K.T.

Mondays are regularly a rough one, no matter if you wake up on the right side of the bed or put your best foot forward. But Joel understands it completely. The start of the demanding days ahead, and you just want it to be over before it has even truly begun.

It’s routine by now and he gets it—he always will until routine changes and you decide otherwise.

On this particular Monday, the sun has already begun to set. Rays of oranges and pinks filter through the backyard sliding door and into the kitchen. The big light is already being switched on, slightly brightening up the space where Sarah sits at the island working on her essay while Joel busies himself with making dinner.

In the distance, he can finally hear the rumbling of your car pulling into the driveway. The kill of the engine and the keys jingling as you unlock the deadbolt, letting yourself in.

“Hey babes.” You call out just loud enough for them to hear, shutting the door behind you.

You toe off your shoes, dropping your bags to the ground and keys into the ceramic bowl beside his. Padding across the house, you follow the sounds of faint bustling, entering the kitchen where you find them like two peas in a pod, never far away from one another. 

He and Sarah turn their heads, watching a tired yet content smile wash over your face, eyes crinkling at the edges despite the fatigue in your orbs. The day has so clearly worn you down, yet coming home to see their faces makes it all feel a little better, no matter how crappy the hours prior have been. 

“Hey hey.” Sarah beams as you round the island, hugging her from behind.

You take a quick peek at the progress she’s made on her essay since she first asked you to look over it last week. There are more paragraphs now, and it looks more complete—the suggestions you had initially made in the margins were erased having been considered upon her best judgement.

You whisper out a quiet ‘good job’ before leaving her alone to continue working, before trailing towards Joel. He hovers over the stove with a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder, deeply observing the pot over the open flame.

You wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back, where you feel him chuckle and reach behind you to run his palm over your hip.

“Hi there darlin’” he greets, covering the lid and drawing you to his side, holding you tight to his chest and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You don’t say much at first, just letting your bones temporarily free themselves of the weight of the day, giving it all to Joel who happily carries it for as long as you need. A minute goes by before you finally shift your eyes elsewhere and part your lips to speak.

“What’re cooking?” You rest your head on his chest, peeking into the foggy lid where something simmers on low, a savory smell permeating the air making your stomach rumble.

“Stew. Got some chunks of beef in there, some baby potatoes, and carrots. Nice and soothing.” He explains, gently thumbing your shoulders lulling the excess stress away.

“It smells delicious.” You hum, reaching out to uncover it, getting a better look and smell.

Joel feels quite proud seeing the way you flutter your eyes shut, taking a deep whiff, like the aroma alone could heal your tiredness. It was the same recipe his late mother would whip up for him and Tommy when they were younger, and without fail it always left him feeling a little warmer inside after a long day. And now, it was the same kind of comfort he was trying to give to you. 

“It’s not quite done yet, though.” He says, keeping one arm locked around you as he reaches for the wooden spoon, stirring the contents and ensuring nothing is getting burnt to the bottom of the pot.

The rich brown broth is still a tad bit runny for his liking, needing more time to reduce, yet even then it still looks appetizing with all the hearty ingredients floating around becoming more tender by the minute.

He drags the bottom of the spoon along the pot’s edge, blowing the steam gently and offering you a small taste. You take a small sip of the broth, nodding your head in satisfaction as the flavors melt onto your tongue–watching as he samples the remainder while you cover the pot again. He hums at the taste, setting the spoon back onto a plate before speaking once more. 

“Should be finished by the time you get out of the shower.” 

His suggestion is not only considerate of the food he’s making, but your own wellbeing and schedule. By getting you into the shower now, it means getting you to bed earlier without needing to do much after. On Mondays, Joel knows you never really feel inclined to take any work home, just simply wanting to close out the day and get some rest to prepare yourself for the next day. 

Though it pains him to see you so blue and restless, it makes him feel a lot better to know you’re resting rather than forcing yourself to work through the night–because those nights will come later on in the week, he knows from experience. Without putting up a fight, you pull yourself away from his side, slowly stretching out your stiff limbs. 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ve been wanting to scrub the day off, anyway.” You say with a groan, gripping your back and pushing your chest forward, hating yourself for not taking more breaks from your desk today. 

He leans over to peck your lips, rubbing the small of your back gently.

“Go baby.”

Before you can fully exit the kitchen, Sarah whistles, grabbing your attention promptly.

“Don’t fall asleep in there. You’re the only one I can trust to proofread my essay!”

She shoots you a pointed look then aiming it at her dad and finally back to you in a pleading manner.

He can only tsk, while you reassure her with a small laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

Joel had tried giving his own string of feedback earlier in the afternoon when Sarah asked, but all he could manage to find wrong was the incorrect date on the front page of her paper. 

Call it the dad in him, but he thought everything she did was perfect. No flaws to ever grace her, not even in the academic work she did. And while Sarah always appreciated having such a supportive dad her whole life, in times like these, it was when she really cherished having you around to step in and help her find what she could improve on–not necessarily to be perfect, but to progress and learn more from her previous tries.

So, Joel didn’t mind being a second-place proof-reader, at all. Not when you consistently speak so highly of his little girl and continue to encourage her to keep learning. And especially when Sarah feels comfortable enough to go to you for help, no matter how big or small. 

He knows that even when your plate's full with a hundred different things, you’d drop it all to make time for her, never making her feel like she’s adding to your responsibilities because you never saw Sarah as such to begin with. 

No matter if she wasn’t yours the same way she was Joel’s–you cared for the kid like she was your own. It’s what made coming home to her and Joel everyday extra special.

Twenty minutes later the island was set with three steaming bowls of stew over a fluffy bed of white rice. Sarah’s handwritten essay cast off to the side, free from stray splatters and potential spills. 

“Food’s already plated sweetheart.” Joel calls out when he hears your footsteps pad down the stairs, reentering the kitchen.

You sport an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweats, quietly saying thank you to him before taking your seat, getting comfortable. 

Sarah hisses around a hot mouthful of food, standing up and going for the fridge. 

“Water or Coca-Cola?” She garbles between chews, fanning her mouth while you and Joel stifle your laughter. 

“Cola, please.” You say kindly, beginning to mix your food around with your spoon, getting every grain of rice coated with the velvety broth. 

“Water for me.” Joel answers. 

She takes her seat again after you all have your respective drinks, warning you guys that the food is really hot. You grin, rubbing her back as she sips her soda, Joel snickering at her for being too impatient to dig in. 

“So how was everyone’s day?” You raise your brows, blowing on your spoonful, and looking between the two of them.

Joel clears his throat, going first.

“Didn’t go on the work site today,” he takes half a bite, chews, then continues, “stayed in the office doin’ paperwork, WD40-ed a squeaky door. Solid, easy day.” He says casually. 

“Did the office ladies ogle while you did that?” Your lips quirk up into a smirk, peering over at Sarah who mirrors your expression with a giggle. 

“Last time I visited, I swear Martha was flirting with him.” She badgers, tilting her head at her dad all while you feigned a gasp, brooding in your chair.

“Martha’s sixty-one with a husband and three adult children.” Joel deadpans between the two of you, but it doesn’t seem to shake the devious grins on your faces.

He won’t say it, but he doesn’t mind, even when the teasing is at his expense. Anything to see you smile on Monday makes him happy, even the accusations that the office ladies who he considers his elders find him attractive. 

“She’s also a woman with desires, Joel.” You argue, going to poke at his cheek as he cringes inwardly.

“You know most women her age often have more elaborate fantasies and higher sex drives than women in their thirties.” You pester on, taking another bite of your food while his cheeks go bright red. 

Sarah cuts in dramatically, slapping her palms down on the granite countertop, drilling in on the joke. 

“Oh my God, I just learned about that in my health guidance class!”

Laughter swiftly fills the kitchen as you and Sarah throw your heads back and Joel can’t help but shake his head in amusement at the two of you. He likes to think that he wields the magic wand of getting you through the week, but the truth is, it really is a team effort between him and Sarah, giving you a reason to smile and laugh as hard as you were now. 

When your combined laughter finally dies down, you glance over at her in curiosity, wondering how the high school freshman was holding up. 

“Tell us about your day, Sarah.” You ask, going back to enjoying your home-cooked meal.

She chews quickly as if she remembers something intriguing she just has to tell you and her dad.

“Jessica and Ben from third period English broke up last weekend, and now it’s like, super awkward. The class is basically split into two sides, and even Mrs. Click can sense something is wrong.” She spills without missing a beat. 

“Why’d they break up?” Joel raises a brow, taking a sip of his water. 

“Apparently Ben went out to the movies with Jessa from fourth period biology, and even though he says he’s just friends with her, Jessica doesn’t buy it.”

“Wait,” you tip your head up suddenly perplexed, “So Ben’s ex-girlfriend’s name is Jessica and the girl he decided to ‘cheat’ with is named Jessa?”

She nods totally aware of the absurdity of it all, before telling you two the kicker. 

“And they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”

Joel snorts disapprovingly, while you purse your lips and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, he definitely has a type.” He mutters. 

“Totally! But the worst part is Mrs. Click said that if the class doesn’t start getting on the same page she’s gonna get the counselor in to do a big talk for a whole period.” She groans with a roll of her eyes. 

The three of you continue dinner, entertained by the rest of Sarah’s recollection of her day, which is hands down way more interesting than you and Joel’s combined. 

He’s thankful for her willingness to share parts of her life that many teens her age would much rather keep to themselves. And he always thought there’d be a time where she’d brush him off and barely give him the time of day, but it seems quite the opposite–her never failing to include you and him in her life, even when you two don’t always ‘get’ the newest teenage fads. 

When you all finish eating, Sarah helps bring the dirty dishes over to the sink where he begins to scrape the scraps into the garbage bin. He tells you to sit back down when you offer to help, not wanting you to exhaust yourself more than you already were. 

“I think I’m gonna head up early. I wanna read before bed.” Sarah says, rinsing her hands under the warm water. 

“Sounds good, sweetheart.” Joel nods, leaning into her as she hugs at his side saying goodnight. 

“I’ll look over your paper and leave it here for you okay?” You reach over across the island, just as she comes over to you. 

“You’re the bestest,” she hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “and make sure you get some sleep too.” She reminds you, privy to the workload you carry on your shoulders too. 

“I’ll go to bed as soon as your dad finishes up.” You promise, kissing her temple sweetly, so grateful for her thoughtfulness that she so undeniably got from her father.

Joel steals glances at you every so often as runs the dishes through the stream of water before loading them into the dishwasher. You were concentrated, mouthing the words on the paper, pausing every so often to squiggle notes in the margins before flipping through the rest of the pages. 

By the time he starts the washer and finishes wiping down the counters, he’s peering behind you, watching as you wrap up your last set of notes on the final page, giving her citations a quick skim to make sure they were all formatted correctly to which they were. 

“How’d she do?” He rubs your shoulders tenderly, before you tip your head back to look at him upside down while he grins, fingertips moving to rub at your cheeks instead. 

“Phenomenal as per usual, but she just needs to clarify some sentences to make it stronger, then she’s good to go.” You explain, shutting your eyes just briefly, only to open them to the sight of him bending down, connecting your lips. 

His are tender and warm against yours, sweeping just softly as you kiss back, feeling the dull scratch of his stubble graze across your skin as you both smile into each other like tired idiots, desperately needing sleep. 

He pulls away just to tilt your head back up, offering you a hand as you stand from the chair.

“Thanks for lookin’ over it even though I know you’re tired.” He murmurs, lacing his fingers through yours, standing still in the amber light of the kitchen.  

You shake your head at his small hint of remorse, the task actually doing more to help you forget about the real cause of your tiredness, if anything at all.

“Anything to get my mind off school and the internship helps a lot.” You tell him, and he nods understandingly, silently slinging his arm around your waist as you two begin shutting off the lights and making your way up the stairs quietly. 

“Do you wanna talk about your day?” He asks casually, always reminding you that you never had to if you didn’t want to revisit it. 

Tonight, you shake your head, sighing softly. “Not really.”

He nods, fingers kneading into your side sympathetically, just doing what he can to help you know he’s here for you. 

“S’alright baby, I got you.” He opens the bedroom door, walking you to the bathroom where you two brush your teeth in silence. 

His eyes stayed glued to your reflection in the mirror, watching the way your eyes begin to droop heavily with every blink now turning into a longer pause. The hand holding your electric toothbrush becomes limp, just holding it weakly and letting the brush do all the work. When the cycle finishes, he gently steals it from your hands, running it under the water and encouraging you to rinse your mouth just for a few seconds. 

He eventually steers you back into the bedroom, guiding you towards your side of the bed where he pulls back the covers, letting you fall onto the mattress like deadweight. He pulls the covers up a little higher over your collarbones, switching on the bedside lamp so that you can fall asleep easily, though it doesn’t look like you need the extra help. 

“I’ll be out in a bit.” He whispers, placing a kiss to your forehead, but to his surprise, you squirm under the overs, brows furrowing as you mumble.  

“Don’t be long, I want cuddles.”

He grunts with a shake of his head, not knowing how you were still able to form words after all that, but he pressed another kiss this time on your lips. 

“I promise darlin’.” 

He returns from the bathroom fifteen minutes later to find you snoring quietly. Soft breaths of air leaving your mouth, chest rising and falling, and your limbs finally resting like they’ve craved for. 

He rounded over to your side to shut off the lamp, now completely eclipsing the room. His eyes adjust to the dark, walking back over to his side and letting his back meet the comfort of the mattress. Like clock-work he turned his body towards you, snaking his arms around your body and pulling you close before he finally shut his eyes.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He murmurs, burying his face in your hair.“I love you.” 

