Illyrian-Book-Lover

“I can hear you,” Johnny grumbled from his spot on the floor in the living room, his back to his betraying family who were jesting at his expense. The glow of the holographic screen in front of him illuminates the wrinkle in his forehead, brows creasing as he swipes his finger to switch between dozens of open tabs—gold bands, solar reactive gems, vintage settings—none of them satisfying his very specific taste. They simply weren’t right.

He let out a frustrated groan before flopping backwards dramatically, head landing on the couch cushion. The carpet was starting to feel prickly under his thighs. Online shopping was starting to get him real heated. “Why are all of these so ugly?” he shouts, hands flying up in frustration. 

Sue raised a brow at his dramatics, giving Reed a pointed look before looking over at her baby brother, whose tuft of blonde hair was barely visible over the back of the couch. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer before the proposal even happens.”

“Well, why can’t any of the rings just be perfect?” Johnny grumbles, voice completely earnest as it carries through the room. “Is that too much to ask for?” 

“Is what too much to ask for?” a familiar voice cuts through Johnny’s haze. Carrying a stack of books for Reed, you adjust them in your arms as you flicker your gaze across the room, only to be met with guilty stares at every turn. Everyone seems to be avoiding eye contact with you for some strange reason. A frown finds a way onto your face, suspicion creeping up your spine.  

“Nothing!” Johnny shouts, waving away the graphics in front of him with frantic arms, the images dissipating in a mist. 

Your frown deepens. 

Trailing behind you, HERBIE rolls past you and into the kitchen, letting out a series of beeps that sound oddly similar to a snicker.

“It’s nothing.” Johnny insists before letting out a casual scoff, masking the panicked expression on his face with a poor attempted-smirk. He props himself against the couch, giving you a shrug that seemed way too forced to be casual. “Just some space…science mystery thing…” he explains poorly, before letting out a rushed, loud laugh. “But what’s uh—” his eyes shift around the room, “What’s going on with you?” 

You part your mouth, head tilted as you analyze him with profound confusion. When his gaze finds itself fixed to the ceiling, you purse your lips. “Mhm.” Breaking your attention away from your weird, bumbling boyfriend, you instead choose to focus on Reed. Sometimes it was easier not to ask any questions. You’ve learned that the hard way. “Anyways,” you dismiss Johnny, turning to his brother-in-law instead. “I’ll meet you in the lab?” 

Reed clears his throat, patting a giggling Franklin on the back as he murmurs, “Yes. Lab. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” 

A curt nod is your only reply. 

Just as you spin on your heels to exit, a whoosh of air fans your face as Johnny suddenly takes his place next to you, prying the stack of books from your hands as he effortlessly matches your pace. 

All you can do is offer him a warm laugh, shaking your head at his silly antics as the two of you walk with your shoulders pressed against each other. 

Turning back to shoot a pointed look at his family, Johnny offers a wide smile, one that reads ‘Flawless, right?’ only to be met with Sue’s tired blink and Ben’s slow thumbs-up. Reed doesn’t even bother to look at him. Awkwardness hangs thick in the air. 

Speaking out of only the corner of his mouth, Ben couldn’t help but whisper to your future in-laws, “I have no idea what she sees in him sometimes.” 

The chorus of murmured agreements fell deaf on Johnny’s ears as he turned all of his attention to you. 

-

You and Johnny didn’t mean to fall in love with each other. In fact, you hadn’t even intended to stick around for this long.  

Reed had been looking for an assistant. 

Well, kind of. 

Reed didn’t exactly want an assistant, if he were being entirely honest. At least…not at first. But Sue had insisted. The idea had only come up when the two of them began discussing the possibility of trying for a child, and the more serious the conversation became, the more persistent Sue had become in Reed finding a way to delegate some of his roles. 

“You can’t solve all the world’s problems and be a dad at the same time, you know,” Sue would comment. 

“Yes, I can,” Reed replied, voice carrying genuine confusion at his wife’s words. 

But he relented anyway. Not because he wanted to, but because he wanted Sue to be happy. 

And so the search began.

It was only supposed to be temporary: find someone who can help out around the Baxter Building and with Reed’s experiments to take the weight off a bit while the married couple focused on their personal lives. Give it a year—then said assistant would disappear. Someone qualified. Efficient. Someone who would just be an employee for the next twelve months. It would have been simple enough.

But no one could predict how difficult Sue and Reed’s journey to parenthood would be. The first six months flew by with you quickly proving how fast you were on your feet with a skilled brain to match. Then nine. Then the full year had passed. It carried a heavy tone for everyone, the realization that Sue and Reeds’ dream may stay as just that. 

But at least one good thing came out of it—you.

“I don’t like it,” Johnny states bluntly. He holds the tiny, glistening setting in the light, inspecting it with a magnifying glass he’s wearing over one eye. 

The only sound he hears in response is Reed’s long sigh. “Johnny—” 

“It’s too fragile. And choppy.” Johnny’s posture is exaggeratedly critical as he studied every facet of the band the gem would sit in. Just the band. Don’t even get Johnny started on the gem itself. No, seriously, please don’t—Reed can’t handle it.  

“It’s composed of the strongest chemical compounds on Earth,” Reed argues with a raised brow. “The molecular structure has been stabilized for maximum durability. It’s practically indestructible.”   

“Looks weak.” Johnny tosses the ring over his shoulder before flipping a magnifying piece of glass away from his eye with a flick of his wrist. With hands on his hips, Johnny asks, “What else you got?” 

Reed rubs his templates, turning away from Johnny and towards the opposite work bench to pull out another design buried underneath piles of material, blueprints, and sketches. “Your girlfriend is much more enjoyable to be in the lab with,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“What was that?” Johnny whips around, cupping a hand to his ear. 

All Reed can do is let out another sigh before turning around with a forced smile. “What about this one?” 

Reed’s patience has to be commemorated, he’s indulged Johnny much more these past two weeks than he has in the entire time he’s known the boy. They’re both aware of how long the process has been dragging out and they both know it’s not because Johnny had this specific of a taste. Johnny was scared. 

The decision has been weighing heavily on the usually light-hearted kid, and Reed understood that. Johnny didn’t know how to say it out loud, but…Reed understood.

“Hm,” Johnny hums, taking a precarious step towards Reed as he tilts his head to one side to examine the ring. Delicately, he picks it from between Reed’s fingers and twists it around. “Better. Not perfect, but better.” 

“You’ve said that about nineteen prototypes.” 

Johnny shrugs. “You should see how long it takes me to buy a new pair of shoes.” 

“I don’t want to.” Reed adjusts his glasses before turning his back to Johnny and starting to fiddle with stuff at his workstation while the annoying hero continues examining the ring. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but Johnny knows what’s been holding him back. The simple act of picking a ring just felt like more than just choosing metal and stone. It was a promise. A decision you couldn’t just… flame out of if you got scared. 

It’s quiet for a moment—at least, quiet for them—before Johnny says, almost too casually, “You know, I was so convinced I wouldn’t get attached.”

Reed pauses his tinkering, glancing over. “No?”

“Mm-mm.” Johnny grins faintly, but it’s softer than usual, his eyes catching on the glint of the ring. “She only started working here because Sue forced you to get help, right? And then you hired her, I had just come back from that mission with Ben—” He waves a hand in the air. “Boom. She’s here, I’m here. Sue warns me to stay away. It was temporary. But then…” Johnny trails off thoughtfully, a cloudy look in his eyes when he remembers how turbulent things were before Franklin. “You know the rest.”

Reed does know the rest. The bickering in the halls, the way you rolled your eyes at Johnny but somehow always ended up sitting next to him at lunch, the night you two got locked in the containment lab because of a faulty door sensor and fell asleep talking. 

The love that was slowly unraveling between the two of you were some of the only pieces of light the family saw during that time. 

It was hard to be so upset about their hurdles into parenthood when in parallel something so sweet was blossoming. 

“I’m just saying…” Johnny turns the ring in his hand again, voice quieter. “If Sue hadn’t made you hire her, I might’ve never met her.”

Reed doesn’t smile often. Not genuinely. But he does now.

“You would’ve found each other eventually,” Reed says simply. “People who belong together tend to.”

Johnny doesn’t respond right away—he just stares at the band one more time before setting it down gently on the bench, almost reverently this time.

“This one’s close,” he says.

It’s the first time he hasn’t immediately rejected a design.

-

“I get it,” Johnny said animatedly with his hands as he trails after Sue. “Johnny loves space. Johnny loves women,” he mocks. “Now there’s this beautiful, smart, space-loving girl hanging around Baxter Building and Johnny thinks they’re meant to be.” 

All Sue does is offer a pointed look back, making her way towards her and Reed’s shared wardrobe, neatly placing clean laundry into their respective drawers.  

“I promise,” Johnny huffed. “It’s real.” He raised his brow, licking his lips as he waited for Sue’s response. 

“Johnny—” the sigh expelled from her lips just as her hip slammed the compartment shut. “She doesn’t like you.” 

“Um, yes. She does,” Johnny protested, closing the space between them by rounding the bed. “She said yes to a date!” he declares. A pregnant pause ensues. When he met Sue’s narrowed eyes, Johnny caved and rushed out, “It’s a scheduled calibration test for Reed’s new scanners.” 

His words overlap Sue’s very loud scoff-mixed laugh. 

“It’s a six hour overnight task!” he justifies over his sister’s clear dismissal. “A lot can happen. I can charm her, watch.” 

Sue busied herself with miscellaneous tasks, tidying here and there, just as a way to ignore Johnny. He watched her with cautious eyes, daring her to argue. 

“What could you possibly do in six hours that you haven’t been able to achieve in the three months that she’s been here? Face it Johnny,” Sue shrugs, “You’re not her type.” It’s simply declared. 

Johnny grinned. “I’m everybody’s type.” 

The laugh she let out was sharp. She passed by Johnny, giving him a slap on the shoulder. “You keep telling yourself that, kid.” 

“Watch!” Johnny shouted as Sue walked out of her own room, away from him. “She’s gonna love me!” 

“No harassing our employees, please!” she waved over her head as she disappeared down the hallway. 

And in that moment, no one even realized how right Johnny would truly be. Not even him.

“Ow!” Johnny shouts, “That hurts!”

“Oh quit being such a baby,” Sue hushes as she combs her fingers through his hair, scissors snipping away in neat, practiced motions. Her voice is quieter when she follows up with a soft, “You’re twitchier than usual.” It comes out slow as she angles his head to trim the sides. 

Johnny caught her eye in the mirror, and at the sight of the small, knowing quirk of her lips, Johnny quickly breaks away. He bites on the inside of his lip before attempting to play it cool. “I just want to look good,” he mumbles. 

“Hm. For what I wonder? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the proposal you’ve been dragging out for a month, now does it?” she teased, spraying the back of his head with some water. 

“No,” Johnny quickly protests, before slouching back into the chair Sue has him perched on. He plays with his fingers that are sitting in his lap, gaze set on the chunks of hair falling onto Sue and Reed’s tiled bathroom floor. “Maybe.”

“Does this mean you’re finally going to do it?” 

“It hasn’t been that long,” Johnny continues to deflect. “I’ve just been…strategizing. Preparing.” 

“Preparing?” Sue gasps, faking an inquisitive tone. “Johnny? The Johnny Storm?” 

“Ha. Ha.” He replied sarcastically. 

“You’ve dived into wars with less strategizing than this, Johnny.” Sue shakes her head. “You tried to throw yourself into a portal that would take you to the edge of the universe with a cosmic being.” She muses. “You made that choice in less than, what, twenty seconds?”

Pointed a finger is thrown at her through the mirror. “Okay, first of all, I had a plan—” 

“You had a death wish,” Sue corrects smoothly, snipping a little more off the back.

“A heroic death wish,” he shot back with a smirk. “I would’ve been memorialized. She would’ve loved me forever,” Johnny refers to you. 

Sue’s brow arched, though the corner of her mouth tugged upward. “Uh-huh. But now you can’t ask her to marry you and love you forever while both of you are alive because…?”

He shrinks in on himself. “It’s different,” the boy insists. No other explanation is offered. 

Sue’s gaze softens as she combs through his hair. “What are you so worried about? Honestly.” Her voice carries a tone of exasperation, as though she’s truly at her wits end. The older sibling doesn’t wait for him to answer as she continues, “This girl has been through the worst of you. And with you. Remember that time you burned a hole through the rooftop during that meteor shower because you thought she’d find it ‘romantic’?”

Johnny’s smirk was faint, but there. “Yeah.” 

“She wasn’t even your girlfriend yet,” Sue points out. “Heck, we were all convinced she didn’t even like you.” 

His expression transforms into a gentle smile. “Yeah, me too.” 

“But then,” she continues. “She spent the next two hours pulling every charred shingle out of your hair and off your clothes.” 

Johnny chuckles at the memory.

“And she still stayed afterwards to watch the meteor shower with you.” 

“Yeah, I guess she did,” he remembers fondly. 

“So you’ve already done the hard part,” she shrugs, as though it were obvious. 

His brows furrow. “What do you—”

“I mean, if she’s seen past all…this—” she gestures to him vaguely. 

“Hey, wait a minute—”

“At your dumbest, your messiest, your most combustible—” Sue lists off with no remorse despite Johnny’s ample protests. “Then she’s not going anywhere.” 

The teasing lingers in the air for a moment, but Sue watches as something in Johnny’s face changes. The small grin he bore falters, and the room seems to grow a bit quieter than it was a few seconds ago. Sounds of the snipping scissors felt so much louder than they did before, and Sue notices. She always notices. 

Her hands slow in his hair, stilling. “Johnny?” She asks softly, a different kind of question in her voice now. 

When he looks up at her through the mirror, there’s a glossiness in his eyes that weren’t there a second ago and a flash of something that looks like vulnerability has her heart cracking wide open. “What if she says no?”

Sue’s chest tightens, but she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she puts the equipment down on the counter with deliberate care before gently resting her hands on his shoulders. 

“Johnathan Storm,” she says, leaning down just enough that their eyes meet in the mirror. “I promise she won’t.”  

-

“No, no, I’m not doing that,” you managed to get out between laughs, the sound of your giggles mixing with everyone else’s around the table. “That has Reed’s name written all over it.” 

“Uh, no.” Reed shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink. He swallows before tilting his cup towards you, “You’re the assistant for a reason. You take all the unwanted meetings.” 

“I’m sitting right here,” Johnny tosses his hands up before the land on his lap, leaning back in his chair with a look of absolute shock on his face. “I mean come on, I scheduled it. It’s on the calendar,” he emphasized while shooting a pointed look at you, the person who insisted on creating one in the first place. All he was met with was a cheeky grin as you glanced elsewhere.  

“I signed up to be a scientist, not a babysitter,” you tease. 

Ben barks out a loud laugh. “She’s not wrong.”

Johnny can only sputter in protest. “Seriously, why am I the only one defending myself here?” 

“Because you’re the only one who thinks you need stickin’ up for.” Ben claps Johnny on the back in a false gesture of sympathy.

Your grin stretches wide, shoulders shaking as you attempt to quiet your laughter. The room feels warm. Full and lively—like all of their family dinners do. The conversation moves along quickly, Reed delving into a spiel about something overly complex as he always does. Sue tries to, and fails, to keep the peace between everyone. Ben gulfs down half of the roasted potatoes while HERBIE tries to suck up any food dropped on the ground.

And Johnny watches you.

You don’t usually join their dinners. In fact, you had declined every single one of his invitations for the better half of a year—back when you were just an employee. But over time, things shifted. Not just between you and him but between you and everyone. Slowly but surely, you fell into their routine. Like a missing piece to a puzzle that no one knew was lacking until it clicked.

Johnny’s breath hitches. Just for a second. A second long enough that the laughter around him dips beneath the thrum of his pulse. 

Because this…this stupid, chaotic dinner. With you teasing him, smiling at his family, fitting into this space like you’d been molded for it—

His heart skips a beat. 

This is more than a crush. 

Johnny knows—this is it for him. 

“Johnny, no, no no,” Ben intercepts, plucking the random spice jar Flameboy had picked up when Ben’s back was turned. “Please, don’t. Just—” Ben ushers Johnny into a stool across the kitchen island like he’s herding sheep. “Sit here.” 

Flopping dramatically, as he’s been doing a lot lately, Johnny sighs. “I was helping!” he insists. 

“No, you were trying to give your fiancée-to-be food poisoning,” his friend deadpanned. 

“Alright,” he retorts sarcastically. “It’s a seasoning, I don’t think—”

“This is cinnamon.” Ben holds up the bottle. “Johnny, you grabbed cinnamon for pasta.”

His lips just purse in response. A beat of silence falls between the two before a loud slam of Johnny’s palms against the counter makes Ben drop the bottle in exasperation. “Well! That’s okay,” the blonde quickly averts from the previous conversation. “Listen, it has to go perfectly today, okay? The food won’t matter—” A sharp glare from Ben has him retracting his statement. 

“Okay, it matters, but the main point is I’m taking her to our spot. I’m gonna do it today Ben. No more messing around. This is it.” Johnny exclaims. 

From across the counter, Ben can’t help the way he softens a little. His shoulders unknot as he slices through some vegetables with a care that seems to be reserved only for you. “I know you want this to be perfect.” He pauses. “And it will be. But only because I’m helping you make her favorite pasta without the cinnamon.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, but he can’t get too mad knowing that he’s the one asking for a favor. 

Ben stirs the sauce with a wooden spoon before bringing it to his lips. 

Suddenly, the sound of choking overwhelms the room. 

“Oh my—” Ben manages to sputter between coughs. “Johnny—” he continues to hack. Ben slaps a hand over his nose, the utensil that was previously in his grip clattering onto the countertop. Surely Sue will lecture them about the stains later. 

“Wow,” Johnny leans back, tongue in cheek with his brows raised. “You didn’t even try to appreciate it.” 

Ben coughs again, loud and aggressive. “What—” hack “What did you put in the pot?” he gasps. 

“Nothing bad!” The accused defends himself, shoulders reaching his ears. Pointing at the array of ingredients between the two of them, he begins to list, “Salt, pepper, garlic, some chili—”

“Chili?” Ben rasps before he frantically searches for any sort of beverage to wash down what could only be described as the epitome of regret in barely-consumable form. “That—” a large rock finger points, “That is not chili. That’s lava, Johnny. What did you—” 

WHOSH!

“Woah!” 

“Oh!” 

The two of them jump back, watching as the previously inconspicuous pot bubbles, no, erupts. Spilling all over the counter top in the process, the flame beneath the pot only seems to grow larger. Forget the stain from the spoon, Sue’s surely going to kill them now. 

“Johnny, did you turn up the heat when I wasn’t looking?” Ben shouts, immediately placing the blame onto his counterpart, back pressed to the fridge as a means to get as much space between him and the creation as possible. 

Panicked, on the other side of it, Johnny shouts back, “No! I mean…a little! Look, I didn’t think it would—”

“Johnny!”

The sauce spurts into the air, hitting the ceiling, once. Then…

Multiple violet shots flare into the air. 

“Ben! Ben, it’s attacking!” Johnny screams, shielding his head with both of his arms. He runs around to Ben’s side, tucking himself under the large man to use him as a shield. 

“It was supposed to be a simmer, Johnny! A simmer!” Ben barks back, jumping as a large glob lands dangerously close to his shoulder. 

WHOOOSH!

“It’s getting angerier!” Johnny screams, utterly distraught. 

“That’s it! Move!” Ben shoves Johnny away from him, sending the boy flying across the room before lunging for the fire extinguisher. He rips it off the wall in one smooth motion before pivoting around with a scream. Aiming straight at the stove, Ben lets out a loud cry before white foam explodes across the kitchen. 

It swallows everything in its path: the stove, the walls, the floor, their souls. 

Skittering away, Johnny slips in the process and lands squarely on the floor in a mountain of puff. 

Silence gradually replaces the shriek of the alarm and their screams. Slowly, Ben slides down the wall, too, until he also sits in the mess they’ve created. A calloused hand drags down Ben’s face, smearing the white substance over his rocky features. 

Across from him, Johnny lifts his head just enough to spit out a bubble of extinguisher product, the mouthful that he had accidentally ingested when he fell. It pops pathetically. 

“So…” Johnny slowly starts, lifting his hand before smacking it down onto the floor. “Not the worst kitchen disaster we’ve had…”

Ben turns his head at the same rate a snail would move, like it pains him. Like he’s worried it would snap if he moves any faster before his eyes land squarely on Johnny. 

He stares for one beat. Then another. 

“Johnny…”

The aforementioned grimaces. “Yes?”

A deep, deep sigh reverberates through the room. “Let’s regroup tomorrow.” 

A loud splat of space lands squarely between them.

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

-

“I feel I haven’t seen you in ages,” a familiar voice calls out before soft arms wrap around Johnny from behind. Instinctively, he leans back, melting into the familiar safety. 

Your chin hooks over his shoulder, and the warmth of you settles something restless inside him. For the first time in weeks, Johnny fully exhales. 

“I know,” he murmurs, turning his head just enough to brush his cheek against yours. “I’m sorry. Things have been…a lot.” 

Missions. Meetings. Reed’s chaos. His chaos. 

Your arms tighten a little as you acknowledge his words with a hum. “Yeah, I know. I’ve still missed you, though.”

He lets his eyes close for just a moment, he hadn’t realized how far apart the two have been until his chest started aching just by being in your arms. An innocent embrace—that was all it took from you before he started unraveling. 

It’s been a week since the kitchen fiasco, and Johnny felt so defeated from the whole ordeal he had scrapped the picnic idea entirely. The kitchen is still stained in ways that are simply unspeakable (the excuse that he gave you as to what happened was believable enough) and Sue’s still gives him glares for it from across the dinner table. He couldn’t step foot in that kitchen even if he tried.

Naturally, he’s decided to focus his efforts elsewhere, but the weight of the ring in his left pocket just seems to get heavier and heavier with each passing day that he waits.

Ironically, despite all of his efforts being focused on you (aside from the time he spends saving the world), he hasn’t actually seen you. It was killing him.

Which is why today when he woke up next to you, streams of sunlight brushing across your face in a way that has his whole world spinning, he decided enough was enough. 

Today was the day. 

No, really. He swears, he said to HERBIE, right after promptly shushing his friend and swearing him to secrecy.  

For the first time in months, and without the insistent aid that he sought from his family, Johnny finally has things settled into place. It’s not as fancy as he originally wanted, no, and the string quartet he hired did ghost him after he rescheduled so many times, but with the scent of you enveloping him and gentle strands of your hair brushing against his face, Johnny knows that he can’t wait any longer. 

Which is why he has been waiting upstairs for you for the past twenty minutes, anxiously bouncing his knee and rocking Franklin’s crib from side to side to soothe both his nerves and his nephew. He’d like to think that part of Franklin’s peace was attributed to the one-sided conversation they were having just before you had walked in. Namely, a conversation where he filled Franklin in on all of his plans tonight, and he made the child swear to be on his best behavior with the promise of him being in the wedding if so.

Fortunately, Franklin seemed to be receptive to the bribe. He’s been easy enough, quietly sleeping in his crib since Johnny came up to relieve Reed. 

This wasn’t exactly how Johnny planned for things to go tonight, but when everyone suddenly ran out the door with last minute plans, he was left with no choice but to be forced into Uncle Duty. Honestly, the timing could have been a bit better, but he didn’t exactly have the chance to tell everyone no. 

Johnny debated telling everyone of his plans at first, but after reminiscing about how disaster struck every time he tried to propose the last few months, he decided to keep quiet. 

He only snaps out of his daze when your warmth disappears from his back, and just as Johnny was about to protest, his gaze snaps over to you leaning over Franklin’s crib. Bent over the side, your hand softly brushes over Franklin’s hair, and Johnny feels something in his chest tug. It’s tender in a way that terrifies him. 

You haven’t said a word, but he can feel the atmosphere in the room settle. 

You’ve always had that effect on him. 

“Has he been good?” you quietly ask, voice barely higher than a hushed whisper, mindful not to disturb the sleeping baby. 

Johnny straightens in his chair, pushing his hands into his pockets in a move that’s meant to look casual, even though he’s anything but. His fingers brush the small box tucked into the seam of denim and his pulse spikes. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little hoarse. He quickly clears his throat. “He’s been great. Total top-tier baby behavior.” 

You glance back at him, closed-lips curving into a skeptical, but amused smile. 

But much like it’s often been lately, Johnny’s timing isn’t exactly great. Because just as the words leave his lips, Franklin chooses to let out the tiniest, pre-cry whimper. One that everyone in the Baxter Building knows dangerously well. 

You blink once before your eyes go wide. “Oh no.” 

Johnny winces, eyes shutting tight as though that will prevent the next sequence of events. “Please, don’t—”

The whimper becomes a sniffle. Then another. Then all of a sudden—

“WAHHH!” Franklin screams at the top of some very tiny lungs. 

“No, no, no,” Johnny scoops him up instantly, cradling him the way he’s seen Sue do it, except his grip is significantly more panicked and has much less maternal grace. “Oh man, come on buddy, please don’t do this. What about our deal, huh?” 

When five seconds of rocking doesn’t work, Johnny immediately starts to shake his head in horror. Muttering to himself, he rationalizes, “Right. Okay. I’ve seen Sue try, uh—” he shifts Franklin in his arms, only for the screams to get louder. “Okay, okay. Not that. Reed’s done, um, well no Reed never does anything, nevermind.” 

Franklin lets out another earth-shattering shriek. 

Your nose scrunches, wincing when Franklin’s cries somehow get even louder, reverberating off the walls. “‘Top-tier behavior,’ huh?” you tease Johnny, managing to shout over Franklin. 

When Johnny shoots you a look that could only be described as utterly pleading, you laugh under your breath. He truly looked like he was one minor step away from negotiating peace terms with the eight month old. 

“Here, let me try,” you murmur gently, hands already coming up to grab a wailing Franklin, who has not soothed from Johnny’s insistent back pats. 

It only takes one second between the transfer from Johnny’s arms to yours that Franklin just…stops. His screaming dies down almost immediately, transforming into a calm silence that makes the both of you freeze. 

The moment he’s tucked safely into your arms, he melts. Small face burrowing into your shirt like you’re clearly and undeniably his happy place, Franklin’s fallen back asleep faster than the tears on his face have dried. 

You can’t help the small laugh of disbelief you let out before you turn your back on Johnny to sway Franklin in your arms to comfort him. 

From behind you, Johnny’s hands are now placed squarely on his hips as he watches the two of you with a look of utter disbelief on his face. “Are you kidding me?” he whispers, voice cracking between awe, betrayal, and the quiet despair of a man who has so obviously been officially knocked out of the #1 spot of Franklin’s favorites list.

You look over your shoulder with the worst possible expression—smug. “Some of us,” you whisper back, gently bouncing the babe in your arms, “Just have a special touch.” 

At first, Johnny feels a flicker of defensiveness flash through him, his competitive fire rearing its ugly head for a split of a second, even though it’s the love of his life he’s talking to. 

But then…he pauses. 

Franklin’s face is relaxed against your chest, head tucked in the crevice of your elbow as a tiny hand fists gently in your shirt. The soft sway of your hips as you rock him—so calm and sure, like you always are. Something warm and unshakable settles in Johnny’s chest, smothering every ounce of ego he carries in his bones. Shoulders dropping, his gaze softens. “Yeah,” he admits, earnest as ever as he states, “You really do.”

You glance back, surprise in your eyes. “Is that defeat I hear?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets as he takes a closer step towards you. The pads of his finger brush against the box again, and Johnny’s heart crawls up his throat. Carefully, he peers at Franklin’s face in your arms. 

Glancing up at you, Johnny tilts his head toward the door in a quick motion, silently asking you to step out with him. “Come with me,” he whispers, unhurried but sure. 

You blink, glancing down at Franklin who’s still knocked out cold. “I can’t just put him down again. What if he wakes up—” 

“He won’t,” Johnny reassures, voice warm and steady. His hand comes up again, palm hovering just under Franklin’s back, not quite touching but just there. “Trust me,” he adds. 

You sigh, gaze flickering between Johnny and the peacefully sleeping baby. “...Fine,” you relent. “But if he starts screaming again, you’re taking the heat.” 

“No pun intended, I assume,” your boyfriend can’t help but quirk, only to be met by your fiery glare. The corner of your mouth twitches upwards, though. Johnny sees it. 

