FLAME ON.

🕷 — “Took the words right out of my mouth.” Ben wasn’t matching the others energy exactly, but he was excited, in his own way. Falling into old rhythms. Above all… he wasn’t dumb, and didn’t feel the need to play it either. He wasn’t Latverion’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, he just happened to be dressed like him. Johnny would figure that out at some point. He repositioned, feet and butt to the wall, and began configuring something on his bracers. “Yeah, yeah, hang on. We’re down a Hulk here.” Chtylok wasn’t going down easy. White bugeyes look up to Johnny, checking first on his wall of flames and then second on him. Past the Torch, of a ways, was the Temple of Doom. If it was a big guy they needed… “Actually. I think I do have an idea.”

Aw, of course he was whining. Peter had just saved the Torch’s sorry little ass, and he was whining. Of course he was! If he had been anything but a brat about this, Peter would have had to make sure he wasn’t a Skrull (Question: How many pairs of Spider-Man print boxers do you own, and why is it more than zero? Answer: Probably at least two, but will pretend to have no idea what you’re talking about.) At least whining was proof of life. Reassured that the Fantastic Four hadn’t just become the Fantastic Three on his watch, Peter turned to blast one more web over the Lizard, making sure he’d stay down. (Rule #2: double tap. Worked for zombies; probably worked for scientists who’d accidentally mutated themselves into giant lizards.) Just in case. Johnny was probably nursing a healthy head injury, and Peter didn’t need to give him any more reasons to whine.

And he did look hurt–not awful; even after literally falling out of the sky, Johnny Storm looked frustratingly, stubbornly good–but Peter saw the way he leaned forward to support himself, and he winced. “If it helps, I don’t think they like you either.” The mask hid the way his mouth tugged at the corners, its thin, nervous line twitching into something that was either a smile or a grimace. Did he offer him a hand? Did he try to help him up? Did he let him sit there as long as he needed, nursing his ego? “Yeah, thank you for distracting me. Liz and I had a whole thing going. Super choreographed. We were gonna go out for Dancing with the Stars. I think we had a real shot. Next time I need someone to play Icarus, I know who to call.”

Sometimes, Peter wore Spider-Man as a skin–sometimes closer, sometimes there was no divide between them at all. Sometimes, he was so very aware of the costume. The mask, the quips, the obnoxious suit; it was a song and dance routine, carefully designed to hide him in plain sight. The red and blue hid blood and bruises; the black-and-white bug eyes hid very real, very human ones; spiderwebs disguised the way his face softened into a smile. He was Spider-Man, super-powerful and super-cool superhero extraordinaire, and he was a boy whose friend had been hurt. Johnny could hold his own, usually. He’d be fine, probably. Peter hadn’t asked him to butt into the fight–he would have, in fact, asked him to butt out of–but it had been his fight in the first place, and it was his to handle. His to make sure no one else got hurt, not even Johnny fucking Storm.

Peter dramatically pressed his hand to his chest. “Oh, my heart. Y’know, you make a cute damsel, Torchie. You should try it more often.” Johnny leaned on his shoulder as he stood up, and Peter reflexively wrapped an arm around him for support, ignoring his own battery of cuts and bruises. He’d take stock of those later. “I got you,” he said. “What do you need? I think our scaly friend’s out for the night, so–do you want to head to the Baxter Building? Somewhere Ben won’t laugh at you? Just say the word.”

He stood and tried to keep his balance, Johnny’s head dancing enough without trying to make sense of Peter’s babble. But that was pretty much par for course. Johnny just closed his eyes and listened, let Peter’s voice wash over him. He liked the babble. It was comforting, especially after he’d just gotten wiped out. “Do you ever stop talking?” Johnny asked, aiming for exasperated. He was pretty sure he’d skated right past that and into embarassingly infatuated I’m-completely-in-love-with-you-and-also-wouldn’t-mind-seeing-what-you’ve-got-under-the-suit territory. It was fine, though. Pete wouldn’t notice. He never noticed. “Like, I literally have a head injury here and you’re making it worse,” he added, groaning. 

