. And Johnny is glad he’s on bedrest because he couldn’t follow her, couldn’t see her like that. Thankfully—God, thankfully—Reed is out the door right after her. 

“You scared us, kiddo,” Ben comes to perch at the end of Johnny’s bed.

It breaks his sight line with the door, which Johnny has been staring at numbly.

He frowns. “I said I’m sorry.”

“No, you haven’t,” Ben is still oddly gentle with him—Johnny is starting to resent it. “Not to me, at least.”

“Well, I’m sorry then. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t really think of the after part, I guess.”

Ben smiles sadly. “No, I’m sure you didn’t.”

There are a million things Ben could probably say about how torn up Sue has been, or how Reed is losing sleep, or how he himself always smells like fresh cooking when he visits because that’s how he distracts himself. Or Franklin—if he cried, if he was scared for his mom, if he’s felt the tension in the house. But he doesn’t. Maybe he knows that Johnny is already stuck facing it all in this moment.

Instead, he shifts the conversation. “If you owe anyone an apology, it’s probably Peter.”

Johnny scowls. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen Peter, he’s fine.”

“I dunno, kid… There was a bit there when we got you back here that I thought we were about to lose Peter too. Like the shock of it would eat him whole.”

Oh.

Ben shrugs, standing. “But you might be right, he might be fine. Hard to say, no one’s seen him much. He’s been out, you know…”

That’s not…good.

Ben reaches over to ruffle Johnny’s hair in a way he usually hates, but he’s too numb right now.

“Get some rest,” Ben commands lightly. “I’ll bring you some food later. Penne and some hamburger meat, bit of zest… Nothing but the good stuff for you.”

Johnny isn’t able to say anything as Ben goes and shuts the door behind him.

Despite his latest dose of medicine, Johnny is feeling a whole lot worse than he did before they came in.

✧

“Uncle Johnny!”

Johnny sits up so fast his abdomen twinges. His whole body jolts as a little missile slams into his bed. Grinning, Johnny leans down to pick the tiny terror up. Franklin knees him a couple times in the stomach, and Johnny can’t fully stifle his groans.

“Franklin,” Reed chastises, going over to Johnny’s monitors. “Be careful. Uncle Johnny still isn’t feeling good.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Johnny reassures. “I’m feeling a whole lot better now that my favorite guy in the whole entire world is here.”

Franklin grins shyly, staring up at Johnny with those endless baby blue eyes.

“How are you?” Johnny asks gently.

“Happy,” Franklin answers, a little coyly.

“Yeah? Happy about what?”

“Daddy finally let me come see you.”

“Did you tell your daddy thank you for that?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Franklin turns to Reed, who actually breaks away from his miscellaneous science to smile at him.

“Well, I’m so glad to finally see you again,” Johnny keeps his hands on the little guy’s waist, holding him steady. “Your dad is right though, I wasn’t feeling good. And I needed lots of quiet to get better. We don’t like the quiet when we hang out, do we?”

Franklin grins, and that look is all Johnny. “No.”

“But I’m feeling a ton better, and I’m ready to go!”

He presses his thumbs into Franklin’s stomach, in that way he knows the little one is ticklish. Franklin giggles and pushes at him, wiggling enough to make Johnny ache. It’s fine. He doesn’t mind. It’s worth it for this.

Reed mutters something about needing a thing, he’ll be right back, and he’s shuffling out of the room. He doesn’t give them a second glance. It’s some small miracle really that Reed leaves his son with Johnny at all. Especially now that Johnny’s seemingly in time out.

He’ll always be more thankful for that than he can put in words.

“Hey,” Johnny quiets down without Reed in the room. “Tell me something, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Franklin grins.

“How’s your mommy doing?”

Sue hasn’t come back and seen him since their fight. It’s only been a few days, but it’s carving a hole into Johnny’s heart. He can’t remember the last time she was mad like this. That’s probably because he’s sure it’s never happened. 

He needs to fix this, but more importantly, he needs to know she’s okay.

“She’s fine,” Franklin shrugs. “Sad.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I don’t know. No one says it. I know though. When you first got hurt, she cried one night when she tucked me in.”

Of course Franklin is smart enough to pick up on the difference between Johnny not feeling good and being hurt. As much as they try to shield him from this, there’s only so much they can do when he’s so perceptive. That hole in Johnny’s heart is aching again—for a new reason this time.

“Do me a favor, okay?” Johnny asks softly.

“Okay.”

“When you see your mom, give her a big, big hug.”

“I’ll tell her it’s from you.” Franklin nods.

“You don’t have to. As long as you hug her, that’s fine.”

“She’ll like it more if it’s from you,” Franklin tells him, all knowing.

“I don’t know about that…” Johnny laughs mirthlessly. “But thank you. You’re a good boy, has anyone told you that recently?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll say it again. You’re so nice, and fun, and I’m sorry if I made you upset.”

“I knew you’d be okay,” Franklin is playing with his own hands. “Things would’ve been a lot worse if you weren’t.”

God, that hits Johnny somewhere he didn’t know he had. Seriously, how could he have been so stupid? Trying to leave everyone high and dry like that. Ruin Sue and Reed, break Ben—leave Franklin with a ghost of an uncle that would follow him for the rest of his life. 

And Peter… Peter would be given just another person that he’s lost.

It’s not okay, and he sees that now. There have to be better ways. All four of them, they can figure it out. With Peter there, even better. Sure, he would give his life for his family, his world, his Peter. But maybe he doesn’t have to.

Reed comes back in, and it provides the perfect segue. 

“Hey, did your dad finish reading you those detective stories?” Johnny questions.

“Yeah,” Franklin perks up. “It was fun.”

“Tell me about them.”

As Reed fiddles with the machines and notates, Franklin begins to weave a story.

“Well, in the last one, Mr. Holmes—”

✧

Early the next day, Reed finally gives Johnny the all clear. It feels like a big occasion, because Peter is there. In the six or so days Johnny has been pent up in his hospital room, he’s only seen Peter maybe three times.

But he’s here now, fretting over Johnny as he stands and fakes a swoon just to freak him out. Peter glares at him, but Johnny just laughs and laughs. Eventually, there’s a bit of a smile playing on Peter’s lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes—his deep brown eyes—but Johnny is determined to see it happen.

Reed lets him go, and Johnny is quick to slip out. God, just get him out of that room. He’s been up and walking a few times now, so getting down the hall is no problem. Peter trots along dutifully at his heels.

Apparently, he’s decided to just ditch the mask now. Not much left to hide if they’ve all seen him, it seems. Johnny is all too pleased with it. He almost walks right into the elevator doors, too busy staring at Peter’s wonderfully bare face. Peter looks a little smug about it.

“Take me out to the sea, darling,” Johnny pleads, stepping into the elevator.

“Sea’s a little far,” Peter is unimpressed but presses the button for the ground floor—another win for Johnny.

“How about the river then?” Johnny hangs off his arm. 

“Fine,” Peter grumbles, like he didn’t agree the second he stepped into the elevator with him. “But we’re not going too far.”

Johnny pouts. “I told you I’m all healed up!”

“I know that, flamebrain. These shoes aren’t good for long walks.”

Johnny flicks him in the temple—as usual Peter doesn’t flinch. When the elevator doors open, he doesn’t try to shake Johnny off though. Just lets him hang off his arm as they exit the Baxter Building, and sidle around to the riverfront.

They both come to the concrete half wall, overlooking the water. The Excelsior sits proud on the river like always. Part of Johnny starts aching for it, but figures he should probably take this recovery thing one step at a time.

It’s funny, they’re both usually so talkative, but when they’re alone together like this, they fall into this sweet silence.

There are a few things Johnny should probably say, though.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny looks over at him. “By the way. For doing that. It wasn’t okay. Trust me, I’ve been reamed to hell and back for it, so…”

So, what? So Peter shouldn’t get on Johnny’s case about it too, like he doesn’t deserve to express his own feelings about this? All because Johnny’s got this hopeless crush, and if Peter stops looking at him he might implode—for real this time.

Peter squints over at him—Johnny wonders if he’s always this sensitive to the daylight. “You know, I can’t promise I wouldn’t have tried the same thing if I was in your shoes. Throwing stones from glass houses and all…”

“If I had, uh… it wouldn’t have been your fault. Not for one single second would it have been. I hope you know that.”

Peter smiles, dry and lifeless. “Yeah, well… We’re gonna be glad it didn’t work, because I don’t think I could believe that.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny repeats, more insistent. “That was never… God, I’m really something, aren’t I? Spend all this time cracking your shell open and ripping you out, just to try and die tragically in front of you. Because that’s gonna help your abandonment issues.”

Peter’s smile gains a hint of actual joy. “These are great thoughts you could’ve had before trying to replicate the Big Bang.”

“Hey, you’re not attracted to me for my smarts, eh?”

“I’m not attracted to you for your self preservation, how about that?”

Johnny leans into him, a little shyly. “But you are attracted to me?”

Peter’s face falls, then twitches into the most beautiful shade of irritation Johnny has ever seen. “You’re impossible. Is that seriously a ques—No, I’m done. I’m done!”

He begins marching off, Johnny stumbles after him, laughing.

“Hey, wait, Pete. C’mon, I was just messing with you. Don’t leave me out here alone, what if a bird comes and carries me away? Pete. Pete—”

✧

A while later, they head back to the Baxter Building, hands a little sticky with ice cream. On their way to the doors, Johnny stops short in front of the statue of the Four. It’s beautiful, there’s no doubt about it. He’s always thought it was a little weird to be memorialized that way though.

If he’d succeeded in blowing himself up, there’d probably be a lot more of them.

Peter stops short a few steps ahead. “You’re not seriously taking a second to admire your own statue, right?”

“No, idiot,” Johnny insists, even though yeah, that’s kind of what he was doing. “I’m just…”

There’s a tightness in his chest, a certain kind he only gets around Peter. A strange type of nervousness as he struggles to impress and entice him. He doesn’t know what Peter sees when he looks at him. He does know what he wants Peter to see. It seems to get farther and farther from reach each day.

“They’re making me go see a psychologist,” Johnny admits, a little too quiet. 

He doesn’t know why he needs to tell Peter, he just does. Because apparently he needs to know that his… Johnny is a bit loony. He’ll find out anyway. Better Johnny says it so he can feel all truthful and whatever.

“Okay,” Peter blinks at him. “I mean, I think that’s great. I know seeing a therapist was really good for Tony, once he found someone who could take the whole superhero thing. Steve and Bruce too.”

Johnny has approximately zero idea who any of those people are, but Peter’s got this weird kind of reverence in his voice when he says their names.

“So, yeah, uhm, I think that’s cool,” Peter rambles on. “If I could get around the whole, uh, secret identity thing I’d probably go see someone myself. Well, if I could afford it, I guess.”

Johnny scowls. “You have to pay to see a doctor on your Earth?”

“God, I love it here—yes, but that’s not the point. I think it’s great if you want to go see someone.”

“It’s not really me who wants it. Apparently I have to or I’m getting the boot. And that just… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Peter’s face softens with sympathy. “I get it, but… I really don’t wanna pull this card on you, Torchie. But I feel I’ve been left with no other choice…”

Peter straightens up a little, dark eyes shining with the hero determination Johnny as only seen set in his shoulders. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“As someone who doesn’t have a super family,” Peter says firmly. “Or a regular family, or any family looking out for me, I think it’s pretty cool you have people who care that much about you. But I guess it looks a lot easier from where I’m standing.”

With a shrug, Peter turns back to the building, walking for the doors. He’s trying for nonchalant, but failing when he makes it only about ten steps before he’s looking back at an unmoving Johnny. Part of Johnny wants to run right up to his side to get that sad puppy look off his face.

“You go ahead,” Johnny waves him toward the building. “I have something I’ve gotta do.”

✧

Johnny lingers by the doors of the Future Foundation’s auditorium as Sue’s lecture lets out. 

Young people shuffle up the stairs, chatting with each other excitedly. His sister’s taken it upon herself to raise the next generation of leaders—in politics, science, art, she takes them all. As the students filter past him, Johnny gets a few well wishes, gratitude that he’s up and about, a good natured clap or two on the shoulder.