With the slow precision of someone handling a temperamental eight month old, you lower Franklin onto his mattress. His tiny body shifts, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like he’s letting go of your sweater. The two of you hold your breaths in anticipation. Thankfully, Franklin’s small but mighty grasp slowly releases, his nose scrunching in the process, allowing you to place him down successfully. 

You and Johnny share a silent, wide-eyed victory celebration. Adjusting the thin blanket around Franklin, you gently brush his cheek one more time before standing upright. Before you can turn, Johnny’s already intertwined your fingers in his. 

Slowly and quietly, the two of you make your way out of the nursery and Johnny shuts the door behind him with exaggerated care. Paused outside, the two of you stop for a second to listen in. Once nothing but silence was all you were met with, the two of you let out a sigh of relief. 

Right on cue, HERBIE rolls up to the two of you in the dimly lit hallway with a series of beeps. 

“He’s all yours buddy,” Johnny scratches the top of his frame before quickly dragging you behind him. 

“Cruel,” you giggle from behind him, stumbling through the building blindly, trusting Johnny on wherever this endeavor was leading. 

He doesn’t stop once you’ve made it past the living room, the kitchen, or the staircase you’d take to get to your frequently shared room. You haven’t officially moved in yet, but Johnny’s hoping that’ll change in the next thirty minutes. 

“Johnny, where are you taking me?” you laugh. 

He glances back with a small, secretive smile, his dimples just visible in the fading light. “I want to show you something.” 

Your confusion only grows when he pulls the two of you into the elevator and hits the button with a giant ‘R’ on it. 

“The roof?” you ask with a soft sigh. “Jonathan Storm, what are you up to?”

“You’ll see,” he answers mischievously, and there’s something in his voice, almost shy, that makes your heart kick just a little harder. 

Fingers tightly wrapped around one another, he sways your arms in between the two of you as he guides you off of the lift. 

The rooftop is bathed in the most beautiful shade of dusk—dark purples melting into soft blues, the last hints of orange lingering behind the skyline. Parts of the city lights are starting to flicker to life, sparsely lining the horizon like tiny stars settling into place with a gentle breeze. 

You haven’t made it far off the elevator, only a few steps before Johnny stops in front of you. Turning, he breathes out, shakily. 

It makes you frown, face masked in concern as you ask him, “What is it?” with your head tilted curiously. 

He doesn’t speak right away. He just watches you, for a long, full moment. His chest rising and falling like he’s trying to commit every detail of you to memory. It’s an attentive and careful look that makes your cheeks warm, a sharp contrast to the cool New York evening air. “Johnny?” you question, unable to handle his unrelenting gaze. You can’t help it—he still makes you nervous. 

“I love you,” he declares confidently. 

You blink. “I…love you, too, Johnny.” It’s a cautious response. “What’s going on? You’re starting to worry me now.” 

He lets out a small breath—almsot a laugh, but one weighed down by deep emotion rather than true amusement. His hand slips from yours as he takes a single step back, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“This isn’t how I planned it,” Johnny begins to confess, and your brows only furrow further as your confusion grows. “I wanted something…bigger. Fancier.” 

What began as a strongly toned speech slowly began to dwindle into something softer, more vulnerable, as Johnny’s nerves got the better of him. 

“I was going to take you to dinner at your favorite restaurant but then that giant space octopus knocked it down. Which…honestly, that was my bad. I probably should have aimed him somewhere else.” He said so sheepishly with a nervous quirk of his lips and a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“And then we were going to take that trip down to the coast and I thought it’d be the perfect time, but Reed got that huge grant proposal and we had to finish that project ASAP. God, he was such a pain that week,” he mumbles the last part to himself. 

“So, I thought, maybe I'd take you on a picnic down by the lake. Maybe write it in the skyline but Ben was a complete mess in the kitchen.” He quickly breaks eye contact when you squint at his words in suspicion. 

“I just—” he sighs, shoulders dropping. “The timing was never right. And you deserve better than rush and chaos.” Johnny swallows, building up his courage. “You deserve everything. But tonight…” he gestures faintly, toward the sky, the quiet rooftop, toward you standing there in the dusky purple glow with the city lights catching in your eyes. “I had this moment when I woke up, and you were there, and I just thought…”

His voice lowers—quiet, reverent. “Why am I waiting?” 

Your breath stutters, mouth parting slightly as you take in his words. “Waiting for what?” you manage to ask.

Johnny steps closer. Slowly. Carefully. There’s a small, knowing smile on his face, the look of someone carrying a secret only they know. Brushing past your words, Johnny admits, “I don’t need a perfect setting or a perfect plan. I just need you.” His chest expands with the deepest, steadiest breath yet. “And I don’t want to wait another second.”

Johnny reaches out to grab your fingers again. Giving you a gentle squeeze, he nods towards the open stretch of the roof. “Come on,” he murmurs, voice small. 

You let him guide you forward, breathless, with your footsteps echoing into the night. It’s just you and Johnny now, with him glancing back every half-second like he’s terrified you’ll disappear. 

“Johnny—”

“Just one more step,” he hushes. 

And just when you’re about to question him again, the rooftop opens up. Past all the vents and the metal frames, squarely in the middle of it all:

A small, round table, draped neatly in white. 

Two chairs. 

Silverware set properly. 

A single, fresh flower in an old glass bottle. Your favorite flower. 

And just when your mouth falls open, barely managing the sudden tears in your eyes, Johnny drops your hand. He takes one last step back, giving himself just enough space to turn on his heels and flip a switch behind one of the rooftop vents. 

The roof lights up. 

Fairy lights wrapped around clunky metal pipes, spilling a soft golden glow across the rooftop. They drape from railing to railing, transforming the industrial skyline with something warm and impossibly intimate. Candles are found at every turn in thick jars filled with flickering wicks, giving a gentle pulse of light that dances along the concrete floor. 

“Oh…” is all you manage. 

Johnny stands behind you, his large palm landing on the small of your back—a steady and grounding presence that makes your heart beat faster. He leans in a little, close enough to feel the soft brush of his exhale against your temple. 

“Do you like it?” he whispers, soft and boyish. 

You turn your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral and his expression is nothing short of hopeful. His gaze isn’t on the lights or the decorations. It’s on you. 

It’s only ever been on you. 

“I know it’s not a five star restaurant,” his words brush against your hairline, his lips nearly peppering soft kisses there as he talks. “And there aren’t any pyrotechnics because Reed said it’ll be too much of a headache if I burn the building down—” 

You let out a shaky laugh, tears lining your eyes. 

“But I hope you love it anyways,” he tells you earnestly, arms wrapping around you. 

“Johnny,” you shake your head, “This is insane.” 

He stiffens for half of a second—just long enough for you to feel the flicker of fear run through him. But then you turn fully in his arms, palms coming up to cradle his cheeks before he can jump to conclusions. “It’s perfect,” you manage to whisper, voice trembling with emotion. 

His shoulders drop, visible relief washing over him so intensely he almost sags into you. A laugh escapes him like he’d been holding it in for hours. But then Johnny smiles. 

Not the flashy Johnny Storm smile he gives to the cameras when he knows the world's watching. 

A smaller one. Soft. Real. Private. Just for you. 

He whispers your name like it’s something sacred. His thumb brushes your cheek, and he swallows hard, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “I love you,” he promises. 

“Oh, Johnny,” you lean your forehead against his own, “I love you, too.” 

“If someone told me two years ago that the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on would be standing in front of me today, telling me she loved me, I would’ve called them crazy,” he confesses. “You were…so far out of my league. Still are,” he admits. 

You huff out a laugh, but he just shakes his head like he needs you to understand—really understand. 

“No, I mean it,” he continues. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into that night when I walked up to you in Reed’s lab.” 

You start to roll your eyes, already knowing what he’s going to say. 

“And you told me to ‘back off’ because you ‘weren’t impressed’ by my whole ‘hotshot celebrity thing,’” he says with a laugh, but you only groan and bury your face in his chest.

“Johnny, please,” you grimace. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “We’re not skipping over that. I still think about it every night.” His teasing tone shifts into something more gentle, “Because I think that was the first time in my entire life someone’s had the nerve to just…shut me down like that. And I just knew, right then and there, I’d do anything to impress you.” 

Johnny locks eyes with you, brushing a stray piece of hair that fell into your eye. “And I’ve been trying ever since.” 

He blows out a shaky breath before taking one small step back. 

Your chest tightens, air turning thick and warm and impossible to swallow as you watch him. His hand slips from your cheek. His other hand moves into the left pocket of his jeans. And when Johnny looks back up at you, there’s a fear in his eyes that tells you exactly what’s happening before he even says a word. 

“I told myself I’d wait for the perfect moment,” he admits. “Something big. Something spectacular. Something that would prove how much you mean to me.” He gives a helpless laugh and shakes his head. “But I don’t need a perfect moment. I have you.”

Your breath leaves your lungs. 

Johnny slowly sinks to one knee. 

His hands are trembling, not from the cold, but from the raw, unguarded emotion as he opens the small velvet box that’s been hidden in his pocket for months. 

A ring catches in the evening light—beautiful and real. Like this. Like him.

“You’ve seen every version of me. The loud, the obnoxious, the guy who’s trying so hard not to screw up the only thing that’s ever mattered this much—and you stayed. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.” 

Your tears start to slip free, hand over your mouth as you try to blink away the tears. 

“Will you let me be the man that you see when you look at me? Be the man that you deserve…and marry me?”

The world stands still.

Your heart is beating so loud you can almost hear it over the soft hum of the city below. The glow of the night illuminates Johnny. The Johnny Storm—New York’s golden boy—is kneeling in front of you with his heart wide open. 

Your hand trembles as it slowly falls from your mouth, tears streaming down and tracing warm paths down your cheeks. Your knees feel weak. “Johnny,” you breathe—barely a sound. 

His eyes search yours anxiously, waiting and bracing. 

You never make him wait long. 

You drop to your knees, too—right in front of him. “Of course I’ll marry you!” you exclaim, voice cracking with emotion. 

He blinks once. Then twice. Before his face flickers, like he’s finally processed your words and you’ve just realigned his entire universe. “...Yeah?” 

You nod.

“Yeah? You’ll marry me?” his voice gets louder with each passing word, and all you can do is nod in agreement, smile wide on your face. 

“Yes, Johnny, a thousand times yes!”

The shout he lets out is euphoric, and Johnny can’t help but scoop you into his arms. He pulls the two of you up along the process as he spins you around letting out loud shouts of celebration. He laughs loudly, bright and explosive in a way that echoes across the rooftop, mixing with your own set of giggles. 

He holds you so tight that your feet barely touch the ground, the two of you a blur of happiness and dizzy adrenaline as you kiss in the glow of candles and fairy lights. 

When Johnny finally slows, his chest is heaving. He places you down gently, forehead dropping against yours as he tries to catch his breath. His hand cups your cheeks, thumbs brushing away fresh tears that you didn’t even realize had fallen. 

“You said yes,” he whispers again, shrouded in disbelief. “Oh man.” Johnny quickly wipes away his own tears, sniffling before pulling back. Shakily, he pulls the ring out of the box and slips it onto your finger. 

The two of you watch intensely at the ring that now sits against your skin. His ring. 

“There’s no take-backsies,” Johnny says with a fake stern tone.

You laugh, “I think I’ll manage.” 

Johnny sighs, “You’re going to be my wife.”

The words hit you all over again—sweet, surreal, overwhelming. Your eyes sting as you nod. “And you’re going to be my husband.”

Johnny looks like he might combust right then and there. He pulls you gently, toward the table he set up, still beaming. 

“Okay Mrs. Storm,” he announces, voice warm with pride as he tugs you close. “I hope you’re hungry because I made dinner.” 

You freeze in his arms. “...You cooked?” 

Johnny pauses. “I…got takeout from the restaurant down the block.”

You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you. 

He tightens his arms around your waists and dips his head to kiss your cheek. Against your skin, softly he whispers, “I can’t wait to marry you.” 

Downstairs, against the better knowledge of the two of you, Reed holds the security monitor up for everyone to see. The entire rooftop feed plays across the living room as HERBIE records. 

“Aw, see, I knew he could do it,” Ben lets out a small laugh, wiping a tear away with a large finger. 

“Good job, Johnny,” Sue whispers to herself more than anything, bouncing a happily giggling Franklin on her hip. 

“We’re going to have to help him plan the wedding, aren’t we?” Reed sighs, mind already spinning. 

But that was all to be dealt with later. 

Tonight, and forever, Jonathan Storm was all yours. 

-

All things considered. 

“I would’ve been there for you,” pausing, he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I would’ve raised hell against those people for what they did to you.” Another kiss to her shoulder, voice dropping an octave as the emotion seeped out of him. “I hate that you went through that alone.”

Closing her eyes, she focused on the feeling of his breath on her skin, the softness of his hair against her fingers, the tense muscles of his back she worked to smooth. Willing the painful memories to remain at surface level and not consume her entire being. “Unfortunately, my experience is not uncommon for mutants in my world,” she sighed, trailing her hand to the nape of his neck as his hand gripped her hip. “People fear what they don’t understand. It’s something I’ve had to accept the hard way, but….” her voice was steady, yet carried the weight of each word. “You learn with time.”

 “That doesn’t excuse their shitty behavior.”

 “No, it doesn’t,” she agreed, leaning an inch to kiss his hairline to calm him down. He always got worked up when talking about the subject. Evident by the rise in temperature on his back. “But it does explain why my kind has had to deal with those kinds of people since scientists first discovered our gene.” For anyone who knew the woman and her past, her words were a far change from the perspective she had on humanity years prior. She’d come a long way from the angered teenager and young adult who simply upheld Xavier’s dream to self-serve her safety rather than play into it on her own devices. 

Who was she kidding? It was the man in her arms responsible for her new outlook on life. 

Despite coming from different universes, it didn’t matter how many times they’ve had the same conversation, Johnny always felt a deep heaviness when thinking about her past. The origin of her mutation that brought her to the X-Men and eventually to him.

At age eleven, her golden touch mutant gene unveiled in an unfortunate circumstance involving a childhood bully on a school trip to a water park. The bully, a rich boy with an eye for mischief and need for torment, dragged the girl to the top of a tower the dive board was after hearing she had a fear of heights and the deep end of the massive Olympic-sized pool. Several of their classmates, his friends, egged him on and laughed at the tears streaming down her face. She thrashed and pulled against his hold as he got her to the top and maneuvered her so her back was toward the end of the board. The ten foot drop ahead leading to 20 feet deep waters below.

It all happened so fast, no one could’ve predicted that when her fear morphed to anger, and her hands gripped his shoulders, that melted gold would pour from her eye sockets, leaving no trace of her pupils and consuming her entire body until it slipped through her fingertips to spread along every inch of his skin. Until a living boy no longer stood in his place…but a golden statue frozen in time. 

And when she let go of him, her pupils returned, as did the rest of her body. But he did not. Altering the life as she knew it into something she never could have imagined. 

She didn’t know she’d be a mutant. No one did. Like every other mutant in existence, the gene surfaced in response to stress and trauma. All she wanted was to pry him off her. However the reality was clear as day. She’d been born with the X-Gene, granting her the ability to transform her body into pure solid gold that gave her superhuman strength and durability, in addition to turning everything she touched into the mental substance.

And in the discovery, took the life of a child. 

The aftermath of what occurred that fateful spring day had been catastrophic. She became a target of media outlets across the globe. News stations broadcasted the story on repeat. Journals and newspapers ran press 24/7. Then because of the mere fact that objects she touched turned to pure solid gold, it didn’t take long for people to attempt to get their hands on the few things she managed to transform in the short time following the incident.

A big thanks to certified metallurgists for confirming the gold she produced was in fact real gold. 

Clothes, her shoes. The beach towel, the bench she sat on. Hell, even the diving board the water park cut down once they removed the golden boy’s body, was sought by greedy men and auctioneers. 

At lightning speed she became a liability. Her safety was threatened by those who saw her as a gold producing mine, and not the eleven year old girl carrying a trauma no other person could understand. 

On top of it all, her family was ostracized--her father losing his job and mother facing scrutiny from their peers. For they did not want to be associated with someone whose child committed an unthinkable act. The family of the boy demanded justice for their son, as the young girl could not reverse the effects of her power. Screaming things like, “Send her to the Vault!” and “Our son deserved to live and not die the way he did by the hands of a mutant!!”

Mutant. They hissed and spat as though the word was cursed. 

She felt cursed. Mind straying to the story of King Midas and his golden touch he came to view as a misfortune. To her, her powers fell under the same category. 

The family, as well as their supporters and haters of mutants, believed the act was intentional. That she chose to turn him into gold. Disregarding that she too, was a child, and was put in a place of immense stress. They chose to ignore the detail that the boy intended to push her off the diving board into the pool despite her objections. Witnesses to the event made statements, they included the facts, but the media pushed the narrative it was her fault. 

Charles Xavier knew the truth. It was why he offered to take in the young mutant when the government went undecided on what to do with her. “I believe the best possible route for her is to remain with people like her,” he told them at the congressional hearing. “What good is a young mutant just discovering their abilities, if they are not with those who can relate and be the support system to help them control it. Rest assured, my staff and I will do everything possible to make sure what happened never occurs again.” 

Despite their weariness and concerns, they agreed on the condition Xavier kept them informed on her progress. And so for the remainder of her childhood, well into her teenage years and ultimately into adulthood, she remained at the X-Mansion. Learning to control her abilities with the help of Professor X, Dr. Hank McCoy, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Logan Howlett, and Ororo Munroe. 

It took time, but eventually turning an object she touched into gold happened by her own will and not automatically like when her powers first emerged. In the beginning her body transforming into its golden form often happened during moments of stress and fear. Uncontrollable at first, but soon with the help of her fellow X-Men mentors—including the organic steel transforming mutant Colossus, she learned to bring forth the metal form upon her own command. 

Scott, Logan, and Ororo focused her training on hand-to-hand combat on an offense approach for when it came time to be in the field. They taught her to fight. How to go by an attack and to catch the enemy off guard. “Listen, Goldilocks,” Logan would say with a cigar attached to his lips, smoke in the air, “just because you’ve got a mean swing when you go metal doesn’t mean you only rely on your fists. Anything you grab can become a wicked fastball to throw the enemy off from a distance.” 

Jean and Professor X, on the other hand, prioritized her wellbeing. Using a defensive tactic, they taught her how to control her powers so they may not risk hurting innocent people. As for Hank, he used his genius mind to study her powers and report progress. Not to mention creating an entire wardrobe for her when she first moved in that wouldn’t turn to gold when she put them on. And once she got the green light from Scott and Charles, Hank designed her signature X-Men suit consisting of black and yellow with a plated red belt.  

Hence, the X-Men Midas was born. 

Together with her fellow mutants, Midas battled Sentinels, the Friends of Humanity, Magneto and his Brotherhood of Mutants as well as Apocalypse and his Horsemen. She narrowly survived the destruction of Genosha, lost more friends than she could count, and dealt with the repercussions of her past daily. 

It’s no wonder she built a wall around her heart. Thick like a block of 24 karat gold. And why she carried a boatload of anger everywhere she went. Often complaining about humans who put their lives at risk that they have to save and get no appreciation for. Keeping her thoughts and opinions of Magneto and Charles to herself, because if she were being honest, part of her understood Magneto’s mindset.

With each passing year, and each attempt on her life, Midas felt that anger grow. She did well of masking it, but there was a reason she didn’t bother with human-mutant relations like Xavier, Scott, and Jean. Why she trusted no one other than the X-Men. Who in the universe could relate to all she went through? 

Johnny Storm loved gold. Gold jewelry, gold accessories. Gold paint on walls and detailing. He was even dubbed America’s golden boy by media outlets after he and his family got their powers from their space exploration trip gone awry. Blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, flames of bright orange and yellow. He was golden. 

But when the Fantastic Four raced to save Franklin from the malicious Dr. Doom, trailing him across the multiverse until they reached Earth-616, the man made of fire met his match with the woman made of gold. 

He probably should’ve predicted it. After all, he did get the hots for a silver surfing alien four years prior. Least to say, the moment his eyes laid on the golden goddess before him, he was captivated.

Now, let’s be real, they say first impressions mean everything and theirs was unlike anything they could’ve imagined. Having allied themselves with the Avengers—new and old, depending on who asks--the last thing on the Fantastic Four’s mind was running into more enhanced heroes pulled into the sacred timeline. And it was all thanks to Reed’s multiversal tracking device.

“I’m picking up a signal in the East Canadian region,” he announced, “A cluster of points not far from the border. Their readings suggest,” the area between his brows pinched, “that they're not from here.” It was his glance upward to look at Sue, worry in his gaze before flickering to Sam. “Like us.” 

There was no hesitation from the Captain, “Let’s go.” 

The team responding to the signal consisted of Johnny, Ben, Reed, Sam, Joaquin, Yelena, Ava, and Walker. Sue stayed behind with the others, tracking Doom and stressing to pinpoint where he took Franklin. 

“Two miles out,” came Ben’s voice from the cockpit, causing Johnny to look away from his tablet to glance out the window, spotting a remote location in the middle of nowhere. Appearing to be an abandoned warehouse near a lake surrounded by the woods. “Doesn’t look like much if I’m being honest. Reed, you sure this is it?”

“Positive,” the genius replied, checking the coordinates before coming up beside the rocked man. “The multiversal energy levels coming from here are staggering.”

“Well, whoever you’re picking up is obviously hiding.” 

Johnny put the tablet down, leaning over Ben’s chair to see the view, resulting in his eyes to squint when he caught a dark blob in the distance. “What the hell is that?” Upon the words leaving his mouth, he felt the presence of Sam and Yelena approach beside him, the former’s gaze following Johnny’s where he ordered Ben to get closer. 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” 

Landing, the blob formed into the clear image of an unusual aircraft with little to no markings indicating who it might’ve belonged to. No flag, no insignia. Just sleek black metal with large engines that thinned towards the cockpit. 

‘Weird,’ Johnny thought to himself as he stepped off the ramp of the Quinjet, scouting the area. What was an odd-looking jet doing in the middle of the Canadian woods? And where were the ones who put it there?

He’d find out soon enough. 

The owners of the jet, in fact, were a group of multiversal travelers from another world. And where Johnny and his fellow Avengers got their powers through accidents and lab mishaps, this team of enhanced heroes were born with theirs. They were mutants.

While Johnny was occupied battling a guy with a Cajun accent and playing cards he made go boom, Reed got caught dealing with a blue teleporter and teeth sharp like vampire fangs. Then you had Sam and Joaquin fighting a man wearing a visor matching his bright blue and yellow suit. Yelena in a 1v1 with another blue individual, who nearly made her shit her pants when they shapeshifted into Natasha. Ava and Ben against, yet again, a blue man this time with fur all over his body. And finally, Walker engaged in a heated exchange with…a woman made of gold?

At first, she looked normal. And Johnny would be lying if he said he didn’t do a double take when his eyes landed on her in the 30 seconds prior to the fight breaking out. Her black and bright yellow suit, similar to her peers, caught his immediate attention. As did the red plated belt barreling a distinct ‘X’, however, his focus shifted rather quickly by the sudden battle when neither side stood down and presented immediate threats to each other. But when Johnny managed to get the upper hand over the purple suited, pole swinging man, he caught the exact moment the mystery woman’s skin transformed. 

Walker swung his shield, hoping to knock her off her feet, surprised she kept up with him in the first place, only for his eyes to widen in absolute astonishment upon her bare hands gripping the edge of the shield. But when his eyes landed on said hands…they reflected against the light in a golden shine. 

“What the fu…” his voice echoed, causing Johnny to snap his head in their direction, where his own eyes grew in size as he watched in real time as the metal ran up her arms, encased her neck before swallowing her visage whole. Almost in slow motion, like an intense scene from a movie, the way the gold seemed to pour out of her like liquid until it solidified, turning her into a walking statue. No trace of whites or pupils in her eyes. The color of her hair molding into a sleek shape. The only remaining untouched was her suit. 

Only it didn’t end there. Once the immediate shock barely wore off, it returned tenfold when they noticed the gold continued to pour from her fingertips. Walker’s shield transforming before their eyes. 

“Oh shit!” The super soldier’s shout bounced off the walls, removing his hold off the object to take several steps back and see the last bit of red and black vanish. Before he could react, however, she launched forward, grabbed a hold of his neck, lifting him off the ground and sent him flying toward the wall, causing a loud groan to escape him. He got up, ready for the next attack, but Walker dropped to his knees in a haste as she spun 360 and flung the now pure gold shield in his direction. Embedding it into the brick wall with a rumbling crack that shook the foundation of the building, causing everyone to stop what they were doing. Freezing mid-battle. 

“Well that’s not something you see every day,” Joaquin panted with a wince, having met the harsh ground moments prior from dodging an optic blast. 

Everything slowed down. Sam and Scott talked on behalf of their teams, as did Reed, who explained they tracked the group by the trans-dimensional energy they produced. That’s where the Avengers and Fantastic Four officially learned the name of their new guests. 

“We’re the X-Men.” 

“Why the X,” Johnny asked before he could stop himself, noting the distinct X on all their suits, not just hers. Just like he and his family had the large 4 splattered across their chests.

“Because we carry the X-Gene,” the man they called Beast declared. And when he caught their confusion, he added with uncertainty of how their reaction was going to go. “Our powers come from a mutation in our DNA--a mutation we’re born with. In our world, we call it the X-Gene. Hence,” a blue hand motioned at his fellow mutants. “The X-Men.” 

‘Fitting,’ Johnny thought, nodding to the man. “That’s cool.” The compliment didn’t really have its effect, as he heard the light scoff from the woman as well as some pinched expressions from the rest of them.

“Cool,” she repeated with distaste, like the word physically stung her. She then lifted her gaze from the floor to land on Johnny, who tilted his head perplexed by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. “I take it neither in this world—nor yours as your friend,” she lifted a lazy finger at Reed, “has mentioned—have people like us?”

While Johnny shook his head, Sam answered along the same lines, “No, we do not.”

“So all of you,” a golden hand flickered at the crowd, specifically the ones with obvious powers as her voice rose an octave. “Got what makes you special by some flux. Freak accidents—lab experiments gone wrong—or just by the grace of some God?” 

No one answered. The question itself rhetorical and able to answer itself by their expressions and shuffle of body language indicating they felt the unease flood the space. That was enough for her to scoff, louder this time, and click her tongue. Beside her the teleported, a man calling himself Kurt Wagner, gave her a knowing look. 

“Wow,” she exasperated, arms crossed tight around her chest as she stood tall and guarded, clearly vexed by the silence. Though her eyes were still encapsulated by metal, it was obvious had her pupils been visible, they would’ve been narrowed into slits. “How nice you all must have it.”

What was that supposed to mean? 

“Midas,” Scott scolded the woman, who’d now shifted back to her normal physique and sent a scowl, stopping Johnny from asking the question on his mind as he processed the name Scott addressed her as. 

“I’m just making an observation, Scott.” 

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“And?” she hissed, throwing her arms out in frustration. “So what if I am?”

Scott stepped closer to her, voice dropping like a stern father reprimanding his daughter. The others couldn’t hear what was said, but by the way she tensed up and glared at the man, they could only guess. As Scott stepped away, she simply huffed, crossing her arms back over her chest and pivoting so her side was facing the Avengers. Not wanting to look at them any longer. 

Eventually, after much debate and deliberation from each side, the X-Men agreed to follow the Avengers and Fantastic Four to the WatchTower where they would continue the pursuit against Doom, who they linked was responsible for the mutants for dropping into Earth-616, much like the Four. It was unclear why Doom targeted the X-Men, but they were determined to find out. 

Now joined together on a race against time to save Franklin Richards and the multiverse, the teams exhausted their resources from all angles. They spent time learning about each other, drawing strategy, splitting up on multiple coverts when they got a lead. Sure there were times where they butt heads--specifically Sam, Bucky, Reed, and Scott--but they worked well together. And most of them were welcoming toward one another. 

Key word: most. 

“So like….” Johnny shuffled on his feet, arms crossed as he stood beside Midas--ignoring Ben’s warning look--who mirrored his position, the two off to the side while the leaders of the teams paced around the middle of the lounge to discuss tactics. Except that while Johnny’s demeanor resembled his usual, suave self, she stood cold and reserved. “Is the name Midas in reference to--.”

“The King who could turn anything he touched into gold,” she cut him off with a deadpan tone while continuing to stare ahead. “Yes, it is.” 

Johnny assessed her profile, giving a short nod. He didn’t compliment it, despite finding the name clever and interesting. Learning his lesson from earlier when he found the X-Men’s origin of powers cool. “And you can--.”