Years of insult after insult, fireballs and web missiles, Johnny knew the script, knew this frustration in his chest.  He felt jittery all over, on edge, full of fire. It had always been like this. Peter would drive him crazy, so much he couldn’t think, and Johnny would do his best to be annoying right back. So what if he’d never really gotten past the throw some fireballs stage of managing his feelings? It worked for them. Mostly. Peter stepped closer, his arm wrapping around Johnny’s back, close enough that if Johnny turned his head, he’d be right there, and there it was. Right on cue. He couldn’t think.

“That right?” Johnny widened his eyes, playing along. He was still a little breathless, but he figured that could pass as part of the act. “Oh, Spider-Man, how can I ever reward you?” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. He could feel the warmth of Peter’s arm at his back. It was all a little much. Everything Johnny wanted, right there.  For a second he thought of just trying it, kissing him. Even just once. Pulling off the mask, Peter’s hair wild underneath, more handsome than he had any right to be. He’d still be talking, too, that smart mouth going at a hundred miles an hour, the remnants of stubble on his jawline if he hadn’t bothered shaving - which, knowing Peter, he probably hadn’t. He was always kind of a mess. That should really be a turnoff, Johnny thought and felt it again, so much wanting it actually hurt. Same old story. He had to do something with it. He just wasn’t sure he was up to a fireball yet, so Johnny stuck his foot out and around Pete’s ankle instead, and tried to trip him over. 

“you wouldn’t hurt me, will you, johnny?” there’s a slight teasing tone to his voice, knowing already that there is no way for the younger to actually follow through his threat. they bicker, argue, get on each other’s nerves—but that’s just what they do. they will never hurt each other… at least not to the extent where anyone gets injured. “i won’t be much use as lava, so fine, i’ll concede, but i swear johnny, i’ve been seeing your hair everywhere. you’re practically shedding. i think you’ll lose your hair in no time.”

🕷 — It would be hard to miss that entrance. Spider-Man— or the masked vigilante formerly known as— stuck to a wall as the flames rose, taking a much needed breather. Getting back into the swing of things?  Easier said than done. Ben felt somewhat nostalgic, seeing the Torch barreling in like that — like the Johnny of his universe used to. Before he too had to die. “Heard ‘em all, Matchstick. Needing pants has to be your weakest yet,” he quipped back. Effortless. “Big wheel?  When I have this hot date right here?”

🧪—Harry watched as his papers tumbled to the ground, head tilting as they spread out across the floor, it was petty and childish, and the exact kind of thing that had once given Harry the reputation of “boy king” at Oscorp. On the other end of it, he could see how it didn’t really have the effect he was sure it might.

“Of course I forgive you Johnny…” Harry finally let his eyes rest on the super’s face, it was set hard, a coldness that he was sure was reserved for him alone. Even his Human Torch hadn’t hated him quite like this, it was almost addictive, Johnny’s anger at him. The jealousy that clearly clawed at him. Harry held up his hands as if showing off that he was unarmed. Calm and unaffected. Not really, but his face stayed that way as his hands fell back below his desk, his fingers curled into a tight fist nails cutting into his palm, wondering how tightly Johnny could wind himself up before something snapped. “.. I mean that’s what Petey would want.”

“Want to know what I think Johnny?” Harry slid out of his chair, stepping directly on the papers that had been kicked to the ground. Leaning down so he was close to Johnny’s face. “I think you so badly want me to hate you, so you can justify your own fucked up jealousies, because you know that no one will take your side otherwise.” He didn’t move his face one way or the other bracing for pain if it came. “Or to dumb it down for you, fuck you, darling ”

Johnny really wanted to set something on fire. Not Harry, obviously, but maybe at least his stupid fancy jacket. Hey, not while he was wearing it. Probably. The air molecules in the room heated up, the temperature rising. It was coming from him, Johnny knew, a slip of his tightly held control that corresponded exactly to the impassively cool expression on Harry’s face. Johnny wanted to break it. That was the most frustrating thing. He was sitting here, getting steadily more and more steamed off, and Harry didn’t even look like this was worth a single moment of his time. He wished that his own fury wasn’t plainly written over every corner of his face - and just as obviously, in the rising heat of the room - but. Well. Johnny knew who he was. Some days hotheaded didn’t really cover it. 