All the attention just makes him feel even worse.

He waits until the last of the students has gone, the door shutting heavily behind them. Carefully, he makes his way down each steep step. It’s not any residual injury that’s weighing his footfalls. She’s not looking at him.

It’s unlikely she didn’t notice him when he came in to see the last bit of her lecture. But she didn’t give a single sign of it. Invisible Woman was a silly name to give her. She’s much more of an Invincible one.

“Can we talk?” Johnny asks, a few steps from the bottom. 

The words come out more pitifully than he would’ve liked. More a small child begging for his guardian’s attention than an adult man talking to his sister. It must sound familiar to her. He’s always looked for her approval.

Sue finally glances up at him from where she’s been shuffling her notes together at the podium. Sighing through her nose, she gives it up. Coming to the edge of the stage, she sits on the lip and gestures for Johnny to do the same. He makes sure to leave enough room so they don’t have to touch. She might be too raw for that still.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s what perfect, beautiful genius, master wordsmith, decoder of alien languages Johnny Lowell Spencer Storm manages to come up with.

Sue smiles sadly at him. “I know, baby.”

It’s been a long time since she’s called him that, but she’s done it a lot recently. Used to be it was only reserved for when Johnny got woken up by a nightmare after Mom’s death. Or when she was trying to calm him down after he first caught fire.

Is this really that low a point in his life?

“I just wasn’t thinking,” Johnny tries to explain himself weakly.

“You rarely do,” she points out, getting that regular sibling smile.

“Yeah, well,” Johnny looks down to hide his own smile. “This was really one of my dimmer moments… And after, I didn’t mean to argue with you. I just didn’t get it. I know you’re just looking out for me.”

Sue reaches over to him, brushing her hand through his hair like she used to when he was sick. “I came on a bit strong. And I let my emotions get the better of me. So I’m sorry for how I handled that too. You were already dealing with a lot, you didn’t need me coming at you hot.”

“You’ve always been known to be overly… passionate.”

She tugs his ear as a reprimand. He hisses dramatically, yanking himself away and grabbing it like she took a chunk of it. Making a fool of himself, even if he really doesn’t feel like it, is all too worth it when she smiles like that. 

“I’m glad you’re talking to someone,” Johnny admits quietly. “After everything with Galactus and you… y’know. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.”

Sue sighs, reaching for his hand. “I should’ve. I guess I just didn’t want you to worry about me. We’ve done this so long, me taking care of you… When we were little, I never let you see me cry about Mom. I think I’m still holding onto those impulses.”

Johnny grips her hand tight. Feels her soft hand, capable of creating such wonder, brushing up against his calloused, too warm one. He doesn’t know when everything stopped feeling like the two of them against the world. It’s better now, having other people, but… It’d be nice if they could lean on each other more again.

“Can you promise me that you’ll talk to me?” Sue ventures, gentle. “That if something’s wrong, or you’re not feeling right, that you’ll come to me first?”

Johnny smiles, bringing their conjoined hands up to kiss her knuckles. “Anything for my big sis.”

“I’m being serious,” Sue chides, but she’s smiling.

“I am too!” Johnny insists. “Thank you for being here for me. And worrying about me. And forcing me to do things that sound really, really scary. I forget what a privilege that is.”

He leans over, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I love you, sis,” he mutters.

“Love you too, Johnny,” Sue smiles, that sweet, carefree smile that always means Johnny has done something good.

And really, that’s better than winning the goddamn lottery.

✧

They all congregate for dinner that night. Ben and Herbie make Johnny’s favorite, sloppy joes with hashbrowns and ketchup. It’s secretly at the top of his list because it doesn’t take long, meaning he gets to bother Ben for longer.

Peter is there, at the end of the table like has become normal. Franklin chooses to sit with Johnny, and it feels like he won some top secret competition. For most of the meal, Peter just watches him, and Johnny wonders if he has been this whole time without him knowing.

They send Franklin to bed afterwards, but Peter is lingering nervously, the way he does when he has something he wants to say. Apparently, the others are able to pick up on it too. Wordlessly, they all come back to him in the living room.

Even with them all in front of him, encouraging, it takes Peter a second to get his words together.

“I don’t—” He tries, and tries again. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

That breaks something in Johnny, but he can’t fall all over Peter like he wants, because the spiderling is forging onward.

“My name is Peter Parker,” he begins. “I was born on August 10th, 2001 to Richard and Mary Parker in Queens…”

✧

Peter tells them everything. Every little bit about himself, from his parents' death, to his crush on Liz Allen, to becoming an Avenger. The others seem to appreciate it, but Johnny drinks in every word like they alone could sustain him for a hundred years.

They’d already been told about how Peter was forgotten, but it hurts so much more knowing intimately the life he had before. Sue isn’t able to resist getting up to give Peter a hug then. Johnny might have thought to do the same, if he weren’t so numb.

There’s not much after the spell. Peter got his own apartment, his GED. Tried to go to college, but his night job kept getting in the way. No other characters enter his story. It’s just been Peter and Peter alone.

That hurts even worse.

After he’s done, Peter is exhausted. But he looks lighter. Like all the pain he’s been carrying alone for the last two years has lessened. Johnny wants to hold him and never let go, but Ben has beaten him to it. He suggests dessert, and they all seem hungry for some distraction.

As much as Johnny wants to monopolize Peter’s attention—just like every moment of every other day—Reed gets to him first. All through their marshmallow brownies, they talk technology junk. Johnny does get the treat of a lifetime watching as Reed struggles to wrap his head around genocidal magic space rocks. Reed Richards. Struggling to comprehend space.

This evening alone has grown Johnny's heart tenfold.

Johnny’s patience pays off. The adults head off to bed, leaving Johnny and Peter to themselves. As Ben goes, he gives Johnny a look, and his ears burn. He goes to wash their dishes.

When he’s done, he finds Peter on the balcony. Johnny sidles up beside him, and it feels so much like it did a lifetime ago, when he was still begging for Peter’s attention. Well, uh, not much has changed, actually.

“Thank you for telling us all that,” Johnny bumps his shoulder against Peter’s. “I know that probably wasn’t easy.”

Peter looks over at him, and shrugs after a beat. “It’s nice to be known again.”

And oh, he is. Johnny has committed every breath and movement Peter makes to memory. He seers it into the fabric of his brain, intent to never forget. He can’t bear to lose one single moment of this.

But he doesn’t know how to say any of that. It’s too big, too much. It’s further than this should go, since… Well, since Peter has to leave.

When words fail, his primal instincts take over. All Johnny wants is to be close to Peter. He enters his space, letting their noses brush as he takes a breath. Peter lingers there, big brown eyes studying Johnny, as if he can’t already see Johnny’s next move.

His touch is soft, breathy, as he presses his lips to Peter’s. Unlike usual, Peter meets him in kind. He’s entirely sweet as he falls into Johnny’s orbit, holding him by the jaw. They stay just like that for a moment, trading light kisses.

It sends a thrill right down to Johnny’s toes. The heat between them is nice, when they can’t quite keep their hands off each other. But this? It’s everything Johnny has ever wanted.

They part just a centimeter, noses and foreheads and breaths still touching. Johnny’s got him by the waist, rubbing his thumbs into Peter’s hipbones. He could stay just like this until the end of time, and always look back on a life well lived.

“Will you take a break?” Johnny asks softly. “I know you’ve been running yourself ragged out on the streets, so can you just… trust the world not to implode for a day or two and take care of yourself.”

Peter hums, deep in his chest, and presses his nose into Johnny’s. “But who will help the old ladies cross the street?”

Johnny laughs breathily. “And who will watch your back if I’m not there, hm? It’s not fair for you to have all the fun while I’m stuck here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt your poor little baby feelings, now would I?”

Johnny pinches Peter’s sides, causing him to wriggle. “Take tonight off. Get a good night’s rest so you can help me with my paper tomorrow. I still really have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s really not true, but sure. I’ll come give you moral support, or whatever.”

“Or whatever. You’re such a romantic, Parker.”

Peter grins wide, pecking Johnny on the lips. “God, it feels good to hear you call me that.”

“Yeah? I still prefer webhead.”

“And I still prefer when you shut it, but we can’t all have what we want.”

“You could,” Johnny grins, pressing even further into his space. “You’ve found a pretty foolproof method for shutting me up, you know.”

“Whatever,” Peter mutters, which Johnny is starting to learn he does when he’s flustered.

Apparently, it’s not enough to totally get him off his game, as Peter grabs him and pulls him in. This kiss is a little less wholesome, considering how they’ve both wound each other up. Sometimes, Peter kisses him like he’s got something to prove, and it always liquifies Johnny’s insides.

There are, somehow, still more dangerous things out there—even if Johnny knows this whole thing is going to hurt something vicious.

✧

They’ve been working for hours, as Johnny tries to get his Zenn-Lavian notes in order. He never realized how disorganized he was until he had to try and make sense of it all. Trying to explain it to someone else? It’d probably be easier to go to Zenn-La, teach one of them English, and have them explain it.

But Peter is patient. He seems to enjoy watching Johnny stumble all over his explanations and make a blithering fool out of himself. Then again, what else is new?

After a few hours, once the afternoon has turned golden, Johnny sits up. He takes in all the—finally—organized chaos. The different piles they paper clipped together, and the outline he’s scribbled out. And hey, he thinks this might actually work after all.

“Okay,” Johnny declares. “Okay! I think that might actually be finis—”

His words are cut off as he’s suddenly being straddled, and a tongue is in his mouth. He makes a few surprised noises, but quickly gets with the program as Peter runs his hand through the hair at the back of his skull. Something about that touch makes Johnny immediately pliant.

But of course, he always is when Peter touches him. And man, he is ruthless today. Carding through and pulling at his hair. One hand running up his chest and thumbing at his nipple through his shirt. Peter’s hips roll, grinding down on Johnny, and he almost squeaks.

Johnny fumbles to keep up, hand thumbing up under Peter’s loose t-shirt to feel the tight skin of his hip. If Peter wants to get bold, Johnny will too, letting his hand venture down to curve along Peter’s ass. He’s only been wanting to do it since, hm, maybe the first week they met? At the touch, Peter groans appreciatively—and that is dangerous encouragement,

This has all escalated very fast, but Johnny has too—already rubbed half hard by Peter’s relentless grinding. Frankly, he’s just glad he didn’t pop a full boner just by the way Peter had been looking at him the last hour. Either Peter wanted his hands on him, or he wanted to eat Johnny whole—he thinks he would’ve allowed either. If looks could kill…

Where this stops, Johnny isn’t quite sure. They haven’t really talked about it. Peter hasn’t really given them time, honestly. But then, Johnny hasn’t been resisting much… All he can really do is go wherever Peter takes them, and he’s quite content with that.

But just as his own hips are responding to Peter’s, the other man yanks away from him, frowning.

“Sue’s coming,” Peter declares, and Johnny decides the whole super senses thing is definitely a plus.

Fast as light, Peter retracts fully from Johnny. He retreats over to his side of the paper pile, leaning on his side just like he was before this whole… this started. If Johnny’s heart wasn’t still pounding through his whole body—treating him like a gong—he could believe it’d never happen at all.

Just as predicted, Sue barges into the room not a second later.

“Johnny, I need—” She begins in her regular demanding sibling tone. “Oh, hi Peter. Johnny, I need you to come down and approve this statement I drafted about how you’re doing. We want the papers to print it tomorrow.”

Johnny blinks at her.

“Oh, yeah—” His voice is wrecked, so he clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll just, uh…”

It’s not that he doesn’t want Sue to know he and Peter are… whatever’ing. It’s just that Sue can absolutely never know. She gets cross enough when he flirts with the makeup girls at Ted Gilbert’s. This? Canoodling with their esteemed visitor? Yeah, he’d be on house arrest forever.

He hops up. Feigning casual, gathering some of Johnny’s notes, Peter looks smug. Johnny really, really wants to kick him for it. But he’s an adult. He’s very mature, very. Instead, he gives him a pouty death glare. That’ll show him.

Johnny follows Sue out to the stairs, very much hoping she learned when he was a teenager to block out any of his mysterious bulges.

✧

Johnny doesn’t think his head has ever been so full, nor his throat so raw, nor his eyes so puffy—but apparently therapy’s a bitch.