“Turn anything I want into gold. Including my whole body.”

“Does it feel weird when you do it?”

“Does it feel weird when you set yourself on fire?” Annoyance laced her tone, but Johnny didn’t falter. 

“At first, yeah it’s sorta ticklish,” if he heard the way she breathed heavily though her nose, he chose to ignore it and continued, “Now it just feels part of me.” No response followed, but he did notice how her shoulders dropped slightly, face losing the pinched expression as though she understood the statement. “Is it like that for you?”

“Yes,” she finally said after a moment, but still refused to look at him. 

There had to be some sort of irony in the fact Johnny Storm found yet another metallic woman insanely attractive that he wanted to get to know even though it was painfully obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. He wanted to melt down her cold, metal walls and discover the heart of gold she probably was hiding. 

Holding back his smile, Johnny saw the shift in body language as his first step to victory. And he adjusted his own position, turning back to the scene in front of them. 

If there was one thing Johnny Storm enjoyed, it was a challenge. He thrived in the adrenaline and thrill of succeeding and he saw that with Midas. ‘I’ll get through to her,’ was the final thought before he accepted his new mission. ‘I know I will.’

Hours later Johnny was walking back to his assigned room when his ears picked up on voices in the nearby corridor. Unable to ignore his curiosity, Johnny paused and headed toward the direction of the noise. Light on his feet, he pressed his back against the wall adjacent and listened closely. 

“Look, I’m as clueless as you on how long this is going to last,” Scott drawled in a low voice to whoever he addressed. “It could be days, weeks, months--hell we might even be here for years. So whatever you have against them, Midas--,” Johnny stiffened at the reveal, rethinking his decision as he knew what he was doing was morally wrong, but the blonde couldn’t help himself. “You need to put it away. Otherwise you can sit this out.”  

 “I don’t have anything against them, Scott,” the lie fell flat that even Johnny caught it. 

“And the sky is red,” Scott scoffed, “You’re fooling no one and we can’t afford to have any tension amongst ourselves with what’s to come. As far as I can see, we can trust them.” 

“Did you already forget this morning?” 

“That was a mutual attack on both sides. They were doing their job as protectors of this world--like us, Midas. If we were back home and the roles were reversed, we would’ve done the same.” 

She huffed, clearly not impressed by the defense despite the man being right. “Forgive me for not jumping for joy at the idea of us working together. For Christ’s sake, Scott--mutants don’t exist here! How are we supposed to trust they won’t turn on us--or-or suddenly feel threatened by our existence and want us gone?”

Johnny heard the frustration combined with the underlying fear in her tone. As though the assumption was layered with experience, causing the blonde to frown. What exactly did she mean? That they’d be threatened by their existence--enough to want to betray them? In their world were super powered people not worshiped like he and his family were? From the sound of it, he suspected the reality was far from his own experience. 

Suddenly it all made sense why she reacted angrily to his remark. And why the others looked uncomfortable. 

“They’re not going to do that--.”

“You don’t know that, Scott!” 

“It’s not sunshine and rainbows for them like you think--they’ve dealt with horrible things because of who they are and what they do.” 

“I highly doubt they’ve had to fight machines built with the sole reason to exterminate them.” 

The air around Johnny seemed to disappear, his breath hitching so fast he had to rush a hand to his mouth to stop the sound from escaping. His entire face consorting to absolute horror. Machines? Exterminate mutants? He couldn’t believe what he’d heard--unable to even picture what she was describing. Attempting so brought a chill down his spine, a rare feeling given his blood boiled like lava. 

Barely processing the revelation, the shock continued as he listened to the conversation, thankful they had yet to discover he was there. 

“Midas,” Scott’s sigh was full of tiredness, mixed with dejection. “I understand your anger, believe me, I do. You’ve gone through things not many mutants have or will ever experience. And after Genosha--.”

“Don’t,” she hissed, and Johnny picked up the tremor she held. 

“You have every right to be,” Scott fought his own emotions, the memories of that fateful evening clear in his mind. “We all lost a piece of ourselves that day--some more than others.” Some meaning her. The period of darkness that swallowed her whole following the tragedy lasted months. “But this--this blame you’re unfairly putting on these people is not going to help you heal or benefit this team. I need to know that I can count on you.”

“You can,” her insistence sounded strained.

“Can I, Midas?”

There was a pause from the woman, and Johnny assumed the question was a slap in the face coming from the man she looked up to. “Scott, when have I ever let you down?” she finally found her voice, unable to hide the defeat, causing Johnny to feel a tightness in his chest. He waited with anticipation for Scott’s answer. 

“You never have,” there was pride in the response, and Johnny pictured the visor wearing man offering a small smile despite their heated exchange still lingering. 

“Exactly. I’ve never let you down. I didn’t with Apocalypse, I didn’t with Trask,” a slight pause before she finished, “and I didn’t after Genosha. So, I’ll do what I have to do, because our team,” the X-Men she was referring to. Johnny didn’t have to be a genius to get the implication. “Is what matters to me. I’ll put my…differences aside. But don’t expect me to be buddy-buddy and pretend we’re all best friends, alright?” 

“I’m not asking you to be best friends, Midas,” Scott sighed, “But I am asking you to be civilized.”

“Fine,” she huffed like a full blown child. “I’ll be civilized. Have some fucking faith in me, Scott.” Letting out another sound that came off as a huff mixed with a grunt, Johnny heard her stomp away from Scott. 

“Midas--!” He tried to stop her from leaving, but the golden mutant sped off in the opposite direction, her footsteps growing faint. 

Johnny finally let out the breath he was holding, careful to muffle the sound as best he could as he processed all the information he discovered. Talk about bombshells dropped. Extermination machines? Genosha? What was Scott talking about, and why did it bring an unsettling pit to Johnny’s stomach. Part of him didn’t want to find out.

And just when he thought he could relax, he heard footsteps heading in his direction, Scott coming down the hall after failing to stop Midas. Panicked and with no way to escape without giving himself away, Johnny shuffled on his feet like a maniac and contemplated his options only to freeze when Scott turned the corner.

“Jesus,” a gloved hand clamped to his chest, heart racing with adrenaline as Johnny started to stutter, hands raised in defense and face flamed red from embarrassment and shame for getting caught red handed. 

“I-I-I--.”

“Have you been there this whole time?” 

Johnny swallowed thickly, offering a hesitant nod, “I promise--I didn’t intend to--I was-was heading to my room and I…overheard you two,” Johnny lowered his hands, expression apologetic as his own heart rate increased. “I’m sorry, Scott--I know it was wrong--.”

“Johnny, It’s okay,” Scott waved a hand to calm him down. “I’m not mad, you just caught me off guard.” Letting out an exhale, Scott lowered his hand and assessed the blonde. “What all did you--.”

“Enough to understand why I offended you guys early.”

“No, Johnny, you didn’t…” Scott tried to say, but gave up as the words fell flat. Clearly Johnny heard the climax of the argument between the two mutants, and there wasn’t anything Scott could say that would try to brush the tension off. So instead he followed it up with, “Midas is...I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Scott, I should be the one apologizing--I’m the one who eavesdropped!”

The older man let out a low chuckle, “Well, we weren’t exactly being quiet. If it wasn’t you it was going to be someone else.”

“Still it was a private conversation, I should’ve kept walking…I was just--.”

“Curious?” Scott finished for him with a knowing smirk, causing Johnny’s face to redden once more as he sent a slow nod. Not bothering to deny the accusation. “I don’t blame you. But if I’m being honest, you’re lucky it was me who caught you and not Midas.”

“I take it she’d have kicked my ass?”

“More like she’d be tempted to turn you into gold,” Scott retorted with a clap to the blonde’s back, gently pushing him to start walking down the hallway. “Something she hasn’t done to a living person in years.” The emphasis brought a chill down Johnny’s spine. Realizing the extent of Midas’ powers go beyond what he initially thought. It wasn’t just her body she had the ability to transform, as well as objects, into gold. 

She could do it to humans.

Johnny had so many questions on his mind, his expression unable to mask the interest that Scott saw right through and took it upon himself to explain to Johnny the depth of he and Midas’ conversation. Filling in the holes as to why she perceived the Avengers a certain way. Scott told him about the Sentinels--the machines created by Dr. Bolivar Trask to hunt down mutants, including his chief Master Mold. How the X-Men have been fighting the Sentinels for decades as they keep reemerging despite the superheroes defeating them time and time again. 

Johnny had trouble swallowing that pill, only to feel the bile rise in his throat when Scott relayed the destruction of Genosha. “And she was there when it happened?” he whispered, voice cracking at the end as the emotion was too much to contain. How was one supposed to when they hear an entire island was wiped off the planet by wild machines programmed to exterminate a species. 

“Midas never agreed with the forming of Genosha,” Scott explained, leaning his arms on the railing of the balcony the two stood on. “She had her opinions and thoughts. The country already had a dark history, and then you had Magneto rallying for it to be a mutant-only nation.” He paused slightly, feeling the familiar grief pool in his stomach. “When they asked for representatives for the X-Men to attend a gala after the U.N. formally recognized Genosha, I told her to go--even though I knew she didn’t want to.”

Johnny heard the regret in his voice. The sadness, the pain. It pooled out of him like lava from a volcano. 

“I was supposed to be with them, but there was another commitment at the mansion they needed me for. I…” he let out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly, “nothing could’ve prepared us for what happened that day. Midas and Kurt were part of the lucky ones.”

The Human Torch walked away with a newfound respect for the golden mutant. As well as a deep found compassion for her and her fellow X-Men. They’d gone through unimaginable events. Survived inexplicable chaos. It’s no wonder Midas is distrusting of anyone who’s not like them. 

As the days drew into weeks, Johnny thought about that day on the balcony. It appeared in his mind each time he got close to Midas. Whether that be the two standing next to each other or tasked together on expeditions with their teammates. And as the two interacted more, that curiosity in Midas turned into a full-blown crush that had the once most eligible bachelor in America acting like a teenage boy wanting to impress a girl for the first time. 

Holding the elevator door open when he caught her heading toward it. Taking the open seat next to her in the conference room or simply shuffling over to the corner she’d taken claim to. He’d offer to get her coffee, or volunteer to join her when she’d go to the training rooms. And unbeknownst to Midas, Johnny picked up on cues that made him fall for her even more. Like how she stared out the windows of the WatchTower to watch the citizens below, holding back a smile when she saw a school bus full of kids peering up at the building in wonder. How she’d leave the last pastry for Gambit or Sue when she likely wanted it for herself. Sarcastic remarks under her breath that left Joaquin and Shuri stifling a giggle. Or the way she picked up after people’s trash when they were too distracted to notice. 

But Johnny noticed. He saw everything. The softened features. The hidden interest. The mask she bore to protect her heart. 

It was painfully obvious to everyone besides Midas that Johnny Storm was smitten with her. From the, “Good morning, Midas,” every day to, “I saved you a plate of Ben’s homemade ravioli,” there was no question about his feelings. Then there was the fact whenever she addressed him by a name other than his own--which was pretty much everyday--he’d blush like a schoolboy. 

Flame. Torch. Hot-Head. Supernova. Star-Boy (his personal favorite). All spoken with sarcasm, but it did nothing to deter him. 

Sue and Ben clocked it from the first day when Johnny strategically maneuvered himself to stand next to her during the first debrief as a conjoined team. Scott and Hank got their suspicions from Johnny’s lingering gazes when she entered a room, plus the many questions he had regarding her. Gambit and Kurt, her closest friends, made slick comments like, “I did not know you adopted a golden retriever puppy, mon ami,” or, “Schatz, you seem to be glowing brighter than the sun lately.” 

For Midas, however, the behavior Johnny exhibited left her confused. And it didn’t help that she initially found the walking fire hazard annoying. Like a bug she was unable to swat away--or a stain too stubborn to be removed. His boyish charm and sharp wit combined with his constant flirtatious remarks paired with winks told her everything she needed about what he was like in his home universe. 

A playboy, with an ego the size of a supernova.   

“What’s your deal, Torch?” She finally confronted him after weeks of him following her like a shadow. Continuing his pursuit despite her jabs and attempts to shake him off. 

“What do you mean?” He played dumb, leaning against the wall she shoved him into after she dragged his ass out of the lounge to get away from prying ears. 

“The compliments? The winks--the suave lines you keep trying to pull on me,” her eyes narrowed, practically hissing the words out. “Why are you so determined to get a rise out of me?” She didn’t miss the way his expression, once playful, softened at the accusation.

“I’m not--I’m not trying to get a rise out of you, Midas.”

“Then why does it feel like you are!” 

“I--I,” he stuttered, ears pink but thankfully the flush of his neck was hidden by the turtleneck of his suit. “Look, I promise I’m not trying to be an asshole or piss you off. I just…” The confession was on the tip of his tongue. Screaming at him to cave in and tell her what he’d been feeling the past couple weeks. And with the way she was staring at him, the fire he held ignited so deep he ended up blurting out, “Go out with me,” without thinking, earning a wide-eyed, gaping reaction.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” Well that certainly wasn’t the response he usually garnished, but there was no going back now.

“Far from it actually---although when this whole multiversal excursion started I did start to think so..”

She breathed hard through her nose, eyes closing as she focused on calming her heartrate, “There--there’s no way you’re serious--.”

“Is it so hard to believe I might have feelings for you, Midas?” Johnny offered a small smile, aware it was a lot for her to process and therefore he needed to be patient with her. After all, the confession came out of left field, at least from her point of view. 

“Considering I’ve done nothing remotely warm and inviting to warrant this…” she waves a dramatic hand, “Affection…yeah, I am a little surprised.” Did he really observe her cold-hearted bitch behavior and think, ‘Damn, I want that,’ or was he breathing in one too many fossil fuels from the jet engines of the Excelsior and X-Jet?

Turns out, he did want that. 

“Let me prove to you I’m serious.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” her hands rested on her hips, assessing him with a raised brow. 

“Go on a date with me,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which in his eyes, it was. 

“Johnny, we are in the middle of tracking a madman from your universe. I don’t see how we’re supposed to put a pause on that and go on a date.” 

“We don’t. We wait until we beat Doom, and then we go on a date. Until then I flirt with you and you pretend you don’t enjoy it when secretly you find me irresistible and are just too prideful to admit it.” He finished with a grin, the complete opposite to her absolute stunned expression. “Simple as that.”

“Simple?” She repeated with an exaggerated tone, like she couldn’t process what he was saying despite the words being straight forward and not embedded with riddles. “We are way past simple with everything you just said.” The fact she didn’t deny his claim of finding him irresistible was telling, but Johnny didn’t comment on it. 

She was about to turn on her heel and leave him right there in the hallway when he stopped her. “Then how about this,” he gently offered, bringing her attention back to him with a light touch to her forearm. “My prediction after we defeat Doom--which we will--they’re obviously going to plan some kind of celebration to honor us for our achievement.” 

He was met with a slow nod and roll of the eyes, indicating she knew where he was heading, “Your point?”

Johnny’s grin burned brighter. Teeth flashing as he mentally applauded himself for succeeding in the goal he set out weeks prior that started with an annoyed huff and eyeroll. He finally melted those golden walls. 

“What do you say about being my date to our expected ‘Congrats on defeating Dr. Doom and saving the multiverse,’ celebratory gala?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The ability to breath completely vanished the moment Johnny laid eyes on Midas as she descended the spiral staircase alongside Ava, donned in a mesmerizing gold dress sparkling like a million stars in the galaxy. Tight around her chest, which was accented by the deep neckline trailing her sternum, it had long sleeves and flowed out as it went down past her knees, paired with matching heels. Her hair was styled and her makeup was simple yet elegant. Little to no jewelry save for some stud earrings and a few rings on her fingers. 

“Yo, Matchstick, you good there?” Ben nudged the blonde when he suddenly stomped rambling, following his gaze to which the rocked hero uttered, “Oh.” The rest of the group the two were huddled with by the bar, Walker, Joaquin, and M’baku, all started chuckling at the lovesick expression on Johnny’s face. 

“Did it suddenly get hot in here?”

“Yeah,” Walker mused, “It does feel a bit warm now that I think about it.” 

“Hey, Johnny, think you can tone down the heat? I’m sweating through my suit.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure buddy,” Johnny waved off, downing the remaining of his glass before pushing it into Ben’s hand and hurrying toward the bar where she stood. Bypassing Sue and Shuri, the former giving him an odd look reading, ‘What the hell?’ which quickly shifted to understanding when she caught Midas at the bar.

“Finally,” she muttered with a pleased smile around the rim of her glass, but not before clicking in with Shuri’s, who mirrored her expression. 

At the bar and unaware of the hot-headed blonde speeding toward her, Midas greeted the bartender and gave off her order, “Hendricks gin martini, extra dirty with three olives please.” 

“Coming right up.” 

Thanking him, she leaned her forearms onto the smooth white quartz bar top and scanned her surroundings. It was a stellar sight to behold, the WatchTower loft lounge decorated with fairy lights and chandeliers. Packed to the brim with superheroes, family members, and politicians. Everywhere she looked she saw people engaging in conversation over cocktails and finger foods. The DJ, booked by Alexei, had his own booth near the makeshift dancefloor where Gambit, Kurt, and Shang-Chi had already taken claim to.

“You know, I always gravitated toward silver,” the teasing voice brought her out of her thoughts, heart skipping a beat as she turned to be greeted with the charming smile that was Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm. “Thought it brought out my eyes more. But I have to say…” said sapphire eyes traveled down the length of her figure unapologetically, “there’s just something so bewitching about gold when it hits the light.”

Straightening her posture as she faced him, Midas controlled her expression from showing that his words did in fact affect her. Heat flaring her body like the sun on a summer day. “Well don’t you clean up nice, Star-Boy.” 

Johnny’s hand went to the collar of his suit blazer, adjusting it while never straying his gaze, “I can say the same ‘bout you, Midas. Was gold always your color before your mutation surfaced?” 

“Considering I was eleven years old when it surfaced, I doubt it.”

When the bartender placed her drink down, Johnny quickly went, “Bulliet, neat my friend,” and the bartender quickly went to work, leaving the two. 

“Didn’t pay you to be a bourbon guy,” she observed nonchalantly. 

“What did you pay me to be?” 

“On the line of a basic vodka soda,” Johnny made a sound of offense, grin widening as he thanked the bartender and accepted the glass. Her own lips curled up, eyes drawing with curiosity as she watched him lift his glass toward her and gently tapped them together. “We toasting or something?”

“Yes we are,” they both raised their drinks to take a sip, not wincing at all when the burn of the alcohol hit the back of their throats. “You owe me a date.”

“Is that so?” she mused, maintaining the intense eye contact he refused to break. “Please remind me where I agreed to that.”

“When I asked you to accompany me to this,” he motioned to their surroundings. “I initially asked that after we defeated Doom--which we have successfully done--we’d go on a proper date. I’ve kept up my promise of charming you every chance I get,” he winked, “and you’ve kept up pretending it doesn’t phase you. But let’s be real, we both know you secretly find me irresistible.” She scoffed lightly paired with a light roll of the eyes which only amused Johnny. “Am I wrong?”

Quiet for a moment as she sipped her martini, Midas pivoted on her heel to press her back against the counter of the bar. Breaking away from his gaze to glance out to the center of the gala. “I will neither agree nor disagree to that assumption, Storm.”

Johnny went to speak, but was interrupted by none other than the Cajun card master himself, cocktail in hand “well well well, looks like Rogue and I are not the only ones fashionably late to this fais do-do.”

Midas lowered her martini, letting out an amused scoff, “please, I was only ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes is enough to think you were skipping out on us tonight, mon ami. Ain’t that right, Johnny Boy?”

Johnny sipped his drink, lips curling in a smirk as he answered, “Oh I was confident our dear Midas would show.” His eyes flickered between the two, before settling on the woman. “After all, she never breaks her word.”

“No, Midas does not,” Gambit mused, proudly clapping Johnny on the shoulder. Understanding the context of Johnny’s words paired with his smug smile. “Well then, I’ll leave you two to it. Better find my other half before the Sazerac starts flowing too strong.” Raising a hand in salute, Gambit went on his way, “Laissez les bon temps rouler.”

“Bye, Remy,” Midas rolled her eyes, albeit playfully as she raised her glass back to her lips, watching him leave to find Scott and Kurt to mess with. 

Downing the rest of his glass, Johnny placed it on the bar top and stepped beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Dance with me.” A semi-slow song began to play, the mutant recognizing it as an old favorite of hers. Before she could refuse, Johnny grabbed her martini to sit on the bar top and guided her toward the dancefloor, where he positioned them with one hand on her mid back and the other interlacing their fingers.

She rested her freehand on his shoulder, aware of the drawn gazes they gathered from their fellow teammates, some of whom sent the mutant a cheeky grin and thumbs up. She ignored it for the first couple songs, before the constant accidental eye contact between her and several of the team became overwhelming for her own good. Like they were in on a secret she didn’t know about. 

“Why do I get the feeling our colleagues are getting a kick out of this?”

Johnny smirked, leading her into a soft sway in beat with the music. “Maybe because they all know I’ve been waiting for this moment for months.” 

Midas looked up at him with surprise at the unexpected confession, heart skipping once more as heat boiled in her chest. “Johnny--.”

“C’mon, Midas,” his chuckle was low and laced with nerves despite his beaming smile, “I’ve been chasing after you like a kicked puppy since you gave me the glare of a lifetime the first time we met. I haven’t exactly been shy about it.” He presses his hand on her lower back to inch her closer. “Everyone knows I’m…” he paused, tongue tracing his bottom lip as heat reached his ears. “I’m head over heels for you.”

There it was. The confession he’d been holding onto for months. The one which consumed his mind and had his family wondering what the hell happened to the once most desired bachelor who had no time for romance and relationships when he had the fate of the world in his hands. Who flirted with men and women alike, but always kept interest at arms length. 

That all seemed to change the moment the man of fire met the woman made of gold. 

Suddenly the air became hot, and not just because Johnny was emitting a bit of heat due to the anxiety he felt as he waited for her response. Midas herself felt a bubbling volcano in her stomach that erupted along her skin until her palms started to sweat. Unable to find her voice despite her mouth parting slightly from the gasp she released. 

Johnny waited, his own palms feeling clammy against the fabric of her dress and the one holding her own. For a moment they just stared at each other. The noise around them dampened, as though they were the only two in the room. 

“Midas,” he coughed, full of nerves. Realizing maybe it wasn’t a good idea to admit his feelings in the middle of the damn dance floor where their teammates surrounded them, causing his blush to deepen. “I should’ve waited ti’ll after--fuck I’m sorry. I-I get it if you don’t feel the same--.” His sentence was caught off when he felt her grip on his hand tighten followed by a gentle pull, coating him to follow as she led them off the dance floor and away from prying eyes. 

Johnny kept his eyes on the back of her head as they ascended the spiral staircase, only peering behind his shoulder to see if any of their friends were watching them escape the gala. Much to his relief, it appeared the only one noticing their Irish goodbye was his own sister, who caught the worried expression he wore and immediately mirrored it, but relaxed when he shook his head as if to say, “I’ll be fine, trust me.” 

They reached the top of the stairs to the overlooking floor, where Midas turned a corner where she knew a private balcony resided. The noise of the party soon became background noise, completely muffled by the sliding glass doors as the cool air hit Johnny the moment he stepped onto the terrace. 

She released his hand, feet carrying her to the edge of the balcony where she steadied herself on the railing, keeping her back toward him. For Johnny, all it did was intensify his nerves, fearing he ruined his chances as he took in her stiffened demeanor. 

Softly, he called out her name, “Please talk to me. If you don’t feel the same, tell me and I’ll turn around and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t pressure you--or-or bother you and give you all the space. Just please, don’t shut me out.”

A moment passed and then, “It’s not that I don’t feel the same, Johnny,” she finally breathed, and Johnny felt his heart skip, eyes widening slightly. “I…” peering over her shoulder, he caught the worry pooling in her beautiful face. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what, baby?” The pet name fell naturally as he moved closer until he was directly beside her. She turned back to the overlooking city, glittering like stars from the array of lights.

“This. Us. Me. The world,” she blinked, voice beginning to waver. “I don’t….I don’t know how to--,” the words were a struggle to find. “Since my powers triggered it’s been one fight after another. Not just against bad guys, but a battle within myself. I’ve always kept people--even my teammates--at arms length because relationships of any kind are not permanent. My own parents…” she trailed off, the painful memory lingering in the air. Still, Johnny remained quiet, heart breaking when she whispered, “I don’t know how to let someone in.” 

He understood this was Midas being vulnerable, a rarity considering she’s always come off with a cold, no-nonsense exterior. Vulnerability was scary. Something she kept hidden and as a fellow superhero with expectations, Johnny related to the feeling of fear one gets when they expose themself. That doing so would only be dismissed. 

“Letting someone in is scary,” he agreed, tone gentle and comforting. “But we can take it slow,” he assured. “I know our lives are fast paced and hectic, but we don’t have to be that way. I care about you, Midas, and I want you to feel comfortable. Above all else, your feelings matter to me.”

“I’m too complicated, Johnny,” she tried to argue.

“So am I,” was his rebuttal, “let’s be complicated together.”

“It’s not that simple.” 

“I never said it was simple, Midas. Look at us,” he gestured with a gentle smile, “Who we are. What we do. I never thought when I got my powers that I’d be pulled into a whole different universe and meet people who I could finally relate to. I met you,” he inched closer, “and everything I once thought wasn’t possible, suddenly made sense.” 

His words affected her, teetering the edge of a love confession, sending another wave of heat in her chest as her heart began to pump rapidly. As much as she didn’t want to push him away, her mind was on overdrive. The hyperindependence she accustomed herself to since childhood kicking in and overriding her heart that called out to him. 

“Johnny, you have to understand that I am…” she let out a shuddered exhale, hands trembling which were soothed when he gently laid his own on top. “I am not someone who's easy to be with. I wake up at night in a panic--I-I shut down when I’m overwhelmed or I lash out--and I’ll lash out at you even when I don’t mean to.” Water brimmed her eyes, coated in a shine that was enhanced by the moonlight cascading down on them. “You got your powers by external factors out of your control,” she hated herself for going this route, but she had to get it off her chest, “and were well received. I was born this way, and have been scrutinized, discriminated against, and hunted for it. It’s shaped the way I am--it’s not all golden like your sister and Reed--or-or Gambit and Rogue. I’m consumed with rage half the time, Johnny. I am a mess,” the crack in her voice shattered Johnny. “You’d be saving yourself the difficulty and hurt you’ll get from dealing with me.”

Deal with her? That alone hurt Johnny, for he did not view his feelings toward Midas and all the walls she built for herself he wanted to guard as dealing with her. Would it be difficult? Maybe. But that’s what one does when they love someone. When they want to not break down the walls but simply hold them together as a unit. Earning their trust, guarding it. No one ever said love was easy, but when it’s with the right person, it’s as peaceful as the gentle waves of the ocean kissing the sand as it makes it to shore. 

Johnny wanted to be the one to bring her to the shore whenever the waves became too much. Even when her mind acted like a riptide and pulled her out at sea. She’d been through so much, it’s no surprise to him she’d attempt to push him away when he could see the conflict pooling in her eyes.  

Sensing this, Johnny took one hand in hers to pull her closer, the other cupping her cheek. His soft smile remained as his eyes filled with determination and warmth. “I’ll wake up with you to hold and remind you where you are. When you’re overwhelmed, I’ll be that calm presence. If you lash out then I’ll take it while you get it out of your system until you feel better.” Her bottom lip trembled; Johnny gently let his thumb brush over it. 

“I may not understand the full extent of everything you and your family have gone through, and God I probably never will,” The cold breeze disappeared as a comforting warmth spread across the terrace. “But I know one thing for sure: I will never, ever, let anyone hurt you like that again. So long as I breathe, anyone who thinks they can treat you differently because you were born different from them, born with gifts, will be given a healthy dose of flames.” The giggle mixed with her light sniffle was a reward in itself, Johnny bringing one of her hands up to his mouth to press a soft kiss to her knuckles, causing her to shudder. “I mean it, Midas. I want this--I want you. I’ll prove it every day if I have to, just give me a chance.” 

The seconds felt like a lifetime waiting for her answer. The golden mutant stared up at him with tear stained cheeks, unable to keep them contained when he let his heart speak the words he’d been waiting months for. And right when Johnny began to accept the silent rejection, his chest tightened, and warmth exploded within him from the way Midas tilted her head slightly to mold her lips to his palm still cradling her cheek.

