ᯓ★ Johnny Storm hasn't talked to Peter in a long time. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when Peter shows up to the Baxter building as an intern. There's no hard feelings, just that funny little ache in his chest since he knows Peter used to have a stupid crush on him. And the fact that Johnny is tripping over himself since, apparently, Peter Parker got hot. Lord, Johnny hopes Peter doesn't see what the papers have been writing.
✎ ˎˊ˗ #Peter Parker/Johnny Storm #Spideytorch #Friends to Lovers #Friends to Strangers to Lovers
⋆˚࿔ WC: 1.6K ⋆˚࿔ SHIP: SpideyTorch ⋆˚࿔ CH: 4/4
⋆˚࿔ AO3 link ⋆˚࿔ masterlist
For such a smart man, Johnny is an idiot.
With every angry text that he sends to Jimmy Olsen’s (fake) phone number, Peter’s phone lights up from across the laboratory. And with every TextNow notification, Peter sends a nervous look over to Johnny, who is still frowning angrily at his phone.
With a groan, Johnny slams his phone down and hangs his head. He wasn’t getting anything done today.
“Something wrong?” Peter asks in that usual tone, pretending he doesn’t know why Johnny has been acting like this all morning. Like he wasn’t the one who wrote the damn article that has, seemingly, ruined the man’s day.
Johnny looks up and glares. “You know damn well what's wrong.”
Peter just quirks a brow innocently.
“You mean to tell me you didn’t even look vaguely in the direction of a newspaper this morning? You work for the Daily Bugle.” For the millionth time, he’s so close, but not close enough. These seem to be the only two dots he can’t connect. His nails would be digging into the top of the counter if it weren’t for the fact that he had been picking at them so much this morning.
“No,” Peter shrugs and lies. “Woke up late, just came straight here.”
“He means the headline.” Sue offers, straight-faced and tone stern like she isn’t wearing the most ridiculous-looking pair of microscopic glasses as she works on something. Johnny frowns at her but Peter cracks a smile.
“The… headline?” Peter asks, still playing dumb.
“Apparently Johnny is involved with Spider-Man.” Sue offers, looking up from what she was working on.
“I am not involved with him.” Johnny corrects quickly, sending Peter a sharp look.
Peter bites at the inside of his lip, but sinks back and stays quiet. Several beats of awkward silence pass. Finally, Sue seems to recognize the tension. She and Reed exchange a quick look, before she moves from her seat.
“Do you... want to come with me and take a break, Peter?” She asks, cocking her head. It sounds less like a suggestion and more like an order, even with the gentleness in her voice.
Peter stares for a moment, before awkwardly nodding. “Uh… yeah.” He finally answers, before stumbling over himself to follow her. His hands are shaking, his body feels like it’s vibrating. For once, it’s not spidey-sense, just anxiety. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
He follows her down the hall for a moment, confused and uncertain. He has no idea what Sue wanted to talk to him about. Did she even want to talk about something? Maybe he misread the entire situation. Hopefully he misread it. Or she thought that he and Johnny had gotten into an argument about something. Or–
Peter almost walks directly into her and that seems to get him out of his head. He clears his throat awkwardly and steps back, rubbing at his nape. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, he looks to Sue. “You… wanted to speak–?”
“Are you and Johnny dating?”
Peter blinks rapidly a few times, as if that would change what she said or make it make more sense. “...What?”
“Are you and my brother an item?” Sue asks. Her voice is more stern, the words more enunciated, even though they both know Peter heard her fine the first time.
“Wh– No, why would you think that?” He says quickly. If his cheeks weren’t red before, they were now.
“You both have been acting weird all morning, him especially. He’s acting”–She makes some vague gesture with her hands, as if trying to find the words–“guilty. Towards you, to be exact.”
“No. We aren’t together.” The words feel like acid on his tongue, but he says them anyway. They were the truth, after all.
“Then why is he acting like that?”
Peter only realizes he’s biting the inside of his cheek so hard when he tastes the blood on his tongue. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. “I don’t– It’s complicated. We aren’t together.”
“So if he and Spider-Man were a thing, it wouldn’t be an issue?” Sue narrows her eyes, her tone implying that she’s testing him.
“No.” Peter assures. He leaves out the part about ‘I wish they were’.
She purses her lips, lines of confusion pinching her brow. Crossing her arms, she looks to the ground, as if the floor tiles held the answers to her questions. “Damn. There goes that theory, then, I suppose.”
Peter tilts his head. “Come again?”
“I don’t know.” She turns away to start pacing slowly in front of him. “He confuses me. I worry about him, I guess. He was–” She clenches her jaw and cuts herself off.
Peter quirks a brow and steps forward, though. “He was…?”
“He was upset this morning. Said he had feelings for Spider-Man.” Sue frowns at the floor for the nth time. “It… confused me. But… I guess Johnny does talk to Spider-Man more than the rest of us do. Then again, how can you fall in love with someone whose face you don’t even know?”