Thankfully, the decision wasn’t truly up to him. The family’s minds were already made up, his appointment scheduled. Sue even drove him to the appointment, waited for him out in the lobby, just like she used to for his doctor’s appointments. Without her there, Johnny probably would’ve flaked. She’s good at keeping him accountable.

But now Johnny is home and he’s tired. Apparently this isn’t even the worst of it! It’s just intake, it’s just getting to know and going over history and whatever. And frankly, he isn’t sure he can handle when they get to the deep stuff.

Talking about Dad was bad enough.

Johnny groans dramatically straight from the elevator to the couch. He flops down onto the cushions—finding a nice pillow in Peter’s lap. Now, he fully expected to get shoved to the floor, but Peter runs a hand through his hair instead.

“How was it?” Peter’s laughing at him anyway, the little prick.

“I don’t wanna,” Johnny mutters into Peter’s thigh.

“But you did. That’s big.”

Ben cuts in from the kitchen counter. “Pete’s right. That took a lotta guts, kiddo. I’m proud of you. Herbie and I are making pie.”

“Prune?” Johnny detaches his face from Peter’s jean, hopeful.

Herbert lets out a series of joyful chirps. No, Johnny still doesn’t really understand him fully. And especially not when his brain is wiped out like this.

Luckily, Ben translates. “And cinnamon.”

“Yes,” Johnny hisses, dropping straight back into Peter’s lap. “Maybe this all was worth it after all.”

“I should hope so,” Reed—blegh—chimes in. “I’m sure you’ll think so too once you hear that I’m officially clearing you to use your powers again.”

Johnny’s head snaps up, then his whole body follows—whirling around to face Reed. He’s at the dining table, newspaper in hand. A picturesque old man. Ew.

But right now, unfortunately, that old man is his favorite person on the planet right now.

“Seriously?” Johnny demands.

Reed looks a little surprised at the idea of being able to make a joke. “Yes. You should take it easy, if you start feeling any pain or fatigue you need to—”

Johnny whirls around to Peter, nearly tackling him. “We can go out!”

It takes Peter a second, but he smiles wide, and Johnny wishes he could frame it.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Johnny takes Peter’s hand, pulling him off the couch.

“After dinner!” Sue shouts all the way from the nursery.

Johnny nods sagely, because yes of course, he’s responsible like that. A family man, one might say. No, he would never ditch them for a chance to get out of the house for the first time in a week and a half and hang out with the super hot guy he has a thing for. He would never!

“After dinner,” Johnny agrees, falling back onto the couch and taking Peter with him.

The spiderling falls half on top of him. Johnny gets him in an anaconda-like hold, using all four limps and his chin to lock Peter against his body. Grumbling, he fights lightly against Johnny. If he wanted, he could have Johnny off him in a second, broken nose to boot.

But Johnny revels in the fact that Peter likes this as much as he does.

✧

After dinner comes. 

Despite the fact that Johnny is about to vibrate out of his skin, he stays to kiss Franklin on the forehead sweetly. Sue too, and she smiles so genuinely for it. Hey, he even resists the urge to make a rude gesture at Reed, and Ben only gets a good natured slap against the back of the head. See? Family man.

Back in his suit, he just looks over the edge of the balcony for a moment. The metal railing is cool. He gets so lost in his own head, he nearly jumps out of his skin as a mutant spider lands on the balcony. Peter balances on the railing like it’s easy as breathing. Freak.

“One of these days I’m gonna end of lighting you on fire,” Johnny warns.

“As if you could catch me,” Peter winks at him through his mask, and leaps off the building.

All of Johnny’s thoughts clear at that point—blasting off with his mind ringing only of Peter, Peter, Peter.

Being out in the air, shaking with the release of heat and energy, he whoops. Part of him wants to rocket straight up, pushing himself to his limit as he burns out in the upper atmosphere. But that would probably give Reed a heart attack. And, more importantly, Sue a heart attack.

Plus, there’s no Peter in space.

They race, like they have since that first day they ventured out together. It feels so familiar, yet so freeing. He’s known these streets for so long, but they feel new with Peter. 

And yes, Johnny pumps the brakes on his speed a bit when he’s with Peter. He can go from sea level to leaving the atmosphere in about thirty seconds when he actually leans into it. But it’s more fun to keep up with Peter. Besides, it’s not all easy—Peter is tricky, always needling his way between buildings and billboards.

Mostly it’s Johnny following Peter, though occasionally they end up side by side. Peter will always look over at him and smile behind the mask then. One time, Johnny smiles sweetly back, before shoving him hard into a billboard. Peter ends up splat against the ass on Johnny’s Coppertone ad. He laughs so hard he loses altitude.

After that, Peter swings in a familiar direction, and Johnny grins to himself. Knowing where they’re going, he sidles up beside Peter. When Peter thwips onto the roof of the ferry, Johnny plops down beside him.

He’s breathing a little hard, but he feels… good.

As loath as he is to admit it, Reed will be pleased.

Peter reaches over, running his hand through Johnny’s hair, molding it back into place. Johnny lets his eyes fall shut, leaning into his touch. Pete pets him for longer than strictly necessary—as if Johnny would ever even acknowledge that.

“You’re cute when you’re happy,” Peter whispers, leaning into him.

“Pot calling the kettle black here, genius,” Johnny shoves at him lightly, but Peter just pendulums right back into him.

The ferry doesn’t even come to a stop before Peter is webbing himself to the Statue. Johnny flames up gently behind him. They land in their regular spot. Their spot. Johnny wonders how long it’ll take for their butts to rub a mark. 

They won’t have the time—Johnny knows, but he can’t accept.

Johnny’s left a little shocked then, as Peter reaches up and rips the mask off easily. There’s a wild grin on his face, a glint in his eyes. His hair is swept and messy from the mask. Those curls… He looks at Johnny like he’s giving him the keys to the whole world.

Johnny can’t help himself. Stepping forward, he loops Peter around the waist. He goes willingly as Johnny presses one kiss, two kiss against his lips. Perking up onto his toes for a better angle, Peter cups him by the jaw. When he wants to, he kisses so sweetly.

And Johnny could stay just like, under the moonlight at their spot, kissing after a night racing through the city,

He wishes to freeze here, and never move again.

✧

The elevator is going slower than normal—it’s going slower than normal, right? Definitely. It’s never taken this long to get to Reed’s lab before. That’s what Johnny should talk to him about. Not the bundle of notes wrapped safely in a manila envelope. No, not that.

Johnny startles when the elevator jerks to a stop, and feels the tips of his ears light on fire. He urgently pats them out, adjusting his jacket and t-shirt. Not dressed up enough—He’s not dressed up enough, is he? God, he’s so stupid.

“Johnny,” Reed greets, tired.

And well, who does Johnny have to thank for that? Never in his life did he think he would come to regret all the times he’s come to pester Reed here, but he’s getting an inkling of it now. There’s probably still time to salvage this. Just make a joke, Johnny, just one joke and an eyebrow raise and it’s all just normal and Reed doesn’t ever have to look at his documents—

And maybe he would do just that, but he made a promise to Peter. That stupid little arachnid has gotten so set on this whole thing with Johnny writing a paper and… Well, when Peter says all those nice things about Johnny being smart and worthwhile and… Johnny wants to believe it, play pretend for a bit…

Mortified at the idea of Peter’s genuine disappointment in him, Johnny shoves the bundle out—offering it to Reed.

For a second, the man looks at him. Looks at the orange envelope. Looks at him again. He reaches out, taking it like Johnny might’ve planted a bomb there. Which, honestly, is a pretty good idea, he doesn’t know how he hasn’t thought of that—

Reed sets the envelope down on one of the computer stations—they’re in the Blue Zone as Herbie calls it. He flicks through the first couple pages. Lingers on the rough, rough, rough, it’s so rough draft scribbled there. Then, he starts thumbing through Johnny’s notes.

And he is noticeably silent.

Unable to stand it anymore, Johnny tries to make excuses. “Peter said I should do it. Had some of my notes from the whole Surfer thing out and I don’t know he—It’s stupid really, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Reed insists, eyes still locked on the pages. “This is good, Johnny. It’s really good. I can’t believe I forgot to ask to see it…”

Johnny itches his eyebrow. “Well, it’s just—it’s not a big deal, you know. You were about ready to move a planet and I… I just did what I could.”

Reed looks over at him. Really looks at him. And Johnny wants to crawl out of his skin because he’s pretty sure the last time Reed looked at him like that was after they crash landed back on Earth after getting brain zapped by cosmic rays.

But he’s just Reed. Yeah, he used to be big and scary. Used to scare the shit outta Johnny whenever he’d come by to pick Sue up for a date. Because everything was suddenly changing, and Johnny didn’t want to be left behind.

Maybe it wasn’t only Sue’s idea to let him stick around.

“What do you want from this?” Reed asks—in his blunt but not rude way. 

Everything’s just a problem to be solved, but Johnny doesn’t think that Reed’s ever been able to figure him out.

Johnny shifts to scratch his nose instead. “Uhm, well, I dunno. Academic stuff, I guess. Like a paper, or something? It’s all Pete’s idea.”

Reed doesn’t really seem to accept his attempts to shift the blame. “Do you want help?”

Johnny resists looking upwards towards the heavens. Oh, please, whatever mighty forces are out there, please give him strength. He’ll even take Galactus at this point. Just save him.

“Yes,” Johnny manages to force out. “I need help from you to do… Well, I don’t even know. I need help. And you’re super smart, and are a doctor of something or other, and… Don’t you dare think this is personal. It’s strictly business. You’re worth as much as a college advisor to me.”

Reed is smirking and Johnny wants to light his pants on fire. “Right… Can I keep this to look it over? That way I can see what we’re working with so I can best advise you.”

“Uh, sure,” Johnny is stumped, never having considered Reed might be interested in his silly little notes. “I mean, yeah, whatever. Just don’t spill anything on it. Or let Franklin spit up on it. Or just—don’t breathe too hard next to it, okay?”

The notes mean pretty much nothing. Johnny’s got it all rocking around his skull anyways. Besides, those are the cleaned up copies, Johnny’s got all the originals upstairs. 

But that bit of writing he did? Actually real, attempting for smart sounding writing he did? That was painstaking. And embarrassing. He didn’t even let Pete see it. He’s still trying to impress him a little bit, okay?

“I’ll be careful,” Reed is earnest, like always. “Thank you for trusting me with your work.”

Johnny’s ears are starting to burn again, but he manages to keep himself from igniting anywhere. “Yeah, well, yeah. Whatever. It’s not even a big deal. Everyone’s pretty much seen it already, y’know. You’re like, the last person on the list. Always.”

“Right.” Reed nods, suppressing a smile—why does he decide to understand social cues now? “I’ll enjoy discussing it with all of them over dinner, then.”

“Right.” Johnny mimics him, but puffs up a little. “You do that.”

“I will.”

“Yes, I think you will.”

They have a staring match for a second. Waiting to see who moves first. Like cowboys in the old west, ready to draw. Except Reed isn’t thinking that at all, he just goes back to looking at Johnny’s stuff. Whatever.

Unable to stand the awkward air anymore, Johnny turns on his heel. “I’ll leave you to it. Just don’t—”

Johnny turns back to Reed, earnestly upset.

“Just don’t Richards-ify it, okay?” Johnny practically begs. “Don’t look at what I’ve done and decide you can do it bigger and better and just totally stomp all over everything I’ve done. Please?”

“I won’t,” Reed promises, looking back down to the notes. “Honestly, I don’t think I could if I tried.”

And Johnny believes him. Now his whole face is getting red, and he thinks his pores are oozing smoke, so he turns on his heel again. Marching to the elevator, Johnny gives a half-hearted wave.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at dinner and…”

Something sits in Johnny’s chest, and he looks back at Reed before he can talk himself out of it.

“Thank you,” Johnny calls. “Not just for this but also for the… you know. You know.”

It’s hard to tell from this distance, but Johnny is pretty sure Reed is smiling. Smug bastard. He’s going to lord this over Johnny’s head for the next sixty years. Absolute bullshit. He never should have—

“I know,” Reed reassures. “I’m happy to.”