His jaw clenched. “Oh, and you know him soooo well,” Johnny said, sarcastically drawing out the words. “He’s not even your Peter. Sorry, Petey. You get that, right? Different universe? Like, I don’t need you to tell me what Pete would want. He’s my friend.” 

“meltdown? who says i’m having a meltdown?” despite her words, her tone had come out too defensive, too quick. sue could be many things - intelligent, protective ( sometimes too much so ), compassionate - but she prided herself on being able to keep a level head. it didn’t come naturally, not a trait she was born with, but one acquired young when circumstance thrust responsibilities on her and it’d become a necessity. it was a trait she’d honed with experience as she got older and her responsibilities only grew, but she wasn’t perfect. there was only so much that could be repressed before it boiled over, it was happening now. johnny seemed to pick up on it before she did. “it’s that obvious, huh?” she let out a sigh, giving him a quick look for confirmation. 

as much as johnny could find his way into trouble and, on occasion, test her patience, he was a great brother. more than he usually got credit for. “snickerdoodles it is.” she confirmed, grabbing the cinnamon and setting it among her ingredients. “i don’t know, though - it’s this place, i guess. it has elements from home but it’s not home, either, you know? and now we’re supposed to do what? just live in this world doom controls? it’s just… conflicting. it’s victor. how many times have we fought him? how many times have we seen other timelines, futures, universes - where he kills us all? and yet - we wouldn’t have valeria if it wasn’t for him and he supposedly saved everyone here. i don’t like not knowing where this is going to lead, what happens next - it means i can’t prepare and i can’t keep everyone safe.”

“Just to me,” Johnny said, shrugging. “Happy, worried, about-to-kill-Johnny ... knowing all your faces is kind of self-preservation for me.” His light-hearted tone didn’t match the uncharacteristic frown creasing Johnny’s mouth.  He never liked seeing Sue like this. Maybe it was the age difference, maybe it was the way she’d stepped up when their parents had died, but to Johnny, she pretty much always was invincible. There’d only really been that one time that she hadn’t been. “Yeah, I remember,” Johnny said, his voice stiff. “All the things we’ve seen, bad guys we’ve trounced ... you know, that day Val was born was the most scared I’ve ever been in all of it? Reed was M.I.A and I thought you were going to ...” 

💙 — Success, his smile said. “See the show, get a feel for it!  But I know exactly where to put you.” He was getting rather good at that, as talent and performances changed almost nightly, depending on the availability of his crew. Rotating and allowing them the freedom to pick nights at their discretion were one of the many differences to Kurt’s circus. BAMF & BAMF and he’s holding a business card out for Johnny. “Call my scout. She’ll get you set up, whenever you are ready.” 

reed wasn’t sure he would ever get used to being called a boss - despite quite literally having the title upon him. … and having the minor complex of needing to be the leader in the affairs of the fantastic four, minor control issues. still, johnny being agreeable pleased him and he lit up with a smile. “well, i should let you get back to your fantasy stimulator - ” - yes, he knew it was a video game, but he liked to make johnny question his ability about being literal on things or calling them by technically correct but kind of weird descriptors. but as his brother-in-law spoke, reed had to take a moment to replay the conversation in his mind. ah, yes - he never gave specifics.

“oh!“ a surprised sort of sound came from his as he chuckled, “i’m not entirely sure when friday is, but for the sake of not having to explain what ‘johnny-time’ entails, i’ll ensure its not that day. however, i do need to ask if you can accompany at least val to castle doom and keep an eye on her and victor.“ he sighed, clearing his throat as he turned to look off in the direction of which his children and wife were. somewhere in the home lab, surely. “you can bring peter! i’m sure the more the merrier - meaning the more there is of you and peter, the less victor can spend with your niece.“

Johnny sat back, kicking one heel over another, waiting for Reed to get to business, before he leaned forwards again, rising to the bait. “Whaaaa-” Johnny’s mouth formed half the word, looking at Reed in disbelief. “It’s a video game, man, I swear, sometimes I really worry about your childhood- wait. Are you messing with me?” Johnny squinted at him. It was a little difficult to tell with Reed, but he did have a sense of humour. Occasionally. Maybe. It was usually more invisible than Sue’s powers, but it happened.