One kiss. The two, before she withdrew and met his gaze once more. “You terrify me, Johnny Storm,” she admitted with a whisper, her breath heating his hand. “But I don’t want to hide away anymore, not when it comes to you.” Fingers trailed up his suit-cladded forearm, all the way up to his shoulder. “I want this, too,” she nuzzled against his touch, causing him to melt and hold her against him. “Just promise to be patient with me, please? I’m not as strong as I come off to be.” 

The grin on Johnny’s lips could not be suppressed, beaming bright like the sun as the sheer happiness soared within his veins. “Patience is my middle name,” he teased, earning a playful scowl. His tone then turned serious, “and baby, you don’t always have to be strong around me. I want to be the shoulder you cry on, the person you lean on when things get rough.” It took everything in him not to surge forward and bring Midas into a passionate kiss, but he held himself back, opting for a light peck to her forehead. “We take this slow like I promised, okay?”

She nodded against his hand, matching his awed expression as another wave of tears pooled in her eyes. “Okay.”

Okay. It was a promise. Hope for the future. For Johnny, it was everything.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” was his only warning before he sealed his lips onto hers, the mutant accepting it wholeheartedly with a light gasp followed by a chuckle. Arms moving to wrap around his heated neck while his hands stayed splayed on her cheek and lower back. 

Midas felt his smile against her lips, resulting in her own. The two remained like that on the terrace, tangled in each other's embrace while exchanging sweet, soft kisses while the rest of the world vanished around them. The party continued, several of their friends catching on to their disappearance, to which Gambit and Ben clinked their glasses together while Scott, Reed and Sue gave knowing looks. 

“About damn time,” Ben smiled around the rim of his glass. “Thought Matchstick was going to cop out tonight and miss his chance all together.” 

Gambit hummed, lips curling in a smirk, “Johnny Boy just needed a little push to get the ball rollin’. Not to mention the cards were in his favor,” for an added flare, the mutant spawned an Ace of Spades car from thin air. “After all,” his red irises twinkled, “Once you make contact, no one can resist the Midas Touch.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Look at me,” The demand earned him her breathless gasp, eyes peeling open to lock on his, which were filled with absolute devotion. “I’ve got you,” one hand cradled her face, brushing over the bottom of her lip as another whimper left her from the gentle rock of his hips. Johnny drew back only to press forward again, pleasure erupting from both as the temperature in the room continued to rise with their lovemaking. Praising her with the gentle words, “You’re perfect--absolutely perfect.”

Usually when Johnny awoke to Midas thrashing against the covers from the nightmare plaguing her sleep, he’d quickly pull her out and proceed to hold her in his arms until she managed to fall back into a peaceful slumber. Pressing soft kisses against her hairline while he rubbed her back, shortly falling asleep on his own accord not long after. It’s been nearly two years since they took the leap and made their relationship official, and thankfully the terrors she faced in her sleep slowly became less frequent. Almost rare.

Tonight, however, the battle raging in her mind had been too much. Sending her back in time to the destruction of Genosha that left her shaken to the core. All the bodies. All the death. Blood seeping down her temples. Her suit tarnished and torn, covered with dirt and blood. Not just her own, but that of fellow mutants she failed to save. Green light beams shooting down from the sky. Buildings up in flames. Screams. The awful, blood-curling screams of those cowering to safety only to meet their end. 

She saw herself calling out to Rogue. To Gambit. Praying to whatever higher power may exist they were okay. Then everything went dark. And she lifted her head to find the silhouette of mayhem in all its metal glory. The Sentinel staring down at her as she stood frozen. Eyes completely void until they glowed brighter and brighter until the last thing she saw before she woke up was a green glow consuming her vision. 

Screams filled the darkened room, abruptly waking Johnny with a gasp where he turned to see his partner fling up from the mattress and nearly fall off the edge of the bed, Johnny reaching out in a flash to grab hold of her. 

“Baby! Baby, wake up--It’s okay!” He tried to calm her down as she fought against his hold. “It’s all a dream--you’re dreaming, honey--.”

“They’re all dead!” she wailed, nails biting into his forearm, before she quickly removed them. Fearing her powers would unleash to their own accord if she touched him. “They killed them--they-they-they lied to us!! And they killed them!”

Immediately Johnny understood what she was referring to, his hold tightening as he attached his lips to her temple. “Look at me, Midas,” one hand came to her jaw, gently encouraging her to turn her head even though she still thrashed to get away, preventing their skin from making contact. “Honey, focus on my voice. Listen to me--I’m right here with you. You’re home. You’re safe.” 

He felt relieved when she finally opened her eyes, but it broke him to see the utter despair in them. 

“They lied, Johnny.”

“I know they did, baby,” he cooed, thumb smoothing the skin of her jaw in hopes to calm her down, happy she allowed the touch.

“They promised peace to us--ev-everything was supposed to be okay…and they lied to us,” her voice was hoarse from how dried her throat became from the screaming. “There were too many of them.” The sentinels. “We couldn’t do anything--I couldn’t do anything.” Her bottom lip trembled with a sob.

Johnny’s breath fawned her cheek, blinking away his own tears that threatened to fall. “You were dreaming, baby. It wasn’t real--.”

“But it was, Johnny!” her wail cut him off and bounced off the walls, hands clutching the sheets as a means to ground herself. “It was real! It happened--an--and they knew it would happen and they did nothing. They did nothing to stop it! They let us pick up the pieces on our own--I had to bury my friends.” The last sentence trailed into a wave of sobs, impossible to keep in.

Johnny pressed her face into his chest, one hand cradling the back of her neck while murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. Lips trailing all over her hairline and cheeks, tasting salt from the tears she released. A few of his own fell, for he felt the pain she poured out and wished nothing more than to take it away. 

“Hey, hey,” he shushed when her sobs turned to hiccups, coaxing her back down. “Breath with me--you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t take some deep breaths. With me, okay? In--.” He inhaled deeply, waiting for her to follow his lead. Once she did, he exhaled, “and out.” Again, she copied. 

They repeated the action a few times until her hiccups subsided, letting her breath at a normal pace. She still shivered, and Johnny was quick to light the candle on her nightstand with a flick of his finger, bringing a dim glow to the room, and returned his tight hold around her. 

“There you go,” he cooed, planting a kiss on her forehead. He kept rubbing her back until she evened out, relaxing against him which in turn relaxed Johnny. 

The clock ticked by, seconds turning into minutes, and Johnny looked down to find her already staring back at him in a way that caused the air to catch in the back of his throat. An intense stare, pinning him in place and sent heat down his spine for he knew what she was thinking at that moment. 

“What do you need from me?” His voice lowered as the atmosphere became thick. 

She reached for him, drawing him close until their breaths mingled and the heat of his skin collided with her. “Make me forget,” came her plea. “Remind me it’s all in the past and they’ll never hurt me again. Please, Johnny,” he internally groaned at the desperation in her voice, heightened by the intensity behind her eyes. “I need you.”

That was all Johnny needed to hear before he was smashing his lips to hers, maneuvering their position, “I’ll give you everything you, baby. You don’t have to beg--I got you.”

Raising them both to their knees so he could tug away the satin nightgown off her body, laying kisses to the expanse of her throat and chest while she grasped at his t-shirt, begging him to remove it to which he did in an instant. Laying his hands on her hips, he guided her to the mattress, pressing her down so he could hover above and resume his worshiping down her body. Teasing the trim of her underwear with his mouth as down the skin of her thighs, leaving her an absolute mess.  

The remaining pieces of clothes peeled away, his mouth never leaving the area she needed him most until she leapt over the edge twice before Johnny removed himself and crawled up the bed, shedding his boxers and guiding himself between her legs. 

He shuddered with each trace of her hands down his back. 

She gasped with every kiss he left to her pulse point. 

They moved as one and everything about it was transcending. The feel of their skin on one another. The heat he produced, pouring into the open space causing sweat to coat their skin. Her moans and soft sounds, each combined with his grunts and the gentle creak of the bed. Hands gripping shoulders and hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and marks of love across their necks and collarbones. 

She looked heavenly under the dim glow of the candle beside their bed. The only light in the room--save for what peaked through the windows from the moon. And Johnny swore he lost the ability to breathe when she cupped his cheeks in her hands, maintaining the eye contact he yearned for. 

It sent his heart soaring. Unable to stop himself from leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Pushing his nose against hers as he swallowed her moan, thrusts never ceasing their pace. Bringing them closer to release with each pump.  

“I love you,” saliva coated his mouth, leaving a glistening sheen as he pulled away, but kept his arms by her head so that he was practically cradling her. “So much. God, I can’t get enough of you.” The words left her a whimpering mess, her body reacting as well it caused his hips to falter. “You’re the love of my life, sweetheart. Never fucking forget that--you hear me?. Never.” 

How could she really? When he spent every living breathing moment worshiping the ground she walked on. Gazing at her like some walking Goddess sent to make him forget everything else existed until only she remained. Touching her as though she were a priceless artifact that belonged in the Louvre. 

“I love you,” she panted back, breath fawning his mouth, their gazes locked with so much intensity it made them hazy. “Oh, Johnny, I love you.” Hands trailed from his cheeks to the back of his neck, keeping him held close as she could not stand having him away from her. 

As they neared their end, Johnny lifted her up and onto his lap, cradling her as one hand tangled in her hair and the other wrapped around her lower back. The heat intensified, the atmosphere spellbinding and Johnny tucked his face in the crook of her neck.

She choked on the air, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt the coil unravel and that familiar smoothness of metal forming at her fingertips, causing panic to quickly rise as it always did when she felt herself starting to lose control in the middle of their lovemaking. “Jo-Johnny--.”

“I got you,” his hold tightened, keeping her pressed to him as he slowed his movements and removed his face from her neck to see the area below her eyelids beginning to turn. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.” The hand in her hair moved to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin turning beneath his touch. When she finally opened them after another sound of encouragement, they were consumed by solid gold. 

It spread to her cheekbones and temples, over her eyebrows and the bridge of her nose. Covering her complexion in a way that made it look like she was wearing a masquerade mask. And Johnny caught his reflection staring back at him on the smooth, shiny surface. 

She was close, he felt it in the way her body began to stiffen and her breathing faltered. Rocking against the slow pace of his hips to chase it while fighting against the fear of her powers taking over. It wasn’t the first time it had happened--evident by their golden headboard that was once a deep brown oak. 

And her nightstand…..

“Come back to me,” Johnny’s eyes never left hers, easing his pace as he encouraged her with a gentle voice. Her shuddered breath had him lean closer so their foreheads were touching, holding the back of her head when she tried to move away fearing she’d hurt him. “You’re right here, baby. Just relax and breathe for me.” 

She leaned into his touch, welcoming it this time instead of running from it, nodding as she inhaled deeply only to let it release it and allow herself to let go of the fear and just feel. Feel his heat, his touch, his love. 

The coil in her stomach rose again, fast and powerful until it consumed every inch of her body and washed over like a tidal wave, releasing a sound from her lips that bounced off every wall and sent chills up Johnny’s spine. He continued to move, eyes planted firmly on her face to drink in every sound and flash of pleasure that poured out until his own climax seeped out before he had the chance to realize it was happening. Clutching her so tight it stole the air from her throat. 

“God,” he groaned her name, sweat trailing his temple as he pressed his forehead to her chest, lips barely brushing her sternum. “You did so good, baby. So good.” He kissed the area between her breasts, hands caressing her lower back until he felt her relax against him. 

Together, they came down from the high and back to Earth. Panting and holding one another as though it was the only thing they knew how to do. Johnny continued to kiss along her chest, murmuring soft praises that pressed into her skin until he finally glanced up to meet her eye. Relieved to see the gold retreating, her cheeks and temples returning to their natural complexion. The color of her eyes meeting his, no longer swallowed by metal. Leaving only sweat along her glistening hairline. 

“That was an intense one, huh,” Johnny smiled, hand reaching to cup her jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just traveled at light speed for the first time,” catching her breath, she swallowed the saliva that had built in the back of her throat. Fingers moving to cup the back of his neck where they softly carded through his blonde locks. “For a moment there, I thought our bed was going to match the bedframe.” 

Johnny laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw, “Not going to lie, I thought so too.” Adjusting her in his lap, Johnny maneuvered them so they were back laying on the mattress. He removed himself with a hiss, planting one last kiss on her forehead before going to the bathroom to retrieve a warm cloth and her silk robe. Returning to the bed, he gently cleaned her up, lips brushing her knee and thigh which earned him a giggle and helped her into her robe, tying it with a secure knot. Then he approached her dresser to grab a clean pair of underwear, which he also assisted her into before he finally slipped into a clean boxers then into the sheets on his side of the bed. Flopping half on top of her.

“You need some water?”

“No, I’m good,” she replied, adjusting herself against the mattress. Once comfortable she wrapped her arms around his naked torso, head pressing onto the soft pillow with a soft sigh as her breathing finally evened out. “Thank you.” 

He pressed his mouth to her cleavage exposed by the robe. The action speaking louder than any words could. It said, ‘I’ll always be here for you,’ and “I’ll always give you what you need.”

It said, “I love you,” which he whispered into her skin, shuddering at the way her hands trailed the expanse of his back. Soft lingering touches he melted into, completely spent and full of love. 

“I love you,” she whispered back, the last waves of the high coming down causing her to sigh in content, “so much it hurts.” Another kiss, one with pressure, was laid to her chest. Feeling Johnny squeeze her hip as he nuzzled his nose into the area above her collarbone. 

Together they basked in the afterglow, the cool air colliding with the heat left behind. Sweat lingering on their bodies, giving them both a dewy complexing that radiated against the candlelight. And sweet touches that left them dreamy.

Johnny, like he often did when her past came back to haunt her, voiced his frustration at the people responsible. “I wish I knew you when it happened--I hate that you went through that alone.”

Midas, as she always counted, calmed him down with kisses and words of understanding. “People fear what they don’t understand. It’s something I’ve had to accept the hard way, but…you learn with time.” 

 “That doesn’t excuse their shitty behavior.”

 “No, it doesn’t.”

Eventually, the fatigue hit. The two heroes were unable to fight it as they positioned themselves on their respective sides of the bed. Johnny extinguished the candle, sending them into darkness and Midas rested her head leveled with his chest. 

Johnny brushed one last kiss to her hairline, tilting her chin up with a thumb to lay one on her lips. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Always will be.” 

Her hand caught his, interlacing their fingers to bring his knuckles to her mouth, “I know.” 

When the darkness settled over them and with the heat of her love blanketed over her, Midas succumbed to a dreamy slumber filled with love and happiness rather than chaos and destruction. Johnny’s laugh echoed, his smile shining behind her eyelids. Reminding her of the light she found in a universe far far away from her own. 

Enjoy!

Your history with the Fantastic Four was….. An odd one. Mostly because one of the members used to change your diaper as a kid. 

Ben Grimm was a brilliant older cousin, the kind that used to babysit you all the time when your mother needed a break. You grew up together, and when he finished college you followed closely in his footsteps with the dream to work with him one day.  So when he met his best friend Reed Richards your dream moved to working with him as well, and then Sue…. but Johnny had never really been apart of that dream. Johnny Storm had always made it clear he had no intention of working with you, ever.  

Things had changed after that cosmic storm, of course they had. Their cell structures had changed, your relationship to your cousin and his friends had changed. You had stayed away once your cousin asked you to….. Until the idea was brought up. 

It was a bad idea, everyone knew that.

It had been a beg for help, one from Ben that you could not ignore. One that had led you to packing your travel bag quickly and heading to find him, running over the plan to get his normal face back to the way it was before the…. incident.

The Baxter Building didn’t look like a place where you could ruin your life. It looked like a cigarette ad’s idea of tomorrow, chrome bones, teal glow,elevators that purred, coils that sang, lab benches lined like pews.

Ben shouldered the door open with the same care he used on coffee cups and doorknobs now. “Watch your step, kid,” he rumbled, one rocky palm hovering at your back as you navigated the maze of Reed’s color coded tape and cables. Tripping over one of the cords, trying to save yourself quick enough that no one would notice. “Stretch’s spaghetti machine’s molting again.”

“It’s a phase,” Reed said without looking up from a panel of punch cards. “Don’t call it molting.”

“Molting,” Johnny repeated, stepping into your peripheral like a bad sitcom character. He was a heat shimmer in a white tee and a grin that read I know a faster way. He flicked his eyes up and down, just a split second, just enough and added, “Some of us grow outta phases.”

“Bold of you,” you said, pulling a tray of vials on the counter a little closer to you, “to assume your ego’s not one.”

He went still in a way that meant you’d hit something, then smirked like you hadn’t, too bad he wasn’t quick enough to hide it. “Cute.”

“Johnny,” Sue warned, sliding a hand onto Reed’s shoulder as she passed. “Be nice.”

That is what she always did, for as long as Ben had introduced you to his found family. The beautiful Sue Storm got the sad role of playing referee between her younger brother and you. 

“I am nice,” he said. “To people who belong here.”

Ben’s jaw set. “Watch it.”

The warning was clear, but your feelings were already hurt and he knew he had struck a nerve.

“What?” Johnny flicked a glance at him,quick, sideways, the look a cat gives a much larger dog. “I didn’t say she didn’t. I’m just saying we don’t hand scalpels to the kid who likes shiny things.”

“The kid,” you repeated, evenly. “I’m the one with a steady hand. You’re the one who almost set the centrifuge on fire trying to caramelize crème brûlée.”

“It was a controlled experiment,” he said, then to Reed, “Tell her it was a controlled experiment.”

Reed cleared his throat. “It was… not uncontrolled.”

“See?” Johnny spread his hands like a magician revealing the empty hat. “Science.”

“You’re not funny,” you said, but it felt like a lie you told yourself so you didn’t have to admit when he was. He leaned on the bench, too close, on purpose and dropped his voice. “That’s okay, mascot. You don’t have to get the joke.”

Heat crawled up your neck. You made yourself reach past him for the pipette, cool fingers steady. “And you don’t have to pretend you made it.”

Ben’s chair creaked under a small tectonic shift. “You wanna take a walk, Matchstick?”

Johnny’s smile brightened. “Always happy to stretch my legs.” He flicked a look at you as he sauntered off, all loose-hipped boredom. “Try not to reorganize Reed’s paperclips while I’m gone. I know that’s, like, advanced stuff.”

You swallowed the retort that would’ve made Sue sigh and Ben bark and Johnny smirk. Instead, you set the tray down exactly where Reed’s tape said to set it and said, “Baseline panel ready. Do you want mitochondrial or nuclear first?”

It was easier to talk just work, it was easier not to talk about what you were all doing there and just focus on the task at hand. Help Ben. Help Ben. 

Help. Ben.

Reed’s face softened with the kind of gratitude you only get from a man in love with a problem. “Mitochondrial, please. If we can map a pre-storm analog using your genome as proxy, we may find a reversible window in Ben’s mutagen.“

“You can say ‘fix,’” Ben said, not looking at him. “That’s why she is here, isn’t it? Her DNA matches mine before the accident. She can help fix me.”

Reed’s mouth thinned. “I can say help. We’re not using that word in my lab.”

Your chest loosened around a breath you hadn’t noticed you were holding. You gave Ben your jacket  to hold while you climbed the two shallow steps to the platform inside Reed’s chrome ring of ribs. The replicator rested like a spaceship on its back, a crown of coils overhead, everything brushed to a shine. Inside the circle, the air felt a degree thinner, like altitude.

“Last chance to flake,” Johnny said, appearing on a stray gust of elevator perfume. He’d picked up a soda from somewhere and the bottle kissed his mouth as he tipped it back, throat working. “We can page the actual test subject.”

You stared at him. “You mean Ben?”

He tipped the bottle at you. “I mean someone who knows which end of the pipette is the business end.”

“Johnny,” Sue said sharply.

“What? I’m sorry! I thought this was science, not ‘bring your cousin to work’ day.” He shrugged when Ben stood, palms out, placating and provoking. “Relax. She’ll be fine. It’s Reed. He only almost kills us, like, once a quarter.”

You looked at him then the way you looked at storms from safe windows, eyes narrowed, body saying no while your gut said watch. The worst part wasn’t that he could be cruel. It was that he often chose to be where you were concerned. It would have been easier to hate him if he wasn’t kind to just about anyone else. 

“You don’t have to be here.” You snap out, glaring at him. “No one needs you here for Reeds tests.”

“Oh, Mascot,” He sighs out, leaning against a table with his arms folded nonchalantly and the soda held between two fingers by the neck of the bottle. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world. What if it blows up?”

“Ready?” Reed asks, completely ignoring his brother in law. 

“Ready,” you told Reed.

The coil above head level sang a thin note you felt more than heard. The teal room dimmed to an ocean color,  light threaded gold-blue through the circle, touching your bare forearms like cold silk. You held still, refusing to think of the shuttle footage, of Ben’s laugh turning wrong in the video released to the public. Trying not to think about the screams of fear that had ripped from the four in front of you. 

Ben needed you right now. Focus.

The light flickered out.

“Baseline captured,” Reed said, voice careful. “Excellent. Step down slowly.”

Ben’s hand met yours in a careful grip, helping you down the steps on wobbly feet. You felt the ground more than you trusted it. Johnny’s chair squeaked as he tipped forward, boots thudding. His eyes flitted over your face once, then elsewhere, like you were a page he’d already read.

“How long until you unfry me?” Ben asked, trying to keep the hopeful voice down as Johnny continued to watch your every move as if you were a lab rat. 

“‘Unfry’ is not…..” Reed stopped, swallowed. “We’ll keep at it.”

Johnny tossed his empty bottle into the bin and missed. “Real precise timetable there, Stretch.”

“Hey,” Sue said, voice sharp and testy. 

He rolled his eyes, smile sharp. “I’m just saying. Some of us don’t love living as an accident.” The line landed wrong, hard. For a second, nobody breathed. Then Johnny seemed to hear what he’d actually said, winced, and covered it with a drawled, “Present company excepted.”

“Take a lap,” Ben said, voice low.

Johnny lifted his hands in surrender and sauntered toward the door. He didn’t look at you after that. Good. You didn’t look at him either.

You were here to help Reed Richards replicate the cosmic storm that did this to your cousin. You didn’t have time to fight with Johnny all day.

- 

Doom seeped into the night like a shadow. 

Near midnight, the phone had gone off, the ringing more so a taunting sound that had everyone suspicious from the start. Sue picked it up and her mouth made a straight bright line the way it only did when she was very angry or very polite. “Victor.”

Reed was already reaching for his coat. “I’ll go.”

“We’ll go,” Ben corrected, standing.

Johnny’s smile went lazy again, like the room had become too small for his boredom. “Road trip. I call shotgun.”

You stepped in without thinking. “And I’ll-”

“You’ll stay,” Johnny said instantly, hand reaching out like he was stopping a dog from escaping. He didn’t even try to butter it with a joke. His eyes hit you, then slid away. “Guard the paperclips.”

“Johnny,” Sue snapped.

“What? She’s not-” He moved his hand, choked on whatever word would’ve gotten him hit, and flipped the gesture into a wave. “We’ll be right back. Try not to… touch anything.”

“Don’t open the lab,” Reed said to you, gentler. “Not for anyone who doesn’t sound like me.”

“Or me,” Ben added.

“Or me,” Sue promised.

“And definitely not for anyone who sounds like me.” Johnny’s mouth quirked before he turned to point a finger at Herbie, eyes narrowing. “You. Eyes on her. Let us know if something happens.”

You wanted to say something that would make him flinch. You settled on, “You sound like a headache,” because there were better uses for Ben’s energy than prying you and Johnny apart again.

“That’s my secret,” he said, but his eyes were already elsewhere, somewhere out past the blue of the windows, where men like Doom stood at the edges of roofs and decided things. They left in a hurry, obviously worried about what lay ahead. The elevator swallowed them. The building exhaled a long quiet that pressed under your nails.

You lasted nine minutes.

The sound was small, a coin landing in a jar somewhere down the hall. Twice it came, the second time closer, a suggestion more than a noise. You told yourself it was the café downstairs, or the janitor with the bad knee who never lifted his feet. You finished labeling the slides you were definitely not supposed to be labeling and told yourself you were giving Reed a head start on tomorrow.

Then the third time the sound came, the hair on your arms stood up and the word Reed arrived in your throat like a cough, like you were fighting an instinct to call out and see if he was in the lab. You moved.

The corridor lights woke as you passed, pooling on the floor in neat ovals, each step turning another on as your heels clicked against the tiles. You told yourself you were checking the lock. You told yourself you were doing exactly what you’d been told to do. Make sure the lab was closed.

The replicator room’s door was ajar.

The air inside carried a different hum. Your skin recognized it before your ears did, the same thin note as before, sharper, sleeker, like a knife honed between a giant’s fingers.

“Reed?” you called, because that’s the first page of the Bad Decisions Manual.

A shadow in the circle turned like a tide. Metal made a soft suggestion of moving. Then he stepped fully into the teal and the ribs, and the room seem to remember colder colors.

“Miss Grimm,” Victor von Doom said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You set your hand on the panel’s lip like it was the only edge in the room. “Neither should you.”

“Disagree,” he said pleasantly, as though you were debating a restaurant. The steel of his suit took the blue and made it winter. “I funded half of it. I go where I please.”

“That’s not how ownership works,” you said, because if your mouth moved your fear stayed hidden, or at least you hoped that was how it seemed. “and definitely not how physics works.”

“The thing about physics,” he said, strolling the circle’s edge like a naturalist admiring a dangerous plant, “is that it’s remarkably pliable if you choose the right levers.”

“Step out of the ring,” you said. “We can call Reed and you can… condescend  him directly.”

A smile glanced off his mouth. “I came because I did call, and he scurried off to prove something to me. It amuses me less than it should.”

Your eyes flicked to the coil. The light there wasn’t light yet, it was pre-light, the feeling of a flash in the bones. “If you touch that panel…”

“You’ll do what?” He sounded genuinely curious. “Call your cousin? Captain America? My mother?”

“Ben’ll do,” you said. “He’s very persuasive…. But I wouldn’t mind your mothers number.”

“That, I don’t doubt,” he murmured, amusement lacing in his tone and he turned his head just enough that you saw your reflection rounded in the mirror-polish of his mask. You looked pale and angrier than you felt. “Do you know why Richards needs you?”

“I don’t think I’m needed at all.” You edged closer to the panel.

“You’re a key he keeps in his pocket,” Doom said, voice softening like a hand stroking a scared pet. “A proxy. A cousin raised as a sister what lovely poetry, that,close enough to fool the lock.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m a switch or like you're some poet,” you snapped, and moved.

He was faster, but you were smaller, and you’d watched Reed pace this floor so often you knew where the wax slicked and where it held. You slid under Doom’s reach and slammed your palm down.

The room leapt.

The coil screamed needle-high. The ribs around you went star-white, running hotter than they had in any practice.  Your hair flew back from your face as if the night had grabbed it. For one disorienting second, your body lifted and your stomach did a slow somersault before the light launched into you.

Not heat. Sight. Being seen a hundred directions at once. Mirrors at wrong angles. You felt yourself turned and turned again, folded, refracted, stitched with thread you couldn’t name. The lab doubled and tripled,Doom’s face kaleidoscoped; the ribs became the inside of a music box you were trapped in as a scream tore through you while your body felt like it was being pulled in millions of directions. 

Somewhere far away, a voice you knew like a bad habit shouted your name in a way that made it new. Johnny.

The circle blew. Glass went like rain. The panel bucked. You flew like a leaf in the wind. 

You saw yourself in a hundred shards on the way down and not a single one of them matched.

You hit the deck hard enough to make the light tear, then slither back together. Your ears filled with the long flat tone of your pulse trying to decide what beat to keep.

Smoke laced the room. A shape shouldered through it, flame licking his fingers without consent, eyes blown wide like he’d seen a ghost he didn’t believe in. He dropped to his knees so fast the floor complained. His hand came in hot, catching your jaw like he could keep your face from sliding off your skull with sheer insistence.

Johnny. 

He snaps out your name, his voice stern, like it wasn’t a joke or hook to one and you tried racking your head for the last time he had said your first name. Never. And yet here it was, being repeated to you like an order, a beg, a plea. 

You tried to answer. Your mouth made pieces.

His fire flared, guttered, flared. He was breathing too fast, like he’d sprinted through walls. Behind him alarms finally found their cue and began to howl. Red light stuttered the teal into bruise colors. On the far side of the circle, Doom’s laugh scraped metal and then he stepped backward through a door you didn’t see and was gone.