Tuesday and Wednesday are equally draining as Monday’s, but the pace seems to quicken with the days bleeding into one another and your schedule getting busier. You share a few texts when you can throughout the day, checking in on how the new renovation is going on his end, and he asks about the final internship project on yours.  

The next time his phone buzzes, it’s not a text but a FaceTime call coming from you. His fingers click the green button, and he flashes a small smile, waiting for the screen to connect. 

“Hey baby.” He greets when finally graced with a grainy video of you adjusting your earbuds. 

“Hi,” you wave, gazing down at your phone just briefly before looking back up at what’s in front of you. “Sorry I’m walking to a coffee shop right now.” You say, keeping the phone at a low angle.

“Goin’ to get some late lunch?” He suspects, noting the two hours that have gone by since he had his own—leftover stew from two days ago.

“Yeah, I’m starving. I barely had time for breakfast.” You let out a small groan, pulling open a glass door as he suddenly hears faint jazz music and chatter in the background. 

Joel leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you tap a finger on your chin as you look over the menu. 

“And what is it you’re always tellin’ me about never leaving’ the house on an empty stomach?” He teases while you roll your eyes playfully, whispering for him to ‘shut up.’

You finally seem to decide what you want, stepping up to the counter as you greet the cashier with a smile and begin ordering. 

“Yeah, can I do a medium iced vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso?”

Joel would chastise you for consuming enough caffeine to induce a heart attack, but you were clearly in the working groove, just needing a little something extra to get you over.

He hears you order two more items: a ham and cheese croissant and a chocolate chip cookie. You thank the cashier, moving off to find a seat while you wait. Setting your bag down, you finally set the camera upright where he can see all of you now.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing any office time.” You say, noticing that he isn’t in fact taking his usual break from the comfort of his truck, but in his office with his phone propped against what you assume is his computer monitor.

He shakes his head, turning the camera a little to show you what he was doing before you called. 

“Not at all, sweetheart. Just finished up sendin’ the invoice to the new clients.”

“All done with the worksite today?” You assume, and he nods, turning the camera back to himself and catching you up on his day so far. 

“Just needed to check on the concrete pour from yesterday and get some of the electrical started. Headin’ to pick Sarah up from school…” he pauses, looking down at his watch, making a note of the time, “in about an hour, then take her to practice.”

Wednesdays were early after school pickups and late afternoon practices, ones that Joel never missed no matter how tied up he was at work. 

You pouted deeply, propping your chin up on your fist, “Wish I could get out early too, but the stupid deadline got moved up and I really want to finish this before—”

“Baby, s’okay,” he cuts in with a deep chuckle, “Sarah understands how busy you are. I understand. You’re nearly done, sweetheart, and when you are we know you’ll be there.”

He catches you on one too many occasions beating yourself up for feeling as if you’re missing out on their lives. But the truth is Joel doesn’t want you spreading yourself out thinner than you already are, especially when you’re juggling more than he is. He doesn’t say it out loud though, he never does, not when he knows you’d defend his honor about being a full time present dad all while running an independent contractor business with no outside partners–which you find way more difficult than grad school and an internship. 

He disagrees with your argument by a long shot, but he’s content with keeping it to himself, knowing deep down in his heart you’re the most hard-working person he’d ever met, and a selfless one at that. 

“Thanks, babe.” You smile sincerely, in awe of how easily he can soothe your worries without feeling like pity, but understanding. 

You two chatted for a few more minutes, catching him up on what you did in the office today and the free time you had to work on some course assignments before your order was called out. 

“I’m gonna head back to the office now, but I’ll text you when I’m free. I might be home later than usual. Just trying to squeeze in as much work as I can today.” You let him know, not wanting him to worry too much if you didn’t get home at your usual time. 

He nods, drawing the phone close to his face, as if he’s trying to bring you closer to him too. “Sounds good sweetheart, I love you.”

“Love you, too.” You grinned, pursing your lips together, giggling as he returned the gesture with a wet smooth and then the line disconnected. 

As he anticipated, you did get home later than usual. Sarah was already fast asleep, but not without reminding him to stay up and wait for you to get home before he tucked in. Without a doubt, he was going to do so, never sleeping well, or at all without knowing you got home safe and sound.

He was sitting on the couch freshly showered and his belly full of Chinese takeout, by the time you pulled into the driveway. He greeted you at the door, pecking your lips and taking your bags, telling you to head to the living room where dinner was waiting. 

There was a steaming plate of fried rice and an array of leftover entrees and side dishes beside a cold glass of water. Even though you had called him to let him know you were on the way and not that hungry, he still made the effort to lay it out for you, just in case you had a change of appetite.

And of course you did with such a long day you had. 

He sat with you on the couch, your legs thrown over his thighs as you forked through the plate on your lap telling him about the drive home. There was a minor accident on the highway, leaving one lane closed and traffic beginning to pile up. You would have been home twenty minutes earlier had it not been for the jam, but Joel still murmurs that he’s happy you got home safe.

He tells you about early pick up and Sarah’s practice, while occasionally reaching over to spoon more food onto your plate as you eat, knowing you didn’t have much since your late lunch FaceTime call. 

The hour ticks on late, and he yawns deeply from time to time, trying to get himself to stay up even when you tell him he can head up to bed before you. Sarah’s practice also had run a little overtime, leaving Joel too tired to cook something at home by the time they left the field, and so takeout it was. 

“I’ll be up in a bit,” you promise him between bites, your foot rubbing against his thigh hoping he would sway. “I just need to log in to do some forum replies and start the next chapter reading.”

“How long is ‘a bit’?” He let out a groan, eyes crinkling shut and yawning once more. 

You wiggle your shoulders, still chewing, “Like an hour tops.”

“They due tomorrow?” He assumes, noting that you never stay up this late unless you really have to.

“Just the replies,” you reply, swallowing, “but if I can at least get half the chapter reading done, it’ll help for the lecture.”

He gives you a slow but hesitant nod, shifting your legs off his lap and onto the cushions as he stands up. 

“Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll load them in the washer tomorrow before I head out.” He mumbles, bending down to peck your lips. 

“Okay.” You nod, watching as he walks up the stairs, leaving you to work in silence for a while. 

He manages a little more than an hour of rest until his body wakes up on its own after feeling you were nowhere to be found when he shifted, trying to cuddle you. If his intuition served him right, you were passed out on the couch with your laptop nearly falling off onto the ground at this point. 

He threw off the covers, making his way down the stairs groggily, doing his best to stay quiet and not wake Sarah. And just as he suspected there you were completely passed out. 

“Sweetheart,” he shook your shoulders gently, seizing your laptop before it could topple over and placing it on the coffee table.

You stirred slightly at the sudden touch, pinching your eyes and finally opening them.

“W-what time is it?” You croaked, rubbing your eyes and causing your mascara to smudge around your skin. 

“Almost 1:30.” He squints at the clock on the wall then back down to you. 

“Already?” You whine, covering your face with your hands, trying to get yourself a little more awake but failing.

He helps you sit up straight before gesturing to your laptop.

“Is your work all saved? Goin’ to shut it and charge it for you.” 

You nod your head wordlessly, watching as he sifts through your work bag, pulling out a long charger and plugging it into the wall, connecting the other side to your laptop as it makes a soft ding and he shuts it gently.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He says, holding his arm out to you as you stand up and lean into his side, his elbow knocking the light switch off. 

“I still have to shower.” You whisper, slowly walking up the stairs. 

“Just be quick.” He tells you, shutting off the stairwell light, and closing your bedroom door.

You agree wordlessly, heading towards the bathroom while he rifles through the drawers grabbing you a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt leaving it on the counter for you. He slips back into bed, eyes shutting as he hears the water run. It’s a few minutes before it finally shuts off, and the slide of the glass shower door tells him you’re all done. A few minutes pass, and he feels the bed shift with you settling beside him. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, enclosing your arms around his body and placing a delicate kiss to his bare shoulder. 

He makes a disapproving low sound, drawing his fingers up to yours where they rest on his sternum, clasping them together. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for baby…go to sleep.” He mumbles tiredly. 

You shuffle as close as you can get, brushing your lips against his skin once more before your breaths begin to fall against his spine, the two of you lulled to sleep, and this time without Joel missing you beside him.  

On Thursday, Joel feels like he’s counting down the seconds to midnight just so he can get closer to his favorite day of the week. But in some ways, he feels like Thursdays offer a head start to that day, especially when his phone erupts with messages coming from a group chat Sarah has named Family. 

Your message comes in first. 

‘Just remembered we have beef patties in the freezer. Want burgers for dinner tonight?’

Sarah replies almost instantly, ‘Sure. Can we have sweet potato fries too?”

‘Yeah, I’ll grab some otw home. Need anything else?’ You add. 

Joel’s fingers type something out, a stupid self-indulgent smirk spreading over his features as he stares down at his phone like a skittish teenager texting their crush.

‘Your pretty face’ he hits send without a second thought prompting Sarah to flood the chat with a slew of eye-rolling emojis.

Then, ‘Really dad? Text her privately. Gosh!!!!’ He can practically hear her embarrassment seeping through the messages. 

Before he can send back his own string of pixelated emoticons, his screen lights up with a picture of you as an incoming call rings. He picks up, pulling off a bright yellow hard hat and pressing the phone to his ear.  

“Are you trying to gross your daughter out or what?” You scold him jokingly, and he swears he can picture the smitten look on your face.  

“She’ll live.” Joel chuckles, eyes fleeting around the site where his brother and few other guys work on prepping the next concrete pour some feet away. 

“So you’re gettin’ off early today, huh?” He asks, pleased that you don’t have to stay back as late as you have been the last few days.

The long days you have been pulling have put a dent in your usual sleep schedule and it certainly hasn’t been easy on your body or mind, especially when working uncomfortably at a desk for hours at a time, barely getting to eat a proper filling meal. Today is one of those lucky Thursday’s and he can only hope for more of them, as you near the end of your semester and things are beginning to fizzle out into a manageable calm. 

“Yup.” You quip eagerly.

He can hear some rustling in the background, zippers pulling shut and the fabric of your bag crinkling as you pack away your things.

“I’m just about finished with the project, and all I have to do is look over it one more time before I send it over. And I can do all of it from home.” You inform him, slinging your bag over your shoulder and swiping your keys off your desk, quietly saying your goodbyes to a few of your colleagues. 

He feels slightly relieved to hear the day has been kinder to you, despite the obvious obligations you still have yet to fulfill and get off your plate. Nevertheless, the light at the end of the tunnel is closer than you think. 

“I’m proud of you, darlin’,” he praises warmly, already making plans to grab you a little something before he gets home.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” You reply gratefully before continuing with a short laugh, “But seriously, do you need anything else from the store?” 

He chuckles, thinking for a moment, trying to remember what he had in the fridge. “Grab some sesame buns and a red onion.”

“And my pretty face, right?” You tease, and he hears your car door open and shut. 

He doesn’t miss a single beat, buzzing out something soft and low. 

“Pretty sure they don’t sell ones like yours there…too special, too already mine.”

From across the site, Tommy shouts something in the distance, badgering Joel about getting off his phone and joining the rest of the crew. He grumbles, shouting something back at him as you start up your car and giggle at their banter. 

“Go back to work flirt.” You chastise, pulling his attention away from his younger brother. 

“Sorry about him,” Joel sighs apologetically, though you think it’s cute they still poke fun at each other now that they’re older. “Drive safely, sweetheart.” 

“I will, baby.”

By the time his truck pulls up in the driveway later that afternoon, your car is already parked in its usual spot. He took a little longer to get home, stopping by the grocery store to pick up a bouquet and your favorite candy bar as a small congratulations for getting one step closer to finishing up the big project. 

“I’m home!” He announces, undoing the laces of his boots and setting them aside, throwing his keys beside yours.

“We’re out here!” Sarah clamors from the backyard.

He stops a few feet away from where you two don’t notice him, allowing himself to revel in the sight of his two favorite girls. You both stood in front of the deck grill, changed out of your usual work and school attire, and your hair pulled out of your faces. Sarah waved an aluminum pan in the air, gently fending off any flies, meanwhile you stood with one hand on your hip, the other gripping a metal spatula, staring intently at the grill. 

He doesn’t expect to see you two starting without him, but he can’t complain knowing there was no better sight to come to than this, especially on the rare occasions that it’s you home before him. 

“You started without me?” He whistles, hiding the goodies behind his back as steps outside to join you both. 

Sarah manages to catch a glimpse of the flower petals, nodding her head when he mouths at her to ‘not say anything’ without you catching it. She hovers the pan behind his back, helping keep the gift hidden.    

“I just put them on a few minutes ago. Sarah had to help me watch a YouTube tutorial on how to get the grill started.” You met his lips in a quick peck before you turned your attention back to the grill, hoping it wasn’t burning. 

He took notice of the charcoal bag resting on the ground, ripped open and slightly lopsided as you and Sarah struggled to lift and pour the heavy thing into the firebox. It had finally set in that you had been aiming to get dinner done before he arrived home. He had been pulling a lot of your weight lately, always making sure you came home to a warm and cozy dinner no matter how tired he was, and you wanted to attempt to at least try to do the same for him today. 

Sarah points at you, smacking her dad on the shoulder gently.

“She was the brave one and actually lit it up. I was kinda scared but she did it just like how you always do.” 

You grin, letting your back fall against his chest, peering up at him.

“Yeah, and I’m coming for your title as grill master.” 

Joel chuckles, shaking his head as he finally pulls his arm from behind him, presenting you with the colorful arrangement and the candy bar he managed to lay in the center. 