Read Johnny’s notes, save his life, either or apparently.

“Goodbye!” Johnny shouts before his face goes nova from the embarrassment.

Safely back in the elevator, Johnny lets out a sigh. He did it. Scariest thing in his life and he did it. And now, he gets to go annoy Peter to celebrate.

Life is so worth living.

✧

It’s no great big villain scare that gets the Four back into their suits together. Even if Johnny and Ben would prefer it to be. Instead, Johnny gets himself all dolled up and pretty for the cameras. No flying today, or his hair will get ruined. Sheesh, what is his life?

They’ve got a jam packed day of press—everything having piled up after Johnny’s injury. Better to just get it all done at once, apparently? Johnny doesn’t really want to spend all that time around Reed acting all buddy-buddy, especially after the other day. But Sue doesn’t consult him on… anything.

From the first bright camera bulb that goes off in his face, Johnny starts to drag. Everyone is, predictably, fawning all over him. Understandable, considering he’s a national darling and also almost died.

What none of them know though is that that almost-death occurred because of Johnny’s so-called savior complex. Because according to his psychologist he feels as if he has to be of service to be useful, and what greater way is there to do that than to die tragically for his family? Or something. He’s still mostly in denial about it.

So, he grins and bears it and acts likes it was all a tragic accident and he’s some victorious hero. There’s no real way to say that Reed didn’t save his life, so Johnny spends the entire day sucking up to him. It feels like another humiliation ritual to punish him for his recklessness. 

They’re in Times Square, unveiling a statue to commemorate the whole flushing away Galactus thing. Johnny mostly pushes Sue to the front there. She’s the reason any of them are standing here at all. About time everyone start recognizing it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny catches a flash of red perched in the buildings, and bites down on a smile. He resists the urge to fix his hair—Sue just made sure it was still perfectly coiffed before they got out of the car.

Pete’s been stalking them all day. No one else has noticed it, but Johnny has spent a ridiculous amount of time attuning himself to Peter’s presence. At first, he worried it was a case of feeling left out. He quickly abandoned that thought, as Peter seems happy to stay away from cameras, and is perfectly content to let the Four remain a four. 

No, the longer it goes on, the more Johnny feels himself being watched.

So what if he puts on a little more? Smiles a bit more roguishly, winks at the crowd a few times. The girls fall all over him, a few of the guys too, but Johnny could frankly care less about their attention. Anymore, there’s only one person he’s looking to impress.

But even in the quieter moments, Peter doesn’t show his little spider-face. And no, Johnny isn’t disappointed by that. He can go one day without needing to soak up Peter’s attention. Totally.

By the end of it though, it’s too late and Johnny’s too worn out to go pester Peter. They can go out tomorrow anyways. Spend the whole day together, and joke around, and Johnny can get him lunch, and… 

Dammit, he’s so ridiculous.

Johnny shuts his door and leans against it with a groan. With an expert, practiced maneuver, he toes his boots off and degloves at the same time. Everything can go on the floor, doesn’t matter. That’s tomorrow’s problem. He is careful to place his watch on his nightstand though. No way is he giving Ben more ammunition by losing the damn thing.

As he’s going for his belt, there’s a knock at the window. Johnny just about leaps out of his skin. He’s wondering if he should flame on when he remembers, oh duh, he has a spider freak living in his building.

He goes to the window, shoving it open. Reed made it so Johnny could come in and out this way but he’s never really used it. It’s a pain getting it open now, but Johnny’s big and strong and tough so he manages it.

Just as he guessed—hoped—Peter is stuck to the outside of his window.

Johnny smiles up at him. “You stalking me, webhead?”

Wordlessly, Peter just slips into the room beside him. He’s not careful with their space like he usually is. They’re touching as Peter pulls his mask off, discarding it on the floor. There’s something in those dark eyes that leaves Johnny flushing.

“You looked good today,” Peter’s voice is raw and quiet, just for Johnny. 

“Think so?” Johnny asks softly.

One of Peter’s hands drifts up, feathering along Johnny’s waist. It’s the first time he’s ever been so hesitant with his touch. That just makes it feel all the more loaded. Johnny resists the urge to shiver.

“What do you want, Petey?” Johnny whispers.

Peter looks up from Johnny’s chest, staring at him intently—before breaking out into a coy smile.

“I thought that was pretty obvious, flamebrain,” he grabs Johnny around the waist a little firmer, and presses into Johnny—letting them touch from toe to chest.

Something about this feels charged, more than it ever has before. And Johnny doesn’t know how, because they’re barely touching, and they haven’t even kissed. But the heat is rushing in his head like it does when he rockets out of the atmosphere.

Johnny nuzzles closer, rubbing their noses together. “How far does this go?”

Peter pulls back from him, studying Johnny. His other hand has joined the mix now, also hovering featherlight on Johnny’s waist. For a second, Johnny worries he’s misread the situation—then Peter is gripping his waist like it’s personally offended him.

“All the way,” Peter decides. “You top, I bottom.”

Johnny almost chokes on air. “Oh, you mean all the way.”

“You don’t want to?” Peter challenges. “Because you’re half hard already.”

Okay, yes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

Peter gets off his high horse, just for a second. “If you don’t want to—”

“I didn’t say that,” Johnny insists. “You just take me off guard sometimes, alright?”

Peter smirks, because he knows that and he laps it up every time, and Johnny wants to bite his lip. But before he can, Peter is rocking his hips against Johnny, and he has to swallow down a groan. Johnny’s not the only one half hard.

“That was a pretty quick answer, you know,” Johnny murmurs, hands trailing to Peter’s hips. “You wanting me to top you. Been thinking about it?”

“You haven’t?”

“Not all of us are perverts who think about their friends like that, Parker.”

“You do this with all your friends?”

“Just the special ones.”

His hands trail back from Peter’s hips, coming to the curve of his ass. Gosh, he’s wanted to get his hands on him for so long. Johnny pulls Peter in closer, and he grinds against him again.

“Thought you didn’t like my ass in this suit?” Peter crooks his head.

“Didn’t say that,” Johnny is starting to get heady. “Said it looked better in the other. Two very different things. I never thought this view was bad.”

Peter just hums, hands trailing to Johnny’s back and finding the zipper of his suit. The air is cool against his newly naked skin, but that’s probably just because Johnny is running so hot. Usually it’s not a problem to keep his temperature under control when he’s uh… intimate. 

But this is Peter.

Peter pulls Johnny’s suit shirt away by its front, and barely gives him a second to breath before he’s going for Johnny’s belt.

Johnny laughs. “You’re an excitable little thing.”

“Well, you’re right,” Peter rips the belt from its loops. “I’ve been thinking about it. And I’ve had to watch you go around all day, smiling and winking at reporters, in this tight little suit with your chest and your arms all on display and—So, yes, I’m excitable. Happy?”

Johnny grins, reaching for Peter’s zipper before he can get his pants off. “Who knew it’d be so easy to wind you up?”

Peter only grunts, shimmying his suit down to his hips. He’s eager to keep undressing, but Johnny stops him there, hands on his waist. He takes a second to just let their bare chests press together, breathing him in as their noses touch. 

“But, yes. I am.” Johnny whispers.

Peter scowls against him. “You’re what?”

“Happy. Here with you.”

Peter scoffs, but his ears are red. “You sweet talk all your girls, Storm?”

“I’m being serious!” Johnny insists, then grins. “And only the ones I wanna see squirm.”

“As if.”

“You think you can resist all this?”

Peter studies him for a moment, debating.

“No,” he admits. “And that’s what I want. I wanna… I wanna feel it all.”

And that’s enough to send Johnny’s mouth dry, and his cheeks burning. Peter’s hands are still so light as they trail up Johnny’s chest, laying out across his shoulders. His nimble fingers play across Johnny’s skin nervously.

“Look, I’ve never…” Peter clears his throat, unable to look at Johnny. “I’ve never really… And I’ve never had sex with a guy before.”

Johnny can’t help it. He leans in, popping a peck against Peter’s lips. The spiderling looks at him, frowning, like he thinks Johnny isn’t taking him seriously. Johnny wraps him up in his arms, holding him around the waist.

He grins sheepishly. “Me neither. Wanna figure it out together?”

Peter is still broody for a second, looking between Johnny’s eyes. Then, he goes for his usual attack. He lunges at Johnny’s lips relentlessly, but Johnny is prepared for him. When Johnny bites Peter’s lip, he hisses like it hurts—like he likes it.

They’re a mess of hands then, as they both work to shuck themselves out of the lower halves of their suits. Johnny wants to take a second to admire Peter in only his boxers, but he’s being pushed backwards. Hand on Johnny’s chest, Peter drives him back until the backs of Johnny’s knees hit the bed. 

Just like always, Peter is all over him. Hands trailing over his nipples, mouth at his neck, grinding his hips down onto Johnny. He groans, blissed out. But he knows he can’t let this stand—Peter’s the one asking for it.

Besides, Johnny just really, really wants Peter under him.

He’s able to clear his head just long enough to get a grip on Peter and flip them around. That is more like it. Peter already looks flushed, chest heaving for breath. Just because he can, he ruts his boner against Peter’s, and they both make appreciative noises. They’re both plenty hard at this point.

Peter’s hands trail up, carding through his hair from nape to brow, and he grins triumphantly. “I’ve wanted to mess that up all day.”

“Congrats,” Johnny drawls, kissing Peter’s neck. “You ruffled my hair. Want me to phone the press?”

Sticky fingers tighten in his hair then, dragging him up so Peter can frown at him. Johnny only grins, letting his tongue flick around his teeth. He grinds against Peter again. The hand in his hair tightens, and Johnny lets out an honest to god moan. Peter’s hips jump up at the sound.

Smirking, Johnny is finally able to give Peter’s neck the attention it deserves. He kisses him, all the way from the skin at the back of his ear down his chest. Finding one of his nipples, Johnny mouths at it until it perks up under his tongue.

Peter’s got his hands in Johnny’s hair still, somehow pulling and pushing at the same time. Either way, the touch is strong, and it only encourages Johnny. As he turns his attention to Peter’s other nipple, his fingers trail down to the waistband of his boxers.

Those hands in his hair do properly tug now, bringing Johnny up so they’re face to face. Johnny doesn’t fight it. If Peter told him right now he didn’t want to do this anymore, he’d get his hands off him. But Peter doesn’t shove him away. 

He’s biting his lip, somewhat nervously. “You first.”

He nods down to their underwear situation. 

“Good,” Johnny maneuvers himself to rip his boxers off. “This shit’s suffocating me.”

Peter is staring at him, and it’s pretty embarrassing to have someone looking at his dick, so Johnny catches him in a kiss again. This time, when Johnny’s hands venture down, Peter doesn’t stop him. Johnny pulls back anyway.

“Can I?” He asks gently.

Peter nods hurriedly, lifting his hips so Johnny can shuck the last bit of clothing between them away. They’re about the same size, which is somewhat of a relief. Last thing he needs is for this to turn into a dick measuring contest. Or maybe that would be kind of hot. Something to think about.

Johnny almost face plants as he stretches around Peter to reach for his bedside table. His playboy image is right about one thing—he’s always prepared. Even if his condoms and lube have only been used maybe four times in the last few years. 

“You know what you’re doing?” Peter asks hesitantly, somewhat judgy.

“Do I?” Johnny scoffs, warming a bit of lube between his fingers. “Peter, I have spoken to The Elder Gays. I have been advised on all the do’s and don’t’s. You could not be in safer hands.”

“Except if you’d done a single guy before,” Peter grumbles.

“Oh, what, want me to go do that real quick?” Johnny demands. “Go get that checked off my bucket list?”

As Johnny starts pulling back, just to make a point, he’s shocked as Peter’s legs come up to wrap around him, hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

“No,” Peter insists, a little too seriously. “I don’t want you even thinking of anyone else, got it?”

“Sir yes sir,” is all Johnny can manage, busy dripping with precum. 

It’ll be a miracle if he can even last long enough to get inside Peter at all.

Peter cocks his head towards Johnny’s lubed up fingers. “Are you actually gonna use those, or are we just finger painting with lube today?”

That shocks a laugh outta Johnny. “You are mouthy.”