Johnnys fire couldn’t seem to fight, couldn’t seem to pick whether it wanted to panic or die out. 

“Ben!” Johnny yelled, not looking away from you. “Stretch! Now!”

You blinked. Johnny’s face stayed Johnny’s face. Not prettier. Not kinder. Stressed. And for some reason seeing him stressed seemed to stress you out more. 

Your hand drifted up. He caught it halfway and pressed it flat to his collarbone like he could tie you to him by the thinnest string and drag you back. “Hey,” he said, low and edged and terrified. “Stay with me, mascot.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, because your throat remembered how, “call me that.”

His mouth twitched either from relief or habit or both, you couldn’t tell. “There she is.”

The door crashed wide and Ben filled it, then Sue, Reed behind them just names and noise and hands like anchors. Ben went white around the eyes and then did the thing he did now where he put all his panic in his hands and made them careful. Reed made a sound like a man splitting himself in half, one part for you, one part for the machine that had almost eaten you. He stretched to reach everything he could in an attempt to turn it all off. 

Johnny didn’t let go.

You inhaled once, twice, felt the world try and fail to decide what to call you. The ribs hissed. The alarms nagged. The glass glinted like stolen stars. Johnny’s thumb moved along your cheekbone in a slow line that burned and cooled at the same time.

“I’ve got you,” he said. No swagger. No show. Just a promise with a tremor in it. You almost smiled with your cracked mouth. That would be about right. The light hiccuped. Your vision did that wrong little stretch and narrow. Johnny’s face didn’t change.

And then everything else went out.

- 

The ceiling wasn’t a ceiling at first. It was a sheet of milk-glass breaking into squares, then reassembling as the hum of the med-lab swam into shape. Antiseptic. Warm metal and a horrible hospital smell. Even in the med wing of the Baxter building one could not escape that smell. 

Your name is called out like a question, your cousins rough toned voice leaking through your ears like a call to action. “Hey…. hey, kiddo.”

You blinked and the room finally snapped into focus, the Baxter-white walls with monitors pulsing green and Sue with a blanket draped over her forearm like she was a second away from throwing it over you.  Reed, blurred at the edge, his eyes too bright. Johnny, half in shadow beyond your feet, elbows on his knees, the shape of him taut, like he was holding himself together out of frustration. 

“Don’t move yet,” Sue murmured, gliding a hand under your wrist to count a pulse Reed had probably already turned into math. “You took a blast we hadn’t even tested yet.”

“Working label is photonic refraction anomaly,” Reed said without looking up until he realized the rest of the room went dead silent and he realizes he messed up,  then, gentler, “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a jukebox,” you croaked, the words scraping your throat on the way out.

“Understatement,” Johnny said. The normal Johnny voice, the smirk tucked into the syllables, except the edges were scuffed. “You went down, mascot. We, uh… didn’t like it.”

“Don’t call me…” Your tongue remembered where it lived. “-that.”

His mouth warmed, then flattened. “There she is.”

You reached for water. Sue had it ready, straw angled, like she’d predicted the moment down to the second. You sipped and the coin lodged in your throat melted. When you handed the cup back, the room… shifted. Not visibly…more like the air pressure changed. It ran through the four of them at once as they all did a tiny double-take, a blink that didn’t land.

“What,” you asked, heartbeat ticking up.

“Nothing,” Sue said too fast, already moving to find another blanket or cup of water. 

“Your vitals,” Reed said, as if the word could be a bridge back to calm, “are stable.”

“Why does that matter?” You mumbled, trying to piece it all together. 

Ben squeezed your fingers between his giant palms. He always acted like he might crumble you, you always let him prove himself wrong. “You scared me,” he said, voice low.

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. “What happened to Doom?”

“Slid out a side door like a rat,” Johnny said, anger flashing and gone. “Next time I catch him-”

“Next time we catch him,” Ben said.

Johnny’s mouth twitched. “Semantics. Tomato Potato or whatever.”

You tried to sit. Everyone leaned in at once, you froze. “I’m not glass,” you said.

“Let’s take it slow,” Sue added. “No mirrors, no bright lights. Just….breathing, and some rest.”

“Why no mirrors?” you asked, before your brain could advise you to let it pass.

Reed hesitated, then glanced at the shimmer of a steel cabinet door. “Because we don’t yet know if observation increases the… effect.”

“What effect,” you said. You hated how the words sounded, small, defensive, clipped. 

Reed’s face did something conflicted. “We think you’re… bending light. Not just light. Perception. It’s preliminary. We need more data.”

Johnny stood abruptly, like he couldn’t sit one second longer. “She needs air,” he said. “You’re all crowding her.”

“We are not-” Sue began, then stopped. She was, a little, which she was quick to fix by stepping back, her powers faltering her visibility for a moment.  You slid your legs over the side of the bed. The world swayed, Johnny’s hand shot out, steadying your elbow. Warm, steady. He snatched it back like he’d been caught stealing.

“I can walk,” you snapped. 

“I know,” he sighed out, tired. 

You let him walk you anyway, past Ben’s frown, Sue’s flickering image, Reed’s humming machines and into the hallway. The Baxter Building’s midnight quiet held, plush and humming, like backstage after a show. The elevator seemed risky and too tight, so you took the stairs, Johnny one step down, glancing up like a bodyguard who didn’t want credit or like he didn’t want to be caught looking. 

Down in the lobby, the city pressed its face to the glass. Taxis, steam, a flicker of neon that made the night feel greener. You had to go out. Your skin needed air that hadn’t been filtered through three floors of science. Panic was beginning to cling. 

You pushed through the revolving door into the cool. For a second, just one flimsy second, the world was only sidewalk and breath.

Then a man said, “Excuse me,” with the open, delighted shock of someone who’s about to say something stupid and think it’s romantic. Tan suit, wedding ring, eyes going soft the way people’s eyes go when a memory hits a vein. “I know this is crazy, but…do we…did we….”

“No,” you said, confusion lacing through you as he continued to blink at you. 

He flushed. “Sorry. You just,you look exactly like….” He stopped, the grief showing, brief and private. “Never mind.”

He retreated. You made it five more steps.

A girl in a cherry A-line skirt carrying a stack of magazines slowed, stared, lit up like the marquee of a movie palace. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, stunned, and then she ducked her head, giggling, because that’s what girls do in front of things they decide are prettier than them.

A pair of teenagers elbowed each other and hissed, “Is that…” and you didn’t stay to hear the end.

You spun back toward the glass. Your reflection gave you yourself: bandage, jacket, too-wide eyes. But the door’s reflection flickered when it caught someone elses glance. For half a breath, a stranger’s face slid over yours: cheekbones a touch higher, mouth a touch fuller, eyes a fraction glossier. Not you. The version a different pencil might draw.

Your stomach tipped and once the person looked away the reflection went back to normal.  A sob ripped through your throat as tears began welling up.

“Hey,” Johnny said softly. “Look at me.”

You did. Stupid move. He was the same boy who’d called you mascot and princess and told you to guard the paperclips. Half-tilted grin. Summer-scorched hair. That nick on his ear. His eyes were bright with a worry you didn’t want.

“What,” you said, carefully, like stepping onto a frozen pond, “do you see.”

His face didn’t change. “You.”

“Johnny.” You made his name a warning, or a plea.

He didn’t blink. “You. Hair a mess. Jacket you keep pretending you don’t love. Bandage under your hairline. You forgot your left earring.”

You reached for it, fingers finding the lobe empty. Your breath shook. “And everyone else?”

“They’re acting like they just remembered their first crush.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and then dropped it, like he remembered not to mess it up. “It’s weird.”

You swallowed. The coin reappeared halfway down your throat and stuck. “So… whatever this is,” you said, slow. “It makes me look like what people want.”

“Maybe,” he said, equally careful. “Feels like that.”

“And you,” you continued, nausea and fury and relief twisting, “you’re just seeing… what you want.”

He blinked, confusion filling his face. “I’m seeing you.”

“Your version,” you said, smile sharp enough to cut your own lip. “Your dream girl. Congratulations.”

The words hit him like a splash of cold. He rocked back half an inch. “That’s not-”

“I’m not an idiot.” You hated how raw you sounded and you hated that you couldn’t stop. “Doom flipped a switch and now everyone gets a private movie. You get yours too. So don’t…you don’t have to pretend. I can play along.”

He stared. Then something like offense slid under the worry. Not anger but hurt at being misunderstood when he’d been careful for once. “I’m not pretending.”

“You always are,” you said, and it was too mean, and his jaw flexed.

For a beat, you stood like that just two people caught under a neon sign, with an argument brewing. 

“Okay,” he said finally, calm in a way that meant he was holding onto it with both hands. “Let’s test it.”

“Test-”

He turned his back to you, took two steps, then pivoted to face you again. “Describe me,” he said.

You stared. He stared back. You did it: the crease in his shirt where he’d slept in it sitting up; the faint grease smear on his left pocket, the pinprick burn near his right cuff from a flame he hadn’t controlled,the single freckle at the back of his jaw you’d noticed by accident last summer while arguing over who could could the ravioli. 

He exhaled, almost smiling. “And I describe you. One, because I can. Two, because that face you make when you think you’re losing your mind? Don’t love it.”

“Johnny-”

“You smell like roses when you’re frustrated because you save that perfume for days when you feel like you need it,” he said, counting on his fingers. “ You wear your watch inside your wrist when you’re nervous. You hate mustard but you pretend you like it when Ben orders it so he doesn’t feel like the taste thing is just him. You hum when you calibrate anything with a dial.”

The sounds of the city pressed closer, then farther. The neon made his hair look more gold. You wanted to sit down and you were already sitting, inside a body that didn’t feel standard issue anymore.

“I still think you’re seeing what you want,” you said, because there was nothing else you could say without breaking something you wouldn’t know how to fix.

“I don’t,” he said. Simple. His way of ending the argument. 

“Good for you.” You reached for the door and he reached for the door at the same time. His fingers brushed yours. Heat skittered across your knuckles, not the burn kind, the stove-warm kind. He let go first.

“Reed’s going to want to scan the field,” he said softly as you stepped into the lobby, like the word field could be a blanket he tucked around you without you noticing. “And Sue’s going to try not to smother you and fail. And Ben’s… he’s gonna be Ben.”

“I know,” you said. You didn’t add and you’re going to be you, because you didn’t know what that meant anymore. Because if he was no longer seeing Bens annoying little cousins but rather a model then he wouldn’t treat you as he normally would. 

In the elevator, the brushed steel gave you your face. At the seam in the corner where two panels met, a version of you shimmered and slid, melting into someone else’s fantasy long enough to make you sway. Johnny’s reflection behind you stayed Johnny, all the way down.

“Don’t look,” he murmured, like he’d seen the seam too.

“Then where,” you asked, aiming for a joke and missing, “am I supposed to look.”

“At me,” he said, before he could make the safer choice. He stared at the numbers above the door like they’d tattled on him. “For now.”

The door dinged. Back in the med-lab, Ben surged up and then froze like he was afraid to scare you off. Sue smiled, the kind that held because she had decided it would. Reed clutched a new sheaf of paper like they were talismans.

“Don’t be mad,” you said. “I only went downstairs.”

“I’m not mad,” Ben said, which, in Ben, meant I’m furious but don’t want you to know. “You can’t….after….just….”

“I know.” You reached for him. He let you take his hand and anchor him to the floor he was trying to stomp to dust. “I needed… air. I will stay close now.”

Reed cleared his throat, eyes skimming your face, then skipping, landing a breath to the left. “Early hypothesis,” he said, words gentle like he’d been lectured while you were gone. “Your body is emitting a field that refracts and reinterprets inbound visual data. People aren’t seeing you so much as seeing an overlay of their… preferred pattern.”

“Dream girl,” Johnny muttered.

Reed actually nodded. “Crude, but not inaccurate.”

Ben swore softly. Sue’s fingers tightened on the blanket.

You laughed once, the sound paper-thin, tears welling in your eyes.  “Congrats to everyone. Wish fulfillment for all.”

“Not all,” Johnny said. You ignored him. It hurt less.

Reed kept talking, science jargon that you didn’t care for. Counter-frequencies, dampening fields, ethics of asking the interns to describe what they saw. You let the science turn to weather at the edges of your mind. Sue pressed a scarf into your lap you hadn’t realized you were holding onto. Ben moved closer until his knee bumped the bed and stayed there.

Johnny hovered, close, not clinging. Steady.. He handed you coffee without comment. He didn’t sit unless you made eye contact, and then he slid into the chair like he’d always been meant to be exactly there.

When the tests paused, when Reed finally admitted they needed time and Sue enforced rest and Ben threatened to carry you if you resisted, Johnny still  lingered.

“You should sleep,” he said.

“You should leave me alone,” you said, too soft to land as a hit.

He didn’t flinch. “I can do both,” he said. A smile because he knew you wanted one. He sobered. “But I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

You stared at the blanket. “You’re being… nice,” you said, like testing a strange word on your tongue. “Why.”

He hesitated. Then. “Because you got hurt.”

“Or because I look like what you want.” You didn’t look up. “And you’re talking to her.”

Silence. The machines breathed. Somewhere, the city honked like a joke without a punchline.

“I’m talking to you,” he said finally. Quiet. No flourish.

You lay back, because your bones had turned to old newspaper and the bed was the only flat surface. “Sure.”

He voices your name like it’s an argument, like just saying your name will help you believe him. 

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

A beat. His chair scraped back a fraction, then forward, the tiniest surrender to the instinct to stay. “Goodnight,” he said, rough-edged. “I’m right outside.”

You closed your eyes. The darkness didn’t fix anything. But it stopped the doubling for a second. Through your lashes, you caught the cabinet door’s reflection, a stranger’s mouth arranged in your frown, then sliding away.

Outside the curtain, you heard him settle in the hall, long legs folding unhappy, back against the wall, fingertips tapping his knee in a rhythm that said stay awake, stay awake. Ben’s low murmur. Sue’s whisper. Reed pacing a perfect rectangle.

You inhaled. Exhaled. A new rhythm,you rolled toward the wall so no one would see your mouth try to smile. The city kept moving, Doom kept breathing somewhere with borrowed air, and the Baxter Building’s teal lights hummed on.

After a few moments you let the exhaustion take you, the powers rolling through your body draining you a little too quickly. 

- 

It was decided pretty quickly after the incident that you would need training, if you couldn’t control the power it would continue to drain you and that just could not happen. 

The first time you made the mirrors on purpose, they came like a shock to your system. Faint, ghostly planes unfurling from the air around your hands, only visible when the lab lights hit just right. Reed clapped like a delighted professor while Sue made that quiet, triumph-hum she saved for small miracles. Johnny whistled low and said, “Neat,” in a voice that tried to hide how impressed he was and failed.

“Controlled environment,” Reed said, which in Reed meant, a room with fewer things that exploded prettily. He’d taped out safe zones and bolted down everything that could be bolted. The replicator ring slept behind glass now, draped in a tarp like a dangerous statue. Ben stood outside the training bay with his arms folded like a bouncer at a club with one very important guest.

“I’m right here,” he told you as the doors hissed shut. “You yell, I redecorate.”

“With your fists?” Johnny asked, rolling his shoulders like a boxer who preferred ballroom. “Tempting. But tonight we’re doing soft-shoe.”

“Tonight,” Sue said, her voice bright threading through tension, “we measure, we breathe, and we stop if anyone says stop.”

Reed pressed a switch. The training lights went low. The lab transformed from teal to navy, chrome to shadow. In the semi-dark, the floor stripes glowed like runway lights.

“Begin at will,” Reed said.

You inhaled and let the power course through you. You lifted your hands, fingers spread, and thought fold. A shimmer unfurled in the air in front of you, quicksilver, imperfect. Then another, to your left. Another, above until three thin planes of mirror-light stared at you, like someone had cut pieces from a lake at night and hung them up with invisible wire.

“Good,” Reed said, pencil scratching. “Excellent.”

Johnny stepped into your periphery, flames whispering down his knuckles and retreating like shy animals. “Don’t slice me,” he said lightly.

“Tempting,” you said, but you felt your mouth want to smile and had to stop it, as if smiling might break your focus.

The mirrors caught him anyway. One reflected the curve of his cheekbone, another the shape of his hand opening and closing, another fixed on his mouth. The angles were a hair wrong. It was like looking at him through a funhouse that wanted to be kind.

“Let’s test heat interaction,” Reed said, from behind glass. “Johnny, one controlled flame pulse. Let’s see if she can maintain mirrors at current angles.”

“Copy,” Johnny said, and for a second the cockiness fell clean away. Then he winked at you because he couldn’t help himself and cupped a small palm of fire. It wasn’t the wild torch he showed the press. This was precise. A rounded, humming orange a little larger than a baseball, swaying like a lantern in a tide. He tossed it gently toward the first mirror.

The glass didn’t catch fire, nor did it shatter. It seemed to glow at the touch. The flame bloomed across the surface like sunrise on water, replicated at a slight delay in the second, then the third. Heat rippled and the mirrors bowed inward, convex, concave, the way light bends in a mirage over hot road. Designing. 

“Oh,” Sue breathed, delighted. Reed’s pencil actually stopped.

Johnny laughed, soft, surprised. “You’re cheating.”

“Is it working?” you asked through your teeth.

He flicked his wrist. The fireball kissed one mirror, split, kissed another, split again. In a heartbeat you had six flames in a helix, a little galaxy circling your head. The mirrors sang, ringing with energy, faint crystal friction, glass humming at the edge of hearing. You felt it in your teeth, a high note you could almost taste.

It would’ve been perfect if your stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to remember fear. The song sharpened. One mirror jittered and it was too late when  you tried to correct it,too fast. The planes caught the wrong angle, doubled the doubling. Fire multiplied.

A shriek almost passed your lips before Johnny decided to step up. 

“Okay,okay, slow…” Johnny moved left? Right? You couldn’t tell, there were three of him now in the reflections, all brisk, all very calm. “Hey, look here.”

You couldn’t. The room had become a kaleidoscope and you were in the middle. In one mirror, your face wasn’t your face, it was that almost you that always showed up whenever Reed was involved, the kind of girl men in suits thought they remembered. In another, Johnny was still and burning. 

Sue calls your name, pulling your attention before ordering you to, “Breathe.”

“Stop,” Reed orders, trying to stop it before someone got hurt. “Johnny, abort-”

“No,” you said, because panic had always made you stubborn. You lifted your hands like you were holding a frame steady in wind and thought fold, fold, fold. The mirrors obeyed after a moment, two out of three, then three out of six, then all of them, snapping into a ring around the biggest flame like a camera shutter. The mirrored air flexed. The copies collapsed back into one warm, living sun.

You exhaled and Johnny did too. For a second you both laughed, the relief breaking out of you like a rash you didn’t mind.

“Again,” you said, breathless. “Before I lose it.”

Johnny arched an eyebrow. “Bossy.”

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, and the words came out more naked than you intended.

“No,” he said, quickly, and tossed the flame.

Soon enough training made a ritual of you. Mornings were scans and Reed’s math, numbers printed in neat perforations, waves that looked like coastlines, you trying not to read yourself like a weather report. As if you were a person that didn’t actually exist. Afternoons belonged to mirrors. You learned the feeling of the mirrorfield coming like static on the skin, hair lifting at your nape, the world asking permission to bend. You learned to brace your elbows just so and tilt your wrists like you were making a window where there wasn’t one.

“Less force,” Sue coached through the glass. “They’re not walls. Think… panes floating on water.”

Johnny, beside you, “Or think record sleeves. Slippery. Pretty. Bad for the environment.”

“Try humorless for five minutes,” you muttered, struggling to maintain focus. 

“No,” he said, and you were absurdly grateful.

Heat and light learned each other’s language. Johnny’s flame stretched across your mirrors like it was teasing them, then snapped back into a perfect sphere when you rotated your wrist half an inch. In the half-dark his orange went ruby, then lemon, then a white so pure it made your eyes water. You made a crown of little suns and set them spinning like a mobile. He whistled, about to compliment you, and the sound made two mirrors tremble, so he swallowed the rest and only said, low, “There you go.”

Not everything was pretty. Sometimes heat made the mirrors sweat, silver running in rivulets, the edges drip-drip-dripping in a way that said you’re pushing it, stop. Sometimes the mirrors showed you what you didn’t ask to see. Sometimes peoples needs used your mirrors before you could give them permission.  Ben framed by twenty versions of his old face, all of them turning into rock, ou had taken to avoiding pulling any mirrors or kaleidoscopes around him. 

Once, Johnny lit a small arc between his fingers, just a trick, warm and casual and your mirrors snatched it, bent it into birds. You didn’t know you could do that. The flock wheeled around you, light-feathered, chittering in glass voices, casting a hundred tiny suns on the floor. Johnny looked up and every version of him in every reflection went still. “That’s…” he began, and then he didn’t have anything else to say.

“Don’t name it,” you said, already knowing he was racking his brain. 

“Okay,” he said, palms up in surrender. “Then I’ll just…” He moved his hand and the birds banked. His grin got wide and young. “....not name it.”

“Your head is enormous,” you told him, because you were dizzy with wonder and needed ballast.

“It is,” he agreed cheerfully. “And yet….useful.”

You rolled your eyes and made the birds shatter into harmless glitter. It fell in a slow drift, dissolved before it reached the ground.

Behind glass, Reed wrote down some notes a little too quick and you narrowed your eyes until he turned to talk to Sue. 

- 

You learned the thing you didn’t want to, that  your power loved feeling. The bigger the feeling, the cleaner the mirror. Your anger tightened the edges, your fear made the panes strobe. Joy made everything smooth as blown glass.

Johnny figured it out too fast.

“Don’t,” you warned, as he sauntered toward you with that easy grin. “Don’t say whatever you’re about to say.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, all innocence, hands going up in defense. 

“You said it with your eyebrows.”

“My eyebrows are supportive.”

“Your eyebrows are annoying.”

He laughed. Two of the mirrors rippled, then corrected as you caught yourself. His heat flared hotter for a second, then trimmed itself obediently. You pressed your palm against the nearest plane and felt… nothing. Good. 

Do not let Johnny Storm know your mirrors loved him. 

“Again,” you said.

He tossed fire. You folded. He threw a line. You made it into a ribbon and tied it in a knot. He made a sun. You made a ring of mirrors, a halo, a crown. He walked into your illusion like a boy wading into surf, and you realized you’d told your body to make a cage around him without meaning to.

“Mm,” he said, looking up at the mirrored dome. “This seems… symbolic.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said. Your face burned anyway.

He lifted his hands, flame crawled up his fingers. The heat licked the mirrors, turned silver to gold at the edges. He pushed a palm forward. You held, set, held. The fire pressed like a heartbeat. You felt it everywhere.

“Johnny,” Reed said in your ear, a warning, the comms he demanded you use for the larger training ground staticky in your ear. 

“I know,” Johnny murmured, even though Reed couldn’t hear him. He lowered his hands. The gold receded.

When the dome dissolved, the room felt too big again. You hated that you missed the way it had fit.

“Again,” you said, because wanting things had always made you bossy and you were tired of apologizing for it.

He threw another sun. You made another crown. You both tried not to look at each other in the reflections and failed.

- 

It cracked on a Tuesday. The powers all became a little too much. 

You’d slept four hours in forty. Every reflective surface had become a Greek chorus you didn’t ask to sing. In the elevator’s brushed steel you caught a woman pinning her hair in a way you’d never learned. In a spoon you saw lips you didn’t own. In the med-lab’s cabinet at two in the morning, you watched Johnny walk in behind you in a reflection and felt your stomach tip like a drunk boat.

You lifted your hand. The mirror did that slow, terrible thing when it showed you not-you, the cleaned-up movie-star version, the girl you had told yourself he wanted. You watched her raise her hand too. She looked brave and gentle and luckier than you.

You tapped the glass. It rang.

You don’t cry when you’re angry, you break things. You reached for the panel’s edge to rip the cabinet door off its hinge until a warm hand caught your wrist.

“Hey,” Johnny said, breathless from a run he hadn’t admitted to making. “Hey. Don’t.”

“Don’t what,” you said, and your voice had that echoey hallway sound it got before you threw up.

“Don’t break the thing that tells the truth.”

You laughed, the wrong sound, gravel and emptiness. “What truth?”

“That you’re you,” he said, like he could fix it by insisting hard enough. “That’s the only truth I care about.”

You shook your arm free. “Of course you don’t. Because whatever you see, it’s what you want.”

He flinched. Not many things got through that smooth mouth, this did. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t turn me into the guy you think I am because it’s easier than letting me be the one standing here.”

“You’re always the guy you think you are,” you said. “And the guy I think you are. And the guy who called me mascot in front of five interns like I’m the trainee they hired to water plants.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know what I did. I’m sorry.”

“You’re only sorry because now I look like a girl you want.”

“No,” he said, and it wasn’t loud, but it cut. He stepped closer. The lab lights caught the edge of his jaw and turned it into something you could have drawn with a blunt pencil. “I’m sorry because I was mean when I was scared.”

“Of what,” you said, because bitterness tastes better than grief at first and you were greedy. “Of me?”

“Of feeling,” he said simply. “Of you making me feel like I should want to stay anywhere long enough to be seen.”

You froze. The mirrors you hadn’t meant to call flinched and steadied.

He reached for your wrist again. Didn’t grab but instead just held out his hand, palm up, letting you decide.

“I’m not seeing what I want,” he said, and every reflection of him in every chrome surface said it too, dozen Johnnys, all stubborn. “I’m seeing you. I couldn’t make you up if I tried.”

“Everyone else-”

“Everyone else is getting a movie,” he said. “I get the news.”

“That’s unflattering,” you said, because jokes help when you’re about to throw up.

“I didn’t mean it like….” He huffed. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I,” you said. The mirrors around your shoulders tightened like a shawl you hadn’t asked for. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been awful to me for months, and now you get to be gentle and heroic because your reality goggles make me a pin-up.”

He stepped in and you stepped back. The mirror behind you bumped your shoulder, glass-not-glass, cool and not there at all. He lowered his voice until the building had to lean in to hear it.

“I was awful because you scare me,” he said. “I was awful because every time you walked into a room, it felt like something important had walked in and I’m bad at important. I was awful because I liked the way you looked at Ben like he was the sun and I was a flicker and I didn’t know how to get in the light without burning everything down.”

You stared at him. The room emptied of air and then remembered its job. “You don’t get to be poetic when you’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong all the time,” he said, cleanly. “I’m not wrong about this.”

He took your wrist. Heat innerverts your skin, quick, not burning,stove-warm. The mirrorfield woke like a flock of birds startled into flight. A dozen panels unfurled into thin perfect planes of silvered air blooming around you both in a slow spiral. Crystal-singing leveled out into a note that made your molars buzz. Reflections lit: you-you-you, him-him-him, a chandelier of possibilities.

“Look,” he said. “Pick any one.”

When you turned to look at the kaleidoscope of mirrors you’d formed your breath was taken from you, because Johnny made sure to angle them so that each of them would show his perspective, and you were greeted…. With yourself. 

The reflections showed your mouth in small frowns, they showed the stitches on your forehead from the explosion, already a fading line that wouldn’t be much more than a light scar. They showed the imperfections and they showed your emotions. Tired, furious, wanting. 

“Why,” you asked, and it hurt to say, “do you get the truth.”

“Maybe because I paid attention,” he said, his smile crooked and bittersweet. 

“You didn’t,” you said, reflex.

“I did,” he said, soft. “Even when I pretended not to.”

His hand tightened on your wrist by a hair. Heat slid up your arm, met light, and the mirrors went hot. The silver warmed into honey at the edges, the planes bent not from fear but because sometimes glass does that under a blowtorch, it doesn’t break, it melts into a new shape, stronger at the curve. He took your other hand like the second half of an equation he’d been afraid to write. You let him because your power was humming and your heart was louder.

“Tell me to stop,” he said.

You didn’t. You moved first.

Your mouth hit his and the room stopped. Not like in movies where the camera spins and the soundtrack sighs. It was weirder and meaner and more honest. The mirrorfield, for the first time, showed only one reflection. No doubles. No flickers. No kaleidoscope of wrong faces. Just you and him, at every angle, the truth insisting on itself. The crystal-hum dropped into a chord that wanted to be a vow.

Johnny made a sound like he was breaking a promise to himself and letting it feel good. His heat licked your mouth and then behaved and you felt it in your teeth. He kissed too hard and then remembered and softened, you had thought about it a thousand times and none of the thousand were like this because those were guesses and this was fire in a mirror that had learned how not to crack.