“Reckon these are yours, grill master.” He hums, letting you take hold of the stems, trading you for the spatula instead. 

You stare down at them in appreciation, shaking your head up at him with a shy smile. “You didn’t have to.” 

He shrugs, leaning over to kiss your forehead. “I wanted to.” 

Finally, Sarah laughs, bonking her dad’s head with the pan, and making grabby hands at the arrangement, wanting to see which kinds of flowers he picked this time. You handed it over, trading her for the pan as she took in every kind of flower. 

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone,” she sings, making the two of you laugh.

“And I’ll get started on the fries.” She tosses the candy bar towards you, skipping into the house, but not before looking over her shoulder and giving her dad a thumbs up for his choice of bouquet.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, ripping open the treat already enjoying a bite.

He laughs, shaking his head telling you it was nothing.

“So how was pick up?” He adds curiously, silently thanking you for grabbing Sarah from school today.

“Good! I surprised her with a milkshake and donut from the cafe I went to yesterday, and she loved it.” You held the bar out for him to take a bite.

“No carpoolin’?” He chews, sliding the spatula under the patties checking on the char.

“Not today, but some of her friends stopped by to say ‘hi’ to me.” You reveal a little proudly, hoping Sarah doesn’t hear you pathetically brag about how neat it was that she brought you up to her friends enough that they wanted to meet you. 

“Hmm, is that right?” He nudges your side with his elbow, teasing just slightly at your clear giddiness.

“Apparently, they’ve been dying to meet Mr. Miller’s cool, pretty, and super smart girlfriend.” You repeated in the same inflection Sarah had introduced you to them through the passenger window. 

He smiles at the thought, knowing plenty of his daughter’s friends often ask him about you too when it was his day for carpooling. He suspected that next week he’d probably have to deal with a bunch of teenage girls asking him how he managed to luck out with someone like you, but he says it would be pretty worth it. 

“Can’t say that I haven’t bragged about you a few times either.” He grins, flipping the patties as you giggle beside him.

“It was definitely the right pick-me-up for today.” You tiptoe, kissing his cheek sweetly.

Dinner is eaten outside, with the three of you watching the sunset and talking about the plans for tomorrow. Sarah doesn’t need a ride home because it’s a home game, so you and Joel agree to meet there. Your last lecture of the day ends right when her game starts, so you warn her that you’ll be a little late, but she assures you she’ll save her scoring drive when you turn up. 

Joel finds that as the week comes to a close, you open up a little more about your day, finding small parts of it that don’t seem draining to revisit. Sarah asks about the office you intern at and if they’ve fixed the air conditioning that went out last week. Joel grins proudly when he hears that you were this close to having him stop by and take a look at it himself, before they actually got someone to come and get it up and running again.

With Sarah being a freshman in high school, she has been a little more interested in taking a look at her different options after graduation. You attend a university just a half hour away from the house, and they offer an array of concentrations. You offer to bring her on campus one of these days to show her around and maybe talk to some friends of yours in different degree paths just so she can get a feel of what is out there. 

Joel can’t help but feel a little sad that she’s growing up so fast, but at the same time he’s thankful to know you were always there to help her through anything, especially with these sorts of things that he didn’t have much knowledge in. 

By the time your bellies are full, Joel picks up the dirty dishes, taking them into the kitchen where you trail behind holding a stack of watered down glasses.

“Go rest up kiddo, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.” He calls out to Sarah who hovers around the kitchen about to jump in and help you two clean up.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” She asks, looking over at you who nods reassuring her that she can go rest up. 

“I don’t have much work to do tonight, so I can help out. Thanks again, sweetheart.” 

She hugs you both goodnight, making a pit-stop in the garage to grab her cleats and kneepads to pack into her duffle bag for tomorrow, leaving you and Joel in the kitchen. You are in charge of dishes tonight and the countertops, while Joel goes back outside cleaning off the grill and throwing out the used charcoal.

By the time the kitchen is nice and tidy, he meets you in the living room where you lounge on the couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone for a quick break.

“You goin’ to work down here tonight?” He asks, flopping beside you, draping his arms around your thighs and laying his head on your hips.

You sigh heavily, fingers running through his hair. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna put it off, if I’m being honest.”

He looks up at you, lifting his brows. “When’s the deadline again?”

He recalled just a few days ago that you said the project’s due date got pushed closer than expected, but you were already practically done with it.

“Next week.” You answer.

“And you just gotta look through it and send it in, right?”

You hum in agreement, beginning to feel his fingers dig into your thighs with a gentle squeeze.

“I say you get it out of the way tonight and save yourself the extra stress next week.” 

“You’re so right.” You murmur, pulling your hands away to rub at your cheeks, trying to find the sliver of energy left in you to do it.

Joel had no problem with letting you put it off if you really wanted to, but he knew you just needed an extra push. 

“What if you work from bed?” he suggests, hands running up your thighs and over your hips. “We’ll go have a nice hot shower, and I’ll stay up with you until you’re finished.” 

There had been no space in the week for you and Joel to have some proper alone time. And it wasn’t that the kisses and small gestures weren’t enough—Joel knew just how much it all meant to you, how it kept you grounded throughout the busy week—but there was a need to feel his hands more than just the touch of him pulling you closer in bed when you two were half asleep. 

“You sure?” You ask, weary of his own exhaustion that doesn’t seem to ever phase him nor get in the way of him being there for you.

He nods, reaching up for your hands and bringing your knuckles towards his lips. 

“Positive, sweetheart.” 

The shower is steamy just how you like it, and his hands glide over the slopes and dips of your body, taking the time to feel you the way he’s been missing—the way you’ve been needing. Your hands do the same to his architecture, running down his arms and over his chest, murmuring sweet words of thanks as he massages your scalp and presses scattered kisses where he can. There’s nothing more to it than tenderness, nothing sexual or heated, just intimacy in the simplest form as water cascades the two of you.

He dries the two of you down after using up all the hot water, staying glued to your side as he watches you complete your night-time routine in front of the foggy mirror. He pulls on a pair of boxers before plucking one of his faded t-shirts, guiding it over your frame before entering the bedroom. 

“I should be done in less than an hour.” You settle beside him against the headboard with your laptop in hand. 

He swipes his reading glasses and a book off his bedside table. “Take your time darlin’, I’ll be right here.” 

He looks over at you after every few pages, watching as you scroll through the screen, mouthing words as you re-read and type on your keyboard, making a few edits here and there. When he hears you let out a deep breath, raking your fingers through your damp hair, he sets his book down, giving you his full attention.

“I’m pretty sure this is good to go.” You whisper.

“Yeah?” He leans over, closing the space between you both to take a peek at your screen. Just a month and a half prior, it was a blank slate, so much planning and hours you had spent to make it what it was now.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about submitting it.” You bite down on your lip, scrolling through it once more, just trying to make sure everything was in its rightful place. 

Above the covers, his hand squeezes your thigh encouragingly. “It’s normal to feel nervous baby, you’ve been workin’ on it for a while now.” 

“Want me to give it a look?” He suggests, sitting up a little straight offering you to pass it over to him. 

You nod with a faint smile, placing it on his lap.

“You don’t have to read the whole thing, but could you just make sure it makes sense?”

“‘Course I can.” He nods, bringing the screen closer to his aging eyes.

He reads to himself quietly, nodding his head every so often, prompting you to scroll to the next page for him–Joel afraid that he may accidentally click something and mess up all your hard work.

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect.” He removes his glasses, glancing over at you with a proud expression. 

You let out a breath of relief, kindly thanking him as you take the laptop back into your lap, opening up your mailbox and typing out a quick email to your supervisor. He watches as you attach the final link, telling them to reach out if they have any questions or concerns before finally pressing send.

He can see the visible relief that washes over you the second you close your laptop and set it aside. The weight that falls from your shoulders and the tug of your lips rising into a content smile for getting it out of the way.

“God that felt good.” You admit, making him laugh, as he pulls you closer, pressing kisses to your temple and your cheeks, wherever he can feel you.

“Rest now, baby.” He murmurs, guiding your cheek into the crook of his neck, feeling your soft breaths hit his skin.

His eyes watch you, ears drawing in on the sounds of your gentle snores, feeling the way your limbs tangle with his on their own accord. He doesn’t need a clock to know the hour, but just by the feel of it alone, he knows Friday is almost here.

Friday hits you when you need it most. Your schedule is a little less hectic with the claws of responsibility loosening its grips on you and giving you the chance to leave home later than usual. 

Joel sees the color and life seep back into your skin, from the moment he wakes with you still asleep at his side, the sun shining down on your skin and greeting you for the day ahead. Breakfast is a messy and rushed affair enjoyed between the three of you. Sarah scrambles to find her favorite pair of jeans while you and him whip up some pancakes and coffee. 

You eat fairly quickly, remembering you had a study group to meet up with before your first lecture of the day. You kiss Sarah’s cheek and wish her good luck on her game, promising you would be there as soon as possible–she hums thankfully, chewing and mumbling past the syrup-soaked pancakes in her mouth.

And of course you linger a little when you kiss Joel goodbye, reminding him to have a safe day at work and text you when he has the chance to. He watches from the front door as you load up into your car, rolling down your windows to wave one last time before you drive off. 

When lunch rolls around, he’s smiling down at his phone. 

Sarah sent in a picture of her final essay with a big red A+ at the top of the page. You flood the chat with a bunch of hearts and congratulations, even sending a selfie of you grinning from ear to ear with a thumbs up. 

From the background, he can make out the shelves of books and a few tables behind you where bystanders look locked in on their laptops and overpriced textbooks. You were most likely on a quick break between classes, squeezing in some extra studying and clearly a text chain. 

‘Proud of you, baby girl’ He sends first followed by more hearts and thumbs up.

Then, replying to your picture he types, ‘Lookin’ pretty sweetheart’

You send in a few smiley emojis which can hardly depict the way you find yourself actually blushing down at your phone in the half empty library where your peers probably think you’re crazy–but you don’t find it in yourself to care, not today at least. 

And now, this time Sarah isn’t badgering him for being in love, just liking the picture of you and commenting about how he was obsessed. Yes, he was guilty, and there was nothing anyone could do about that fact. 

The workday and the aches in his muscles fade into the bygone as he sits on the bleachers. The late afternoon breeze grazes his exposed arms, a pleasant warmth of the sun beating down as the team huddles on the sideline getting ready for the game. You had called just a while earlier to let him know you were leaving campus and heading their way, and he didn’t miss the chance to let you know Sarah had scored a goal during their warm-up. 

The girls finally shouted something in unison, clapping excitedly as they ran out onto the field getting in their positions before the whistle blew and the game began. Joel kept his eyes zeroed in on Sarah, watching her sprint across the field, waving her hands in the air to her teammates, trying to get an opening. 

But it wasn’t too long before he heard a familiar voice barreling through the air as you walked up the bleachers with a bunch of flowers in hand–your post-game gift to her after every game no matter win or loss. 

“Go, Sarah!” You shout, barely acknowledging the steps and the fact that you almost missed one with your gaze focused on the game instead. 

Joel immediately stands, hands reaching out to grab you by the shoulders.

“Jesus baby, you wanna try not crackin’ your skull open before the game ends?” He jokes, helping you take a seat beside him. 

“She’s so fast!” You exclaim, finally turning to kiss his lips quickly, “Did they just start?”

He nods, sliding his arm across your shoulders. “How was everythin’ today?” 

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching intently. “Not so bad, actually. My lectures went well, and I got some work done for next week.”

He gives you a warm squeeze, thumbs tracing circles over your arm. “Good, cause I wanna enjoy the weekend with my girls.” 

“Trust me, it’s going to be the best—”

Your mouth shuts mid-sentence, elbows bracing on your knees as your eyes widen at the sight. 

Sarah had managed to steal the ball, flying down the field like she magically grew wings. Her legs stride briskly, keeping the ball close to her foot as she made a beeline for the net. Her foot swung with full force, driving it right into the goal. 

You and Joel were on your feet, cheers erupting in the air as you two screamed and clapped. 

“Let’s go, baby girl!” 

“Woo-hoo, Sarah!”  

She finds you two in the crowd of cheering families and students, smiling from ear to ear and pointing at you both like you’re her biggest fans—and of course you and Joel are and always would be. She catches the way you two blow her kisses before high-fiving each other, laughing so proudly, and making it the most memorable goal in her book. 

The game drags on with a good back and forth between the two teams, but ultimately finishes with Sarah’s winning on their home turf. You and Joel step down the bleachers, watching in admiration as she celebrates with her team, giving out hugs and praises to everyone before she comes jogging over with open arms, embracing you two tightly.

“We’re so proud of you, baby girl.” Joel kisses her sweaty temple, holding onto her a little tighter. 

“You killed it, honey.” You add, placing the flowers in her arms, watching as she smiles appreciatively. It’s tradition and a reminder to her that no matter the outcome, to always be proud of herself and that she always had you two in her corner to cheer her on.

“Today’s like the best Friday ever! I got an A+ on my paper and scored, and won!” She hoots, jumping like the luckiest girl in the world, making you guys laugh. 

“Are you gonna celebrate with the team tonight?” You reach over to push her damp hair away from her forehead and cheeks, tucking it behind her ears. 

She scoffs, waving off a few of her teammates who were already beginning to exit the field, before looking at you with a sneaky grin. 

“And miss out on our Friday pizza party? Absolutely not.” 

That’s all you need to hear as you drape your arms around her shoulders, the two of you walking to your car as Joel trails behind carrying her school bag and her duffle. 