“And you are slow.”

Johnny smiles, ghosting it against Peter’s frowning lips. “Darlin’ if you want a quick and easy fuck, you should’ve looked elsewhere.”

He reaches between them, tracing a finger around Peter’s entrance. At his touch, Peter sucks in a breath. He’s wound completely tight, whole body clenched in anticipation.

“I’m gonna take my sweet time with you, gorgeous,” Johnny all but taunts. “Because I have thought about it too. And I’m not about to let all my fantasies go in a blink.”

He sticks his finger in, and Peter inhales sharply. Johnny presses his lips to his neck. He fucks his finger in and out a few times, until he’s sure Peter can handle two. Peter’s got his hands on Johnny’s shoulders, holding him like a lifeline.

“It’s not gonna feel too good at first,” Johnny kisses gently against his skin. “But if you’re patient with me, I’ll get you feeling real good, darling.”

“What would you know about it?” Peter grumbles, but all his skin is flushed.

Johnny shrugs. “Done it to myself once or twice. Wanted to know what it felt like. Then I wanted to feel it again. It’s good, once you get there.”

Peter is silent for a moment, before conceding. “Okay, that’s really hot.”

Johnny laughs softly. “That get you going, hot stuff?”

“Shouldn’t I be calling you that?”

“You can call me whatever you want, darling.”

Johnny pulls back enough to see Peter’s beautiful pink flush. And to watch as Johnny sticks a third finger in. From the look on his face, it’s starting to feel alright. But he hasn’t found the spot.

“You don’t seem too surprised by any of this,” Johnny points out. “You’re not just pretending to be a blushing anal virgin, right?”

As if Johnny would even care if he was.

“No,” Peter insists. “I’ve just watched some gay porn. Like a few times. Or maybe closer to a dozen. I don’t know.”

Johnny frowns. “Didn’t you say you only realized you like guys recently?”

“Well, I’m smart, but I’m not that smar—”

He cuts off with an inhale. Hah, bingo. Johnny mimics his last movement, finding that spot again, and Peter moans. He goes jelly in Johnny’s grip, and he resists the urge to giggle triumphantly. Johnny presses kiss after kiss against his collarbone.

“There you go, darling,” he whispers against Peter’s soft skin. “Just like that, you’re gonna feel just like that. Oh, I’ll make you feel so good, darling.”

Peter moans again, rutting down on Johnny’s fingers this time. Johnny leaves a little bite against his collarbone. He knows he said he’d take his time, but he’s starting to get impatient now. He’s pretty sure he could finish Peter off just like this, but he wants more.

He's not the only one.

“Johnny,” Peter grumbles, fucking himself down against Johnny’s fingers again, but it doesn’t seem to do the trick. “Please.”

That’s all it takes. Johnny is gently pulling his fingers out of Peter, unafraid to wipe his messy hands on the sheets. He leans over, fumbling a little for the condom. Why’s he shaking? It’s Peter. But well, it’s Peter.

“I’ve got you, darling,” Johnny presses more kisses against his chest.

He pushes himself up then, leaning back enough so he can line himself up. Peter’s got his hands on Johnny’s shoulders as he steadies himself. Johnny rubs circles into Peter’s hips as he spreads him open wider. There’s no hesitation as Peter opens up for him.

“Okay, just breathe with this,” Johnny advises softly. “Just breathe. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

He pushes fully inside, and nothing explodes. Peter is drawn taut again, but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. Just like Johnny told him, he’s breathing deeply. As Johnny comes back to lean over him, Peter’s hands move into his hair.

“Tell me when,” Johnny offers.

“Now.”

“Pete—”

“Now, Johnny.”

And when he uses that tone, it’s probably best to just listen. Still, Johnny is careful as he pulls back and thrusts into Peter. It causes Peter’s hands to tighten in his hair. That’s enough for him.

Still, he’s careful as he begins. Peter’s legs are drawn up on either side of them, pressing into Johnny like a vise. Under Johnny, he’s wound tight like a spring coil. His fingertips dig into Johnny’s shoulders.

“Hey, darling,” Johnny kisses by Peter’s ear. “Hey, relax. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Just loosen up, take a breath. I’ve got you.”

It takes a second, but Peter lets out a shaky breath, and it seems like all the tension leaves him at once. Without Peter closing in on every side of him, Johnny can take a second to feel his own pleasure. God, he never thought it would feel this good. But Peter is warm and tight, welcoming as Johnny thrusts into him.

Under his tongue, he feels Peter’s throat tighten with a hiccuping breath. Jackpot. Carefully, he pushes back in—and finds his prostate again, if Peter’s full body moan is anything to go by. If he wasn’t so intent on making Peter feel good, that sound alone might be enough to send him into an orgasm.

“There,” Peter’s voice is wrecked. “There, there, there.”

Johnny grins, pushing in again, and Peter sighs contentedly. “There?”

“Yes, there, you idi—”

Johnny shuts him up with another thrust. “You were saying?”

“Just fuck me, flamebrain.”

“I prefer to make love, actually.”

“Trust me, I’m not feeling much love right now.”

He says that, but Peter has taken up Johnny’s tempo, grinding his hips down as Johnny thrusts into him. That feel of his hips rolling, taking Johnny in, is addictive. Johnny just keeps pressing, and pressing, and pressing.

Peter takes it all.

He’s got Johnny sucking at his neck, and grinding into him languid and long. His legs have drawn up, hooking around the small of Johnny’s back, pulling him even closer. Those sticky fingers of his press painfully into Johnny’s back—he knows he’ll have bruises there in the morning. He’s never wanted anything more.

They move together, just like that, working towards the same goal. Peter will try to pick up speed, and Johnny will quell him by fucking harder and slower into him. It’s a push and pull, just like everything else they do. And just like everything else they do, Johnny can’t get enough.

Peter is flush under him, warm to the touch. His breaths come fast and hard. If Johnny works well enough, he’ll let out a little whiney moan. One hand is in his hair now—switching between combing and tugging.

“Johnny,” Peter breathes as Johnny mouths at one of his nipples.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Johnny kisses up his neck, nuzzling against his nose. “I’ve got you. Just let it go, darling. I’m right here, baby.”

Just as Johnny is reaching down to touch Peter’s no doubt aching dick, he thrusts in again, and Peter comes with a moan. Immediately, he goes limp, caught up in his own bliss. Johnny kisses his nose once, twice, and pulls himself out. It’s not hard to finish himself off in his hand. Frankly, he’s amazed he made it that long at all.

He sheds the condom, and reaches over for some tissues to clean Peter up. It’ll take a wet cloth to get it all, but he can at least do something. Except his limbs are mostly jelly, so once he’s done he lets himself collapse against Peter. He’s still laying there, smiling quietly with his eyes closed.

And Johnny can never just leave well enough alone. Every moment they’re together and Peter isn’t paying direct attention to him is a moment wasted. Needy, and appreciative, Johnny pecks kisses all over Peter’s face. Under him, the spiderling hums contentedly, and runs a hand through his hair. 

He cracks an eye over at Johnny, smiling softly, and Johnny imprints the sight onto the back of his eyelids.

“Good?” Johnny asks, hopeful.

“Mm,” Peter hums, still smiling. “Not really.”

Johnny runs a hand across his stomach. “The load you left would suggest otherwise.”

Peter flicks Johnny on the temple. Unlike Peter, he doesn’t have cool anti-pain-and-startle-reflex spider powers, so he cries out a whine. Dramatically, he rubs the spot. Still can’t bring himself to push himself away from Peter though.

“You came?” Peter questions—like that’s the most important thing right now.

Johnny nods against his chest. “Just with my hand. I didn’t wanna overwhelm you. It seemed like you were going through a lot at the time.”

Peter ignores the joke, frowning. “I don’t want you doing that. Just use me next time.”

Johnny can’t help a smile.

“Next time?” He tries to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Well, yeah. What, are you the hit it and quit it type, flamebrain? I’m just another one of your conquests?”

“Quite the conquest, if I do say so myself,” Johnny mutters, and Peter flicks him again. “Ow! I’m joking! If I knew fucking you would take away your sense of humor, I would’ve—Ow! Peter!”

✧

The next morning, Peter rouses under him as Johnny mouths relentlessly at his neck.

Peter hums, stretching languid against Johnny’s lips. “You needin’ it again already, flamebrain?”

Johnny retracts from his hard work, scowling down at Peter. “No. I’m not a dog in heat, webhead.”

“Then why exactly are you sucking on my neck like a teething vampire?”

Frankly, Peter looks like a god. All strewn out naked on Johnny’s sheets, the picture of muscle and bone chiseled and molded to perfection. If Johnny hadn’t been post-sex drowsy in his bones, he might’ve thought Peter was nothing more than a wet dream.

Johnny frowns—but it’s probably more of a pout. “All the marks I left on you are gone already.”

Peter snorts, sinking back into the mattress. “Enhanced healing factor, dumbass. My bruises don’t last.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You’re gonna like it when you don’t have to explain to your sister why my neck looks like a rorschach.”

Johnny sighs through his nose, flopping down pathetically onto Peter’s bare chest. Chuckling, Peter reaches up to pet through Johnny’s hair. He’s so sweet when he wants to be. Maybe if Johnny keeps his mouth shut, they can stay just like this…

No such luck with him.

“Maybe I want to,” Johnny murmurs into Peter’s smooth, tight skin.

Peter’s hands still in his hair. “Huh?”

Feeling defiant, Johnny sits up—lording himself over Peter. During most of their… adventure last night, Johnny was kept from savoring this perfect sight. Peter laid out under him, naked as the day he was born, looking up at Johnny with those chocolate drop eyes. Nothing has ever felt as right as this.

That’s why Johnny gets the gumption up to continue his tirade.

“Maybe I want to.” Johnny declares, firmer. “Maybe I want to go downstairs right now with my hand in yours and let the whole family, block, borough, and country know. Maybe I want the whole world to know.”

“Know what?” Peter asks, mystified. “That we boned?”

“That you’re mine,” Johnny insists, and Peter stills.

The air takes a turn then. And Johnny knows he should curse himself, but it’s what he wants to say. What he wants Peter, and his family, and yes, the whole world to know. That right here, Peter is just his.

Just for now.

“Johnny…” Peter’s voice is small.

All his words loom so vast and consuming that he doesn’t even have to say them. They hang over the two of them all the same, just as they have this whole time. And Johnny wants to scream at the multiverse itself for being so cruel.

“I know,” Johnny whispers. “I do, I really do. But just… let’s have this, yeah? Let me have this. For today, at least.”

Peter loosens up under him, lips perking up into a half smile. “Okay. I’m yours then. Just for today…”

Johnny can’t help his own smile as he crowds Peter’s space, brushing their lips together. “And I’m yours, webhead.”

For a whole lot longer, but Peter doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t get to wonder either, as Johnny presses their mouths together. It’s chaste for only a second, before Peter is opening up. 

With a quiet moan, Peter sinks back further into the bed. His arms come to wrap around Johnny’s neck, nearly strangling as he pulls Johnny closer and closer. Peter’s whole body rolls, and there’s a sweet bit of friction that Johnny chases.

Maybe he does need it again after all…

But before Johnny can even finish grinding down on Peter, a dinging sound pierces the room. Like guard dogs, Peter and Johnny detangle and sit upright. Peter webshoots at his nightstand—yes, Johnny let him keep the webshooters on, the freak—and in a flash Johnny’s watch is in his hands.

They both stare down at the flashing screen, then up at each other.

“Electro,” Peter says, knowingly.

Johnny swallows hard, but it seems to get lost somewhere between his mouth and the endless pit where his stomach is supposed to be. 

The bed doesn’t even squeak when Peter rockets out of it, going for his suit. Johnny feels his loss. But he’s struggling to follow. Getting dressed is much more of a process for him, as his suit is in two pieces, with belt, gloves, and boots to, well, boot. Plus, he’s not a super freak who can move startlingly quick. All that to say, Peter in his onesie gets dressed before him.

The spiderling goes for the door, and Johnny smacks him repeatedly with his unworn glove.

“Go out the window!” Johnny hisses. “What is the team gonna think if you come outta here?”

“What happened to wanting the world to know?” Peter hisses back.