You pulled back first because you were a coward and because you were brave. You were breathing like you ran. He was already wrecked, eyes blown, trying a grin because it was what he knew and failing because something more important was happening on his face.

“Okay,” he said, hoarse, a little stunned, and you almost laughed because okay was the dumbest possible word for what had just happened. “Okay.”

The mirrors held. You looked to the nearest one with your mouth flushed, your hair ridiculous, Johnny’s hand still around your wrist, both of you ridiculous, and you almost sobbed with relief at how boring it was.

“Does this mean….” he began, and then Reed cleared his throat so loudly it was practically a sonic weapon.

You jumped. The mirrors flinched and then shattered.  Sue stood with him in the doorway, scarf askew, eyes wide with a kind of alarmed fondness. Ben filled the frame behind them, looked at your face, looked at Johnny, and then stared very hard and very deliberately at the ceiling.

Reed recovered first because equations give a man spine. He pushed up his glasses and said, studiously neutral, “Fascinating. Emotional regulation is clearly a stabilizing variable.”

“Oh my god,” Johnny muttered, dropping your wrist like it bit him and then grabbing it again because he didn’t want to let go. “Can we get you a lab out there?”

Sue’s mouth twitched. “We were bringing coffee.”

“Thank you,” you said pointlessly, and then realized you were shaking and also smiling. You turned your face into your shoulder. 

Ben coughed. “Pizza?”

“Always,” Johnny said, fervent, grateful for anything that wasn’t Reed narrating your kiss. He looked at you, checked your face the way you’d check a pilot light. “Anchovies?”

“Don’t push it,” you said, and your voice was wrecked but steady.

Reed backed out of the doorway, already talking: “If we can sustain the field here-yes, yes, Sue, I’m leaving-then perhaps we can-”

Sue touched two fingers to your shoulder as she passed, the way you pet a cat who’s pretending it doesn’t like to be pet. “We’ll set the table. Take your time.”

“Don’t set the table,” Johnny called after her, leaning on a joke because if he didn’t he might do something irreversible like kiss you again in front of your family. “We’re in a lab. That’s how fires happen.”

“Johnny,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” he said agreeably, and didn’t.

The mirrorfield softened around you both, the planes folding themselves away like polite curtains. One lingered a moment longer than the rest, reflecting Johnny’s profile and your mouth and the slight, stunned smile that had taken up residence there. Then it sighed itself into the air and was gone.

You stood in the blue hush of the training bay and tried to memorize the exact angle of his face under this light, the exact pitch of your own breath. You failed because you didn’t need to memorize it; your body had already written it somewhere your fear couldn’t erase.

“Does this… change anything,” you asked, because asking questions you weren’t ready to hear answers to had always been your hobby.

“Everything,” he said, ruthlessly honest for once. Then, softer, “Nothing we can’t handle.”

And before you could give him a biting remark he is leaning forward to kiss you once more.

You had only been dating for a few months, and when you presented him with the wonky mug that said “#1 BF” painted on it he nearly cried. It was more of a joke than anything, but his reaction made your heart crack open. And he has been the receiver of all your arts and crafts ever since. He reaches for his mug every morning like clock work, and it makes you smile every time.

Then, came the needle point. Since he took your mug so seriously, you waited until you had more practice under your belt to give him one of your pieces. When you presented him with the intricate flames in the shape of a heart you had created, he jumped with joy. It sits in a frame on his night stand so that he can look at it every night.

Next came painting classes, various landscapes and sunsets as you embraced your inner Bob Ross for a few months. Johnny would sit next to you and watch you practice in awe. When you gifted him a painting of the New York City skyline, he proudly displayed it right next to your needle point work. Then came knitting, this was arguably his favorite, he proudly wears his sweaters that you made, even if the flaws are very visible.

When you had given him the first sweater you made, he put it on over the shirt he was wearing and walked around the Baxter Building telling everyone you made it just for him. It was a soft yarn of different hues of blue to match his bright eyes. Sue laughed when he waltzed up to her with both hands on her his hips and a grin from ear to ear. “You’re really smitten, aren’t you?” She asked, bouncing Franklin on her hip, his grin didn't falter, “can you believe she made me this? I mean it’s almost as perfect as her,” you stood behind him, blushing. He planted a kiss on your cheek, “I love it, I can’t wait for my next gift.”

He took care of that sweater like it was worth a million bucks, handwashing in cold water only, laying flat to dry, and folding it neatly, only to wear it immediately the next day.

When you presented the second sweater to him, your technique had advanced and it showed. The stitching on this sweater was much cleaner, you even stitched a small tag inside that said “made with love” and he nearly burst on the spot. “Wow, babe practice really does make perfect. Now I have a new one to add to my rotation,” He looked the sweater over and ran his fingers across the little tag with the slanted words on it. “I love that you love my gifts so much, it makes the process all the more worth it” you said softly, watching him admire the sweater, “but this one comes with a bonus.”

He looked up at you, and you pulled an exact version of the sweater in his hands from your tote, but much smaller. “So Franklin can match with his favorite uncle,” you said proudly.

Johnny’s jaw went slack and he grabbed the matching sweater from your hands. You made sure to use extra soft yarn for these sweaters and a light beige color perfect for winter. Johnny grabbed your hand and pulled you to the living room where he knew Franklin and Sue would be planted this time of day. You were nearly running trying to keep up with his long strides. His eagerness makes you all the more excited to see them both in their sweaters.

When he stopped in the living room in front of Sue, she looked up at you both. Franklin was stacking his blocks with extreme concentration on the ground. Johnny didn’t say a word, only held up the tiny sweater meant for Franklin. Sue gasped with excitement, “give it to me right now” she reached her hand out and Johnny handed it over to her. Silently, Johnny slipped his sweater over his head and Sue changed Franklin into his.

Johnny sat on the couch and placed Franklin into his lap. Your heart swelled in your chest at the sight in front of you. Franklin was sitting in Johnny’s arms clapping and squealing. Sue lifted her phone immediately, snapping pictures before the moment could slip away. “Okay, this might actually be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, laughing as Johnny helped Franklin fix the sleeve that had folded under his arm.

Johnny looked up at you, his grin softer now, his usual playful spark traded for something gentler. “You see this?” he said, gesturing between himself and the toddler in the matching sweaters. “We’re twins now. You basically just made him a mini Johnny. You even have Sue laughing, you’re family official now.”

Your stomach flipped and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

Sue snorted. “Johnny, shes been family official since the first time you brought her over and wouldn’t stop introducing her as your ‘better half.’”

You could feel your cheeks warming, but you didn’t look away. Johnny’s eyes were still on you, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the little tag inside his sleeve — made with love.

He shifted Franklin a bit so the baby could rest against his chest, both of them looking impossibly content. “You know,” he said, quieter now, “I think this might be my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”

You smiled, stepping closer. “Even more than the ‘#1 BF’ mug?”

He laughed, reaching for your hand. “That mug was what made me fall for you. But this…” He nodded toward Franklin, who had now started clapping again, delighted by all the attention. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Sue rolled her eyes affectionately and scooped Franklin back into her arms. “Okay, lovebirds, before my son starts thinking Johnny’s his actual dad, I’m cutting this off.”

Johnny stood, stretching his arm around your shoulders. “Fine, fine. But you better send me those pictures, Sue.”

As the two of you left the room, his fingers found yours, warm and sure. “You know,” he said softly, “you don’t have to keep making me things to prove how much you care.”

You tilted your head toward him. “I know. But I like doing it. And you make it easy to want to.”

He smiled at that, the kind of smile that reached all the way to his eyes, and pulled you in for a kiss right there in the hallway.

“Then I guess I’ll just keep making room for whatever you do next,” he murmured against your lips.

You laughed, heart full, already thinking about the next project, not because you needed another hobby, but because loving Johnny Storm had somehow become your favorite one of all.

“Don’t you dare talk back to me!” By now your aunt’s voice had risen to a shrill scream. “Just because your parents allow you to indulge in this ridiculous fantasy that that freak might have been innocent or even a good person-”

“That’s enough.”

Your father’s voice was calm, but you knew him well enough to hear the underlying anger.

“But you cannot allow your child any longer to-”

“Sis, we have talked about it,” he interrupted his sister again. “If the government says that Munson kid is innocent and perhaps even an important witness, that’s what we must assume for now. A witch-hunt would lead nowhere, make things perhaps even worse if he really knows something that might help us.”

“If he’s oh so good, then why hasn’t he surrendered himself yet,” you aunt demanded to know, her voice still painfully loud in your ears.

“Perhaps because he’s scared that he’ll get lynched,” you mumbled under your breath, but before your aunt could explode again, your father kept talking.

“A lot of people died during the earthquake, many went missing. And these things-” he eyed the thick, black vines that spread from a huge gap that ran all the way across the living room, through the dining room and the kitchen through the yard and into the woods, “They creep people out. Maybe he ran. Like lots of others. He’s just a kid. We shouldn’t judge him without having all the information.”

“Still, I cannot believe that you let-”

“And concerning (y/n),” he glanced at you, still sitting on the floor, turning a cassette tape in your hands, “(y/n)’s been through a lot. She was outside in the woods when the earthquake hit, where it was the worst. One of her friends got so terribly injured that she’s in a coma now and might never wake up, her best friend got badly injured. By the way (y/n), when you see Steve, tell him I still think he shouldn’t be up and running around the way he does. His wounds are no laughing matter.” You nodded at your father’s words. “So, if she, in accordance with what the officials say, believes her friend Munson is innocent, if this helps her to get better through these traumatizing times somehow, then so be it.”

For a moment silence spread through the living room, only interrupted by the shouting of people outside and a low, constant growling that came from the gap in the ground.

“Now,” your father’s tone had switched from deathly serious to almost cheerful, fake, but cheerful, “wouldn’t you mind bringing these over to the Wheelers, Sis? They’ve been working hard the whole day, and we want to cheer them up a little.”

Shooting a last dagger at you, your aunt turned and grabbed the plate with sandwiches your father had been holding the entire time, before she disappeared through the front door.

“Thanks,” you sighed, casting your eyes downwards to the tape you held in your hands.

“I can’t stand her words either,” your father shrugged. “Not now, that I know the truth.”

“But you never doubted anyway,” you told him.

“Oh I had my doubts, don’t think I didn’t. But when your daughter comes home, insisting that the thing that is killing these kids is a sort of monster, which weirdly matches together all the strange incidents over the past years, you just have to roll with it, I suppose.”

You smiled and shook your head.

“Can I borrow this one,” you asked, holding up the tape.

“Sure, sure, whatever you want,” your father shrugged, and turned towards the kitchen, where your mother was cooking before both of them would have to head out to the hospital to start their shifts.

You slipped the tape into the pocket of your jacket and got up, hurrying up the stairs to your room to grab a couple of batteries for your Walkman. The moment you stepped into your room you sighed, sudden tiredness washing over you. The past week had been disastrous. First Chrissy had died, making everyone start a head hunt for Eddie, the strange, but lovable leader of the high school’s D&D club. You had not known him, other than witnessing his occasional antics in the lunch room. But your best friend Steve’s little friends knew him and had insisted on helping him. And before you knew it, you had been pulled into an adventure full of monsters, supernatural villains and parallel worlds.

Thinking back, it still surprised you how you had just gone along with it, how you had not hesitated to buy a bunch of guns, ammunition and machetes with the intention of killing the monster that had slaughtered your school mates.

Had you been scared shitless, when you had gone back into the upside down? Yes, of course. So much that you had even thrown up a few minutes before. Had you thought you would die, when Vecna’s vines had suddenly begun strangling you in his house in the upside down? Clear yes. Had you thought the world was slipping through your fingers, when you had come back to Eddie’s trailer in order to leave the Upside Down, and found Dustin holding Eddie’s limp, blood covered body in his arms? 100%. After returning to the normal world and finding out you had failed in preventing Vecna’s plan, you had barely slept, and in the morning the government officials had come to check out the huge gap that had almost ripped your parents’ house in two.

Ever since then you had been up on your feet, helping your parents, helping neighbours who desperately needed help, or your friends who dropped by asking for something. You had not caught more than a few minutes of sleep in the past two days, and now, that the sun neared the horizon once more, the tiredness began weighting down on you.

In an hour your parents would leave for their shifts in the hospital, leaving you alone in the house with your aunt, having to listen to her talk about how the ash that kept falling from the sky, the rotting trees and the vines were all a product of some failed scientific experiment. Well, since it was all somehow connected to the experiments that had been conducted on El, she was not entirely wrong. Only that she would deny the existence of the Upside Down, even if she where to step foot in it herself. Perhaps you could escape your aunt’s never-ending criticism by hiding out in the VW-bus in the garage.

Absentmindedly you looked around your room, having slipped a pack of new batteries already into your pocket, searching for an interesting book. Again, your thoughts slipped away, your tired brain unable to focus properly anymore. You still flinched every time something cold touched your arm, thinking it was one of Vecna’s vines, trying to choke you. The memory of the weird plant-animal-like things sent shivers down your spine, as you still remembered vividly what it had felt like to get all air pressed out of your lungs by these things.

And all you had been able to think of was Eddie. How he played the decoy, trying to keep Vecna’s attention away from you, putting himself in danger, counting on you to bring down the monster. And all you did was choking to death, pinned to a wall by some stupid, slimy vines. Robin’s panicked gasps for help, Steve’s choking, Nancy’s nails on the plants, it all echoed in your ears, your panic amplifying the sounds thousandfold, and while you struggled, tried to claw, tried to kick, tried to punch and pull and bite, you closed your eyes, your mind immediately wandering back to the last time you had seen Eddie.

“Hey guys, listen.” Steve had turned to Dustin and Eddie.

Both of them were wearing thick layers of clothing. You had found your father’s old biking trousers and jacket, even an old helmet on the attic, and insisted Eddie should wear it. The thick leather would – should they get attacked by the Demobats – hold out longer than his jeans jacket. Since you had not found anything similar for Dustin, you had given him your father’s equally old skying suit. The poor boy was sweating in it, but this too was a lot more durable than anything Dustin’s closet had offered. Both of them kept biking helmets under their arms, ready to put them on to keep their faces protected as well.

Steve looked them up and down for a moment, before continuing. “If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna.”

Your eyes locked on Eddie, whose jaw was tensed. You knew he was scared, and you also knew he was an idiot. An idiot who pretended to be a total freak, who wore it like a mask, so society would not hurt him. But once you got to know him, and over the past few days you really had, he turned out to be a sensible young man, who loved making people laugh, who played guitar and fantasy games and just wanted to hang out with his friends in peace. It was stupid, since you had only really known him for a few days, but that tiny spark of attraction you had always felt towards him, whether he was making a fool of himself in the lunch room, handed out flyer for his band’s next gig, or sat in a corner in the hallway, reading an old edition of The Lord of the Rings for the tenth time, while gnawing at his lip… this spark had rapidly grown into a wildfire of being head over heels for the metal head.

“Don’t try to be cute or a hero or something,” Steve continued. “Okay? You guys are just-”

“Decoys,” interrupted Dustin Steve. “Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve.”

You giggle at that comment, immediately feeling Eddie’s eyes on you.

“Absolutely,” Eddie agreed, “I mean, look at us. We are not heroes.”

You would have disagreed with him on that point but decided it might only encourage stupid behaviour on their part.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement, and you felt a strange tucking in your chest. This was the last time you would see Eddie. The next time, if things went the intended way, you would have saved Hawkins. But if something did not work out… maybe the Demobats would get to them… maybe Vecna would get to you… The sickening feeling of finality settled into your stomach. And something in Eddie’s eyes told you he’d do something stupid.

“You play the music, and as soon as the bats are coming your way, you run,” you told both Dustin and Eddie. “I don’t care what happens, but you run, okay?”

Eddie held your gaze for a long moment, but then he nodded.

“Promise me, you’ll run,” you urged him, taking a few steps towards him.

“I’ll run,” he nodded, not averting his eyes.”

You gave him a nod, and where about to turn away, when you reconsidered. This might quite possibly be the last time you would ever get to see him, so it was really now or never.

Pushing all doubt aside, you quickly spun back around and crossed the last feet of distance, grabbing his face in your hands, and pulling him down for a kiss. It was short, lips pressed against lips as if to seal his promise, and he gasped quietly in surprise, but his hands dropped the helmet and immediately came to rest on your waist, pulling you closer.

Knowing there was not much time, you quickly broke the kiss, brushing your fingertips over his soft skin and pulled away, not daring to look back at him again, as his hands slipped of your waist, stretched out, reaching for you as if trying to stay close to you as long as possible. If you had looked back, you would have seen the awestruck look of love in his eyes, but also determination.

You did not know why exactly the vines suddenly let go of you, but when they did, things had to happen quickly. Armed with guns, Molotov cocktails and in your case, a machete, you made your way up the stairs to the attic, where you found Vecna strung up in a net of his vines. His eyes were closed, and you knew that he was probably trying to kill Max right now. That thought alone brought you to a rage. But for now, you still had to be careful.

Robin set down the backpack she had been carrying, and everyone pulling out one of the Molotov cocktails. Looking at each other a last time, you pulled out a lighter and set flame to the cloth that stuck out of Steve’s bottle. For a moment he weighted it in his hands, before he threw it with all his force through the room, hitting Vecna right in the chest. Glass splintered and a wave of heat rolled through the room as the alcohol exploded.

Immediately the vines caught fire, drawing back from Vecna, who roared in pain and dropped to the floor. Pushing up on his hands, he lifted his head, milky eyes focusing on you and your friends. With from adrenaline shaking hands, you gripped the machete tighter, and horrified you watched, as he got up, all while flames were eating away at his flesh. Slowly he began walking towards you, and you flicked your lighter again, setting fire to your own Molotov cocktail, which hit him in the face, causing another explosion to heat up the attic.

Little impressed by it, he continued his way towards you, and your threateningly raised your machete. The plan was to scorch him, have Nancy shoot him until he stopped moving and then behead him. Since the beheading had been your idea (as far as you knew that definitely should stop any villain based on human anatomy), the group had been all too happy to leave that last part to you.

Now it was Robin’s turn to throw a Molotov cocktail, and when that still did not slow him down, Nancy stepped in front of you, the gun lifted and ready to fire. The first shot hit Vecna in the right shoulder, making him stumble. As did the second, which got him in the chest, and the third and fourth, which hit him in the left shoulder. With each shot he lost ground, got pushed further and further away from you by the impact of the ammunition, but it was the fifth and final shot, which hit him square in the chest and made him fall backwards, right through the barricaded window.

By the time he was breaking through the rotting wood, you had already turned on your heals and were on your way down the stairs. Sure, getting torched by three Molotov cocktails and shot five times by this monster of a weapon Nancy was wielding, would have killed any human. But Vecna was not human. Once he might have been, but you saw no reason why he should be much bothered by your attacks, considering he had walked towards you even while flames had been raging all over his body. Hopefully he was now weak enough for you to attack him. Getting rid of his head should hopefully have a bigger impact. The idea of killing someone like this was sickening, but your stomach was empty, and you were too focused on the task ahead to give the act itself a second thought. Even from within the stairwell you could hear the dull sound of Vecna’s body hitting the ground outside.

Please stay down, please stay down. The words echoed in your head as you sped up even further, jumping off the last steps and racing down the hallway. Hastily you pushed open the door, the machete you were still holding, lifted in the air, ready to strike or defend yourself-

Vecna was gone. You could see where his body had fallen to the ground, the white ash that covered everything gone where he had lain. Instead, the faint shape of a human body was visible, dark soil against white ash.

Panic began rising in your chest, hammering in your ears. Where was he? Where could he have gone? You walked further into what on the normal side had once been a front yard, your eyes scanning over the trees and bushes. There was nothing and no one to see. How long had it been from the sound of his body hitting the ground to you stepping outside the house? Less than ten seconds?

You turned back to the patch of soil, trying to see if any traces lead away through the ash, but all you saw were your own footprints carrying ash into the dark silhouette Vecna had left. Behind you, you heard the other three running down the stairs, while you ran to the side of the house, trying to see if he had hidden behind the corner. Nothing. Other side?

“Where did he go,” Steve asked, looking around.

“He’s gone,” you panted, running past them to check the other corner. “I came out, and he was gone.”

“Is he dead,” Nancy asked hopefully.

“I don’t think his body would vanish when he dies,” you sighed in defeat when, both to your disappointment and relief, Vecna did not turn up behind the other corner either.

“If this didn’t kill him...” trailed Robin of. You exchanged glances. That thing was harder to kill than you had feared.

“What now,” you asked, looking around. Somehow you were glad no outsiders could see you right now, smeared with vine-slime, holding a machete. You had to look like you were mad.

“We should go back, check on Eddie and Dustin,” Steve decided.

“What about the Demobats,” Nancy asked. “If they’re still swarming the trailer-”

“We’ll see them from a distance and can think of a plan, right?” Robin suggested, earning an agreeing nod from Steve and Nancy, and you nodded too, slowly following the other three as they began heading for the trailer park.

The nervousness you had felt over the plan shifted and coiled up as a tight knot in your stomach as you thought about seeing Eddie again. Eddie had risked his life for this, and you, who was supposed to kill Vecna, had failed. If anything had happened to him-

“It’s not your fault, you know.”

Surprised you looked up at Steve who had fallen behind and joined you in the back of the group, now gently bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Hm?”

“That we didn’t get Vecna.”

You nodded. “I just can’t help but feel like… if I had waited downstairs, outside-”

“He probably would’ve collapsed upstairs and then we’d’ve had a problem,” Steve shrugged. “We just… underestimated him. That’s not your fault.”

“I got a bad feeling about this, Steve,” you admitted, addressing the strange tucking in your stomach. It was more than a plan having not worked out. “It feels like something went wrong, like… I can’t place my finger on it… as if the plan backfired. Completely.”

“I mean… we didn’t kill Vecna, like we had planned to, which had been pretty much the goal of the whole operation here, but-”

“It’s more. Like we put people at risk and they all paid for it,” you tried to explain, almost falling over a branch in your way. Steve caught you by the elbow, helping you stand up straight again.

“People?”

“Max. Eddie. Dustin… I don’t know.”

Steve nodded, and for a while you walked in silence before he picked up the conversation again.

“So… Eddie and you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so?”

“What do you mean, you don’t know,” Steve whisper shouted. “You just kissed him!”

“I mean, I know what I want but I don’t know what he thinks of it,” you answered.

“Uhm, excuse me, did I imagine the part where he pulled you in and kissed you back?”

You felt your cheeks heat up and excitement tuck at your heart at the memory of the feeling.

“But maybe that was just a heat of the moment thing,” you argued. “A ‘maybe I’ll die soon, so I might as well get myself a good-bye kiss.’”

At your side, you could practically hear Steve roll his eyes.

“Eddie’s been into you from the first moment on, no way he wouldn’t marry you on the spot if given the chance!”

You giggled at the thought.

“He’s a good guy though,” Steve nodded. “You’re cute together.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, spending the rest of the way back to the trailer park mapping out what to tell Eddie once you had a moment to talk. How much you liked him. That you wanted to be with him. That even if he didn’t feel the same way, he could hide out in your parents’ garage, since you had convinced them of his innocence.

But you never got to tell him any of it, because the moment Robin and Nancy stepped out of the forest, they started sprinting. Steve and you exchanged concerned glances and followed them.

In the middle of the trailer park, surrounded by dead, or at least almost dead Demobats, knelt Dustin. He was crying, calling for you the moment he noticed you approach. And even from the distance you could see he was holding someone in his lap. Your heart sunk, and you swore you had never run fast in your life than then.

Coming to a skipping halt next to Dustin, you fell to your knees, looking down on Eddie. The bike helmet you had given him had been discarded somewhere, but his face was uninjured, so you assumed it had been Dustin who had taken the helmet of. Eddie’s dark eyes skipped around for a moment, before they focused in on you who was still analysing the state he was in.

“Oh, hello beautiful,” he whispered.

“What the hell happened,” asked Steve, voicing your own question.

The leather gear you had given Eddie was torn to pieces, useless straps of leather drenched in red, sticky blood covering his chest.

“The idiot didn’t run,” cried Dustin, tears streaming down his dirty face. “He didn’t run.”

“You asshole,” you swore, slipping out of your jacket and the blouse you wore over your t-shirt, pressing the former against the deepest seeming wounds, in a poor attempt to slow down the bleeding. “You promised me to run.” Turning to Nancy you nodded to your blouse. “Rip this into bandages.”

The girl immediately went to work.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, having trouble to focus on your face. “I had to make sure they wouldn’t come for you. I had to protect you, you know?”

“You should have run,” you denied, emphasising your statement by pressing your jacket harder against his wounds, causing him to groan in pain.

“I had to protect you,” Eddie disagreed.

“Well, you didn’t run, and now it’s too late to take the easy way out,” you told him sternly. Anger flared in your chest. Why hadn’t he run? Why’d he had to play the hero? “Now you gotta keep fighting, you hear me? You keep breathing, and you keep this heart beating, and you keep fighting.”

Eddie groaned like a kid who had been tasked to do the dishes.

“I’m so tired.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you hissed, taking the first stripes of your blouse Nancy was handing you. Steve immediately knew what you needed, and helped you wrap the strips around Eddie’s body, pulling them so tight, that the jacked would work as compression as good as possible. “I don’t fucking care if you’re tired,” you repeated. “You got yourself into this mess, now you gotta see it through, and fight.”

“Do I get another kiss if I survive this?”

The question tore you out of the emergency program you seemed to be running, and for a split second turned your emotions back on, which you had successfully turned off in order to not collapse into a sobbing mess and instead actually help Eddie.

“You know what?”

While Steve continued tying strip after strip around Eddie, you took his face into your hands, leaving bloody handprints at both sides of it.

“When you survive this, you can have as many kisses as you like. Until you get sick of me.”

A smile pulled on Eddie’s lips.

“Could never get sick of you, pretty,” he smiled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“We’re finished,” Steve declared.

“We need to get him back to our world-”

You had not finished speaking, when Steve had already picked up Eddie, and carried him securely, and as fast as possible to Eddie’s trailer.

On your way there you stepped on countless Demobats, all of them either dead or so far weakened, that they barely moved anymore.

Getting Eddie through the gate was a challenge in and of itself. In the end, you and Nancy passed through to prepare the mattress, then Steve, Robin and Dustin lifted Eddie, who was groaning, sometimes even screaming in pain, through the gate, and you and Nancy did your best to soften the impact. Even though you had managed to catch Eddie pretty well, a strangled scream had escaped him. You held him, keeping his face nuzzled against your neck, while the others made their way back over to the normal side, when you realised that you would probably never be able to forget those pained screams. They would haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.

When Steve, who had been the last one to cross over, landed in the trailer, he immediately picked up Eddie again.

“We need to hurry,” you quickly scrambled to your feet, holding the door open for Steve. “He’s getting cold.”

It was as if those words fuelled Steve on even further, and together all of you sprinted to the bus you had stolen previously.

“How do we start this thing,” Nancy, who had taken place behind the wheel shouted to the back, where Steve had put Eddie down on a couch.

“Let me-” Dustin pushed past you and managed to jumpstart the vehicle. You were tempted to ask how he had learned that but figured you didn’t really want to know.

“Where are we going,” Nancy, who sat behind the wheel, asked, as she pulled out of the park as fast as the old bus allowed.

“Hospital,” shouted Dustin.

“We can’t bring him to the hospital here in Hawkins,” Steve argued. “The police-”

“What’s the next closest hospital-”

“We won’t make it,” Robin shook her head, and you were afraid she was right. Eddie was deathly pale and had grown far too quiet for your liking. Looking at him, you could tell that he was really focusing on stay alive right now.

“My place,” you decided.

“But we need-”

“My father’s a doctor; my mum’s a nurse. They’re both off work today, they can help, they won’t snitch, and it’s even closer than the Hawkins Hospital.”

Underneath your feet you could feel the bus accelerate as Nancy mercilessly sent it flying down the streets of Hawkins.

The rest of the ride passed in a blur, until Nancy brought the bus to a skipping halt right in front of your parents’ house. The fact that the post box was taken along was a problem for another time.

“Mum, Dad!” Shouting for your parents you threw open the front door, your parents immediately falling out of the living room into the hallway.

“Oh my god, what happened to you,” your mother gasped as she saw you were covered in blood.

“It’s Eddie, he-”

In that moment Steve and Robin dragged Eddie over the threshold of the house. Your parents only had to take one look at him to switch from concerned parents into professional mode.