“Go on and head home. I’ll go pick up the pizzas and meet you there.” He says, gesturing to you to unlock your door. 

You reach into your purse, pressing down on the key fob. 

“Remember our order, right?”

He shoots you a look, like he could ever forget the never-changing order that you two consistently request every week. 

“One supreme pizza with extra bell peppers and one cheese pizza.”

“And…” You and Sarah say in unison, the word dragging out as he sighs, pretending to be annoyed. 

“A brownie pie with extra chocolate chips.” He sighs while you two smile and give him a nod of approval. 

“Don’t forget the parmesan packets!” Sarah calls out, rounding your car and getting into the passenger seat.

You step closer to him, tiptoeing and brushing your lips over his. “I’ll see you at home.”

“See you there.” He kisses back, giving your bum a small tap before you push him away towards his truck.

He arrives a half-hour later, finding you two changed into pajamas and lounging on the couch, flicking through one of the many streaming services Sarah’s has convinced him to buy, trying to decide what to watch.

You look over when you hear the front door shut, waving him over. 

“Babe, did you know your daughter has never seen Dirty Dancing?” You stand, grabbing the paper bag from around his wrists, while he places the boxes of pizza on the coffee table. 

He snorts, glancing up at Sarah who shrugs her shoulders unknowingly. “I’m surprised you haven’t watched it at any of the sleepovers you’ve been to.”

“Dad, we don’t watch 80s movies. We talk about social media and boys and—”

“Boys?” he repeats incredulously as if it were a sacred word that she had never uttered until now. 

“Oh God.” She rolls her eyes, covering her face while he stares, still completely astounded–he’s dramatic, he knows, but seeing her act a little embarrassed at him makes him laugh inside. 

You shake your head at the two, nudge his shoulder for him to knock it off Sarah’s sake. “Go shower! We’ll wait for you.”

“This conversation isn’t over, alright?” He barks jokingly, adding a stern point of his finger, all while Sarah groans, waving him off, while you fail to stifle your laughter.

Joel takes less than 20 minutes to shower, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a faded shirt as he makes his way down the stairs. You two scroll on your phones, showing funny videos to each other to pass the time.

“There you are.” You smile, tossing your phone to the side as you scoot over and pat the empty space.

“Surprised you two haven’t ransacked the food yet.” He half jokes, plopping down between the two of you. “What are we watchin’?”

“Dirty Dancing.” Sarah answers, pressing play on the remote and glancing over her dad as she gestures to you. She says I need to be aware of the cultural impact of Patrick Swayze.”

“You’re in for the time of your life, kid.” Joel smirks, nudging your side while you giggle, and Sarah can do nothing but raise her brows in confusion, not quite getting the reference just yet. 

But alas, an hour and fifty minutes later, the movie had finally wrapped up after a whole lot of you and Sarah squealing, drooling over Mister Swayze himself and occasionally using the sleeves of Joel’s t-shirt to wipe your teary eyes. 

Anyone else would probably ditch the movie all together, but Joel wouldn’t be anywhere else. In truth, he probably paid attention to less than half of the movie, too busy smiling at the two of you and reveling in your combined laughter throughout the whole thing. 

And it’s no different now that Sarah has decided to put on what she argued was the best song from the movie. 

“Cause I’ve had the time of my life…” She lifts the TV remote up to her lips, singing along passionately. 

Joel can’t help but chuckle as you join in, but only this time dramatically perching up beside him as you hold his face in your hands. 

“And I owe it all to you…” you sing, drawing out the words just until Joel can’t help himself. 

He closes the space and presses his lips to yours in a wet smooch that leaves you squealing and giggling against him, all while Sarah groans out an ‘ewww’ and manages to pull you away from him. 

“Dad, do we still have that tub of ice cream?” She asks, tugging you along to the kitchen with her. 

“Pretty sure we haven’t touched it since last Friday’s movie night.” He replies, trailing behind you two, watching as you pull open the freezer and Sarah goes to retrieve two spoons. 

You let out squeal when you find the tub, the two of you immediately digging in as if you didn’t ransack the entire pizza pies throughout the entire movie. But all Joel can do is smile, too consumed with the joy he feels from watching you two have this much fun together without worrying about what next week will bring.

He lingers, just watching as he always does, enjoying every second of his favorite sight like it’s the true movie he doesn’t want to miss. He doesn’t patronize you or Sarah for leaving the freezer door propped wide open, thawing everything out. But he just watches with immense happiness. 

The refrigerator light casts a glow across your smiley faces. You stand tall, leaning your head against hers where she lays her cheek on your shoulder. There’s nothing but love and care between the two of you–pieces of each other’s hearts that neither of you knew were missing until you found each other. 

Joel feels it so deeply in his bones, the fact that he’s gotten lucky two times in his life. The day Sarah was born and the day he met you. Nothing could beat what he had, and despite even the struggles he had gone through before all of this–he wouldn’t change anything, not when it all led him home to this. 

“You think someone could really do that lift in real life?” Sarah asks, eyes flicking to the television and rewatching the iconic lift. 

“Maybe,” you said around your spoon, “looks kinda scary though.” 

“Wanna try?” Joel clears his throat, lifting his brow towards you. 

“No way, dad, you’ve got a bad back.” Sarah snorts with a ridiculous shake of her head.

“My back is fine.” He waves her off, then holds his arms out towards you with a smirk. “No one puts Baby in a corner, right?”  

You giggle, stabbing your spoon into the tub of ice cream, as Sarah takes it from you and instantly puts it down on the counter. 

“I’m so recording this.” Sarah shouts, pulling out her phone and stepping back to capture you and her dad in the frame. 

“Ready, babe?” You stare at him with a nervous smile, taking a deep breath. 

He nods, legs bending slightly. “I got you, sweetheart.” 

You jog, hands bracing against his shoulders, as you feel his fingers dig into your hips and suddenly your feet lifted off the ground.

You can’t help but shriek from above him, peering down to see him staring up at you with an ear to ear grin on his face before he finally sets you down again. 

“Oh, my god!” Sarah let out an amazed laugh, while you giggle uncontrollably, jumping up and down as his arms looped around your waist keeping you close. 

“I can’t believe you just did that!” You praise proudly, patting his chest. 

“Told you so.” He murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips as you laugh against him. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” you hear Sarah pipe, waving her hands in the air as she turns around. “I’m going to bed, lovebirds.” She shoots you two a grin over her shoulder. 

“You sure you don’t want to watch Grease next?” You shout after her, but she shakes her head.

“Tomorrow.” She replies. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart, we love you.” You call out through the room, peering a little past the hallway to see her. 

“Thank you! Love you guys too!” She yells back, voice fading as she gets to the top of the stairs. 

The house is suddenly quiet, except for the faint buzz of the television and the whirling of the air conditioner. The second Joel hears the familiar sound of Sarah’s door closing, he can’t help but kiss you again, but this time a little deeper than before. His hands glide down your hips to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up. 

“Babe!”

You pull away and whisper quietly, locking your legs around his waist, stifling your laughter into the crook of his neck as he walks you over to the couch. 

He plops down comfortably, with you in his lap, smiling up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he murmurs softly. 

“Just wanna spend more time with my girl.” 

“I’m not complaining,” you smile, fingers trailing across his salt and pepper stubble, slowly inching towards his face once again.

“Not. Complaining. One. Bit.” 

You emphasize each word with a soft kiss, all before Joel’s patience finally dwindles. With a firm yet gentle hold, his hand meets the back of your neck, holding you to him and keeping your lips sealed against one another.

He can feel the plush of your lips curling up into a smile, and then his own breath of laughter falling against yours. In this moment, nothing else seems to matter–not when he’s here with you. And after what seems like the longest week, time and everything in between stands still and for once you can finally just be. 

Sure, tomorrow would bring another day and then another week to come, but today is Friday. And Joel’s in love.

*literal depiction of joel's calendar he has hanging somewhere in his office or perhaps hung on the fridge at home hehehe*

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

a/n: i know i'm one day late from posting this on a friday (I AM SORRY!!!!)!!! i really wanted to write something sweet and domestic w/o the outbreak so i came up with this! i also got the idea after plenty of listening to Olivia's cover of 'Friday, I'm in Love' and figured this would be super cute hehehe. i hope you guys liked reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 have an amazing weekend and take care MWAH!

How easy it would be to press the little button on the watch he gave you, send him a quick message, and have him there. But your stomach knots for a different reason at the thought. He doesn't need to see you like this, cranky, bundled in mismatched pjs, curled up like some wounded thing. At least your ex boyfriend never wanted to deal with... this. The unglamorous parts.

Surely, in the short period of time you've been dating Johnny, he has proved a million times he's better than any other excuse of a guy. Every single one. Which is probably why you feel the need to keep things romanticized in some way. 

You've spent nights with him before, heavenly late hours tangled in his sheets, or sleepovers at your place that stretched into lazy mornings. But those nights had always been planned to some degree. Wearing cute little shorts, soft perfume, or maybe nothing at all if things got heated, which was pretty often to be fair. But always with a little polish, a little effort, like you were still trying to show the best version of you. 

Cramp. 

You roll over, again, and tug your blanket higher. Try to gaslight yourself into believing you're fine. But the wave of pain twists through you, sharp enough that you press your face into the cushion to muffle a groan. Your chest tightens and you suddenly feel small. 

Alone.

Your arm comes out of the blanket and your fingers drift to the watch on your wrist before you can stop yourself. You trace the smooth edge of the screen, remembering how proud Johnny was when he put it on you the first time, like he'd just given you the most thoughtful thing in the world. And he did, he meant it to make you feel safe, connected, never too far away from him.

Johnny it is, then. 

That’s what you needed. Just him, next to you, being warm, and solid and distracting enough to pull you out of the spiral of despair. Your finger hovers over the screen for a few seconds and finally, after another wave of pain, you give in. One press and a ping gets sent to Johnny, all the way to the Baxter Building. 

It's quite comical when you think about it. Johnny likes to call it a superhero signal, in case you ever need him. Just like right now. 

Wait– but what if he's already asleep? What if he just reads it in the morning and–

The screen lights up almost immediately. A ping vibrates softly on your wrist with his reply. 

"On my way."

It's interesting how just a few words from him, on a screen even, already give you some relief. You lay tucked in, eyes on the ceiling as you wait for his arrival. And before you know it, you hear those familiar soft footsteps on your balcony, followed by the hiss of the glass door sliding open. 

You glance up eagerly, and there he is, Johnny Storm in all his sleeping clothing glory. 

A soft white shirt with some blue striped pants, blonde hair sticking up in every possible direction from where he must've rolled out of bed, and that signature, charming smile on his face when he caught you bundled up on the couch. 

He doesn't even wait for you to speak before stepping inside and crouching in front of you, one knee pressing into the carpet, his hand going up to gently brush some stray strands of hair off your forehead. The teasing smile softens as soon as he sees your face.

"I was starting to think you forgot about me," he jokes about not seeing you all day, still trying to make it light, but his eyes give him away. 

They're worried. Worried that you've been feeling sick all day and didn't tell him, worried that you're curled up like this without him knowing. 

"Why didn't you call me sooner?" he tilts his head, as his hand continues to stroke your hair. 

You open your mouth, but your throat closes around the answer. You don't know how to explain the mix of embarrassment and stubborn independence. So instead, you shrug weakly.

"I guess ... I didn't want to bother you. It's just.... it hurts and I can't sleep, and–"

"Hey," he cuts in gently, thumb brushing over your temple. "C'mere," he leans forward in his crouched position, pulling your upper body straight into his chest. He's so warm it feels unfair, his arms wrapping around you like all day you should've been there. "You could never ever bother me, you need me and I'm here, end of the story."  

You bite your lip, the edges of your embarrassment softening under the warmth of his voice. He pulls away just enough to look at you, trying to coax a smile out of you.

"Besides, if I knew you'd be curled up like a burrito in this blanket, I would've been here hours ago. You're basically begging me to make fun of you," he teases, earning a snort from you. 

You try to tug the blanket higher over your face, but he only laughs and tugs it back down, playful, his fingers brushing your cheek. "There she is," he says softly, eyes searching yours. "My girl."

You smile, about to say something but another cramp tenses your body, and Johnny immediately pulls you to him again, your cheek over his heartbeat. He doesn't let go right away, you stay pressed against his chest until you stop clutching his shirt. Only when your breathing steadies, Johnny pulls back to study your face, his eyes narrowing in that way that makes you feel completely seen.

"Alright, sweetheart" he whispers, cupping your face. "Tell me how bad it hurts."

You gesture vaguely at your stomach, cheeks heating. "It's just... cramps. Really bad. I just wanted you here ...you don't have to–"

"Stop," he kisses your forehead before you can finish. "I do have to. It’s literally my only purpose as your hot, lucky boyfriend."

That earns a soft laugh from you, probably the first in hours, and he smiles satisfied.

"I'm gonna need you to wait here for me," he backs slightly to stand up, but you grab his hand. 

"Wait, Johnny don't leave–"

"It's only a few minutes, alright?" he reassures, and only stands up when you nod hesitantly and drop his wrist. "Don't miss me too much, I know you like to see my face and all that–”

"Johnny, just go..." you chuckle, and he grins wider, saluting his way out the balcony. 

The room feels colder as soon as he's gone, and you realize how his absence feels like missing sunlight. Like all day you've been lying under a cloud of rain. But sure enough, the cold doesn't last longer than five minutes, when he's landing back again with a triumph smile on his face as he makes his way to your kitchen. 