“I was feeling more romantic before my world got invaded by a multidimensional villain!”

“That is still not what they’re called!”

“Window. Now.”

Peter groans, shoving his mask over his face as he stomps to the window. He doesn’t even blink as he rips aside the curtain, pushes open the window, and jumps into the open air. Johnny hopes Peter won’t make throwing himself out of windows a regular point of arguments.

In his wake, Johnny is left with a gust of chilled air and a whiff of rain. He resists the urge to groan himself and maybe stomp around for good measure. Godammit. Of all days it could rain, it just has to be when the city is in danger. Whatever. Whatever!

Still hopping into his boots, Johnny slams open his door. Somehow, he manages to get down the stairs without breaking his neck. His family is there, suited up and heading for the elevator to get to the car.

“Late,” Ben drawls.

Johnny squeezes into the elevator after them. “Some of us require beauty sleep after a long day of being a national treasure.”

“Well, Sue got up and ready no problem, so…”

“We should probably talk about your reaction time,” Reed mutters. “If you weren’t able to transport yourself, our arrival time on site would be—”

The elevator dings open, and Johnny doesn’t even try to stifle a sigh of relief. 

“Oh no,” Johnny feigns. “Looks like this is gonna have to wait. Villains to fight, people to save, you know how it is.”

“You’re in an oddly peppy mood,” Sue notes as she pulls the passenger door of the Fantasticar open.

Johnny bypasses Reed and slides into the backseat. “I don’t know what you mean, I’ve always been known as a shining beacon of good energy.”

It’s easy to try and brush off, but also painfully true—apparently, a night with Peter Parker does wonders for the soul.

Ben eyes him suspiciously in the rearview mirror, and Johnny is lucky for the electric mayhem shaped distraction to get that attention off him.

As the garage door is opening, the whole building shudders. The lights all flicker, and the door stutters to a stop. It feels like the whole city gasps for breath. Then, the lights come back on and the door rolls up.

“That’s encouraging,” Johnny says.

“I’d go for ‘worrisome,’” Reed No-Jokes-Allowed Richards states, tapping at his watch. “I’ll contact public works, tell them to kill the power. If we can stop Electro from drawing more energy, this should be easily resolved.”

“Where’s Peter?” Sue asks, turning in her seat to look back at Johnny.

He falters, feeling very accused, and hopes he’s not blushing. “How should I know?! You all act like I’m monitoring him every second of every day! He’s a free range spider, I don’t know!”

Everyone is awkwardly quiet. Sue is unimpressed as she stares back at him. Johnny resists the urge to fidget uncomfortably.

“Okay, fine,” Johnny grumbles. “He headed out just before we left. He’ll be around here somewhere.”

“Thank you,” Sue is still highly done with him. “Reed, my watch keeps shutting off. Do we have a way to track—”

Yellow light cuts through the buildings, momentarily blinding them all. 

“Think I found him,” Johnny sticks his thumb out to the left, where the light came from.

No one seems impressed by his joke. Frankly, he should be treading more carefully. Everyone’s being very nice not to mention the elephant in the room—or Johnny in the car. Rain just doesn’t agree with him, okay? Better to save his strength…

There’s a sort of trepidation sitting heavy in his throat as the car cruises between buildings. One by one, Johnny watches as billboards all flicker out. Windows darken, and everything suddenly feels very quiet. This is starting to feel very sinister.

“I don’t like this,” Sue decides. “Are we sure there’s no way to—”

Apparently, Sue is a jinxer today. There’s a flash of yellow light just off to their right. On pure instinct, Johnny shoves the car door open and tumbles out into open air. He’s just time to avoid a force bubble that encompasses the car and shudders with electricity only a moment later. 

Ever since the accident that gave them their powers, burning has felt like a more natural state for Johnny. But when it’s drizzling like this, it takes a certain amount of concentration. He has to burn a little hotter, put a little more power into his flames to keep from getting snuffed out. It’s not impossible, it’s just not easy.

Still, he has a job to do.

Winding around the car, Johnny lets out a burst of flame in the direction the electricity came from. In the fog, with smoke and water in his eyes, he can’t quite see where he’s aiming. Can’t quite see when he’s become a target, either.

But as the hairs on his arms stand on end, a familiar line thwips against his chest and pulls him out of the way. He tumbles across the roof of an apartment complex. Careful, sticky hands keep him upright.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Peter greets distractedly. “So nice of you to finally join the party.”

“What’s going on?” Johnny asks, all business.

“Oh, y’know,” Peter shrugs, then calls up into the clouds. “Max! Buddy! This is all just a misunderstanding! Lemme just give you this space vaccine and—”

It’s Johnny’s turn to be the hero this time. Electricity rains down from the sky, but Johnny has already scooped Peter up into his arms and flown off the roof. Good thing too, as the stonework crumbles where they just stood.

Keeping speed while also not burning Peter while also flying in the rain gives him a bit of a migraine. He gets far enough that his nose hairs aren’t burning, and then drops Peter onto a nearby slanted roof. To Johnny’s utter embarrassment, Peter has to pat out a fire on his bicep—but it seems he’s largely non crisp-ified. 

“Thanks,” Peter breathes. “Honestly, this guy’s not really like the rest of them. He’s just a dick.”

“He almost killed me,” Johnny admits, voice small.

Peter’s whole demeanor changes. “Right… I lost track of that. You don’t need to worry, flamebrain. This time, you’ve got me.”

He winks, and shoots a web off in the distance and is zipping away. But Johnny can see through his facades now. He’s pissed. It makes Johnny’s chest a little bubbly that Peter might feel protective over him. 

His watch beeps, and Sue’s voice comes through. “Johnny.”

“Coming!” He’s learned his lesson from last time—when the team wants to confer, he’ll be there.

He skids down onto the pavement, leaving soot marks as he nearly slips in the rain. No one seems to notice, thankfully. All eyes are turned upward, to where Electro is hanging in the air, sparking.

“Hey, buddy!” Peter chirps, slinging up behind him. “How’s it hanging?”

Electro is slammed over the head by Peter’s fists. Before he can even drop altitude, he’s being mummified by webbing. Having strung a tether to the cocoon, Peter dives to the ground. Electro slams into the concrete with a crack. All of the Four wince.

“He’s not messin' around,” Ben points out the obvious.

“Neither are we,” Reed decides. “Sue and I will coordinate the last of the evacuations. Ben, Johnny, you help Peter keep him busy. And here.”

Reed holds out the space juice for Johnny. He’s being given another chance here, in so many ways. Setting his jaw, Johnny takes the injector. He and Reed share a tight nod, and it reeks of forgiveness.

“Okay,” Johnny breathes. “Go team.”

“Go team!” Ben agrees, clapping Johnny on the shoulder.

Reed and Sue break away as Johnny is trying to figure out whether his arm is dislocated or not. 

Despite the impressive mound of webbing Peter has buried Electro under, the hill begins to spark. Thankfully, Peter gets out of the way with a backflip. Johnny wonders if he could smuggle Pete into the Olympics.

Webs, slimy with the weather, burst like a water balloon. A good chunk of it slaps Johnny in the face. He’s still trying to pull it off and spit it out when rocky hands wrap around his waist. Johnny’s legs leave the pavement. His lips are still too webbed together to curse Ben out.

“Hey, Electro!” Ben cries, hefting Johnny over his shoulder. “Catch!”

With all his strength, he throws Johnny. Even without his powers, Johnny thinks the speed alone would make him catch fire. But as he goes, his instincts kick in and he flames on. 

Hitting Electro is like slamming into a live wire fence. Luckily the flames eat up most of the shocks, even if Johnny’s teeth chatter. The two of them go rolling through the street, kicking up concrete dust as they go.

He ends up flat on Electro’s chest, and it’s pretty much the complete opposite of having Peter in the same position this morning according to the sexiness scale.

Johnny will kick himself into believing its possessiveness that leads Peter to web his back and pull him into the air. Just in time too, as Electro sparks. Ah, his hero in shining spandex.

Figuring he should have some agency in this, Johnny flames on midair and rains hellfire down on the zappies. As he banks around Electro, Peter is right there next to him. There’s a beautiful moment where they’re flying through the air, completely in tandem, and Johnny feels like he’s found something he’s been missing.

But as his flames dry up, electricity takes its place. It seems to crawl up the dying fire, reaching to where it was sprouting from his fingertips. His fingernails go numb with the electricity first. Every one of his scalp’s nerve endings follows, and after the callouses on the soles of his feet.

Then, he’s pretty sure he blacks out for a second.

When he comes to, he’s in a dark alleyway, with the spiderling kneeling over him. Something about those wide lenses staring down at him settles something in his chest. No wonder everyone he rescues falls all over him. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man after all.

“Hey, hey,” Peter rushes quietly. “It’s alright. I got you. I’ve got you.”

And Johnny smiles, because Peter does, he really, really does. 

All his mushy feelings can only block out his stinging muscles for so long. With a groan, Johnny sits up. Peter doesn’t try to stop him, just props him up with his strong hands. He’s good like that. 

This whole thing… it’s stupid. They’re being stupid. What’re the four of them doing, huh? Trying to play big boy hero, like they’re gonna be the ones to save the day—as if everything they need isn’t sitting right in front of Johnny.

“We’re being stupid,” Johnny decides.

Peter frowns. “I wouldn’t go running your mouth, you might have a concussion—”

“Even if I do, I’m still right. All we’re doing is cramping your style, when you’re the one the multiverse sent to help. We tried this before and all we got for it was a lot of people hurt and dead. But now we have you.”

“Johnny—” Peter really sounds concerned about that concussion now.

“You don’t have enough faith in yourself, darling. You could change the whole world if you wanted to. No… no. You already have.”

Johnny pushes himself to his feet, using Peter for balance. He follows Johnny’s motion. Those hands of his on Johnny… They both clear his mind and fill it with a honey hazy. He thinks he could do anything, right here with Peter.

He brings his watch up. “Okay, you guys want to plan next steps? Let’s plan.”

They rendezvous with Reed and Sue back on the street. Both look worn out, probably having to dig civilians out of rubble. Ben is further down the street, keeping Electro occupied by throwing things at him. It feels so much like it did the first time. 

Thankfully, it's different now.

“We just gotta let Peter do his thing,” Johnny tells Reed and Sue. “All we're doing is giving him more bodies to keep track of. This is his villain, this is who the multiverse said we need, this Peter’s fight.”

“It really sounds like you’re trying to ditch me, flamebrain,” Peter tries for joking, but it’s tinged with concern.

“I’m not,” Johnny reassures—as if he could ever walk away from Peter. “What I mean is that we gotta stop trying to beat this guy ourselves. Distraction, that’s all we are. And then we let Peter work.”

“This is sounding like you want to use yourself as bait.” Sue crosses her arms. “Which sounds dangerously close to another possible sacrifice.”

“No! Well, yes—I mean, not if you watch my back! If the Four of us just put our energy into protecting each other, all big and flashy with our powers, we can give Peter time.”

“To do what?” Peter demands.

Johnny grabs the injector from his belt, holding it out to Peter with a grin. “You’re Spider-Man, aren’t you?”

Peter is still for a moment, but seems sure when he grabs the space juice from Johnny. 

“Okay.” Sue sighs. “We’ll try it. But I have my eye on you, Johnny.”

“That’s all I need, sis.” He winks, and flames on into the mist.

The rain has gotten harder now. It slows Johnny significantly. Geez, now everyone is gonna think he’s just chickening out cause his powers are a bust. This better work, or Sue will put him on permanent sabbatical from decision making.

Still, he’s able to flare a wall of fire big enough to absorb an attack aimed at Ben. It steams out in barely a second, but it’s enough. Ben picks up the nearest car and flings it at Electro.

“Great job, big guy!” Johnny calls. “Just keep it up! Keep out of Bug-Boy’s way!”

He gets a web splattered against the back of his head for the nickname. It melts easily with a bit of fire, but Johnny still chuckles. It's too easy to get under Peter’s skin when they’re in battle…

Johnny blows another pillar of fire at Electro. It fizzles out before it reaches him, but hey, made him look. He goes to fling a bit of electricity at Johnny, but then stretchy arms are looping around his ankles and pulling his feet out from under him. His head hits the pavement, bounces, and slams forehead first into a light wall.