“Get him onto the dining room table,” your father directed, making Nancy, storm ahead. Judging by the cluttering from the next room over, she had cleared the table with one swipe of her arm. Steve and Robin followed, carrying Eddie, with Dustin in tow. “Get my bag.”

That was directed at you. While everyone moved to the dining room, you ran upstairs and grabbed your father’s bag from underneath your parents’ bed. You had no idea what exactly he kept in there. When you had been little, and scrapped your knee, and the normal band aids were not enough, because you were convinced you would lose your leg from a barely visible scratch, he had always gotten his Doctor-Bag, as he had called it. From the few peeks you had gotten, you knew he kept band aids, bandages, scissors and a few other instruments in there, but also little glass bottles with clear liquids.

You made it down the stairs just in time to hear your father ask whether it was his old jacket which Eddie was wearing, or rather what was left of it.

“Is that my skying jacket,” he asked Dusting, but before the boy had time to explain, you slammed down the big black bag.

“Everyone out now,” your mother ordered, which was met by a wave of protest. “We can’t work if you’re all in the way!”

“(y/n)!” You turned to your father, who had called for you. “Ring Charlie. Tell him it’s an emergency. We need blood. Lots of blood.”

You stared at your father for a moment. His hands were already coated in Eddie’s blood, his eyes as serious as you had never seen them before.

Then you bolted. Charlie was one of your father’s friends, who you had spent a lot of time with as a kid. He worked as a doctor as well and was definitely unsettled as you almost screamed into the phone that there was an emergency and that he had to bring lots of blood. Certainly not the kind of call he usually received in the evening.

Everything after that was torturous waiting. At some point Charlie came falling through the front door, but as soon as he entered the dining room, he pulled the usually always open door closed behind him, locking you and your friends out once more. All you heard were the voices of the three adults and occasionally groans from Eddie. But then again, any groan from him meant that he was still alive.

You had no idea how much time had passed, when suddenly the ground began shaking. Confused you held onto the sofa you were sitting on, when the shaking got worse and worse, and before your very eyes the ground ripped open in a straight line from the fireplace through the door to the dining room, where your parents and Charlie shouted in surprise.

Alarmed you and your friends exchanged glances. So, you really had failed. Vecna had claimed his final victim. For a second you though Eddie might have died, but then you heard his scream in pain on the other side. It felt wrong, but somehow you were relieved that it was not him, who had died. The relief only lasted for a second, when you picked up on the low growling that came from the abys in your living room. Steve, ready to defend you all, grabbed a lamp, and got ready to hit whatever would crawl up from the Upside Down, but nothing moved. The shaking of the floor died down, and silence settled over everything, before you focused back on the noises from the dining room.

It was hours before the door finally opened, hours in which you had not closed your eyes even once. Immediately you jumped up, running over to where your father was wiping the back of his hand over his forehead with a long sigh.

“Is he-”

You watched your father’s shoulders fall, and panic spread through you once more, as you pushed past him, into the dining room, where Charlie was leaning against a wall, and your mother had sat down on a chair, her face buried in her hands.

It had been more than twelve hours since then. Your friends and you had spent the rest of the night scrubbing the hallway and dining room which had been full off blood. The gap in the ground in the dining room was big enough to push the table in, since it was so thoroughly soaked in blood, that nobody would ever get it cleaned again. And you needed to make it look like Eddie had never been here, at least until his name was cleared. Charlie had completely given up on trying to understand anything and had simply fallen asleep on the couch in the living room, along with Dustin, Steve and Robin. Nancy had returned home, since she lived just next doors.

Sometime around noon your aunt had showed up, complaining about the damage everywhere in the city, and making it even more difficult for you to keep your composure after everything that had happened. But you had stayed up, cleaning, busying yourself, scared of the nightmares that would come once you closed your eyes. Now the lack of sleep was catching up quickly, threatening to pull you under as you stood in your room, trying to remember what you had come here for. Batteries for the Walkman, right. Already in your pocket. And a book, a good, interesting book. Your eyes fell on the new edition of The Lord of the Rings, which you had bought a couple of weeks ago. Shrugging, you grabbed it and headed back downstairs.

“Are you going to the garage,” your mother asked, as you crossed through the kitchen, intending to sneak out into the garage through the back entrance so your aunt would not see you.

You nodded and watched as your mother pushed a tablet with apple juice and plates with lasagna into your direction. Again, you nodded, balanced the book on the edge of the tablet and headed through the backdoor of the house to the backdoor of the garage. Making sure the door was really closed behind you, you headed over to the old VW Bus and knocked against a window.

From the other side came a quiet groan, so you carefully pulled open the passenger door, and poked your head inside.

Wide, brown eyes met yours, and immediately a happy smile spread over Eddie’s face as he recognised you in the dim light. He was terribly pale, but alive and moving. It had been a matter of a few minutes and he might not have made it, your father had told you. In fact, all three, your parents and Charlie had been surprised that Eddie had even been still alive when you had brought him home. You had not seen Eddie awake yet, only when your father and Charlie had carried him to the back of the VW bus to hide him there, but your mother had been with him when he had woken up.

“I brought food,” you gestured to the tablet with two plates of lasagna, and the two glasses with the jug of apple juice, “homemade lasagna, and apple juice, and-” you pulled out the tape, “entertainment.”

You threw book and tape on the blanket next to Eddie, who already had your Walkman rest beside his pillow, before you climbed into the back and pulled the door closed behind you.

“Wow, this smells great,” Eddie commented, carefully sitting up, but still wincing slightly in pain.

“Careful, careful,” you hushed him. “You shouldn’t move too much.”

Eddie just shot you a reproachful glance.

“What did kind of entertainment did you bring me,” he asked challengingly, reaching for the book. He just needed a second to recognise the iconic lettering on the front, then a smile spread over his face. “Oh wow, that’s great entertainment.”

“I think you’ll like this one here even better,” you grinned and showed him the tape you had brought.

“You have Metallica in the house?”

“My dad’s a big fan,” you shrugged, “and I’m starting to like them too, a lot.”

Eddie smiled and watched as you pulled out the package of batteries, which you threw next to the Walkman, should the old ones run out.

“So, wanna eat,” you asked, already reaching for the tablet with food, when Eddie cleared his throat.

“Actually, there’s something I’d like to talk about first,” he pressed out, the nervous hint in his voice not escaping you.

Questioningly you raised your eyebrows at him.

“About what you said in the Upside Down...” Expectantly he looked at you.

Trying to recall the rather traumatic experience of trying to keep your friend from bleeding to death, you furrowed your brows.

“You mean the part where I called you an asshole for not running?”

Eddie winced at the memory. “No, the other part.”

“Well, but seriously,” you ignored him. “Why didn’t you run? You promised me you would, and then Dustin tells me you went back? What were you thinking?”

“That I needed to buy you more time!” Eddie’s voice was surprisingly strong, considering how weak he was. But it took an effort on him, you could tell, as his face paled slightly. He leant back against a pillow he had propped up on the wall of the VW bus and sighed. “I had to buy you as much time as I could. I had to do everything I could, to make sure you were as safe as possible.”

“You could’ve died!”

“So what? What is my life worth compared to yours? At least I finally stood my ground.”

You just stared at him, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, “you don’t really mean that.”

“What? That your life is worth more-”

“You are a human being, that alone makes your life just as precious as mine. What on earth would make mine more important?”

“I’m a lo-”

“Nothing! Nothing, you hear me?”

For a long moment Eddie stared at you, and finally he nodded, averting his eyes.

“Okay.”

“And you’re a fucking idiot for not running,” you added.

“I wanted to stand my ground. At least once. I always run. I wanted to prove myself that I can face my fears to protect you.”

“Well, you broke a promise for it. Besides, I prefer an alive coward over a dead hero,” you told him seriously, making him smile a little.

“I don’t think I’ll be in the condition to fight of any Demobats any time soon, if that’s any consolation,” Eddie joked, and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Besides, the not running part isn’t the one I was asking about.”

“Okay, spill it, I barely remember anything.”

“You did promise me kisses if I’d survive...”

Incredulously you looked at him.

“Really? You almost die and the only thing you wanna ask about is a kiss?”

“Kisses, plural,” Eddie smirked, “I did need some kind of motivation to stay alive, right?”

Dumbfounded you stared at him, your heart beating almost painfully hard in your chest.

“Your motivation to stay alive were… were kisses?”

“Your kisses,” Eddie emphasised, before suddenly growing serious. “Obviously you don’t have to, I was just thinking, since you kissed me before, and well, I really fucking like you and kinda-”

“Oh, shut up,” you sighed with a smile and leant over, to where Eddie was leaning against the outside of the VW bus, gently pressing your lips to his. You could feel him smile into the kiss, and when you scooted closer to sit more comfortably, he reached up as good as possible to wrap an arm around your middle. His lips were rough and yet soft, tasted sweet as candy as they moved against yours, first hesitantly but then with more confidence. When you had told him he could have as many kisses as he wanted, it had definitely been to comfort him, but damn, were you glad that he had called in that promise.

“You okay,” asked Eddie, pulling away a little, his dark eyes boring into yours concerned.

“What do you mean,” you asked, slightly disappointed, that he had broken the kiss already.

“Your heart is racing like crazy.”

You took a moment to scan your body, and Eddie was right, your heart was hammering in your chest from how happy and nervous you were about finally being able to kiss him. But with your hand at the side of his face you could also feel his own pulse.

“So is yours,” you pointed out, making Eddie grin.

“But see, I got an excuse. I’m kissing the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I’m kissing you.”

“And I am kissing you, which has to be at least twice as good,” you countered, watching a blush rise into his cheeks.

“Okay, your turn to shut up,” he decided and leant in again, kissing you once more, this time with more urgency than the first time, taking your breath away.

“Wait, wait, what about the lasagne,” you asked, pulling away again, suddenly remembering the food you had brought for him.

Eddie glanced over your shoulder, pushing the tablet with his foot to a save corner.

“Probably also tastes good when it’s cold,” he shrugged, his gaze flickering to your lips again.

You rolled your eyes again and allowed him to lean in once more. This time the kiss lasted longer, his arm securely and surprisingly strong around your middle, as he pulled you to lay down with him, never breaking the kiss. Even though minutes ago your heart had been beating so hard you through it might jump out of your chest, you felt the lack of sleep catching up to you again. There had happened so much in the past two days, you had been so scared, had fought so hard, had worried so much, and now, even though the future was uncertain, here in the back of your parent’s old car, kissing Eddie, his arm protectively around you, you were safe.

“Sleep now,” you heard Eddie whisper as he carefully pulled away from you.

Sleepily you opened your eyes, finding he was right in front of you. He moved forward a little, his forehead pressing to yours.

“I haven’t slept in like two days,” you tried to explain your sudden tiredness, but he just smiled softly.

“I know. You had to fight bad guys and save my life and all, now-”

“You saved all our lives,” you mumbled, your eyes dropping closed. “You saved this whole, godforsaken town even though they don’t even deserve it.”

“Yeah, whatever. You need to sleep now.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Somehow you were so scared that you would wake up and all this, all of the saving his life, would only have been a dream.

“You’re here, so where else would I go,” he asked, pressing his lips to yours again in a soft kiss. “Sleep well.”

And as you gave in to the sleep dragging you into unconsciousness, Eddie stayed away and watched you sleep, memorizing your features which he had spent years admiring from a distance. You might only have taken real interest in him in the last week, but he had been enchanted by you for so much longer than that. Having gotten to know you closer had only proved to him how amazing you really were, and now he got to hold you in his arms, and he would do his best to stay up the whole time you were asleep, so no nightmares could come to haunt you.

The first time he had seen you he had sworn to himself that he would protect you, and that was what he had done for years. Whenever he had noticed the bullies’ attention shift towards you, he had distracted them and pulled their focus to himself. And protecting you was what he had done in the Upside Down. He had been prepared to pay with his life for your safety, but you had not let him. You had given him a reason to hold on. And held on he had. Maybe one day, when all this madness was over, he’d tell you about that oath he had made to himself, but for now you needed to sleep in peace, and he was more than proud and beyond honoured that you trusted him enough to search for this much needed rest by his side.

Tags:

He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking you in — the stillness, the way you hadn’t stirred when he came in. That small line between your brows.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming closer, his tone instantly gentler. “You alright, sweetheart?”

A tiny sound, muffled under the blanket. Something like a groan, something like leave me alone.

That’s when he knew.

“Oh, love,” he sighed, kneeling by the bed, one hand resting carefully on the edge of the duvet. “Bad one, yeah?”

You nodded weakly from beneath the cocoon of blankets, and he smiled, just barely, his eyes full of that quiet, aching tenderness he got when you were in pain.

He pressed the back of his hand to your cheek — you were warm, flushed, your skin soft and sleepy. “You could’ve told me,” he murmured. “Would’ve skipped the run, you know.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, hair mussed, eyes tired. “Didn’t want to wake you,” you mumbled.

“Wake me?” he huffed, shaking his head as he brushed your hair back. “You think I’d rather jog through freezing wind than stay here with you?”

He stood, rubbing the back of his neck, glancing toward the door. “Alright. I’ll sort us out, yeah? Don’t move.”

A few minutes later, he was back — hair damp from the shower, hoodie hanging loose, holding a hot water bottle like it was precious cargo. “Made it nice and toasty,” he said, slipping it under the blanket near your stomach. “There. Better?”

You let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a hum. He grinned softly. “That’s a yes.”

Then came the tea. The painkillers. The clean t-shirt that smelled like him. Every detail small but full of love, all quiet devotion.

When he finally climbed into bed beside you, the room was still — the air warm and safe. You shifted, pressing your face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you instantly, one hand tracing lazy circles on your back.

“See?” he murmured against your hair. “Should’ve just told me, love. Would’ve been my excuse to skip that stupid run.”

You smiled, your voice barely audible. “You’d complain about it later.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Probably. But I’d still rather be here.”

By midday, the apartment had gone quiet again — that hush that follows after tea, warmth, and a few hours of just… being. The rain tapped against the window, and the scent of mint lingered in the air.

Joe came back into the bedroom balancing a tray that had clearly been assembled with great care and questionable skill — toast with honey, a few strawberries (one rolling dangerously close to the edge), and a mug of tea.

“Breakfast in bed for the bravest soldier I know,” he said, setting it down with a little bow.

You squinted at him from the cocoon of blankets. “Soldier?”

He nodded solemnly. “You’re fighting an invisible war. And I, your loyal companion, am here to bring rations.”

You smiled sleepily. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, sitting beside you. “But I genuinely don’t know how you do this, love. Every month. It’s just— it’s cruel.” He shook his head. “If men had to deal with that, civilization would’ve ended centuries ago.”

You laughed softly. “You think?”

“I know,” he said, mock-indignant. “We can barely handle a headache without declaring national emergencies.”

That made you giggle, half hidden under the blanket. “That’s true.”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair off your forehead. “Honestly though,” he added, softer now, “I’ve seen my sisters on those days. I remember bringing them chocolate and backing away slowly like it was a diplomatic negotiation.”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled. “But effective. You’ve got toast, tea, and me. What else could you possibly need?”

You peeked at him through your fingers, grinning. “A new uterus?”

He sighed dramatically. “Right. I’ll put it on the shopping list. Between milk and loo roll.”

That earned a full laugh out of you — the kind that made your stomach ache, but in a good way. Joe’s eyes softened at the sound. He leaned over, kissed your temple, and stayed close enough that his breath warmed your skin.

“See?” he murmured. “Already working my magic.”

You smiled against him, your voice quiet but fond. “You really are the best, you know that?”

He smiled into your hair. “I’ll take that. But I still think nature’s got some explaining to do.”

-

By the time the afternoon rolled around, you’d dozed off again. The kind of sleep that wasn’t deep, just a soft blur between comfort and discomfort — warm under layers of blankets, the dull ache in your belly pulsing like background noise.

When you woke up, the smell in the air was unexpected. Not coffee or tea or toast — something richer. Something savory.

You blinked your way into the kitchen, wrapped in one of Joe’s hoodies that hung off your shoulders like a blanket with sleeves. He was at the stove, head bent, hair a mess, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot of something that smelled like slow, patient comfort.

“Hey,” he said when he noticed you, smiling over his shoulder. “Look who’s alive.”

“Barely,” you croaked. “What are you doing?”

“Resurrecting you,” he said simply. “With soup. The real kind. Garlic, ginger, a bit of spice. My mum used to make it when I was sick — works better than ibuprofen and divine intervention combined.”

You padded over, leaning against the counter, watching him move — focused, precise, a little too serious for something as simple as soup.

“You didn’t have to do all that, you know,” you murmured.

He smirked, not looking up. “You say that now, but you’ll be singing my praises in twenty minutes.”

And you did. The soup was perfect — rich and soothing, steam curling into your face, each spoonful spreading warmth through your stomach. Joe sat across from you at the table, watching with a satisfied grin.

“See?” he said. “I told you.”

You squinted at him over the spoon. “Don’t get cocky, Gordon Ramsay.”

He put a hand dramatically to his chest. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I’ve achieved culinary greatness on your behalf.”

You smirked. “You just don’t want me to ask for McDonald’s.”

He froze. “Absolutely not. Don’t you dare.”

You stared at him with a little grin that said I’m daring.

“Please no,” he groaned. “It’s not even real food.”

“But it’s comforting,” you whined softly, smiling through the ache. “And I feel like I deserve fries the size of my arm.”

He sighed like a man defeated by fate itself. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

Half an hour later, the table had been taken over by a sea of golden fries, paper wrappers, and milkshake cups. Joe sat beside you, burger in hand, chewing with the sort of grim resignation that made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt again.

“How is it?” you teased.

“Terrible,” he said immediately. “Absolutely vile.”

You leaned in closer, whispering, “You love it.”

He rolled his eyes, but his mouth curved into a smile anyway. “It’s the company, not the cuisine.”

You laughed again, soft and drowsy, leaning your head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head, grease and laughter between you, and murmured,

“If this is what caretaking looks like, I might start faking my own period next month.”

You chuckled against his chest. “Good luck with that.”

By the time the evening crept in, the sky outside had gone soft and blue-grey, the kind of color that makes you want to pull the world closer. The flat smelled faintly of soup and laundry detergent, and you were buried beneath a fortress of blankets on the sofa — the sort of cozy chaos that was unmistakably Joe’s doing.

He was padding around the living room like a man on a mission. Blanket? Check. Reheated water bottle tucked against your belly? Check. Remote, tissues, half a dozen unnecessary throw pillows? Check, check, check.

And then, out of nowhere, he muttered something about a “necessary errand” and disappeared out the door with his coat half on, before you could even ask.

You figured maybe he’d gone to grab milk or bread — something sensible — but twenty minutes later, he burst back in, cheeks flushed from the cold, holding up a paper bag like a trophy.

“Victory,” he declared.

You blinked up at him, bundled and bemused. “What on earth did you—”

He pulled out not one, not two, but three Cadbury Biscoff bars, tossing them onto your lap like he’d just returned from an epic quest.

Your jaw dropped. “Joe, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” he said, smug, unzipping his coat. “Don’t ever say I don’t make sacrifices for you. I had to walk past three artisanal bakeries and one wine shop pretending I wasn’t dying inside.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me ridiculous,” he said, settling beside you, tugging the blanket over his legs too.

You tore open the wrapper and broke off a square, letting it melt slowly on your tongue, humming a little noise of contentment that made him grin.

“Worth it?” he asked softly.

“Always,” you murmured. “You really didn’t have to, you know.”

He leaned in, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “Yeah, I did.”

For a while, the room filled with only the sound of the TV — something soft and forgettable playing in the background — and the small, human sounds of comfort: chocolate wrappers crinkling, the hum of the kettle, your breath evening out as you sank against his shoulder.

Joe’s hand found your back, rubbing slow circles there — the kind that weren’t meant to fix anything, just to say I’m here. Every few minutes, he’d whisper some silly remark about the film or your blanket-nesting habits, just to hear you laugh again.

At one point, you turned your face toward his chest, words muffled. “You know,” you murmured, “for someone who hates McDonald’s and processed sugar, you’re doing pretty well.”

He smiled against your hair. “Yeah, well. Turns out I’ve got a weakness for lost causes and women with cramps.”

You nudged him with a sleepy laugh. “Romantic.”

“Tragically so,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The night stretched on in warmth and lazy quiet, the two of you tangled up in each other and the gentle rhythm of ordinary love — the kind that doesn’t need grand gestures, just a man who’ll walk through the cold for chocolate because it makes you smile.

The flat felt smaller at night, like the lamps themselves were whispering. Joe switched them off one by one, until only the amber one on the nightstand remained, throwing its light across the sheets.

You were already curled up there, the hot-water bottle pressed to your stomach, the faintest grimace ghosting across your face each time a cramp rolled through.

“Alright,” he murmured, tugging the duvet up higher. “Everything in its place. Water bottle topped up, extra blanket in case you get cold, paracetamol right here.”

He pointed to the blister pack on your side of the bed, then looked at you like he’d just completed a very serious mission.

You smiled, soft and sleepy. “Are you gonna do rounds through the night too, Doctor Quinn?”

He huffed a laugh, sitting beside you. “Don’t tempt me. I take my duties very seriously.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together, and he rubbed slow circles against your palm — small, absent motions that somehow quieted everything else.

“You know,” he said after a while, “I don’t get how you manage this every month and still go to work, walk around smiling, pretending you’re fine. If I had to go through half of what you do, I’d barricade myself in bed with a sign that says Approach at your own risk.”

You chuckled, voice muffled in the pillow. “You’d last half a day. Maybe.”

He grinned, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am a man of resilience.”

“Sure,” you said, poking his ribs. “Remember that next time you whine because your trainers gave you a blister.”

He gasped theatrically. “That was a deep flesh wound, thank you very much.”

The laughter tapered into something slower, softer. He lay down behind you, his chest fitting along the curve of your back. His arm slipped around your waist, careful, protective. The kind of touch that said I’m here, even if I can’t fix it.

“Better?” he whispered against your hair.

“Mhm. You smell like rain.”

He smiled into the crook of your neck. “That’s because I ran to the shop in it… someone had a chocolate emergency.”

You turned slightly, pressing your nose to his jaw. “And you saved the day. My hero.”

“Always,” he said, his voice barely a breath.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world shrank to the sound of rain tapping the window, the rhythm of two heartbeats syncing under heavy blankets. He kissed your shoulder — slow, unhurried, reverent — and you felt something settle inside you, that soft peace only he could coax out of you.

“Sleep, love,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.”

And he was — one hand resting lightly on your stomach, as if standing guard against the ache, against everything.

You drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by warmth and the low hum of rain against the window. The pain had dulled, not gone, but softened — manageable now, tucked under layers of comfort and Joe’s steady presence.

When you stirred, it was the soft rustle of a page that pulled you back. The lamp still glowed its honeyed light, and there he was — half-sitting against the headboard, glasses sliding a little down his nose, a book open in one hand. The other rested across your waist, fingers still curled in place where they’d been all night, a quiet tether between you.

You blinked up at him through the haze of half-sleep, and your voice came out a whisper. “You’re still up?”

He looked down, smiled — that lazy, gentle smile that could unravel you faster than any fever dream.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, love,” he murmured, sliding a thumb along your hip. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re reading,” you said softly, voice rasped from dreaming.

“Couldn’t help it,” he admitted, lifting the book slightly. “You were out cold, and I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to risk losing my place.”

You smiled, the kind that comes with half a laugh and full affection. “Your book or your place with me?”

He smirked, leaning down without hesitation. “Both, obviously.”

Then, just as your eyes fluttered closed again, he kissed your forehead — the faintest brush, warm and sure, lingering just long enough to send a sigh through your whole body.

You felt him exhale too, as if that small gesture had steadied him just as much. The hand on your stomach adjusted minutely, his thumb tracing an idle pattern — absentminded circles, gentle as breathing.

“Sleep,” he whispered again, softer this time, his voice almost a lullaby.

And as you drifted off, the last thing you caught was the soft click of him turning a page, the slow rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, and the unspoken promise that he’d be there when morning came.

You tilted your head back, just your face and your knees visible, the rest covered by bubbles, and gave a small, amused smile. “I’m fine, really. Nothing you didn’t already take care of.”

“Or cause?”

You snort-laughed. “Or cause.”

There was a pause before Joe opened the door a little wider and stepped foot inside his bathroom. “Romantic in here,” he teased, walking in further and leaving the door wide open. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you’re jealous of the candle,” you murmured, eyes closing again as you let your hands float just on top of the water.

Joe crouched down next to you, right by your head, and rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s a strong competitor, that candle. Real ambiance provider. But also… I’m bored out there without you,” he admitted quietly, eyes flicking toward where your knees stuck up. “Don’t want to disturb your zen bath moment, though.”

You cracked one eye open. “Get in with me.”

He raised a brow. He kind of hoped it was going to be easy to persuade you to get out, not have you try to talk him in. “No thanks, that water’s lukewarm at best.”

“So what? I’m warm,” you said with a teasing smirk. “Stay.”

He shook his head, hands moving to splay wide over both his knees.

“It’s cool enough for you to get out.”

“It’s warm enough to stay in.”

You were actually a little pleased the water was no longer steaming and your cheeks didn’t burn from blushing so fiercely. You gave Joe your best puppy eyes, looking him dead in the eye until he sighed.

“Fine.” Joe audibly groaned as he stood back up. “I’ll stay in here.” He stepped closer to the door to shut it, and excited as you were, you sat up to make space for Joe behind you.

“No, I’m not gonna get in with you.”

“Aw what?”

“But I’ll… I don’t know, I’ll add to your… floating serenity.”

You laughed softly. “Serenity?”

“Yes, serenity,” he said, deadpan, waving his hand around before his tone softened. “Will you let me wash your hair?”

You blinked at him, slowly sinking back down into the water until it hit your chin, scrunching up your nose. “Bit intimate, isn’t it?”

Joe gave you a mock incredulous look, already reaching for the shampoo. “We’ve just had sex. How is this more intimate?”

“Just… I don’t know. There’s a candle….” you said with a small smile. “Soft music playing.”

“Soft music,” he conceded, shrugging, looking over his shoulder to find your phone. “I can put on some EDM if that would make you feel–”

“Shut up. Wash my hair.”

Joe smirked as he bent to reach the tap, carefully testing the water temperature with the tips of his fingers. You tilted your head back against the bath edge as Joe took hold of the shower head to wet your hair. It was already wet, so he just rinsed it, and if you were completely honest, you’d already washed it, but there was something terribly cute about Joe wanting to show affection in this way. So, you let him. The first rush of water over your scalp was warm, the temperature much higher than the water you were sat in. Felt nice, sort of soothing. Almost meditative. Joe handed the showerhead to you, turned it down to just a trickle, and you pressed it to your chest, heat blooming there as he moved onto the next step.

Shampoo.

Joe sat on the edge of the bath, feet on the tiles and his body twisted as he massaged your hair gently, careful, and patient. Each stroke of his fingers felt deliberate, like he was making up for all the rougher, more chaotic energy of earlier.

“Feel good?” he asked after a moment, eyes flicking to yours.

You hummed, eyes closing again. “Mhm. You’re hired.”

He made a quiet, proud noise at that, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s the pay?”

“I’ll allow you to do this more often,” you said, curling your fingers around the edge of the tub.

Joe’s grin widened. “So generous.”

Halfway through washing your hair, you realised he wasn’t just being helpful. He was careful, and slow, fully present in this intimate, domestic moment. You hadn’t been wrong when you said that getting your hair washed felt like something intimate, because somehow, after everything you’d just shared, this was even more tender.

He moved slowly, dragging his fingers through your hair as he rinsed it, gentle enough that you barely felt the combing until his nails scratched lightly against your scalp. You melted instantly. Turned into liquid and let yourself mix with the bathwater.

Joe noticed. You could tell by the way his voice softened when he said, “Careful, don’t drown. You’re falling asleep.”

“Am not.”

“You are.”

You didn’t even have the energy to argue. The water ran for a bit longer, and then he turned it off, wringing your hair out between his palms.

You were on the verge of slipping back into that dreamy daze when you heard him move again, the sound of the little basket on the floor rattling as he rummaged through it. You peeked through one eye.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for your razor. You keep one here, don’t you?” he said all casual.

That was enough for both eyes to open fully. “My razor? Why?”

Joe didn’t answer straight away. He found what he was looking for, your bright-handled razor, the one you usually left balanced haphazardly on the edge of the tub, and held it up like he was brandishing evidence.