You stare curiously from the couch at Johnny moving swiftly through it, with a raised hand in flames to illuminate the countertop. You hear cupboards opening, the soft clink of a mug being set down, and being filled with water. He rips open with his teeth a paper package he pulls from his pocket, placing the tea bag in the water. He makes his way back to you carrying the mug in one hand, as the other lowered his fire to just one flame under the mug to instantly heat it up. You sit down just in time as he arrives, a steaming cup of tea now in his hands, the scent instantly soothing.

"Careful, sugar" he smiles, handing the hot mug to you, "and ... take these," he reaches the pocket of his striped pants, pulling out a small plastic pill bottle.

"Painkillers haven't been helping much," you shake your head, sipping from your tea. He just kneels in front of you again, so he can be on eye level.

"These are special ones Reed made specifically for my sister, since she deals with pretty bad cramps too," he explains, opening the bottle and pouring two baby blue pills on his hand before handing them to you. "The tea is also his mixture, Sue says it helps a lot."

You stare at him in silence, melting in awe. You can't believe you had convinced yourself all day Johnny wouldn't want to deal with this. He does have a sister after all. And he's been raised right, partly by her. So you nod, taking the pills with a sip of tea, and set the mug on your coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips meet his, and it feels like you've been stupidly depriving yourself of your oxygen. He's soft with it, slowly savoring it like he's been missing you all day too, smiling against your tea flavored lips when he pulls apart for air.

The movement made the blanket around you fall open, revealing the heating pad lying crooked on your low belly. Johnny doesn’t even doubt.

"Trade me, babe" he says, taking the cold pad away before slipping his hot hand against your lower belly. The relief on your face is instant, like it was the last missing piece. "Let's keep that there, and drink this before I have to spoon feed you, because I will." he mocks seriousness, picking the mug from the table, guiding it to your lips. 

You happily take a sip, smiling against the mug. "Since when are you so bossy?"

"Since you forget to take care of yourself," his tone is teasing, but his eyes are soft, lingering until you take another sip, so you do. 

"Better?" he asks, half smug half relieved. 

"Better," you nod, not even able to control your smile anymore. "You are ... simply the best, Johnny Storm," you praise wholeheartedly, starting to forget about the pain.

"I know, I know," he rolls his eyes playfully, lifting up from his crouching position without taking away his hand, before gesturing to your side. "Now, your portable heating pad's knees hurt, scoot." 

You move over amused, and he sits next to you, his free arm instantly curling around your shoulders. His body always radiates heat, steady and overwhelming in the best way. You can't help but relax, your head finding its way to his chest as you sip the last of the tea. 

"So much for a superhero," you tease now, making him gasp in feigned offense. 

"This is after hours, babe," he defends, "besides, I've proven myself to be very useful," to make his point stronger, he takes the empty mug from your hand and places it away. 

"Oh you have, fire boy," you nod, playfully placing a kiss on his chest as a thank you. 

"See? You could've had this hours ago if you'd just called me," his hand rubs soothing circles along your arm. "And I mean it ... I wanna be here for you. All of it. Even this. Especially this."

"I know," you whisper, hugging him tighter, the ghost of a smile on your face. "I know, Johnny." 

You cuddle in silence for a while, the pain quickly drifting away from the medicine and Johnny's unbelievable heat. Your hand slipped under his shirt a while ago, tracing patterns on his toned skin.

"You know what..." he breaks the silence, and you recognize the spark in his voice. "Forget space travel. I could make commercials about this. 'Tired of cramps? Get a Johnny!’”

"Yeah? I'm sure Ben would love to see that," you shake your head laughing, patting his chest but he catches your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "Lucky for me, I have my Johnny already," you lift your chin up to look at him. 

"Yes, but yours comes with extra features," he wiggles his eyebrows, while his mouth keeps running just to coax more giggles out of you. "I'm just saying... heating mode, snuggle mode, horny sex god mode–"

"You're so full of yourself, Johnny." 

"Why thank you," he kisses your temple, obnoxiously sweet. "Full of snacks, too. I also brought gummy bears," he says, and you tilt your head to find his smirk.

"You did not." 

"Check my pocket," he nods excitedly, and you reach over his pants, accidentally grazing his crotch. "Wow–wow, not that pocket!"

You can't help but snort, reaching the right pocket this time. Sure enough, there's a little crinkled bag tucked inside. Your chest warms almost as much as your belly does under his palm. Johnny looks far too pleased with himself. 

"See? I even brought candy to your midnight pity party" he says, already reaching the bag to grab two gummies. He pops one in your mouth before eating one himself. 

"My pity party? I hate you," your offended voice comes out muffled from chewing the gummy. 

"Except you love me," he shrugs smugly, reaching for more gummies to do the same again. One for you, one for him. 

And damn this idiot, you do. Especially when he tilts his head to peck your lips, lingering with the candy's leftover sweet taste. You eat a few more in silence, only giggling when he attempts to throw one and catch it in the air and fails miserably, only for you to get it at the first try. 

"Alright, alright ... that's enough," he crinkles the bag and puts it next to your empty mugs on the coffee table. "Sue would kill me if she sees me eating candy right now."

"You're just saying that cause you lost–"you attempt to tease, but a yawn takes over your voice, your eyes inevitably narrowing. 

"I'm saying that because you need to rest," he corrects, already getting up. "C'mon, sweetheart, we're doing this right" he slides one arm under your knees and another around your back. "This couch isn't good enough for you."

The blanket stays wrapped around you, tucked close to your chest, while his warmth radiates through your whole body as he walks to your bedroom. He nudges the door open with his foot, and in a couple of strides reaches the bed. He lays you down softly, and places a kiss your forehead that makes you smile. For a second, he just looks at you, messy hair, tired eyes, and you swear he couldn't look more in love.

Then, without warning, he starts tugging the blanket away.

"Hey!" you protest, clutching it tighter around you. "Johnny, I need that," you complain, but he just smirks, leaning over you. 

"Wrong! You got me now. I'm waaay better than some blanket."

"You gave me this blanket." 

"Yeah, well, now I'm taking it away," he shrugs, smiling condescendingly. 

You groan, half laughing, trying to wrestle the blanket back, but he wins easily, tossing it onto the floor with a winning grin. 

"There. Much better," he says, and before you can complain about him washing it, he slides in beside you, embracing your body with his. 

The heat of him hits immediately, wrapping you far warmer and softer than the blanket ever was. His arm goes around your waist, palm flattening over your stomach again, radiating that gentle, steady warmth. The way you relax into his body makes him smile. 

"See?" he mumbles against your hair. "Told you, babe, way better," he tugs you closer to his chest, pulling the covers of your bed over you. 

One hand stays over your stomach, spreading heat exactly where you need it, while the other strokes slow, soothing patterns down your back. You listen to his heartbeat for a while, the rhythm grounding you more than anything else has all day.

This isn't another night where you prepped yourself the whole day to smell like literal heaven when he tasted your skin. Tonight is different. You're in mismatched faded pjs, hair undone, tired face. And he doesn't look at you like you're any less. If anything, his eyes are softer, more focused, like this is the you he'd been waiting to see.

"You know," he says after a long silence, voice getting lower with sleep, "this is my favorite look on you."

"I look awful," you groan, burying your face in his chest.

"Yeah, awful ... totally hideous. Which is why I'm keeping you forever," he chuckles, like it's a joke, but his words always hold more meaning to them. 

You lift your head just enough to meet his blue eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you realize this might be the most intimate night you’ve ever shared. And you’re happy. 

Johnny can feel it. The way your body melts against his, the way your breathing evens out. And then suddenly your eyes are fluttering shut, lips parted slightly. 

“Sleep babe, I got you,” he whispers, pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead.

And with his body pressed against yours, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you finally drift off. Safe, held, and cared for in every way that matters.

The first thing you notice when your eyes blink open is warmth. Not just the weight of his arm still around your waist, or the way his chest rises steady beneath your cheek, but the faint heat radiating from his palm, still exactly where it had been all night, like he never once let go. You shift, slow and careful, and he feels it. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Johnny mumbles, in his deeper morning voice. You tilt your head just enough to see him, his blonde hair even messier than last night, eyes heavy lidded and a lazy smile. “How you feeling?” 

“Mmm, it doesn’t hurt,” you hum, snuggling into his chest. 

“Told you, babe. Human torch heating pad, runs all night and never shuts off,” he drawls, joking even when he’s still half asleep. 

You chuckle, and try shifting out of his arms, just enough to stretch, enough to maybe get up and get cleaned up. But the second you move, Johnny makes a low groan in his throat, instantly clinging tighter.

“Nope,” he mumbles. “I’m still in service. You can’t get up yet.”

You laugh softly against his chest. “Johnny, I need to–“

“Shhh,” his nose nuzzles into your hair, lips brushing the your head. “Don’t argue with Johnny.”

There it is, the third person his family always mocked him about. It should be ridiculous, really, but it’s also so him that your heart squeezes. He’s lying there with messy hair and the bedsheets wrinkles imprinted on his cheeks, clinging to you like it’s the best place he could be in, and somehow you love him more for it.

So you don’t argue, you don’t tease. You just let yourself sink back into him, curling closer, your hand finding its way under his shirt to rest against his warm skin. His grip softens a little at that, enough to let you breathe, but he doesn’t let go.

“That’s better,” he beams, satisfied. “Knew you’d see reason.”

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it, and you happily melt into his arms. Eventually, after a while of drifting between sleep and squinting at the soft sunlight coming through your windows, your stomach betrays you. It growls loud enough that Johnny finally cracks one eye open and smirks.

“Hungry?” he teases.

“Starving. I only had those gummy bears last night,” you shift against him, trying to sit up.

“Nope,” he says, gently holding you back down. “You stay. I’ll bring you something,” he orders, already rolling out of bed like he wasn’t in deep sleep just a few minutes ago. 

“Johnny, angel, I love you but … you’re a literal fire hazard in any kitchen,” you look at him apologetically as you sit up. 

“Excuse you, haven’t I proved by this point you’re in good hands?” He presses a dramatic hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded. You just raise your eyebrows at him, so he leans forward to press a kiss right between your frown. “I love you too, by the way.” 

You bite back a smile, shaking your head. He makes his way to the door now, hair sticking up, crinkled shirt, striped pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He stops to point at you before walking out. “Don’t move, breakfast in bed.”

You smile with tight lips, pretending to be excited until he turns around and you can flop back in bed, knowing this is going to be a disaster. Because as ironic as it sounded, he’d been close to burning down your kitchen before. You guess he’s just not used to the fact that only the Baxter Building was fireproof from head to toe. 

As expected, when your stomach wins out and you walk into the kitchen moments later, the first thing you see is Johnny leaning over the stove, hand glowing as he absorbs fire out of the frying pan. Smoke curls toward the ceiling, and the smell of something close to charred fills the air.

“What are you doing?” you lean in the doorway, arms crossed as you bite back a smile.

Johnny straightens instantly, tucking the pan behind him and airing out the smoke with his hand like that’ll somehow help. Unfortunately for him, when he moved the pan behind his back, a fried egg, or what used to be one, flops onto the floor. Suspiciously black, yet his grin is far too casual as he steps in front of it to hide it. “What? Nothing to see here. Everything’s under control. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Uh huh,” you arch a brow, trying not to laugh.

He sighs defeated, placing the pan back on the counter and leaning to pick up the burnt ‘breakfast in bed’ from the floor. He mutters a curse as he throws it away, only to turn to you right after like nothing happened. 

He lifts his hands up smiling, holding his index fingers up as if to say ‘wait up’. He goes through your cabinets, letting out a small cheer when he finds what he was looking for. 

“Lucky for you, sweetheart… you got your very own Johnny Storm cereal,” he pulls out the box, holding it with one hand and pointing his face on the cover with the other. “Only the finest, of course. Your favorite.”

“That’s your favorite,” you argue, narrowing your eyes. 

You think he’s about to protest but he’s too busy shoving his hand inside the box, eyes opening wide in excitement as he reaches what he was looking for. The mini human torch that came in the cereal. 

‘Flame on!’ ‘Flame on!’ ‘Flame on!’

“Got another one for your collection, babe!” he beams, already walking over to the shelf display on your living room. 

He finds the other identical plastic toys lining up there, and adds a third to your surprisingly growing collection. You shake your head as he strolls toward you all happy.

“Now you have three Johnny’s,” he cheers, his hands instinctively going to your waist when he reaches you.

“I have four,” you correct, draping your arms on his shoulders to bring in him close enough to almost kiss. “You’re my favorite one, though.” 

Lovely divider by @enchanthings

A soft sound escapes you when you bump against the desk behind you and, almost encouraged by it, Johnny gently shoves you backward with his body, practically forcing you to sit on top of the furniture while his lips refuse to leave yours.

You know this isn't right. That you really shouldn't be doing this. Reed trusted you to keep his lab in pristine conditions while you work on your project– the one he was kind enough to help you with when he accepted to be your tutor. 

But instead…you're using it for your secret make out sessions with his brother-in-law.

It's even easier for him to get what he wants now that Reed and Sue left for a two-week trip to Europe for their wedding anniversary. No one’s there to keep you busy at the lab. He doesn't have to wait around for you to finally be done at the lab to come looking for you, stealing you away to have a little fun in the privacy of his bedroom.

In all honesty, it’s Johnny’s fault. Or at least he holds most of the blame. Because every time you visit the tower with the intention of working on your project, he follows after you like a lost puppy and turns his charm to a hundred to sneak his way into your schedule. Every single goddamn time. And sometimes you’re too busy to stop by the lab, so he just visits you at your college dorm.

It’s been like that for most of the semester. Ever since you asked Mr. Richards for help. You’ve been hooking up with Johnny behind Reed’s back for months now, and despite knowing how wrong that is, you can’t bring yourself to stop. 