Then, they all back off.

Peter swings high above, cresting between the buildings. He webs himself to the ground and propels himself like a rocket into Electro just as he’s getting up. The man’s whole body shudders with rage and energy. Nimble as ever, Peter bounces out of the way of an electric fist. Then another, and another.

With Electro’s arm outstretched, Peter hooks his own underneath and slams his fist back into Electro’s nose. He screeches out like a dying bird. Fumbling a few steps back, he lets out a shockwave that rattles across the ground. Peter jumps out of the way, and Sue shields the Four.

Midair again, Peter shoots a web and swings full force forward to slam his feet into Electro’s chest and pin him to the pavement. With a few webs, he restrains Electro against the ground. Growling, he writhes, but Peter balances primly on his chest.

Fiddling with the injector, Peter knees Electro in the stomach as he crouches down on him—ending another shockwave before it could even start. He finds a nice naked spot on Electro’s neck, and lines the injector up there. With a button press, a miniature black hole opens and swallows the villain whole.

And then it’s just Peter there, looking back over his shoulder to where the Four are gathered. The sun’s coming up behind him. And Johnny can’t help a breathy laugh. 

“We did it!” Ben cries, rushing up to crush Peter in a hug. 

“I’m not reading any more multiverse trace remains,” Reed rattles off. 

Sue laughs. “That’s it then! We beat them all! You beat them all, Peter!”

She runs up to join the hug, but Johnny can’t follow. He’s stuck there, watching. Committing every molecule of Peter's being to memory. Every little twitch of muscle. He has to remember it. Because this is it.

It’s time for Peter to go home.

Chapter Text

They’re in the Four’s living room. Only Peter is in his suit. It feels like it did in the beginning, when Peter still had so many walls up. Except now Johnny has seen his smile, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever crave anything more.

When that star shaped portal opens up, Johnny doesn’t know what to do. He and Peter haven’t really looked at each other. In the background, Pete’s shaking hands with Reed, getting hugs from Sue and Ben. All Johnny can do is stare at the break in his reality and try to breathe.

Peter comes to stand in front of him. They just stare at each other for a moment before Peter is peeling his mask off. And Johnny refuses to blink, trying to cement each and every bit of him to memory. As if he ever could forget him.

It’s a lot like being at the edge of the atmosphere, with all that thin air and nothingness of space. Like if Johnny doesn’t watch himself, he might get sucked up and be lost to the void forever. Maybe he’d let it happen. All that’s keeping him there is being ripped from his grip one finger at a time, and he doesn’t want to try and go on without it.

They stare at each other silently for a moment, looking from eye to eye. It seems like barely any time at all that Johnny has gotten to look into those dark chocolate eyes. And every time he has, they’ve just been so sad. God, the things Johnny would do to take all that pain away…

Peter takes a step into his space, rising onto his toes. He takes Johnny’s face in his hands, but it’s pointless as Johnny is already leaning in. Their lips meet, and it’s got none of the carelessness it usually does. Johnny tries to pour every last one of his feelings into the touch, but knows it won’t ever be enough.

Peter breaks their lips apart, but stays close enough that Johnny can feel his lips move. “Goodbye, flamebrain.”

“Goodbye, webhead,” Johnny whispers.

Peter reaches for his hand, squeezes as he steps away. Their hands fall. With a small, hollow smile he pulls his mask back on. He steps through the portal, and the multiverse rushes closed behind him. All that’s left is a breeze.

Johnny stands there frozen, his heart echoing. In that moment, there’s no pain, no anger, no grief. He’s turned to nothing. Just an empty bag of skin sucking in air to keep itself upright.

A hand touches his arm gently. “Johnny…”

It all comes back to him, raging like a storm. Every bitter thing he’s supposed to have been feeling whenever he thought about Peter leaving these past few weeks rushes to him now. His eyes burn. 

Shoving out of Sue’s grip, Johnny flames on to bypass the stairs and slams his bedroom door as his tears begin to flow.

✧

No one comes to bother him for a few hours, until afternoon is hanging heavy over the city.

When she knocks, Sue is gentle. He doesn’t bother with a response, knowing she’ll crack the door open anyways. There comes a point where she has to check that he’s okay. It’s always been this way.

Johnny is sat on the floor, pressed up against the window with his knees to his chest. He doesn’t bother looking over at her when she comes in. His still red rimmed eyes should tell the story. Carefully, she pads across the carpet and comes to sit across from him, following his gaze out to the river.

“If you’re here to tell me I’m stupid, I don’t wanna hear it,” Johnny mutters. “I know, okay? I always knew this whole fucking thing was stupid and yeah I did it anyway, and now I’m facing the consequences. You don’t need to rub it in.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sue is quiet. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

Johnny finally looks over at her out of the corner of his eye, and finds only sympathy in her eyes.

“I know you cared about him a lot,” Sue notes.

Johnny only hums, looking back out to the Excelsior. That’s putting it lightly, he thinks. Not having Peter here feels like Ben took a melon scooper to his chest, haphazardly cleaning him out.

It’s not just the grief of not having him here, not being able to hold him anymore, or joke around with him, or go flying through the night with him. No, more than that it’s the where Peter has gone. It’d be bad enough if Peter never wanted to see him again but this…

Peter has no one.

Sue reaches across, stroking some of his hair out of his face. “Growing up, it really did just feel like it was you and me. I had to step up in a lot of ways when Dad couldn’t. I taught you a lot of things.”

“If this is gonna be about how much harder I’ve made your life, now is not the time—”

“Just shush,” Sue chides. “Listen for once. What I’m saying is that I taught you a lot of things, Johnny. But I never taught you to give up when there’s something that you want.”

Johnny looks over at her again, feeling something twinge in his chest.

She smiles softly. “If there’s something you want, you have to at least try.”

It’s the strangest sort of hope. All this time he’s been so afraid of what Sue would say and now—

“I never asked him to stay,” Johnny admits quietly, and it reeks of shame.

“I know. If you did, I’m sure he’d still be here.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know that. But it’s a question worth asking, isn’t it?”

Johnny just stares at her a moment, like if he can finally decode her mind then somehow this will all work out. She meets him evenly, raising her eyebrows in a sort of challenge. Well, she’s right. She never taught him to give up. That’s a big part of what makes him so perfectly annoying.

Like what seems to have become his natural state, Johnny thinks about Peter. How right it felt for him to be here. How he’s gone back to a place where he has no one to look out for him, no one to care if he gets hurt. How easy it is to adore him, and how much he deserves it.

“I have to try,” Johnny concludes, whispering the words like he’s scared of them.

Sue nods, smiling fully now. Johnny grabs her by the shoulders, yanking her forward to press a kiss to her forehead. But before she can try and hug him, Johnny is up on his feet, rushing out the door. He pounds down the stairs with a vengeance.

“Would it break everything?” He demands before he’s even reached the bottom step.

Reed looks up at him from the couch, wide-eyed. That sort of question is usually aimed at him, after all. For a second, he just looks from Johnny, back to Sue who’s followed behind him, over to Ben in the kitchen. Johnny throws out his arms in frustration, eyebrows raised.

“Uhm… What?” Reed blinks.

Johnny resists the urge to light a fire under his nose to wake him up. “Peter! If Peter came back here, if he stayed, would that break the multiverse?”

Reed frowns. “Well, no. He was here for months and nothing went awry. Apart from the villain incursion, of course. But there is no frame of reference for what long term multiversal exposure might do to destabilize a world, although such a thing might only be measured in centuries. Then we have to contend with the fact that Peter’s particular world is in a different timeframe than our own and what effects—”

“Reed.” Sue cuts in, folding her arms. “What aren’t you telling us?” 

Lips pursing like he just bit down on a lemon, Reed averts his gaze. “I wasn’t going to say anything since it seemed like Peter wanted to go back to his universe.” 

“But?” Johnny is suddenly furious that Reed would keep anything to do with Peter away from him.

“But at the time he left, Peter wasn’t registering as a multiversal entity anymore.” 

“Which would mean…?” Ben prompts.

“It means that when Peter first arrived, my equipment was able to recognize him as something not of this universe. His molecules functioned on a different frequency, the same way the villains did.”

“And when he left, he didn’t show up like that anymore?” Sue questions, sounding genuinely stumped. 

Reed nods tightly. “I thought perhaps prolonged exposure to our universe might have naturally changed the reading, like he was adapting. But the pieces of his original suit still register as multiversal. Which leads me to the hypothesis that it was uh… Franklin.” 

“Franklin?” Ben demands. “What’s the little guy got to do with this?” 

“As we know he has some level of reality warping capability. From the first moment he met Peter he knew he wasn’t of this universe. But he’s grown to become quite attached to him, and I know from speaking to Franklin he didn’t want Peter to leave, so I believe subconsciously he shifted Peter’s being to be closer to this universe.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that he belongs here,” Johnny sums up.

Reed frowns. “In a way. But we don’t have enough data to confidently say that his presence on Earth-616 might be a danger, so if he doesn’t want to come back, we can’t force him.” 

“But if he does want to…” 

“I believe I speak for all of us when I say he would be welcome with open arms.” 

Johnny lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. But half of it still gets stuck in his chest. That’s the least of it over with—Truthfully Johnny would’ve tried no matter what Reed said. Now, he just needs a ride…

“I can’t believe I’ve had to say this twice, especially in one week.” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose, pained. “But Reed, I need your help. Please, please contact 616 and tell them to open the portal again. I don’t care what you have to tell them, just please make it happen and I promise I won’t make fun of you for two straight days.” 

“Wow, two whole days,” Ben exaggerates. “That’s big coming from him.” 

“I feel like I need to have higher standards than that simply on principle.” Reed scowls.

“Okay, fine,” Johnny is getting desperate. “Next time we’re out in front of the cameras, boom, hug. Full hug. Three seconds or more. It’ll squash our beef publicly until the next time I say something off the cuff.” 

“Do we have public beef?” Reed asks, bewildered as he looks to Sue.

He says the slang word like it’s a foreign language.

“Whatever, Richards!” Johnny throws his hands up. “If you won’t help, I’ll do it myself. Forget the magical girl on 616, I’ll start from scratch and make my own portal. Go there and back all on my own. I’ll show you!” 

Turning sharply, Johnny pounds back up the stairs to get his suit.

“Maybe I shouldn’t help him,” Reed muses as Johnny goes. “He might just be the only person determined enough to crack multiversal travel.”

“I heard that!”

✧

Down in Reed’s lab, Johnny is pacing. He’s in his suit, but it suddenly feels way too official. It’s tight around his collar and cuffs, in a way that’s smothering. He feels like a kid playing dress up—like when he went to prom wearing a suit that was way too grown up for him.

They’re in the Blue Zone, Reed tapping on one of his computers. Apparently he’s made contact with Earth-616. Johnny has no idea what Reed said to them, but apparently the response has been promising. They might actually open the portal.

As he paces, Johnny’s got his thumb nail between his teeth. His mind is racing as he tries to cobble together what to say. How could he even begin to convince Peter to give up everything he knows and come back here? Why would he want to?

It doesn’t matter if he says no, Johnny tries to convince himself. Sure, it would probably break what remains of his sanity and plunge him into the worst depression anyone has ever had ever in the history of ever. But it’s worth it to at least have an answer. 

Johnny just about leaps out of his skin as the air itself seems to crack, and a star shaped hole is punched into reality. No doubt Sue and Ben, lingering this whole while, have something they want to say to him, but Johnny can’t bring himself to care. As soon as the portal opens, Johnny is flaming on and flying through.

And just like that, Johnny is in a whole new universe.

He skids to a stop on the polished hard wood floors. Looking around wildly, he finds grand staircases and high walls and intricate rugs. But noticeably no mutant spiders in red onesies.

Spinning around to the two people by the portal, Johnny throws his arms out. “Where’s Spider-Man?”

The man, with a goatee and gray streaks in his slicked back hair, exchanges a glance with the girl in a jean jacket. 

“Not here?” The man says like it’s an obvious answer.

“Well, where is he?” Johnny demands.

“How should I know?” The man—he’s got a pretty cool cape, actually—matches Johnny’s energy. “He does what he wants, I’m not his keeper.”