Peter doesn’t answer, he just stares. Even when Sue looks over and gives him a confused look, he stares in stunned silence. His mind races too fast for him to even process a thought, and even then, the ones he can grasp onto are too flustered and rambling to be intelligent. It takes her waving a hand in front of his face for him to speak, and even that is preceded by some indescribable noise.
“He… said he has feelings for Spider-Man?” Peter repeats slowly.
Sue nods. “...Yes. Don’t tell him I told you that.”
“...You’re wrong.” He says after another awkward moment. “Johnny does know who Spider-Man is. Is– I mean, you think that’s why he’s been so upset?”
“It must be.” Sue shrugs. “Unless there’s another variable I’m missing. Sorry, did you s–” She looks up, only to find Peter gone. Down the hall several yards: spider webs. And finally, the dots connect. For her, at least.
A few minutes later, Peter is stumbling into the lab again to find Johnny and Reed mid-conversation. He doesn’t know what they were talking about, just that Reed looks shell-shocked and Johnny looks like he just dropped a weight off of his chest. Peter swallows, panting and face flushed as he looks between them. The three share looks that are both confused and understanding, before Reed moves. He stands, clearing his throat and awkwardly excusing himself, mumbling some excuse about needing water.
It leaves Johnny and Peter standing across the lab from one another in silence.
It feels like hours before Johnny breaks the silence, though it really could have only been a few moments. “Reed said he had an idea as to where the photo came from.”
“Yeah?” Peter chokes out the word.
“Yeah.” Johnny nods. His eyes dart across Peter’s face, fingers twitching against his side anxiously. “Said that the only two people who would have had access to that photo were me and Spider-Man. So why did you write that stuff, Parker?”
The use of his last name burns. The formality makes his heart writhe painfully in his chest, rebelling against what feels like the fragile relationship between them cracking. Peter attempts to swallow the lump in his throat, but it sticks there. Festers. Grows. “Sue also told me something.”
Johnny’s heart sinks. The lump finally dulls when Peter watches as the sudden alarm and fear flashes in Johnny’s eyes. For once, he’s met with the idea that Johnny is just as afraid as he is.
“Yeah?” Johnny breathes the word out. If he spoke any louder, he feared his voice would waver too much.
“Yeah.”
Silence stretches. And then the next few moments happen quickly. Peter’s hand raises, sticky webs tangling against Johnny’s chest and pulling him forward. He makes a small, surprised noise, half-stumbling and half-dragged toward Peter. He almost knocks over a row of test tubes as his hands scramble for purchase against the counter, and when he finally gets his bearings, he’s close enough to feel Peter’s breath ghost across his lips.
Peter grins softly and tugs on the webs again. Not enough to pull him, just enough to make a point. “I love you too.”
“...She told you I said that?” Johnny’s voice comes out wavered, a little pathetic. Silence hangs heavy again. He swallows anxiously, met only by an almost quizzical look from Peter. Finally, he forces words out again. “Why were you spreading rumors about us?”
“I was…” Peter’s tongue darts across his lips. He feels ridiculous now. Embarrassment rises in the form of heat crawling up his neck, painting the tips of his ears pink. “Look, I thought maybe if I spread a rumor, then maybe it would–”
“You were manifesting.” Johnny decides, giving him an unimpressed look.
“...I was hoping to say it in a way that sounded less…” He sighs and motions vaguely with his hand, but his mind is racing too much for him to find the right word. He ends up just shaking his head and starting over. “Look, I wanted to do this differently. I had a whole plan, and…”
Peter trails off again. He sighs, and his shoulders slump. He still feels ridiculous. It’s a miracle to him that Johnny isn’t laughing. If the roles were reversed, Peter is sure he would be in tears by now. From emotions or laughter, he isn’t sure.
“You had a plan?” Johnny quirked a brow.
“You said you liked the– the meet-cute thing! Coffee!”
“I was making shit up! I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Peter frowns. “So if I pretended I don’t know your schedule by heart, and I show up to the same coffee shop as you, and accidentally spill my drink on you, you wouldn’t fall in love at first sight?”
ᯓ★ Johnny Storm hasn't talked to Peter in a long time. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when Peter shows up to the Baxter building as an intern. There's no hard feelings, just that funny little ache in his chest since he knows Peter used to have a stupid crush on him. And the fact that Johnny is tripping over himself since, apparently, Peter Parker got hot. Lord, Johnny hopes Peter doesn't see what the papers have been writing.
✎ ˎˊ˗ #Peter Parker/Johnny Storm #Spideytorch #Friends to Lovers #Friends to Strangers to Lovers
⋆˚࿔ WC: 1.7K ⋆˚࿔ SHIP: SpideyTorch ⋆˚࿔ CH: 3/?
⋆˚࿔ AO3 link ⋆˚࿔ masterlist
Peter sits at his desk, gentle glow of his phone screen illuminating his face. Outside, the Sun was sinking lower. It casts purplish lines in his room through the blinds, the anxiety twisting in his gut only growing worse as time passed. He wasn’t entirely sure how or when he lost the ability to lie well—or if he had had it at all—, he just knew that a few days ago he’d promised Johnny an interview with Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy Olsen, Peter’s alias, but Peter would rather die than let Johnny know that right about now.