Hearing that your professor was going to Europe for two weeks didn’t bother you that much, because it meant spending a lot more time with Johnny. Although at first, it was hard convincing Reed to take a break from his duties, especially after he agreed to help you out. 

He just didn’t want to fail you. That project is the final step for you to graduate as a physicist at State University (following Reed's footsteps), so he knows how much it means. It's inevitable for him not to feel connected to you in some strange way, already seeing your tremendous potential. Perhaps he sees a lot of his own ambition and hard work in you, and that's why he immediately agreed to help you.

As soon as you found out that being around to help you was one of the reasons he wouldn't leave New York, you reassured him everything will be okay. That you're more than capable of working by yourself for two weeks. He eventually agreed to pack his bags and travel outside the country for a few days, as long as you send him as many updates as possible and make sure to reach out if you need any help.

So, you’ve been working by yourself on the project, sending him updates, taking care of your other courses, and making time for Johnny without having to jeopardize your academics.

But still, you know you shouldn't be doing this.

You feel Johnny’s lips move to your neck, his hands eagerly exploring your body. You keep your arms around his shoulders, legs dangling from the edge of the desk while he stands between them. It's obvious he's getting increasingly desperate, not having nearly enough of you yet.

For now, you allow him to take full control. To kiss and hold you as he pleases. In a way, it's almost therapeutic. To shut your brain off and let him pamper you with affection, letting go of all the stress from your final semester in college.

That's what got you in this mess in the first place. Sure, if you needed a distraction from your academics, you could've just gone jogging. Or find a new hobby. You didn't necessarily need to get into Johnny Storm’s bed. But he does have a reputation with women and as soon as you first met him, it made perfect sense. You get it. You're not going to pretend like you're immune to his charm. And he was persistent. It was practically impossible for you not to give in at some point.

It works for both of you. He gets to have fun and you get a distraction. And oh, does Johnny enjoy being your little distraction. He takes the role extremely seriously. Whether it's you comfortably straddling his lap or his head buried deep between your legs…whatever chance he gets to have his hands on you, he'll gladly take it. He’s just happy to help you out.

Moving back just enough to look at you, Johnny can't help but smirk when he takes in what you're wearing, eyes immediately landing on the small tag with your name written on it. Just underneath the logo of your University  embroidered in your white lab coat.

“I love when you wear this,” he comments, hinting at the piece of clothing, giving it a light tug with his fingers. “It's kinda hot.”

The comment makes you giggle. “Really?”

He nods almost immediately, eyes focused on your swollen lips for a few seconds before they finally meet your eyes. “Really,” he repeats, leaning closer for a quick kiss. “My gorgeous little physicist,” he adds playfully, smirk widening.

“Almost physicist.”

“Yes, always with the technicality,” he mutters sarcastically, rolling his eyes as you giggle again. “But you'll be graduating in a few months so you're practically a physicist by now.” 

Then, his demeanor loses a bit of that playfulness he was portraying just now, replaced by something slightly darker. Dangerous.

“And you're gorgeous…” he starts, placing a soft kiss on your lips again. Your heart begins beating even faster when his hand squeezes your thigh. “And you're mine…” he continues, breaking down his previous statement in separate sentences.

His lips find your neck again, hand practically underneath your skirt now. “With that…I can't argue.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Good girl.”

A shiver runs down your spine when he says it, almost wanting to throw caution to the wind and let him have you right there if he wants. However, you manage to lightly shove him away from you, planting your feet on the ground to resume your work.

“You’re evil,” he comments, disappointment evident in his voice as he watches you walk away. “I’m working,” you correct, making him smirk as he simply shakes his head, deciding to leave you to focus on your project for now.

You put out a notebook to start writing a few equations, hearing as Johnny starts playing with a stress ball Reed had on his desk, trying to keep himself entertained while you work, although you know he can’t stay quiet for too long.

“Do I bother you if I talk?” he asks eventually, his attention drifting to you now. He watches as you ditch your notebook to use Reed’s whiteboard instead.

“Not really,” you reply casually, entirely focused on the equations before you.

And so he begins ranting about his week. It’s normal for him to do that when you’re focused on something else and he’s starting to get a little bored. You’d sometimes make a comment or two, genuinely managing to balance mathematics and Johnny’s everyday life almost perfectly in your brain.

You forget about the equations entirely when you hear him talk about this new car exhibition he’s been meaning to go to. “Is that the one near the Square?”

“How would you know that?” he asks, beyond confused. He knows you’re not an automobile fanatic. It’s one of the first topics of conversation the two of you had.

“I just sort of remembered. A fraternity hosted a party in honor of that last weekend. They just wouldn’t shut up about it.”

He completely forgets about the exhibition, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You went to a fraternity-hosted party?”

There’s a brief pause before you turn to look at him. “Am I not supposed to go?”

“No, no. It was probably fun, I just…I can’t really picture you partying at a fraternity house,” he shrugs innocently. “It doesn’t look like your kind of crowd.”

“Well, for your information, I get invited to many fraternity parties.”

“I can imagine,” he mutters, a slight hint of something in his voice that you can’t quite decipher. Or perhaps you do, but you won’t dare to ask him if what you’re thinking it’s correct.

Instead, you try a different approach. Less direct. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

He hesitates, sensing he might be falling into a trap here. All he does is hint at you– all of you, from head to toe, as if that is enough answer. Since you keep standing there waiting for him to say something, he decides to speak. “You’re hot. I can see why those guys would want you at every single party.”

“And that…bothers you?” you ask, a faint smile on your lips.

Johnny rolls his eyes almost immediately, scoffing. “Of course not. I was just pointing it out.” His voice sounds way too defensive now, which makes you smile even wider. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Deciding to spare him, you simply nod your head in agreement with his statement before focusing back on the whiteboard. A pair or arms are wrapping around your waist from behind just seconds later.

“But perhaps skipping a few of those parties wouldn’t hurt.”

You can’t help but laugh out loud, turning around to face him. He’s already smiling when your eyes meet his, and he looks so cute you just can’t help but stare at him. 

He looks back at you, moving a hand up to your hair, fingers gently tangling in it. Despite knowing better, you inevitably start feeling butterflies when he uses that same hand to tilt your head just enough, eyes never once leaving your own.

It’s moments like these when you start to get confused about the nature of yours and Johnny’s relationship. It was implicitly agreed that whatever is going on, it’s just casual. A distraction. You’re not his girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend. You don’t do girlfriend-boyfriend stuff, and you definitely do not have girlfriend-boyfriend feelings for each other.

But the line gets dangerously blurry when he starts getting jealous about the idea of you in a frat house. Or when you have breakfast in bed together. Or when you felt compelled to leave him a note on his nightstand with a ‘have a nice day <3’ written on it. Or when you tried to give him back one of his sweatshirts and he refused to accept it so it’s practically yours now. And let’s not even mention the fact that you recently turned down a date because all you could think about was Johnny (even when you know he’s probably not rejecting girls because of some weird ‘loyalty’ towards you).

Despite all that, you’re definitely not girlfriend and boyfriend, because you can go days without knowing much about one another and it’s completely fine. You’ve never said that you like or miss him out loud, and you’ve never expected him to ever say it to you either. And you’ve seen enough on TV to know that Johnny still very much enjoys receiving the attention of his many female admirers.

“What are you thinking?” Johnny asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Of course there’s no scenario where you’d actually share any of what's on your mind with him. “That I should probably get back to work.”

“Should you?” The little pout he makes almost makes you break. Almost.

“I think I should.”

He groans. “Five-minute break?”

“Two minutes.”

Johnny smirks almost immediately. “I can work with that.”

Before you know it, his lips meet yours again in a passionate kiss that takes your breath away. Inevitably, you find yourself moaning into his mouth when you feel the way he pulls at your hair just enough to get a reaction out of you.

“‘Atta girl,” he praises briefly, right before resuming the kiss.

You keep making out for a few seconds before he makes you take a seat, immediately kneeling before you. His blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he looks up into your eyes, fingers delicately tracing up your legs before he places one of them over his shoulder.

“Johnny,” you whisper his name as soon as his lips meet your inner thigh, peppering kisses all over your skin. The fact that keeps looking up at you isn’t helping your situation at all.

“I’ll make the most of my two minutes,” he whispers, voice shaky, hurried, desperate. His hands quickly slide your skirt up even more. “I promise.”

Just before things can escalate even further, the main computer in Reed’s lab alerts you of an incoming call. You can only assume it's him wanting to hear about new updates.

Johnny tries to pretend like he doesn't even hear it. Perhaps he genuinely doesn’t, because he’s too focused on your body to care. But you hear it, panicking almost immediately as you hurriedly shove him away to stand up, rushing towards the panel to answer the call.

“Hello, Mr. Richards,” you greet him, trying to control your breathing. Even when he can't see your current state, you can't help but feel beyond embarrassed by the entire situation as you fix your hair and clothing.

“Hey. I just wanted to check on you, see if you maybe needed my assistance with anything.”

Before you can answer, you feel Johnny’s hand sneaking around your waist from behind you, pulling you tight against his body. Afraid that Reed might hear anything, you immediately try to push him away. That only seems to fuel his determination to keep you close, moving your hair out of the way to start kissing your neck.

“I, uh…everything is perfectly fine,” you manage to say, trying to ignore the sensations running through your body due to Johnny’s actions. “I want to test the functionality today, to make sure the artifact is registering the muons correctly before I begin testing it on different latitudes outside the lab.”

“Good. Make sure you calibrate it correctly. Once it's stable, it should work outside the lab just fine.”

You really try to focus only on Reed’s feedback, but it's practically impossible to do that when Johnny finds a particularly sensitive spot near your pulse point, his teeth sinking delicately on your skin, almost making you moan out loud.

He knows exactly what he's doing to you, proceeding to suck on your skin now, holding you close to his body while you try to stay as quiet as possible.

“Hello?” Reed speaks again.

“Yeah…” is all you can say, slightly out of breath. It's impossible to do much when Johnny is giving you a hickey. “Still here…”

“Oh, I thought the call went off.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, giving Johnny a warning look when he finally gives you some space. “I was just checking my notes in case I had any questions written down.”

“Well, if something comes up, you know I’m only one call away.”

“I wouldn't want to disturb your trip, Mr. Richards.”

“Thank you!” you hear his wife’s voice through the line, which inevitably makes you laugh. Her tone lets you know she doesn't appreciate Reed’s insistent need for working.

Much to your horror, you hear Johnny's voice behind you now. “Just go enjoy your vacation, man!”

There’s a brief silence on the other side of the call. You immediately turn to look at Johnny as if he's crazy for opening his mouth, but all he does in return is offer you a quick shrug. Of course he wouldn't care. It's not like he's currently responsible for Reed’s lab while he's away.

“Why are you in the lab?”

You cover your face with both hands, wishing your little device for muons could suddenly become a time machine to avoid this situation entirely. If your professor were to find out what you’ve been up to, he’d not only fail you, but probably refuse to help you out ever again. The last thing you want is one of your greatest idols feeling disappointed in you.

“Oh, I just heard things exploding so I figured I’d stop by to make sure your student doesn't blow this place up,” he says casually, giving you a wink while you keep glaring at him.

“That's not true, Mr. Richards,” you feel the need to say immediately after. “Everything is perfectly fine.”

“Johnny, I just want to remind you that you’re not allowed to touch anything you’re not supposed to when I’m not there. Unless she says you can.”

“Since when do I have a babysitter at my own house?”

“Since I don’t trust you around my things!” Reed insists, his voice becoming even harsher.

Johnny offers you a little smirk, once again pulling you closer to him. “Don’t worry, Reed. I won’t be touching your things,” he replies, the double meaning in his words something only you could decipher, and it makes you immediately roll your eyes.

“Thank you,” he mutters sarcastically. Then, he addresses you. The way he says your name gives you some sense of relief because it lets you know he's not upset. “I’m really excited to see how the device is working once I get back. I’m very impressed with your work so far. Keep it up, alright?”

You can't help but smile after his words of encouragement. It means so much coming from someone you’ve admired for so long. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“You're welcome. I, uh…I have to go now, but please don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything,” he insists. His wife probably wants him off the phone immediately. “And Johnny, get out of my lab!”

“Love you, Johnny!” you hear Sue’s voice right before the call ends.

You let out a sigh of relief, immediately pushing Johnny away from you. The fact that he almost got you in trouble is more than enough reason to focus entirely on your work now. He clearly doesn’t care if he puts your entire future career at risk. Cracking a joke seems a lot more important, apparently.

You refuse to give him any other minute of your time.

Johnny can immediately sense the shift in your demeanor when you walk away from him, back fully turned to him while you worry about your project.

He could leave you alone to focus, but he hates to think that you're angry with him. As he walks closer to you, he watches you angrily write down a few equations on the whiteboard, which is really all he needs to confirm his initial worry. You are upset.

“I think that can wait,” Johnny says softly, testing his luck, hoping you'd at least turn to look at him.

“No, it can't. That's why I’m here in the first place,” you snap back at him, cursing under your breath when you get a few numbers wrong, wiping everything off, having to start your equations all over again.

Johnny is quiet for a few seconds. This is the first time he has ever managed to make you properly upset and it's already killing him. It's like you have managed to build an unbreakable wall between the two of you.

“I’m sorry if I almost got you in trouble,” he insists. You just keep writing. “Although I doubt Reed would get upset with you if I’m in his precious lab without permission– if anything, he'll get mad at me.”

You don't answer him.