No, because that’s Johnny’s job.

“I need to find him,” Johnny insists, turning to the wide double doors. 

“I thought your people said there was an incident!”

“This is the incident, dude!”

Not waiting for another word. Johnny pulls the doors open. Thankfully, it’s New York. A much grayer, smellier New York, but still his city. And what, he only needs to search the entire thing to hopefully find Peter? Yeah, he can do that. 

No matter how long it takes.

“I’m going to have to draw the line at letting a rogue hero from another universe loose in my city—” The goatee guy is marching up behind him.

Except… Johnny’s mind races, and then hiccups on the answer. Well, maybe Johnny doesn’t have to search the entire city.

Johnny turns on his heel, giving the cape guy a salute. “Promise I’ll be on best behavior, multiverse guy.”

With that, he flames on and rockets into the sky before grouchy grouch can do anything. It takes him off guard, as this version of the city isn’t quite as vertical. The buildings are stouter, and look more run down. 

Predictably, there’s no Baxter Building sitting proud by the East River. But there is a building almost as tall as Empire State with a strange slant to its tip. Probably what used to be Avenger’s tower—Peter’s past is the only subject Johnny could get a PhD in.

None of it matters. Johnny curves away from the heart of the city, cruising to Manhattan’s tip. His target comes into view. Johnny can’t help a disgusted sneer. Why is she that ugly color?

No time for that. This Earth is weird, that’s been well established. Peter Parker is the best thing that has ever and will ever come out of it. And he deserves better than it.

There’s a speck of red at the tip of the Lady’s torch, and Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever flown so fast in his life.

Skidding on the landing, Johnny nearly unbalances. His chest is heaving, and with this sight, it feels impossible to breathe. But he has to. Something about this is just right, as much as it is for his heart to keep beating or his neurons keep firing.

Peter, sticking dangerously to the edge of the torch, is looking back at Johnny so widely, Johnny worries the lens of his mask will crack.

“Johnny?” Peter demands. “What are you—How did you—”

He’s on his feet now. Blessedly, he pulls the mask off. And there are those eyes, and those thin lips, and scowling brows, and it’s him. As much as Johnny tried to burn the image of Peter into the backs of his eyes, it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“Come back with me,” Johnny pleads, stepping forward to grab his hand.

Peter is staring at him, unmoving, a storm raging behind his eyes.

“I—I’ve been stupid, Peter, I’ve been real stupid,” Johnny confesses with a wet laugh. “Because I tried to tell myself that this was just a bit of fun, that it had an expiration date and that was fine. But it’s not fine. You’re not a—a fling for me to drop and look back fondly on. I will hurt whenever I think of you because I don’t want this to end.”

“Johnny…” Peter tone is almost warning, like he can’t let Johnny go on.

But when has Johnny ever actually listened to him?

“This place is…” Johnny forges on. “There was no love when you talked about it. Even thinking about coming back here was causing you pain, and now we’re just supposed to send you back no problem? I have—I have watched you so much, so so much, and I—I think you were happy on 828.”

Peter tries to pull his hand away, but Johnny won’t let him go. All this time, he’s never pushed. Always waited for Peter’s okay, to know he wanted it too. But for right now, it doesn’t matter. Johnny just needs some tether to him, a lifeline, because he’s been drowning without it.

“And it… it doesn’t even have to be about me,” Johnny insists. “We could go back and you could never look at me ever again, and I would be fine with it. Because all I want is for you to be happy, and cared for. I want you to be loved. And you are, Peter, our family, we…”

Johnny looks down now, throat tight. Both his hands are clutching at Peter’s now. All his emotions have grown so, so heavy in his chest, it brings him to his knees. He presses his forehead into Peter’s hand, squeezing as tight as he can.

“Please come home with me, Peter.” Johnny begs. “You’ve spent so much of your life saving other people, but put yourself first this time. Let us take care of you.”

He manages to look up then, and Peter’s eyes are wet. No tears fall though, he’s strong like that. His free hand reaches out, like he wants to comb a hand through Johnny’s hair—like he loves to do. But he stops.

“Tell me something only the real Johnny Storm would know,” Peter’s voice is level, on guard.

“You are really, really bossy during sex,” Johnny provides immediately. 

It hardly breaks through Peter’s hardened exterior, but there’s a crack. What he said is enough. Now, Peter’s moved onto the next problem. His eyes sweep out towards Manhattan, frowning.

He pulls his hand from Johnny’s grip, but it lacks any sort of heat. The mask goes back on. And Johnny thinks he’s totally screwed it. Peter shoots a web into the distance without even looking.

“Try and keep up, hot stuff,” He challenges, before his web pulls taut and he goes flying.

The greatest of all of Peter’s powers is definitely his ability to get Johnny to follow orders.

✦

Peter throws open the doors of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Jesus, he hates this place. But he’s got to put his happy face on, because Strange holds the key to his possible life and future happiness. And well, look how he handled that before.

Strange and America are loitering in the entryway, talking to each other in hushed tones. If Peter cared, he’d listen in. But he can guess it’s probably just about Johnny, trailing in behind him, and he’s got enough thoughts about him roiling around in his head as it is.

“Would it break everything?” Peter demands.

Strange looks genuinely surprised to see him. “Break what?”

“Everything!” Peter snaps, and decides screw it, and rips his mask off. “If I went back to Earth-828 and stayed there would that cause an incursion? Or some other equally as horrible thing?”

Because if anyone knows about the dangers of horrible multiverse things happening, it’s Peter.

Strange and America exchange a hesitant glance. Peter is so, so tempted to march over to the stupid old wizard and shake him hard enough he’s turned permanently into a bobble head. But considering Strange is what's standing between Johnny and his way back to his family, he has to play nice.

“All theories point to no,” Strange says hesitantly. “And even if it was a worry, it wouldn’t apply to you. You don’t register as a being from Earth-616, Spider-Man. According to all our tests and spells, you are a being of Earth-828.”

Peter can only stand there a moment, mouth agape. “What does that… How?”

Johnny leans up behind him. “Oh, uh, yeah, that was Franklin.”

Peter whirls around to him, eyebrows raised. “Your two year old nephew did this?”

“He is a very magical baby.”

“As much as I want to open that particular can of worms,” Strange says, sounding very much like he doesn’t. “The conclusion is that if you so wish, there is nothing stopping you from going to live in 828, Spider-Man.”

And everything stops then. Because every barrier for every ugly desire he’s shoved down have just been removed. There’s nothing stopping him from staying with the Four, being with Johnny, having a family again. It’s his if he wants it.

Stunned down to his bones, Peter does the only natural thing he can and turns into Johnny’s orbit. Somehow, his arms get around Johnny, and they’re holding each other. Johnny is smiling against his forehead, pressing little kisses there. Peter clenches his eyes closed and savors every peck.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes then,” Strange drawls. “Alright, let’s open the portal back up and—”

“Actually,” Peter pulls away from Johnny, voice shot. “Actually, can we wait just one moment. There’s uhm… There’s something I gotta do.”

Peter can almost hear the blood vessel in Strange's temple pulsing hard enough to burst.

“Well, of course,” Strange bows with a tight grin. “We are but your humble servants, here at your beck and call, so you can play out your very dramatic lov—”

Peter is already out the door, pulling Johnny along behind him.

✦

Maybe Johnny really is a keeper, because he doesn’t ask any questions at all when Peter leads them north. Just flies along quietly behind Peter. The deeper they get into Harlem, the more Peter’s chest sinks. 

They land in the cemetery. As soon as they’re on the ground, Peter is pulling his mask away again. The few people around are busy with their own mourning, and besides, Peter is… leaving. He’s starting over.

The walk is familiar. His arms feel barren as they go, not having brought flowers. He at least usually leaves a bud for each of them. But today, he’s gonna have to be enough on his own. And well, he always used to be, so hopefully that hasn’t changed.

Four plots sit together, four matching headstones. Immediately, Peter is kneeling. He wipes the nameplates, clearing them of any leaf or stray branch. One by one, he traces their names. Richard, Mary, Ben, May.

Reaching back, he finds Johnny’s awkwardly idling hand. Gently, he pulls Johnny onto the ground beside him. For someone with hot air for brains, he’s careful. Visited cemeteries like this a few times himself, Peter remembers. 

“Johnny, this is Dad, Mom, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May,” Peter gestures to each of their headstones. “Parker Clan, this is Johnny Storm.”

“It’s an honor,” Johnny dips his head, not sounding the least bit awkward when talking to a headstone. “I’ve heard a lot about you all. You’ve raised a wonderful son and nephew.”

Peter smiles and sadness pulls at him, just for this. “Johnny has uh, he’s been taking care of me lately. Giving me back a lot of things I lost. And I’m—I’m going away with him. You all raised me with so much love, and to give so much love, and I’ve finally found a place to keep hold of it.”

“We’ll take good care of him.” Johnny threads his hand through Peter’s. “My family and I. We won’t let anything happen to him, I promise. He’s safe now.”

Peter can only nod tightly. Johnny wipes a stray tear from Peter's cheek. Looking over at him, Peter smiles. Not once has he thought about having a proper relationship with Johnny, a life with him, but now…

“Can we go home?” Peter asks softly.

✦

Stepping out of Earth-616 and into Earth-828 feels like a plane landing. When all of the pressure of the atmosphere and the fear of the what-if fades away, and everyone lets out a sigh of relief. All the weight of his lonely, lonely world comes rolling off Peter’s shoulders.

Surprisingly, it’s Ben who gets to them first. “Petey!”

He scoops Peter up in his rocky arms, squeezing a little too tight because he knows he can take it. Peter can’t help but laugh, hugging him back. The rock under him actually compresses with Peter’s strength, but that just causes Ben to hold him more firmly.

When Ben lets him go, Sue is right there, beaming. There’s the shimmer of a tear in her eye, but Peter can’t really comprehend the idea of her crying, so ignores it as she hugs him. Something about being in her arms feels like safety. 

“Spider-Man!” Comes a squeaking voice.

Laughing, Peter crouches down just in time to catch Franklin as he slams into him. Over their time together, he’s gotten good at figuring out how to hold a toddler, even when the little monster is squirming around. But Franklin is still now, his head on Peter’s chest as his arms stretch wide across his collarbone. 

“Hey, buddy,” Peter chuckles. “Sorry to disappear on you. I had some thinking to do. Uncle Johnny helped me out though, and now I’m back.”

Franklin giggles, kicking a little in Peter’s grip to show his excitement. He’s such a tiny thing and yet… Somehow he knew exactly where Peter belonged this whole time. Peter snuggles the top of his head. 

“You’re a very special boy, you know,” Peter whispers. “Thank you for helping me stay.”

There’s a tiny bit of a twinkle in Franklin’s eyes, like he knows exactly what he did. But before Peter can dwell on it, Reed is slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulder and pulling him into a half hug. He’s usually not big on physical touch, so it feels as loving as one of Ben’s bear hugs.

“Welcome back, Peter,” Reed smiles. “Glad to have you back.”

“So glad,” Sue stresses, taking Franklin from Peter.

“I’m just glad you agreed to come back so Johnny wouldn’t mope forever,” Ben jokes. “Thought he might keel over from the heartbreak.”

Peter looks to Johnny, expecting some embarrassment, but he’s just smiling softly like he does whenever he’s watching Peter. Under his attention, Johnny only shrugs casually. His smile turns crooked.

“What can I say?” Johnny says gently. “You got me good, webhead.”

If only Peter could stay that cool. He fights back a blush, but it’s hard when Johnny looks at him like he’s the sun, the moon, and the stars. Dammit, Peter probably looks at him in a similar way. 

“Well, I’m the one who gave up my entire home reality for you,” Peter all but boasts. “Which one of us do you think actually has it worse?”

“Draw?” Johnny suggests, obviously trying to avoid his devastating loss.

Peter snorts, stepping into Johnny’s space. “Never.”

He stretches up to place one quick peck on Johnny’s lips. And he really can’t take the look on Johnny’s face now, so he shies away from him. They’re all right there, huddled together in the living area. Smiling and hugging and laughing and knowing Peter down to his bones.

And well, Peter thinks everything might just be alright from here on.