“You talk to Jimmy?” Johnny had asked, after cornering Peter again Tuesday before he could slip out of the Baxter building.
Peter should have said ‘no’. Or ‘I changed my mind, I won’t ask’. Hell, it would have been so simple to just say ‘I talked to him, he won’t do the interview’. And yet Peter had just fumbled with his words for a moment before answering, “Yes.” And then, his traitorous brain had forced out “He wants to do the interview Friday night.”
And with that, Peter had dug his own grave. Now he has to lie in it. Or, more accurate to what he was about to do, frail frantically and claw at the dirt as it caved in.
Now, he was sitting at his desk and waiting for the phone to ring. He hoped the voice changer worked. If it didn’t, he was screwed. What would be a believable lie? Maybe he could pretend he lost his voice. Or say that something had come up. Maybe he could say Jimmy Olsen got into a terrible accident and died. Was that too dark? Maybe. But it wouldn’t work anyway, Johnny would look at the obituaries, and then start asking questions about why he couldn’t find Jimmy Olsen’s name. And then what? Peter would have to admit everything? Or make up the millionth lie?
He was spiraling. Fuck. Of course now is when the phone rings.
He lets it ring a few times. He tells himself it’s to make it seem like he wasn’t camping at his desk, waiting for the phone call, but in reality he spends those few seconds debating how hard it would be to change his name or fake his death or run away or–
Peter forces himself to move. He presses that stupid green ‘accept call’ button of inevitable torture. He opens his mouth but all that comes out is some unintelligent croak of a noise.
“Hello?” Johnny asks, sounding a bit confused.
Peter hesitates, and then, “...Hello. This is… Jimmy Olsen. You’re Johnny Storm?”
“Yeah.” Johnny answers. Peter can picture that agitated little frown on Johnny’s face already.
“Great. I’m glad you called. You wanted to speak with me?” Peter can’t tell if the voice changer is working. What if Johnny recognizes his accent? Wasn’t that how the FBI caught Theodore Kaczynski? Peter wants to hang up.
“Yeah,” Johnny says again. “I wanna know why in the hell you’re writing all that shit about me. Why do you care who I’m with?”
“It’s not that I care.” The lie sounds weird on Peter’s tongue. If only Johnny knew how much Peter cared. “It’s the public. The people love a good hero to zero story.”
“So I stop taking someone new home every other weekend, and suddenly it’s a sob story?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“You implied it.”
Another heavy beat of silence. On the other side, Peter can hear Johnny pacing. He tries not to imagine attempting to soothe the other man. Peter leans back in his deskchair, face pinched with anxiety or agony or a mix of both.
“Let’s just… clear this up? Yeah?” Peter says.
“Right.” Johnny huffs.
A squeak comes through the receiver as Johnny undoubtedly lays back on his bed. Again, Peter’s traitorous mind provides an image: this time, the idea of himself curling up beside Johnny in that bed.
“So…” Peter tries to put himself in a ‘reporter headspace’. He was losing his mind, he was sure of it. He takes a deep breath. Focus. “Instead of the reports about your… love life. How about my next article is about this interview? Is that what you want?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
“Alright. So it’s fine if I ask you questions?” Peter says carefully. He knew he was stalling, and he didn’t care.
“Can you just f–” Johnny cuts himself off from swearing at Jimmy – who was Peter, technically, but Johnny didn’t know that. He sighs a bit too loudly and then speaks again. “Yeah. Yes, questions. Just… ask.”
“You’ve kept relationships out of the public eye,” Peter starts. He clears his throat and reaches for a notepad. “Is it that you’ve been hiding relationships, or have you not had any?”
There’s an odd gap in speech, like Johnny is trying to decide whether or not to lie. Then, he sighs, and admits the truth. “I haven’t had any relationships.”
Peter almost feels guilty for the amount of relief that washes over him. Almost. “And why is that?”
“Do you seriously need to know that?” The defensiveness is clear in Johnny’s tone.
“There’s a difference between practicing privacy and not being able to get it up.”
“You’re disgusting.”
In truth, Peter did feel a bit guilty for phrasing it so crudely. But he wasn’t Peter Parker right now, he was Jimmy Olsen, and Jimmy Olsen hated Johnny Storm. Peter Parker, on the other hand, was hopelessly in love with Johnny Storm. Jimmy was just that part of Peter that remembers staring at Johnny, imagining the two of them together, only for that fantasy to get squashed when Johnny was seen with some other person on his arm. Okay, maybe Peter did have a little bit of repressed anger against him. Then again, maybe he could’ve been a bit nicer. Peter knows that if anyone else spoke to Johnny like that, they’d be strung with webs under the Brooklyn Bridge by morning.
“I just mean… yes, it’s important.” Peter settles.
“Fine.” Johnny gives that dramatic, loud sigh again. “I just… have other interests.”