“Alright, that's very mature of you,” he mutters. “Did you freak out because of that, or because you didn't want him to find out about us?”

You sigh in frustration, his last comment triggers something deep within you. ‘Us’? Perhaps getting involved with your professor’s brother-in-law is one of the dumbest mistakes you’ve made in your life. Because of course you'll be mortified if he finds out! All of your future could be in danger because of this little secret adventure, and somehow you were willing to ruin everything you’ve worked for a guy you probably won't see again after you're done working with Reed.

That’s the worst part! You were risking everything for a relationship that isn’t even a proper relationship. For a guy who probably has breakfast in bed with plenty of other girls aside from you before sending them home in one of his stupid sweatshirts. What were you thinking? That Johnny Strom wouldn’t know exactly what to say or do to make a girl feel like she’s the one? It’s like you’re some gullible teenager who doesn’t know any better.

It's not worth it. It was never worth it.

“Just say something,” Johnny pleads, not knowing what else to say at this point. “Anything.”

You get the equation wrong again, feeling more frustrated than ever. Perhaps you should try to calm yourself down before doing anything else. You feel completely overwhelmed, unable to focus on the board or Johnny. Much less focus on both at the same time.

But then you hear him call out your name, and that’s when you lose it.

“I want to be alone!” you snap at him, the eraser for the whiteboard falling from your hands before you can prevent it, making a loud noise as it hits the ground. “Could you please leave?”

Johnny is disappointed with your answer. You see it in his eyes. He's frustrated and upset, but you can also tell he’s done trying. “Sure.” ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After a few hours inside the lab, you manage to find enough time to calm down, focus on the project, and have a much needed reflection about your current situation with Johnny. 

It’s clearly taking a toll on you. Perhaps it’s the need of always having to sneak around. Maybe it’s the fear of failing this project and losing Reed’s respect. Or you just don’t do well with casualness. Whatever it is, you know for a fact this would only make you feel worse if you allow it to continue.

As you were gathering your things to leave, you knew your decision was made. And it is definitive. You must prioritize this project.

Still, something doesn't feel right. All the way up the elevator to the moment you're standing in front of his bedroom door, something feels slightly out of place. But you don't have any time to ponder about it when he’s already opening the door and your eyes meet his and the words just come out of your mouth before you know it.

“We need to stop seeing each other.”

You can see your words take him by surprise. Perhaps he wasn't expecting that. Perhaps he's just surprised by how casual you look when you say it. Or maybe it's both. You don't really know, because Johnny has proved himself to be a very difficult person to read when it comes to how he's feeling towards you.

This needs to end it before it backfires on you.

“Okay,” is all you get back. A part of you is disappointed that he doesn't say anything else, but perhaps it's for the best. It's easier that way.

You take one last look at him before heading back towards the elevator, intending to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The situation certainly backfired on you, but not in the way you anticipated. 

Ever since that day, Johnny stopped showing up at the lab entirely. You don't see him at all. Sometimes you’d bump into Ben or Sue after she and Reed got back from their trip, but it's like Johnny completely disappears when you’re in the building.

And you also started to notice a few things about yourself now that you’re away from Johnny. How it takes a little longer to focus on what you should be doing or how easily distracted you can get in your own head. How excited you secretly get when you think you're about to run into Johnny, only to encounter another of the Fantastic Four instead (and how disappointing that feels for some reason). How it genuinely feels like something is missing.

It's absolutely ridiculous. You pushed him away thinking it’d make things better, but your life has only gotten worse since you don't have him around anymore.

“Alright, how about we call it a day for now?” you hear Reed suddenly speaking, making you snap out of your thoughts.

“What?”

He offers you a sympathetic smile, taking his glasses off before walking closer to you. “I can see you're a bit distracted. Perhaps you’re not getting enough sleep?”

Oh, if only he knew who's responsible for it…

“I think all the stress before graduating is starting to take a toll on me,” you reply with a soft sigh. “But it's nothing I can't handle.”

“I know you can handle stress just fine, kid, but that doesn't mean you have to. And perhaps I’ve been responsible for that too,” he says the last part in an apologetic tone, knowing he’s probably way too demanding of you. 

“Not at all, Mr. Richards. I actually appreciate it because it keeps me constantly improving.”

Reed smiles right after. “I'm glad you see it that way. Alright, here's what we're going to do. You go back to campus and take a much needed nap, and I’ll take the device there tomorrow. We can work there so you don't have to take so many unnecessary trips over here,” he instructs. “We're only about a week away from your presentation anyway.”

You nod in agreement, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize what that means.

This is your last day here. And the last chance you'll probably have to see Johnny.

That thought crushes you, but perhaps the fact that he never once showed up in the lab or tried looking for you means he already forgot all about you. Perhaps he never had something to even ‘forget’ about.

And so, you grabbed your things and exited Reed’s lab for one last time.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Gathered at dinner, the group starts talking about their individual days like usual. “How about you, babe?” Sue asks her husband as she pours gravy over her mashed potatoes. “How’s the project going?”

“Amazing. I think the kid will do great at her presentation next week,” he says with evident excitement, bringing a smile out of his wife too. “I’ll take her device back to campus tomorrow so we can keep working from there. She seems more and more exhausted these days, I just want her to get as much rest as possible.”

Before anyone could say anything, Johnny looks up at Reed with a confused and somewhat panicked expression. “I thought she was meant to be here until the end of the week?”

The three others stare at him with obvious curiosity. Yes, they all have interacted with her, but only as Reed’s student. The fact that he's asking a question like that– and with that expression, it's a bit strange.

“She was, but I wanted her to stay on campus so she wouldn't have to waste time coming here anymore,” Reed explains.

“Poor girl, she's probably a nervous wreck by now,” Sue sympathizes with her immediately, frowning in concern. 

“You haven't been too harsh on her, have you?” Ben half-jokes. He knows his friend enough to know he was probably a nightmare of a tutor.

But Reed can't answer a single thing, because Johnny speaks again. “You mean she's not coming back? Ever?”

“Yes, Johnny, why do you care?”

There's a complete silence at the table, Johnny tries not to panic and Reed stares back at him with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Eventually, Johnny just shrugs and continues to eat while the rest resume their conversation.

Immediately after dinner, Johnny is practically rushing outside the building before anyone can ask him where he’s going. They just watch him fly off into the night sky.

“We all know exactly what is going on, right?” Ben asks, standing in front of the large window that leads to the balcony.

“Of course,” Sue replies from the couch.

“Yes,” Reed sighs tiredly next to her, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I’m going to murder him when he gets back.”

“Let me hear all the details first. I’m invested,” Ben replies playfully, finding it hilarious that Johnny managed to get with Reed’s student without him having any idea of it. Sue seems to find it amusing as well, because she can't stop herself from laughing. “Then you can murder him.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You hear insisting tapping from your dorm’s window, which doesn't make any sense because you're on the third floor of a building and the only person who used to do that is definitely gone from your life.

But the tapping-like sound continues, so you have to investigate. Much to your surprise, you meet Johnny there in all of his Human Torch glory as soon as you pull the curtains open. You immediately begin mentally thanking your roommate for staying over at their boyfriend's tonight as you finally open the window for him to get it.

“What are you doing here?” you immediately ask. A part of you is secretly happy to have him here, but another fears things might get even worse than what they already are.

“Reed said you're not coming back.”

“Well, yeah…he thought it’s best to work here this last week.”

“And was it really his own idea?”

You don't appreciate him accusing you of something, but you decide to let that slide for now. “Yes, I had nothing to do with that,” you reply with a shrug. “You still haven't answered my question.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asks, exasperated, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don't know. That's why I’m asking.”

“Holy shit, you're even worse than Reed sometimes,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear him perfectly. “I’m here for you, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously,” you repeat sarcastically. “Sure. I should've known. Obvi–”

He cuts you off before you can finish, grabbing your face in his hands as he pulls you in for a kiss. The type of kiss that needs no further explanation. He could've just done that as soon as he got here and you wouldn’t have asked what was going on.

Now you get why he's here.

Keeping you close, Johnny devours your mouth with that characteristic hunger that makes your mind go blank. But there's something in there too. An unknown longing. It makes you realize just how much he's been wanting to be like this with you again. And his grip on your body lets you know he doesn't want to ever let you go.

It's as non-casual as it gets.

When he finally moves away, barely enough to look into your eyes, you can see his panicked expression. Slightly out of breath, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

You're about to ask him what's on his mind when he suddenly blurts out the answer. “I can't be away from you.”

It comes out in the form of a broken, desperate statement. Almost like a plea for you to have mercy with him and accept him back into your life. Like the chances of you demanding that he leaves your dorm immediately are higher than you ever reciprocating his feelings.

Noticing you're not saying anything, he decides to continue. As if you need any convincing at all. “I tried. I really tried to keep my distance. And I know this isn't fair of me because you should be focusing on your studies and not some dumbass who's too stupid to realize what he wants before it's too late, but…I just really want you. That's all. You’re all I want.”

A part of you wants to spare him already, but another wants his rant to keep going. Of course you weren't expecting any of this. You had your delusions from time to time that he might be feeling something for you, but you never would've imagined that he would fly all the way here in the middle of the night just to say all of this.

You open your mouth to speak, but he's immediately speaking again, afraid you might start asking him to leave already. “I know I should've said something sooner, but I was scared. And when you said we shouldn't be seeing each other anymore, I thought I’d just stop caring eventually. It always takes me like…like an hour, I guess. Maybe less. It doesn’t matter. But each day without you just kept getting worse and worse.”

“Johnny…”

“I wanted to talk to you eventually, of course, but then Reed was talking about you during dinner and he said you wouldn’t come back and I started freaking out because I just thought I lost you for good and I didn’t know what to do. And then I felt so stupid for not doing anything sooner. I just had to come talk to you tonight.”

“Johnny…”

“Please. Even if there’s just the slightest chance that you’d take me back…we can talk about it after your presentation, if that’s more comfortable to you. It’s fine by me, I just…I just can’t be without you.”

The faint smile of your lips somehow eases Johnny's panicked state, but he’s still hoping for the worst. This is probably the most chaotic you’ve ever seen him.

“Can I talk now?” you ask softly, gently pressing your hand against his cheek. He leans almost immediately into the touch, slightly less panicked.

“Sorry. That was too much, wasn’t it?”

“A little.”

“It’s been on my mind for weeks, so…”

“Johnny.”

“Sorry.”

There’s a brief silence between you, and you can’t help but giggle a little when you replay the entire interaction in your head. Laughter is a good sign, so he relaxes considerably. He thought he’d be out of your dorm by now.

“I missed you too.”

“Yeah, I probably should’ve just said something like that,” he mutters, embarrassment starting to sink in once he finally starts to fully process everything he just blurted out in a matter of seconds.

“No, what you said was perfect. I’m not really good with words, so I probably would never be able to say half of what you just said…which is why I decided to end things when I did.”

“I get why you did it. You needed to focus on other things.”

“I think I was just running away from my feelings,” you confess, genuinely regretting how things went down that day. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny shrugs. “I mean, I was doing the same thing, so…I guess we’re even.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I guess we’re even.”

Johnny smiles at you, unable to stop himself as he pulls you closer again, this time to simply hold you in his arms. He rests his head on your shoulder, sighing in content. “I really missed you.”

“Oh, really? I had a little suspicion, but I wasn’t quite sure just yet.”

“You’re getting clever with your jokes now,” he comments playfully, moving back to look into your eyes. “I thought all this time with Reed might’ve consumed all the fun right out of you.”

“Mr. Richards is fun. Speaking of, does he know you’re here?” 

“Most likely. And I hate it when you call him that.”

“He’s going to kill you. And me, probably.”

“Well, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you, baby.”

You playfully roll your eyes at that. “That was awful.”

He looks immediately offended, which makes you laugh again as you kiss his cheek as a silent apology. “Please, take that back right now. Take it back or I swear–”

“It’s the cutest, most adorable, heart-warming thing you have ever said to me,” you immediately comply, pulling him in for a kiss he gladly returns.

The kiss lasts longer than he anticipated, and for once it’s him the one creating distance between the two of you before things can escalate. You frown, but he immediately starts shaking his head. “Nope. As tempting as make up sex sounds right now, you need to get some rest and work on your presentation.”

“But–”

“Presentation,” he cuts you off, looking very determined. “Besides, I have to get back and talk to Reed.”

“Shit, I have a meeting with him tomorrow,” you suddenly remember, covering your face with both of your hands.

Johnny decides to act fast, not wanting to let your inner turmoil escalate any further, fearing you might explode like last time. He grabs both of your hands in his, kissing each of them as a reassuring gesture. “Trust me, he won’t be mad at you. You’ve been a great student, he has no reason to be. Me on the other hand…this might be the last time you’ll ever see me alive.”

“Don’t say that!” you exclaim, releasing your hands from his grip to slap his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry!” he quickly replies, grabbing your hands again with evident amusement. He stands in silence for a moment, seemingly debating whether or not to say something else before he finally lets you go. “Alright. Get some rest. I’ll come visit you tomorrow, okay?”

“Promise.”

You’re unable to know the way his heart practically melts at that, or how those three little words that he’s definitely not saying out loud manage to make their way into his head again.

“I promise,” he replies, right before giving you one last kiss to finally leave.

So, naturally when the temperature broke 106 degrees, the universe decided to snatch it all away. The blackout hit like a bad punchline, citywide, no warning, and utterly relentless. Within minutes, New York quickly became a sweaty, sweltering purgatory. The skyline disappeared into darkness, the streets filled with the sound of confused, irritated voices, and the only light left came from the flicker of angry candle flames.