“Too vague.” Peter notes, tone that of correction.
“I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
“Too vague.” Peter corrects again.
“There’s other things in life.”
“Too vague.”
“I have… actual feelings for someone.”
Silence.
It’s a silence that stretches so far it becomes uncomfortable. It causes that weird shiver up Johnny’s spine and makes him feel like his skin is crawling. But Peter? His heart has stopped dead in his chest and he isn’t even breathing anymore. It’s only when Johnny clears his throat awkwardly on the other side of the line that Peter realizes he’s just… frozen.
“Feelings for someone.” Peter repeats. He silently thanks the voice changer, because his words come out a bit choked. “Who?”
“Like hell I’m telling you that.”
Peter winces. Shit. “Right. Just… it’s good for headlines an–”
“I said no.”
Peter hesitates. He chews at his lip as his knee bounces under the desk. He feels like his heart is beating out of his chest, like his lungs are refusing to let air in. He bites the bullet anyway, and asks another question. “And… theoretically, what would your ideal date be?”
There’s a thump, and then a swear, like the question had startled Johnny for some reason. On the other side of the line, it had startled him – but Johnny couldn’t very well say, “When Peter and I meet at the Statue of Liberty”, now could he? Instead, he takes a deep breath to ground himself as he searches his mind for some cliche answer.
“Um, coffee shop.”
“Meet-cute style?” Peter cringes for the millionth time as soon as the word comes out. At least Johnny doesn’t know he’s actually talking to Peter. If this was face-to-face, he’s pretty sure he would have left the room out of pure mortification by now.
A beat, and Peter can picture Johnny giving that usual ‘are you stupid?’ look. Johnny huffs out a laugh. “Uh… sure. Meet-cute style, whatever.”
“And who is your… ideal partner?” Peter asks, sinking impossibly lower in his desk chair. It’s a miracle the phone is still in his hand with the way he’s sweating.
“I’m not answering that either.”
“Why not?”
“Because!” Johnny’s tone is defensive all over again. “You’re probably too close to the guy I’m interested in, anyway.”
What Johnny means is “Peter Parker”. What Peter hears is “He’s involved with the press a lot”. Close. So, so, close. But not close enough.
“Come on, j–”
Peter is met with the beep of the ‘call disconnected’ noise. His heart sinks. With a pitiful little noise, he leans down to bang his head against the desk. He feels like he wants to throw up. Maybe he could ask around the Daily Bugle to see if anyone he knew was friends with Johnny. Or maybe it’s one of the people the paper interviews all the time? At least now he was done being wrapped up in this lie he’d started. He hopes, at least.
The empty coffee mug on his desk feels like it’s mocking him. Coffee meet-cute, Johnny had said. Is that what he wanted? Peter could try it. Even if he didn’t really think it would work. What the hell was the point of a re-meet cute? They had already met, in and out of his mask. The whole ‘save the damsel’ thing wouldn’t work either – Johnny was a superhero too. Peter considers putting his head through the nearest wall.
Staring at the open, still-blank document that “Jimmy Olsen” needed to write about the interview in, an idea forms. Maybe Peter wasn’t done with these elaborate lies yet afterall. Johnny hadn't given Peter the exact answers he wanted, but that didn’t mean Peter could read between the lines. He wasn’t losing it. Or manifesting. Or spiraling. He was fine.
Still, the next day, Sue is waking Johnny up by throwing the morning’s newspaper at him. “What the hell, Johnny?”
He rolls over, burying his face into the pillows. “What are y’talking ‘bout?” He mumbles.
“What the hell did you tell that reporter?” She scolds.
He just grumbles, glaring at his sister. It doesn’t look very terrifying, considering his hair is sticking up in approximately 26 different directions, there’s drool on his pillow, and red sleep lines mark his face. “Nothing. Said I wasn’t sleeping around ‘cause I have feelings for someone. That’s it. Now c–”
His words stop half-formed. The front page is a picture that he and Peter had taken months ago. Rather, he and Spider-Man had taken it. Peter was clearly gleeful despite his face being under the mask, he and Johnny laughing as Peter tangled him in webs. The headline? “Exclusive Interview: Johnny Storm Implies Relationship With Spider-Menace”
ᯓ★ Johnny Storm hasn't talked to Peter in a long time. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when Peter shows up to the Baxter building as an intern. There's no hard feelings, just that funny little ache in his chest since he knows Peter used to have a stupid crush on him. And the fact that Johnny is tripping over himself since, apparently, Peter Parker got hot. Lord, Johnny hopes Peter doesn't see what the papers have been writing.
✎ ˎˊ˗ #Peter Parker/Johnny Storm #Spideytorch #Friends to Lovers #Friends to Strangers to Lovers
Peter did not, in fact, talk to ‘Jimmy Olsen’. Mostly because ‘Jimmy Olsen’ did not exist and was just the pen name Peter was writing under. Unless, of course, you count the several hours Peter had accumulated of talking to himself – in which case, yes, Peter had talked to Jimmy Olsen. A lot. In the bathroom mirror, trying to fall asleep, on late night patrols of the city. Everywhere. The issue? Jimmy Olsen never talked back. Peter just sat and wrestled with himself.
“Yeah, I talked to him,” Peter finally forces out to Johnny.
It had been a week since they’d seen each other last. Not a week since Peter was at the Baxter building; he was here almost every day, just carefully avoiding Johnny so he wouldn’t have to look the other man in the eyes and lie anymore. Unfortunately, Johnny had come in search of him today.
“What did he say?” Johnny asks. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter in the lab. Peter tries to focus on the motherboard on the table in front of him and not the way his hand would fit so well against the curve of Johnny’s waist. His hands shake anyway.
“Said that he can write about whatever he wants.” Peter answers. He shrugs, even as his heart writhes painfully in his chest.
“But what is that guy’s vendetta with me?” Johnny frowns again. Peter’s mind finds it hard not to conjure up a picture of a whiny puppy.
There were a lot of potential answers to the question. ‘He has a stupid crush on you and he is taking it out on you the only way he knows how.’ ‘You never gave him the time of day.’ ‘He asked you out three years ago but you were drunk and laughed him off. Do you even remember that?’
“Uhm,” Peter clears his throat a bit too loudly as he tries to come up with an excuse. One more unsteady movement of his hand, and something on the motherboard sparks and sizzles. Shit.
“Sorry,” Johnny says, frowning at the motherboard. “Was I distracting you?”
“Yes,” just not the way you’re thinking. Peter blinks when the answer slips out, and then shakes his head. “I mean, no. Just… my mind was wandering. What was your question?”
“Why does that guy hate me?”
“He doesn’t hate you.” Peter corrects, the words coming out too quickly, too rushed. Then, he shrugs and shakes his head. “I mean, I think he just… writes about you for fun.”
“Right.” Johnny nods. He flashes that usual cocky grin, runs a hand through his hair in a way that he hopes makes Peter look at his biceps. (It doesn’t.) Maybe that’s all there was to it. Maybe the only reason this guy was talking about Johnny so much was because Johnny was a public face. He was practically a celebrity, right? Sort of. A little bit. Not really. “Makes sense.” Johnny reasons. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to write about me? Just don’t understand why it always has to be bad stuff.”
“Cause what fun is news if it’s not doomsday?” Peter answers, giving a nervous smile in response.
Johnny just huffs and hangs his head. Flames idly dancing on his fingertips, he starts pacing. “I know. I get it. Interesting stuff is what gets people to read the papers in the first place. Just feels like all I am anymore is…” He trails off. He closes his fist, and the small flame dies out with a quiet fizzle that echoes his own sigh.
A beat of silence follows. Then another.
“I still write for the paper sometimes.” Peter blurts out. “I could… interview you. You know, about all the allegations?”
“They aren’t even allegations.” Johnny groans, drops his head again. “It’s not like I was doing something illegal – it’s just the papers talking about how I don’t ‘get around’ much anymore.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Get around.” Peter’s face warms as he says it, like some 1800s virgin. He was not concerned with Johnny’s love life. Or lack thereof. Hopefully the lack thereof. But he finds himself wanting to know if Johnny’s sheets smell like anyone else.
“Does it matter?” Johnny shrugs, face heating too. He clears his throat and looks at the counter so he doesn’t have to look Peter in the eyes. Johnny hopes it doesn’t matter – because if it matters, then Johnny has to admit to Peter that his losing-streak-of-love wound up turning into self-imposed celibacy because of a childish crush on the stupid man in front of him.
“No.” Peter says, despite wanting to scream ‘yes.’ He tears his eyes away from Johnny, forces them back to the motherboard to try and salvage it.
Another awkward beat of silence.
“But I could still interview you.” He offers again, and then winces as soon as the words leave his mouth. He lifts his head from the workbench to look at Johnny. “For the paper, I mean. I could… interview you.”
Johnny gives him an unsure look. “You sure that would help? It just… feels like shouting ‘I get laid’ at the papers isn’t going to accomplish anything.”
Again, Peter’s heart aches and squirms painfully in his chest. “Yeah, no, you’re right. Just thought I’d offer.”
“Thanks,” Johnny manages a small smile, giving a solemn nod to Peter. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it, I guess.”
Peter mirrors the smile, shaky and awkward and a bit unsure as it is. He ducks his head again to the workbench, hoping to hide both the way his hands are shaking and the way his face is warm this time. Johnny lingers. He keeps telling his feet to move, to walk away, to let Peter get back to work. But still… he lingers.
Finally, he sits up and steps a bit closer to Peter.
Johnny is a flirt. He has always been a flirt. Charismatic and airheaded as he might seem, he’s also smart. Maybe this is why he decides to lean over Peter’s shoulder, duck his head so that his breath will ghost over Peter’s neck. Either way, he seems to finally coax himself into flirting. He does it with everyone else, right? He can do it with Peter.