At first, you thought maybe it was just a rolling outage, the kind that hit different neighborhoods in the summer, or a blown fuse somewhere down the line. But when the entire skyline went black, a void where the city's vibrant lights used to be, and the usually bustling Hudson fell eerily silent, the absence of boat horns and distant sirens was deafening, reality set in like a punch to the gut. New York City, the city that never sleeps, had officially been thrown back into the Stone Age.

Reed had dove into the problem like it was personal project. He hadn’t left his lab since the lights went out, speaking in rapid-fire scientific jargon to H.E.R.B.I.E., who beeped and hovered around him like a glorified intern. You passed by once to bring him a sandwich and were met with wild-eyed theories about backup energy grids, temporal fluctuations, and something that might have involved a mini black hole. You didn’t ask questions. You just left the sandwich and backed out slowly.

Susan had stepped into full crisis-management mode, turning her calm, motherly energy into political diplomacy. One moment, she was soothing a cranky Franklin, and the next, she was on a livestream addressing half the tri-state area with a collected, “We’re doing everything we can” smile that barely masked the migraine behind her eyes. When she wasn’t on live TV or attending last minute press conferences, she was at home juggling Franklin and whatever chaos Ben, Johnny, or Reed had unintentionally created.

Ben, bless his rock-solid heart, took it upon himself to keep dinner on the table, heat be damned. He cooked like a man on a mission, using only canned goods and willpower. The oven may have been off-limits, but the stovetop was fair game. Which left you and Johnny in charge of Franklin most days as well as ensuring everyone stayed sane. You tried to keep things calm and structured. While Johnny did the complete opposite. The man was allergic to any kind of boredom.

The blackout was a perfect breeding ground for his antics. Whether it was sneaking into Ben’s kitchen to swipe a spoonful of stew for 'quality assurance', or poking around Reed’s lab until something beeped, sparked, or outright exploded, Johnny couldn’t resist the chaos. You’d lecture him, scold him, swat at him like a fly, and he’d just grin, blue eyes wide with faux innocence. “Who, me?” He’d say, mid-chaos, then kiss you just as you were about to yell.

You hated how well that worked. It was unfair, honestly, your brain short-circuited the second his lips hit yours, heat or no heat. It was like parenting two kids, Franklin and the overgrown, man-child that was your boyfriend. Which is how you found yourself, on the fourth day of this godforsaken blackout, sprawled dramatically across your bed. You were dressed in the lightest tank top you could find, and a pair of cotton underwear that felt like the only barrier between you and total heatstroke.

Your skin stuck to the sheets with every shift, and no matter how still you lay, the coolness of the fabric faded quickly into sticky, humid warmth. The air was thick. Stale. Not even the hint of a breeze. You were too hot to sleep, too tired to move, and just one hundred percent done. And then, you heard it. “Now this is a view I could get used to.” Johnny’s voice cut through the silence, thick with mischief. You didn’t need to look.

You could feel the smirk on his face, the playful hunger in his gaze as he took in the scene, your bare legs, your limp posture, your total surrender to the heat. You could also practically hear the raised eyebrow and the mental fanfare that played in his head every time he thought he was being smooth. Behind you, the floor creaked, pitter-patter of footsteps, light and deliberately slow. Before he could pounce, you raised a hand in warning, voice sharp and dry.

“Don’t even think about it.” There was a beat of silence. Then a long, exaggerated sigh. “I was just gonna stand here and admire the view,” He replied innocently. “You know. Like art. Like a museum. Very classy.” You cracked one eye open and turned your head just enough to glare at him. “People at museums don’t try to climb on the exhibits.” You stated matter-of-factly. “Well, maybe they should.” He shrugged, already inching closer.

“Johnny.” You warned, making him freeze mid-step, clearly fighting back a cheeky grin. “Okay, okay. No touching. But just so you know…” He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes doing zero effort to hide how thoroughly he was ogling you. “You being all hot and bothered in your underwear is really testing my self restraint.” You let out a snort and flopped onto your back with a loud groan.

“If you touch me right now, I will spontaneously combust.” You exasperated, shielding your face with your arm. “That's so fucking hot.” He grinned suggestively, biting down on his bottom lip. “Not in the fun way, because you are literally a human furnace.” You snapped, peeking at him from under your arm. “And you used to love that about me.” He countered, creeping closer in slow motion like you wouldn’t notice the six-foot human heatwave inching closer across the room.

You sighed dramatically, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan that hadn’t moved in days, praying for divine intervention. Or a thunderstorm. Or even the mild breeze of a passing pigeon flapping its wings by your window. Literally anything. “I’ll go cuddle with Ben before I cuddle with you and get heatstroke.” That stopped him cold. Johnny gasped like you’d slapped him. His hand flew to his heart, his face contorting with wounded betrayal.

“That’s just cruel, sweetheart. You truly wound me.” You launched a pillow at his head, only for him to catch it one-handed with infuriating ease. The action alone should not have been as attractive as it was, and judging by the look on his face, that smug bastard knew it. He winked, a flash of white teeth against his tanned skin. “I’m telling Sue you’re being mean to me.” He announced with exaggerated dignity.

You laughed, breathless, amused, and just a little fond despite yourself. “As if she’ll take your side. We both know I’m her favorite.” His jaw dropped in mock outrage. He stood still for a moment, hands on his hips, his expression a mix of scandalized and scheming. Then without warning, he bolted. You shrieked as he sprinted, closing the distance between the two of you, launching himself onto the bed, landing with a graceless thud right on top of you.

The weight of him pressed you deep into the already-too-warm mattress, limbs tangling as he wrapped you up like an overenthusiastic weighted blanket with biceps. “Johnny!” You gasped, somewhere between a squeal and a laugh, arms trapped beneath his stupidly solid chest. “God you are such a child, Franklin is only eight months and he’s already more mature than you are.” You squirmed, trying to shove at his shoulder, but it was like pushing a brick wall with abs. “Get off, I swear to—”

“Take it back.” He cut in smoothly, nose brushing against yours, his grin all teeth and trouble. The heat of him wasn’t just temperature, it was electric, like he got genuinely high off being this close to you. You narrowed your eyes and lifted your chin with defiance. “Never.” That earned you a sharp, playful squint. He tilted his head, lips twitching into a crooked smile as he studied your stubborn expression like a man preparing for battle. “Alright, sweetheart. Just remember, you asked for this.”

Before you could process the threat, he let himself go completely limp. All six feet of overheated, smug, muscular boyfriend collapsed directly on top of you like a ton of very affectionate bricks. “Johnny!” You gasped, the air leaving your lungs in a whoosh as your body sank further into the mattress. You thrashed, but he didn’t budge. If anything, he nuzzled deeper into your neck like a particularly needy space heater.

Then, to make matters worse, he released steam. Actual, tangible steam. His skin went from just annoyingly warm to actively boiling. “You’re insufferable.” You groaned, voice muffled against his shoulder. Sweat beaded on your forehead as your tank top began sticking in all the wrong places. “Mm,” He hummed, sounding way too pleased with himself. “Feels nice, huh?” Asshole. An idea sparked in your heat-hazy brain. Johnny weaponized affection against you a hundred times before.

Soft kisses, innocent touches, playful grins that always ended with you a flushed mess, forgetting why you were even mad in the first place. You knew his tricks. Hell, you’d studied them. Perfected them. Time to return the favor. Two could play that game. Subtly, carefully, you lifted your head just enough to shift the angle of your body. You shifted just slightly, letting your breath catch on purpose so he'd think nothing of it. Then, with a feigned innocence that would’ve made him proud, you leaned up and caught his mouth with yours.

His reaction was instantaneous. Johnny melted, absolutely dissolved, beneath the kiss, body slackening above yours like someone had cut the tension from every muscle in his frame. His lips parted eagerly, exhaling a soft, shaky breath into your mouth, almost like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. He let out a noise, low and desperate, caught between a gasp and a moan.

His hand, previously pinning yours in his theatrical “surrender,” lifted to cradle the side of your face. Fingers warm and gentle, tilted your jaw just slightly, deepening the kiss with the kind of slow-burning intensity that made your pulse stutter. His lips moved with practiced confidence, but beneath the heat and teasing was raw affection, the kind that made your chest tighten and your spine arch instinctively towards him.

Johnny kissed like he worshipped you. Not just with hunger, but with need. Like every second without your mouth on his was some unbearable punishment. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, feather-light. His other hand slid down, fingertips skating across your waist with something close to reverence, like he couldn’t believe he got to touch you. Your lips parted slightly, and he took the invitation greedily.

His tongue brushed against yours with a slow, sensual flick that had you gripping his chest for balance. The taste of him was addicting. His hips shifted instinctively above yours, just a small movement, but it was one that sent heat curling low in your stomach. Your bodies were flushed chest to chest now, every inhale brushing his bare skin against your ribs. You could feel the hard lines of muscle beneath you, coiled and twitching. And then, he made a sound. A soft, almost breathless mewl against your lips.

A sound you’d never heard him make before, when he was utterly gone for you. It snapped you back to your senses like a bucket of cold water. Before he could blink, you twisted your hips with just enough momentum to roll, flipping the two of you in a blur of limbs and startled sounds until you were the one straddling him. Johnny hit the mattress with a groan, eyes wide, pupils blown with surprise and something darker. You perched above him, flushed and breathless, your palms flat on his bare chest as you stared down at him with smug satisfaction.

He looked absolutely wrecked. Hair tousled, lips pink and kiss-bitten, skin glowing with heat and something else entirely. His chest rose and fell beneath you, sharp with every breath, like he was still catching up. You leaned down, brushing your mouth across his in a teasing apology. “I’m sorry, okay?" You murmured, lips grazing his as you spoke. "That comment was way out of line.” You pressed another kiss, quick, teasing to his mouth before he could recover enough to grab you and pull you back under him.

You brushed his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead, fingertips sweeping over golden strands sticking adorably to his skin. His fingers twitched at your waist, longing etched into every line of his face. If the room weren’t a furnace, you'd make sure he’d be on top of you again in a second, and the kiss would’ve gone somewhere far less innocent. “Now, for the love of God,” You exhaled, close enough for your breath to ghost across his lips. "Stay on your side of the bed. I want to at least get some sleep tonight.”

The pout that bloomed on his face was immediate. Tragic. Heart-wrenching. Award-worthy. “You know I love you. And your cuddles. But not when I’m sweating through my soul and when the city feels like hell incarnate." You rolled off him with a sigh, flopping dramatically onto your back. “Okay.” One word. Just that. No over-dramatic groan, no exaggerated puppy-dog eyes, no hands dragging down your arm like he was being banished to the coldest corner of the Earth. Just 'okay'.

You blinked, startled. That wasn’t the Johnny you knew. Especially when cuddles or any kind of affection was at stake. You half-expected him to throw a blanket over your head and latch onto you like a koala. Instead, he nodded without meeting your eyes, leaned in slowly, delicately, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there for the briefest second before he reached past you to flick off the bedside lamp, casting the room into a blur of darkness.

Then, silence.

He turned onto his side, spine straight and unmoving, broad shoulders facing away from you. The curve of his back was sharp in the moonlight, muscles drawn tight. His arm disappeared beneath the pillow, and you could just barely make out the twitch in his fingers, like even in stillness, he was trying not to reach for you. The fanless room buzzed with heat, sweat already pooling along your neck and chest, but without the light on, your body finally started to settle.

And then you heard it. A tiny, barely-there exhale. Not even a sigh, more like the sound someone makes when they’re trying not to sigh. Like disappointment slipping out against his will. Your chest tensed. God, this man was going to be the death of you. You rolled your eyes toward the ceiling, biting down on the smile that threatened to bloom. The bastard had the nerve to make you feel guilty for your own personal comfort. It was a skill, one he wielded with terrifying, unconscious ease.

“Johnny,” You muttered, already caving. "Just get over here.” There was a beat of stillness. Then movement, as he rolled toward you so fast. You caught the flash of pure joy in his face, eyes practically glowing in the low light. If he had a tail, it would’ve broken the sound barrier with how hard it’d be thumping right now. “Are… you sure?” He breathed, voice soft and awestruck, like you’d just offered him a place in heaven. You opened your arms in silent invitation, and that was all it took.

He surged forward, melting into you like you were his favorite pillow and he hadn’t been cuddled in years. His head found its home on your chest, cheek pressed over your heartbeat like it calmed something inside him. One arm slid beneath your pillow, possessive and protective, while the other curled tight around your waist, legs automatically tangling with yours. You huffed, lips quirking. “Big baby." All you got in response was a contented hum against your sternum.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, threading through golden strands that were damp with humidity but still impossibly soft. You could feel the way his body relaxed under your touch, how his grip around your waist loosened, not out of reluctance, but because he didn’t have to hold on tight. “You love it.” He murmured, voice low, sleep-soft, lips brushing your collarbone like a punctuation. You didn’t answer, not directly.

But your hand slowed in his hair, your breathing synced to his, and your chin came to rest on top of his head. Because no matter how ridiculous, how impulsive, how obnoxiously hot he was, both literally , figuratively, and emotionally, you loved him. You loved that under all the swagger and fire, there was a heart that ached to be held. To be wanted. And lucky you, you were the one he’d chosen to orbit like a sun all his own.

So yeah, his body heat was hell. You’d probably wake up drenched in sweat and regretting everything when you opened your eyes tomorrow morning. But even so, with his heartbeat slowing against your chest, his fingers curling tighter as he dozed off to sleep like he was scared you’d vanish, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even if cuddling him felt like snuggling against a very affectionate golden-haired space heater.