“Or… we could get out of here?” Johnny asks, lilt to his voice. Well, maybe Johnny was stupid. Or they were both stupid.
Because Peter’s heart sinks. Of course, he thinks. Of course Johnny would use this as an opportunity to give the Daily Bugle something else to write about. But Peter doesn’t want that. Peter doesn’t want to be a headline, and especially not another statement for Johnny. Even if the way Johnny’s words dance along the skin of his neck send a shiver down his spine, he clears his head. Even if he was the one writing those articles about Johnny, the thought of being just another conquest made him sick.
Peter clears his throat and rolls his shoulder, turning to look at the other man. “Smooth, Johnny.” He deadpans, an unimpressed tone thick in his voice.
Johnny steps back and turns away to hide the way embarrassment heats his face. “Can’t blame me for trying.”
Peter frowns at him. “Yes, I can.”
Johnny pins his brows. He shifts on his feet a bit uncomfortably, eyes darting between Peter’s as if searching for something. He had said something wrong, he realized. “Look, I didn’t mean it to-”
“No, you just meant that ‘reporter leaving Johnny Storm’s room’ would make a hell of a headline.” Peter says as he moves to stand up. He crosses his arms and hopes it makes him look intimidating, even if it makes him feel like a cornered animal.
“That is not what I said!” Johnny says quickly, eyes widening. That’s what Peter thought he was saying? Maybe it was bad timing, but surely Peter has to know that that isn’t what Johnny meant? Did he really think Johnny would reduce him to a pawn?
“It’s what you meant.” Peter counters.
Johnny shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He turns, starts pacing. “God forbid I flirt with you.”
“You can flirt with me when you mean it.”
“Who said I didn’t?” Johnny doesn’t mean to shout those words, and yet he does anyway.
The words hang in the air for a long moment. Across the room, their hearts pound matching, anxious rhythms. Johnny can fly halfway across the world and shrug it off. Peter could tie all of New York City in webs and not break a sweat. And yet here, staring at one another, they both felt as though they couldn’t breathe. As if the air clung to their lungs, hearts aching beneath their ribs.
Peter blinks – once, twice. Finally, he finds his voice. The words come out a bit low and raspy, “Do you?”
Johnny sets his jaw, a muscle in his cheek twitching. He takes a deep breath and shakes his hands out, as if trying to slough off anxious energy. “I d– it doesn’t–” The words get cut off with an unintelligible noise. He swallows and takes a deep, measured breath. “Can we do that interview?”
“Seriously?!” Peter snaps, anger flaring again.
“Yes, seriously!” Johnny says. This time, instead of bowwing up, instead of defending himself like always, he sinks back. He sits back against the counter and his shoulder slouch. “I just… I want to talk. To the reporter.”
For the millionth time, silence. For all he’s worth, Johnny was confusing. Peter didn’t think he would ever understand him.
“You want to talk a reporter. I write for the Daily Bugle, so why not talk to me?” Peter counters. He sits back in the chair he was in, mirroring Johnny’s body language. “We’re talking right now.”
“I just… I want to talk to a reporter..” Johnny says again, and even his tone of voice implies that he knows he sounds a bit pathetic. “You aren’t… Peter Parker the goofy reporter anymore. You’re Peter Parker the genius.”
“I’m not a genius.”
“You’re hot.”
“Johnny.” Peter glares at him again. Another sigh. “Look, if you want to talk to a reporter, I can set you up with the guy. But I don’t wanna be part of some political powerplay or media bit or whatever-the-hell else. Stop flirting with me.”
“You aren’t a pawn.” Johnny says. His shoulders slouch again, and he’s giving Peter that usual kicked-puppy look. Like the simple idea of Peter thinking that was enough to wound him. “I… I want the media to think I’m settling because I want to, not because there’s… something wrong with me, or I have a secret family, or any of the other conspiracy theories there are.” And also I can’t talk to you like a normal person when you look like that, but Johnny can’t bring himself to say that outloud.
“That doesn’t answer the question, though.” Peter challenges again, not taking Johnny’s earlier claims at face value. “Why can’t you just talk to me instead of the other reporter?”
“He’s the one writing all the shit about me.” Johnny manages.
“Fine.” Peter says. He swallows and clears his throat to try to get the lump out of it. It doesn’t do much, so he settles for nodding instead of answering verbally again. “I’ll try to get you an interview with the guy.”
Lord, if Johnny only knew Peter Parker and the mysterious reporter were one and the same.
ᯓ★ Johnny Storm hasn't talked to Peter in a long time. Maybe that's why he's so surprised when Peter shows up to the Baxter building as an intern. There's no hard feelings, just that funny little ache in his chest since he knows Peter used to have a stupid crush on him. And the fact that Johnny is tripping over himself since, apparently, Peter Parker got hot. Lord, Johnny hopes Peter doesn't see what the papers have been writing.
** based on an animated by @/tiffycat
✎ ˎˊ˗ #Peter Parker/Johnny Storm #Spideytorch #Friends to Lovers #Friends to Strangers to Lovers
⋆˚࿔ WC: 1.7K ⋆˚࿔ SHIP: SpideyTorch ⋆˚࿔ CH: 1/?
⋆˚࿔ AO3 link ⋆˚࿔ masterlist
Let the record show that Johnny Storm was an adult. A grown, mature adult, one that could keep himself and his emotions in check. Despite this, he was currently throwing a tantrum.
“It’s stupid,” Johnny complains, glaring at the front of the newspaper Ben was reading. He pushes the paper down so his friend could see the frown on his face, hands singeing the cursed thing. “Is the press really that bored? Seriously, where is the ‘Human Torch Saves The Day’ or the ‘Johnny Storm Adopts Abandoned Puppy’?”
Ben just gives him an unimpressed look. “You gonna go get me a new paper?”
Johnny elects to ignore him. Instead, he crosses his arms like some sort of petulant child and holds back a swear word or two, perhaps even a colorful version of “bite me”. Newspaper now abandoned on the floor, the headline airing Johnny’s love life (or lack thereof) smokes into ashes on the carpet. Sue would scold him for it later, no doubt. Blah, blah, something about using his powers in the Baxter building, blah, blah.
“Who wrote it, anyway?” Johnny grumbles, tilting his head at it like he’d be able to read the credit on the paper.
“It was The Daily Bugle,” Ben says, unimpressed. “and you’d be able to tell who wrote it if you hadn’t burned it.” Johnny just glares. Ben sighs. “Whatever. Told Susie I’d go introduce myself to the new intern, anyway.”
“New intern?” Johnny perks up. “She hot?”
“He.” Ben corrects, as he gives the younger man his nth unimpressed look of the day. He stands, sighing when he moves to walk to the lab. “And I don’t know, I was thinkin’ more about whether he’d be any help or not.”
Johnny scrambles to move after Ben, curiosity piqued. Ben steps into the lab, throwing the newspaper in the trash as he lumbers over to talk to the new intern. He’d heard Reed and Sue talk about wanting help with their new project, but he stopped listening somewhere after “ask Stark” or whatever else Reed was blabbering about that day. Evidently, however, they’d been talking about asking Tony Stark if they could borrow his intern. Johnny slips into the lab behind Ben, and almost trips on absolutely nothing when his eyes find the intern in question.
His name was Peter, if Johnny’s memory served him any good. Johnny hadn’t seen him in a long time – not out of the Spider-Man suit, anyway. But Lord did the man look good in a lab coat. He’d filled it out, no longer a lanky kid in hand-me-down dress clothes and a white coat that almost reached his fingertips. His hair was still a mess, but at least it seemed he learned how to comb it.
“Nice of you to make an appearance.” Sue deadpans, snapping her younger brother out of his thoughts.
“Right,” Johnny clears his throat a bit awkwardly. He shifts on his feet, then jerks his chin towards Peter. “I, uh… Didn’t know Parker was your new intern.”
Evidently, along with the absence of Peter’s dorky vibes, gone were the days of him awkwardly tripping over himself to try and talk to Johnny. Maybe he should have taken advantage of it while he had the chance. Peter just waves and flashes that charming smile. Johnny almost chokes on his own tongue.
“Did you have something to contribute or you just came to stare?” Sue speaks again.
“I can contribute!” Johnny says, offense in his voice. It’d be overdramatic and fake if he weren’t so concerned about feeling like a fool in front of Peter. Peter, who’d covered the entire Marvel-1 spaceship in webbing as a fight-or-flight response. Peter, who’d gotten stuck in his own webs after trying to do a bit last week. Peter, who passive-aggressively excluded Johnny’s good deeds from The Daily Bugle a while back. Peter, who named his car “The Spidey-mobile” and promptly got it stuck on the side of a building. Yes, Johnny worried about looking like a fool in front of that Peter.
“I don’t think we need anything lit on fire, but I’ll let you know if we find something.” Reed says with that usual too-happy tone, stretching to look around the lab’s freezer. Ben mumbles something under his breath about Johnny probably not knowing the difference between a centrifuge and an incubator.
“Whatever.” Johnny grumbles. He rolls his eyes as he slips out of the lab, hellbent on doing something to get his mind off that weird feeling in his gut.
Surprising to no one, it doesn’t work, and he’s back an hour later.
“So…” He hums, jumping up to sit on the counter beside where Peter is looking at something under a microscope. “Been a while.”
Peter doesn’t answer for a moment, just perks up and writes something down. Johnny’s pretty sure he would have rather been stabbed. Finally, though, Peter does look over an answer. “Yeah. It’s been a while. Are things still good with you?”
What Peter doesn’t say is he knows exactly how Johnny’s been. For what it’s worth, Peter is not a stalker. He knows personal boundaries, he swears it’s just that he’s a journalist at heart. Plus, Johnny isn’t exactly a private person, so if Peter’s coming across public information… is it really his fault? He does not care about Johnny’s love life, he swears. His eyes find the newspaper Ben had thrown in the trash earlier. The headline was burned off, and so was the pseudonym Peter was now writing under.
“Yeah!” Johnny’s voice cracks. He clears his throat awkwardly again. “I’ve– I’ve been good. Are you… I mean, how have things been with you?”
“Yeah.” Peter echoes. He smiles, and ducks his head to look at whatever was under the microscope again, hoping to hide the heat redding his cheeks. “Been working. And training. Keeping busy, I guess.”
“Training! Right. We could… do that together sometime. If you want.” Johnny is sure he’s talking too loud. Too fast.
Peter falters for a moment. He wants to say yes, but he doesn’t quite get the chance. Reed and a winded-looking Sue walk in, door to the lab banging unceremoniously behind them.
“Any progress, Parker?” Sue asks.
“No,” He says, taking a deep, almost shaky breath. His hands flex and he rolls his shoulders, as if he were trying to clear his head. “Any luck with Franklin?”
“Got him down for a few minutes at least.” Sue huffs. She jerks a chin toward Johnny. “Speaking of, you’re on uncle-duty next time he starts crying.”
Johnny frowns. “He’s your kid.”
“What happened to your war with Ben over being the ‘best uncle’?” She counters.
───────── ⋆˙⟡ ─────────
A week later, and Johnny is staring at another newspaper. Everyone else is happily eating their breakfasts like today’s headline isn’t “Johnny Storm: Playboy to Loner?” It’s irritating. Perhaps his bowl of Cheerios will swallow him whole.
“When is Parker coming back?” He asks, pretending to be casual.
“Supposed to be back later.” Reed says, mouth half full of a bagel.
“I could… help. Around the lab.”
Johnny is many things. Subtle is not one of them.
“You offering to do work voluntarily?” Ben laughs. “Who are you and what have you done with our Johnny?”
Johnny grumbles, settles for throwing a piece of silverware at him. It bounces off harmlessly and ‘tink’s to the floor. He huffs and leans back in the chair, arms crossed. “I just want to contribute, okay?”
Sue quirks a brow like she’s pretty sure he’s planning something, but doesn’t argue. She just shrugs. “Sure. If you want, there’s plenty of stuff to get done.”
Johnny wishes he had never said anything. Apparently, that “stuff to get done” was cleaning. What the hell did they even have H.E.R.B.I.E. for, anyway? He frowns menacingly at a spot on the floor like it would disappear out of sheer fright. When it doesn’t, he grabs the mop again. There’s a soft and almost tentative knock on the door. Johnny looks up, brow quirked.
Peter stands in the doorway, flashing a smile. “Hey. The others went to take a break, figured I’d come say hi. So… hi.”
Maybe Peter was still just as awkward.
“Right.” Johnny clears his throat. He tries to lean against the wall, maybe it would look cool. Maybe if he positioned his arms just right, his muscles would shift underneath his shirt in a way that makes Peter stare. He just ends up fumbling with the mop handle and almost tripping over his own two feet. Great. “Wh– Uh. Anyway! I, uh, you said you’ve been working, right? Are you still doing stuff for the Daily Bugle?”
“Sometimes. On and off, I guess.” Peter nods, trying hard not to smile at the way Johnny fumbled. Heat creeps up his neck when the question fully registers, though. Does Johnny know he’s been writing those articles?
“Oh. Cool. Cool. I just– one of the writers keeps writing about me, is all.” Johnny says. He runs a hand through his hair to distract from the way they’re shaking. “I called, apparently it’s a pseudonym he writes under, but they aren’t allowed to give me the guy’s real name. And, y’know, freedom of the press and whatnot.”
Johnny hopes Peter doesn’t know what articles he’s talking about. Maybe Peter hasn’t seen them. Maybe Peter still thinks that Johnny is just as amazing as he used to be, back when Peter looked at him like he hung the sun and moon and personally arranged the damn constellations. Why did Peter stop acting like a fanboy when he got hot? Johnny wonders if he should conduct a study looking at a possible positive correlation between charisma and level of conventional attractiveness. That has to be a better headline than “Is Johnny Storm Celibate”, right?
“Oh.” Peter blinks. He clears his throat a bit too loudly. “Yeah, uh… I’m not sure who.” He lies.
“Can you find out who? Tell ‘em to stop?” Johnny asks, arms crossing over his chest.
Please don’t make me stop. “Yeah. For sure, I’ll see what I can do.”
hello! my name is lore, i’m 19 and i’m currently a psych student at college. i write for fun and i am unfortunately human — i’m gonna make mistakes, i’m gonna be late on updates, i’m gonna be mia sometimes.
for the most part, everything i post here is going to be cross posted on ao3 (or i might just post the link to ao3 here… i don’t know yet. we will see.) that said, this is the only blog that should have my work on it. if you see it somewhere else, that’s not me lol.
as far as requests, like i said i write for fun. you are more than welcome to send suggestions, and i will respond to your ask if i want to write said suggestion. that said, sending an ask ≠ i write it.
+ bonus note: if ur from my old blog, this is not an x reader blog. this is just character x character ships.
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