Then, in the most outrageous next move imaginable, he said, “Up.”

You blinked. “Up?”

He motioned at your leg, palm open. “Give me your foot.”

“Joe,” you said slowly, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“...but, you’re not–…”

Joe smiled, cutting you off with just a look. “But, I am.”

You sat up slightly, squinting at him. “You’re going to shave my legs?”

“Yea, come on.” Joe gestured at your leg again.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

You let out an incredulous laugh, because this was ridiculous, but Joe was already pushing up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, looking determined. “You’re going to get soaked.”

“I’ll survive,” he said, tapping at the side of your calf utterly unfazed. “Up.”

 You hesitated for a moment, raised your leg up a little, halted, and then let it emerge from the water. The water sloshed slightly with the movement, your toes wriggling involuntarily as Joe held his hand out, waiting for you to give him your ankle.

When you rested it in his palm, he sat back on the edge of the bath and said, “Watch yourself,” as he lifted your leg a little higher, balancing your foot gently on his shoulder. His sweater was already damp at the cuffs, and a wet short stray curl of his hair was plastered to his forehead. “Don’t move. I’ve got this.”

You laughed, half in disbelief, half because it was actually kind of adorable. “Joe, you’re getting all wet.”

He shrugged, one hand supporting your ankle while the other held the razor. “It’s fine. Don’t overthink it. You’re comfortable, right?”

You nodded, watching him carefully as he leaned in. He dipped the razor in the bathwater first, flicking it lightly to remove excess drops. Then, with the softest of movements, he started.

The first stroke along your calf made you catch your breath. He was precise, careful, and slow. Joe’s brow furrowed slightly in focus, and his tongue snuck out of his mouth, curling along his top lip. You watched him balance the awkward angle effortlessly, keeping one hand steady against your foot while the other glided the razor up your leg.

“Careful at the knee,” you murmured, ears under water now, undoing Joe’s earlier hair-rinsing, entirely unable to gather how loud your voice sounded above the surface.

“I got it,” he said, barely moving his lips. His eyes flicked to yours, almost like he was checking if you were impressed. You smiled without answering. He was impressively delicate for someone who had just pushed you into the mattress so roughly, the sheets had left marks on your cheek.

The water pooled and dripped off his elbows onto the floor, but Joe didn’t even seem to notice it.

Every now and then, he’d glance at your face with that little smirk, as if daring you to say something sarcastic, but also somehow conveying that he was enjoying this.

Which, he was.

Joe was enjoying this a lot.

Halfway down your leg, he shifted slightly, leaning just enough that his sweatshirt clung to his shoulders, giving you an unintentional show. He hummed softly, one of those accidental little noises that always made your chest warm.

“You’re… you’re kind of good at this,” you said.

“Kind of?” he teased, and you laughed.

“You’re the best at this.”

He grinned, grabbing your foot and bringing it to his mouth to kiss it before placing it back on his shoulder. “Thank you. I’m flattered.”

There was a beat of silence, just the soft splash of bathwater and his careful strokes along your skin. Then he reached for the soap to lather up your leg, rubbing in small circular motions against your calf, and you realised there wasn’t even a single braincell of his that was thinking about himself in this moment. It was all about keeping the razor perfectly angled and your skin perfectly smooth.

“You know,” you said when he was nearly finished shaving your left leg, “I could probably do this myself.”

“I know,” Joe said, eyes on the task whilst amusement flickered in his voice. “But I like this.”

You opened one eye to look at him, and he caught your gaze with a sheepish grin.

“You’re adorable,” he added quietly. “And now you’re mine for bath duty. Lucky me.”

You huffed a laugh. “Lucky me.”

“Almost done here,” he murmured, one hand still steadying your foot while the other glided the razor along your calf for a final pass. He dipped it in the water again, checked the smoothness with strokes of his hand, and then slowly lowered your leg back into the bath.

“Other one?” he gestured at your other leg with the razor.

With the angle of your other leg too awkward to find his shoulder comfortably, Joe decided to step into the bath to sit at the short end of it, both feet in the water now. You were tugged down into the bath a bit more by your feet, and got a new head-on view of Joe as he tilted your right leg, guiding it to his shoulder.

“Gentle, please.”

“Gentle is my middle name,” he replied, joking, but his hands were steady, calm, and surprisingly tender.

You closed your eyes again as he worked, feeling the careful swipes across your shin from his fingers and from the blade he was holding. The smaller motions where he let his fingertips roam and tickle you were to check for spots he might have missed.

Joe was right.

You were definitely falling asleep.

“What’s this?”

“Mm?”

You felt how Joe’s fingers carefully rubbed at a sensitive bit of skin at your thigh.

“Those,” you broke out into a grin before you opened your eyes. “Are your teeth marks.” You’d already spotted them before Joe’d stepped foot into the bathroom.

“No they’re not. Are they actually?”

“Yea.”

“I thought you said you weren’t sore?”

“I’m not.”

Joe tutted, letting his thumb swipe over the wet skin of your thigh where he found a couple of small red marks. You saw how his eyes slid down your legs.

“Have I maimed you anywhere else?”

“I don’t know, might be worth a check, though.”

The water rippled as you giggled, which made Joe smile as he bent forward, placing his mouth where he’d had it before, but his lips were nicer this time as he only left soft kisses behind.

“All right.” Joe murmured, getting back to his job. “Almost done here.”

One hand kept busy, still steadying your foot, while the other glided the razor along your calf for a final pass. He dipped it in the water again, checking the smoothness, then set it aside.

“Done?” you asked, stretching your leg slightly and twisting it in the light to admire Joe’s job.

He nodded, a little triumphant. “Smooth as a dolphin. Care to inspect?”

You laughed, both legs now back under water where you stretched both legs lazily, feeling the silkiness under your fingers. “Impressive,” you lied, feeling how he missed lots of many small little patches. “Really impressive.”

Joe dipped a hand in the bath and gave an ankle a gentle squeeze, like he was measuring the softness himself. “Worth the wet clothes,” he said, looking slightly pleased with himself.

You smiled, eyes half-shut, head tipping back against the edge of the tub. Joe was still sitting there at the other end, sweatshirt damp, wet footprints visible in the fabric. The candle had burned low, music barely audible now, just the faint pulse of it through the quiet.

After a moment, Joe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “How are you not cold?” he asked, voice a little gentler, the same words he’d used when he’d knocked on the door earlier.

“I don’t know, my boyfriend just shaved my legs for me. Got me all hot and bothered. I might be warming the water up myself at this point.”

“You’ve been in there forever. You’re gonna turn into soup.”

 “Warm soup,” you murmured.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft but coaxing, fingertips brushing your arm through the water. “Bath time’s over. I’ll get you a towel.”

You sighed, heavy and reluctant, but the way he said it all patient, so quietly fond, made it hard for you to argue. Joe pulled the plug to let the bath drain whilst you had a quick rinse with water much warmer than what your feet were still immersed in. When you finally turned it off and set the showerhead back, Joe was already holding the towel open for you, grinning like he’d won the long game on this one.

“Wow,” he said, wrapping it around your shoulders. “You were right, you’re still warm.”

You leaned into him, dripping and sleepy, and pretended that the warmth Joe could feel through the towel was all his own doing.

“And whose fault is that?”

---

The Taglisted

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"Herbie said you wanted to see us," Peter called out as soon as the elevator doors opened.

When Sue had come to give them some old clothes to wear this morning, she'd commented that Reed had pulled an all-nighter researching both the time machines and the Doombot. He certainly looked like it.

Absentmindedly, Reed took a drink from his coffee. "Yes, yes. Please, sit down," he pointed at the orange couch on the lab.

"Are the machines ready?" Lia asked hopeful, and then something caught her attention to her right.

"No, they're not. We do need to talk about that, but first, it's been around…" he checked his watch. "Forty four hours since you arrived to our home universe. Do you two feel anything wrong?"

"Wrong in what sense?" Lia asked. "Because, mentally, I think I'll be needing therapy for years after this."

Even in his sleep deprived state, Reed seemed mortified to hear that, and Peter leaped to say, "She's joking."

"No, no. It's okay to feel like that… I suppose," he reassured them. "What about you, Peter?"

"Me, mentally? I— I feel fine. Mentally, totally fine… yeah," he could tell that the more he talked, the less convincing he sounded.

"Mentally, that's good. I meant physically," Reed clarified. "Do you feel like there's something wrong with your body? I don't mean like when you're sick. I mean, like there's something fundamentally not right and your body is fighting it at all moments."

Unsettled, Lia swallowed. "Uh, no. I don't think so…"

She turned to Peter, who shook his head. "Me neither. That would be… very conspicuous, wouldn't it?"

Reed nodded and sighed in relief. "That's good. The best outcome possible."

"Well, what's the worst?" Lia couldn't help but ask.

"For all we know, you two are the first people to cross from one universe to another. We are dealing with so many unpredictable variables we need to account for. There was always the chance that our world's molecular structure is inherently incompatible with yours, which would manifest in all types of unpleasant… let's say, bodily reactions."

"Geez, is that a possibility?" Lia paled.

Reed shrugged and wrote down on a notebook. "Everything is a possibility right now. But if you want my opinion, it this was the case, we would already know."

Reed turned to his trusty old chalkboard and started scribbling again. He spent so much time there, that Peter thought he might have forgotten they were there. Lia once again turned to her right, where the deactivated Doombot laid upon a work table.

Reed had taken the time to peel off its human disguise, exposing its metallic frame.

"That looks a lot like—" Peter pointed at it.

"Yup," Lia nodded, tensed.

The design was uncomfortably identical to that of an Iron Man suit. Perhaps slimmer, given the fact that it didn't have to fit a human body inside, but everything else was almost indistinguishable from Tony’s suit. On its chest, that was definitely some sort of Arc Reactor.

Peter felt a chill down his spine. That thing, Tony’s— Doom's creation, had all the intention to kill them last night. He couldn't bear to look at it long.

"Okay," Reed called out. "Um… Amelia, can you come here for second? I need to— eh, check for something."

Lia stood up and walked towards the work table. Reed presented her with a little machine. It reminded Peter of that LED nail dryer that a friend of May's used to bring to their apartment when she came by to gossip and do her nails at the same time.

"Please put your hand in here. It's totally safe, don't worry," Reed told Lia.

"Then why do you feel the need to tell me it's safe?" Lia’s eyebrow quirked up.

Reed sighed. "I need to corroborate something. Before I break you the news."

"What news?"

"Alright," Reed gave up. "Peter, can you come here please?"

"Fine," Lia said and stuck her hand in. From his seat, Peter could see the machine scanning her hand, but he couldn't tell what for.

"It's going to take a while," Reed informed Lia. "Please don't take your hand out until that red light turns off and you hear a beep."

"'A while' five minutes or 'a while' an hour?" Lia asked.

"A while," Reed said and went back to his notes.

The silence that followed was somewhat pleasant, Lia gave up trying to question Reed, and Peter was busy trying to ignore the dormant Doombot. It lasted, perhaps, ten minutes, before in came Johnny. "I'm back!" he announced loudly, H.E.B.I.E. at his side.

Lia closed her eyes, as if bracing for impact.

"What did the police chief said?" Reed asked without looking a Johnny twice.

"That they would've never realized that the guy they arrested was a Doombot, but also, they aren't that surprised," Johnny shrugged and sat beside Peter. H.E.B.I.E. rolled towards Reed, beeping all sort of things Peter couldn't understand.

Johnny had brought with him something called Orbits and he passed Peter one. It was a chocolate tiny cake and on the inside, it had delicious creme, it was love at first sight for Peter.

He was so distracted with his snack that he overlooked that fact that, from his place, Johnny had unobstructed view of Lia, with her hand stuck on the mystery scan machine. When he realized, Peter considered the pros and cons of just moving to stand in between them, lest they begin another fight.

But he didn't have to, because Reed turned to look at Johnny. "Well, did you get the Doombot or not?" he asked.

"Nope," Johnny said, nonchalant. "That thing seems to have been shut down, but it's still on one piece."

"Then why didn't you bring it back?" Reed said.

"Because what if that thing reacts when I try to move it. I don't want to fight Tin Man alone. I called Sue, she said it was best to leave it untouched for now."

"Is burning it to a crisp not an option?" Lia asked. H.E.B.I.E. beeped, scandalized at her suggestion. "My bad," she told the little droid.

"Nah, Doom makes them mostly fire resistant," Johnny waved her off.

"And it's currently inside an interrogation room, in the Police Department. It goes off and there's too many people around it can hurt," Reed agreed with his wife's decision.

"Yeah, that too," Johnny pointed at him, Reed glared.

Ignoring his brother-in-law, Johnny turned to look at Lia, once again. Peter tensed, expecting him to say something that would set Lia off. Normally, that wasn't something hard to do, but Johnny certainly had an outstanding talent for it. "Is your ankle okay?" Johnny asked instead, voice suspiciously flat.

Lia shifted on her feet, arm stretched out for the machine and avoiding to look at Johnny in the eyes. "Yeah, of course."

"Why wouldn't her ankle be okay?" Reed asked, suspicious.

Johnny made a face, like a kid getting caught with a hand inside the cookie jar.

Lia waved her free hand off. "Oh, it's just that, last night. you know when he— uh, when he caught me… his hand was still on fire a little."

"What?!" Reed turned, alarmed. "Why didn't you say anything before?!"

"Well, because it's nothing," Lia shrugged.

"It's not nothing. Show me your ankle. That has to be a second degree burn, at the very least," Reed walked towards where Sue had put away the med kit the day before, but H.E.B.I.E. beat him to it. "Johnny, how could you be so irresponsible?"

"Well, I was more focused on, you know, catching her from certain death," Johnny said, defensive.

"It wasn't certain death, I would've been fine. And it's okay, really. It doesn't hurt at all," Lia said, as Reed put the med kit on the table.

Given the fact that she couldn't take her hand away from the not-nail-dryer, Lia couldn't move from her place. Still eating his Orbit, Peter brought a stool for Lia to put her foot at a higher height so Reed could check her without having to kneel. Lia wobbled on one foot, trying to find her balance. Peter reached out to help her, but Johnny got to it before he could.

Lia held onto Johnny's arm, as Reed pulled up Sue's old jeans she had lent Lia.

It was obvious that Reed was expecting to find a nasty burn on Lia’s ankle, and he was visibly surprised to find none, despite she had insisted on it.

"I told you, like nothing happened," Lia said, as she put down her foot, but still didn't let go of Johnny.

"But how?" Reed was utterly confused. "Johnny's plasma shell runs at hundreds of degrees Celsius. You shouldn't be fine."

"Aw, thanks for that," she said, sarcastic. "Well, Tony once called it a complimentary power, quote, unquote."

"Huh?" Johnny asked.

"I was born with my powers," Lia explained. "Well, the teleportation thing didn't really start until I was like, 14. But even before that, I had always been more… hardy than usual. A kid in kindergarten kicked me off the monkey bars, my teacher swore up and down I should've broken my arm there, but I was fine. A car ran me over when I was 13 and I walked it off.

"Tony arrived to the conclusion that, if I was born to teleport around, then I was also born physically resistant to most things. It make sense, kind of. I mean, what would be the point of having the ability to teleport around if the first time you do it, you end up in front of a moving train and die. Tony also thought that this had something do with evolution at large, but that was admittedly a stretch."

Reed blinked multiple times. "Fascinating," was all he said.

"Is it really?" Lia retorted.

"You're the only person besides Franklin we've ever met that was born with their powers. You are pretty fascinating," Johnny said, a hand over the one that Lia had on his arm. Now that she had her two feet on the ground, Lia snatch her hand away. H.E.B.I.E. beeped happily.

The red light on the Fantastic Nail Dryer turned off and it beeped. Lia took less than a second to take her hand out. "Oh, thank god. I couldn't feel my arm anymore," she said.

Reeds' machine was hooked to a printer, Peter realized, and it started to print out what he assumed were the scan results. Reed took the paper as it came out, reading it. If he wanted to keep a neutral face, he failed at it. Whatever the results were, it didn't seem like they weren't favorable.

"Johnny, please leave," Reed said, voice even.

"What, why?"

"Please, I need to talk to Amelia and Peter," was all the explanation Reed offered.

Surprisingly enough, Johnny didn't fight it. He gave Peter another Orbit, scratched H.E.B.I.E.'s head, nodded towards Lia and left.

All four of them looked as Johnny left the lab, and when the elevator doors closed on him, Peter and Lia turned to Reed.

"Let's recapitulate," Reed told them. "You made major modifications to a working time travel machine, to accommodate for the lack of specialized equipment required for the first model," he turned to Peter, who nodded vehemently.

"My intention was for it to be more, um, compact, I guess," Peter said.

"And it is compact, but I fear that in doing so, you also changed its primary function. What enabled the change exactly, I can't tell, since we don't have the original model to compare," Reed sighed, as he looked towards H.E.B.I.E., and he scratched the back of his neck. "What I can tell you, is why you kept making jumping to seemingly random places, probably throughout the multiverse" Reed said, as he took one of the machines on his hand.

Pointed towards the little keyboard Peter had installed on the machines, which was used to put in the coordinates and dates for the jumps. "You described this to me as essentially your map, where you could type in where and when you wanted to go, correct?"

"Correct," Peter and Lia said simultaneously.

"Well, I found that, for all means and purposes, your 'map' is not really faulty, which was my initial thought. The issue instead is that— how do I explain this?" H.E.B.I.E. beeped, perhaps answering Reed's rhetorical question. "Right. Think of it as trying to sail the Atlantic Ocean with a map of the Mississippi river. You were bound to get lost. You put a keyboard meant for time travel in an inter-dimensional travel machine. It would've work, if the modifications hadn't altered its function. As it is now, it's useless."

Peter's heart plummeted at the information. It was all his fault. He supposed that he had known it was his fault since the moment the first jump had gone wrong. But to hear it from Reed, who everybody praised for his intellect, it was devastating.

"Okay," Lia nodded, swallowing down her feelings, as she tended to do. "Now what then? Are we stranded here… forever?"

Reed considered for a moment and shook his head. "Your machines, well, the water did more damage than I anticipated, but reverse engineering is a simple task. The problem here lies in how to make sure you get back to your original universe. Sending you out with this model means you getting stranded in another universe again. I've been thinking about it nonstop for the last 12 hours… and I think I found an answer."

Both Peter and Lia perked up at that. Reed turned then to his chalkboard, all his equations and calculations displayed. "Once, a classmate and I discussed the possibility of the mere existence of the multiverse. Back then, we concluded that, yes, the math indicated that the multiverse was possible. He then insisted that if every universe was distinct in its own way, then there must be a special marker unique to every world. A tag attached to every being and thing that there is, signaling where they are from, to what universe they belong."

He started to erase what was written on the chalkboard. "We disagreed on many fronts, and this was no exception. But the next day, he came in with a scanner which he claimed would be able to pick up on such markers. We tried it with multiple objects, and it picked up something alright, but since we had no way to compare it to something from another universe, the discussion came to an impasse. But last night, I remembered it, and thought, going back to our metaphor, a marker unique to your universe: that could be the lighthouse that guides you back home."

Reed pointed towards the machine Lia had stuck her hand in. "So I reconstructed his scanner last night. I proved it with many flasks, books, H.E.B.I.E., myself. Whatever the scan picks up, it is the same signal for each and every instance," he taped to the chalkboard all the results of the different scans he talked about and he wrote above them the names of the scanned subjects. They were visualized as something like a scatter plot, but Peter was not sure what are the values being represented, if at all. Although, they were indeed the exact same values in all scans.

The dots formed a misshapen cloud, Peter thought.

"Things got complicated when I tried to scan one of your machines," Reed said, as he drew a line with chalk, separating the previous scans from the next one.

'Time machine #1', Reed wrote, and underneath his neat letters, he taped the scan.

"Oh, that's not…" Lia tilted her head, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

The scan was obscenely messy, compared to the ones before. The scatter plot had no distinguishable shape or sense. The sheet of paper was overly saturated with dots, certain spaces were just blacked out in the printer tint from how many dots there were.

"I know," Reed nodded. "Seeing that for the first time ever at 4 a.m. was… quite something. I didn't know what I was looking at— and don't get me wrong, I still mostly don't. But in the moment I had assumed that this is just how the marker to your universe looks like. But then, H.E.B.I.E. pointed out something very interesting."

As if he was waiting for this moment, the little robot rolled forward, started to beep a lot and constantly, as Reed taped in both the scan of the second time machine and Lia's, which indeed were exactly the same as the scan of the first machine. The droid took his time.

"Thank you," Lia said, when H.E.B.I.E. finally stopped beeping. "But, buddy, we do not speak binary. We have no clue what you just said."

Even if they didn't understand the droid, they certainly got the clue that he was not happy with them. Reed turned to them.

"H.E.B.I.E. reminded me that on your first day here, you said you made multiple jumps. Around five, yes?"

"This was our fifth jump," Lia confirmed.

"Well, I tried to change perspective. What if my classmate was wrong, but not far off? These are indeed markers specific to different worlds, but they are not tags you are given by belonging to one single universe, but by simply being there, existing inside their four dimensions."

Peter's mind struggled to wrapped around all the information Reed was giving them, making sense of the mess he had gotten the two of them in.

"So this," Lia pointed to her own scan, "is not the marker to our universe, but the markers of all the universes we visited on our way here slammed together."

"I've come to believe this as well," Reed nodded.

"How do we tell them apart?" Peter asked.

"I don't know," Reed admitted, and both of them deflated. "Yet. We've done great advances today, there might still be a way for us to decipher this and get you back home safe. We just need time."

It was his imagination, Peter knew it was, but it felt like the Iron Man suit— the Doombot on the other side of the lab was looking directly at him, taunting him, mocking him because this was all his fault and everybody knew it. Peter felt like suffocating. "Time, yes. Time," he shook his head as he steered towards the elevator.

"Peter?" Lia called out to him.

"I just— I need air," and he left without looking back. The last thing he needed was to look at the disappointment in Lia's face.

"Yeah, that's rough," was all that Ben said, when H.E.B.I.E. reenacted all the lab conversation for them at the dinner table.

Johnny had come into the living room some time earlier, complaining that Reed had kicked him out of the lab when he was talking to Amelia and Peter. Sue brought him to the dinner table, to wait out on Reed, while Franklin took his nap. Ben joined them at some point, and now H.E.B.I.E. came to tell them everything like hot gossip.

"It's more than rough," Sue told Ben, as she drank the last sip of her tea. "They might be spiraling. They need our help, we should offer them all the support we can," she leaned back on her chair.

Johnny nibbled on a cookie from Maisie's. "Alright then," he said, as he stood up. "I'll go talk to them."

Sue watched Johnny step out of the dining room without much flair. Amelia and Peter's situation truly played her heart strings, both so young and so far away from all they've ever known, she couldn't even begin to imagine what they must feel like. H.E.B.I.E. described that Peter had left quickly after Reed laid out all his puzzle pieces, and Amelia had gone behind him.

'Tomorrow, I'll take them to the Future Foundation with me,' she told herself, as she stood up to leave her empty cup at the dishwasher. 'Maybe that will cheer them up'.

Ben remained at the dinner table, still and stoic. "What are you thinking?" Sue asked him.

"To be totally honest, I'm still getting around the fact that they truly come from another dimension," he snorted. "And here I thought that outer space was the farthest anyone would ever get."

"The world got a whole lot bigger, huh?" Sue said, cheeky.

"The multiverse, you mean," he laughed briefly. "How do you like our chances of getting them home?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "My gut tells me that this goes way beyond what any normal human should be tinkering with. But then again, we've gone against worse odds and still won."

"Might be pushing at one point, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

Ben hesitated. "It's clear that what brought them here was a mistake, a fluke. You said it yourself, poking at the boundaries of the universe seems like a dangerous game. The only person ever willing to push those boundaries has been Doom. Those two kids look like they are very nice, but is it worth it, risking to bark at the wrong tree?"

"We'll never know if we never try," Sue put her hand on top of Ben's. One of his chunky fingers stroke her hand.

"I figured you would say that," Ben said with a soft smile.

Through the baby monitor, Franklin little cries came through. Sue said goodbye to Ben and went upstairs to get her son. When she was halfway there, the monitor picked up Reed's voice, hushing the crying boy. Sue took the opportunity to go the other way, where Peter and Amelia's rooms were.

Perhaps, she would hear what the two of them were talking about with Johnny. As selfish as it was to think this, specially given their situation, Sue was glad that Johnny now had two people who could relate to the struggle of being a hero at a young age. They were certainly still long ways from being friends, but Sue had always feared Johnny was somewhat lonely at Baxter Building.

Sue was surprised to see that both rooms were empty, neither they nor Johnny were around, and probably they hadn't been here in a while. She had no other choice than to go back, to her room. She would start looking for them after seeing Franklin.

When she entered her own room, Reed was laying on his back, with Franklin sprayed across his chest. Without any word, she joined them on the bed.

"I imagine H.E.B.I.E. told you everything," Reed said.

"Oh, yeah. You might wanna check his programing, he enjoys gossiping a tad too much," she whispered with a smile.

Reed was always one to laugh at her cheesy jokes, but now he just sighed. "I wished I had found a better way to tell them. Peter seemed so… distressed."

Sue moved to lean on her elbow and looked at her husband directly in the eye. "There are things in this life that are hard to hear, no matter how soft you try to say it," she said, reassuringly. "You know that."

She reached a hand out to Reed's cheek, and he leaned on it, snuggling onto her.

"Doesn't change the fact that perhaps I'm not the best at comforting. It think that's what they needed, and I just… couldn't."

"Well, Johnny is on it right now," Sue leaned on Reed's shoulder.

"Ah, we're saved," he joked, and she hit him slightly on the chest, but still chuckled a little.

Sunlight came in through the window, and Sue allowed herself to bask in the warmth of it all. For all that Reed claimed that he wasn't good at comforting, his presence alone was an invaluable source of contentment to Sue.

"Do you really think you can do it?" she asked, breaking the silence. "To find another universe and create a bridge so two kids can cross safely. It's a tall order, even for you."

"I think I have to try," Reed nodded.

Resting on his dad's chest, Franklin wiggled and reached out to his mom. Sue happily took her son in her arms. All was well.

After Lia met Tony for the first time, he brought her to live with him at the Avengers Tower. The change had been drastic, and she struggled to adapt for the first few months. She had gone from living on her teacher's tiny backyard shed to spending a few weeks locked up on a prison cell to staying at the literal base of operations for the Avengers. There were days were it was all just too much.

On those days, the only place where Lia could find a semblance of peace was the tower's rooftop. Pepper had tried to ban her from going up there 'for her own safety', but a lock and key did nothing when you can just teleport to the other side of the door. She had spent many days and nights up there. Seeing everything and everyone so far at the distance, it helped put things into perspective.

Some years later, she told Peter that story, following the selling of the tower. The next time Peter visited, he told her rooftops were indeed a good place to hide away from the world. She'd laughed.

Now, when confronted with the fact that Peter had seemingly left the Baxter Building, the first place Lia checked was the rooftop. And sure enough, there he was. Peter was sitting of the edge of the building, looking out busy skyline of New York.

The most distinct difference from their New York was probably the launchpad for an actual space rocket the Fantastic Four had behind their building. Peter was looking at it, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Hey," she said, as she sat beside him.

"Hey," he answered emotionless.

Lia sighed when he didn't look at her. She knew herself, she was far from the best at comforting or lifting spirits. She took Peter's hand in hers.

"You shouldn't be leaving like that," she said. "We don't have phones here."

He only sighed, sniffed a little. "I'm so sorry I did this to us," he mumbled.

Lia ticked her tongue. "Gosh, Peter, don't be so dramatic. Yeah, we screwed up, big time. But this is not the end of the world… Not yet, at least."

Peter shook his head. "This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't insisted of going back in time. It was a bad idea from the start."

Lia didn't know what to say right away, because she hadn't wanted to go with the plan, she'd been opposed, so afraid of her own grief. If she had put her feet down, refused to even hear him out…

She sighed, there was no use in thinking like that, and she needed to make Peter see that. "You meant well," she told him, squeezing his hand.

"And look at what well-meant did. We're stuck here," Peter pointed at the sky. "Like— like a shipwreck, except no ship is coming for us. Ever."

"You heard Reed. We can still figure out a way to get home," she took Peter's shoulder and shook it a little.

Lia was desperate to hold onto every tiny piece of hope she could find, otherwise she'd just drown on her own anguish, and she was getting exasperated that Peter seemed so eager to just let go.

"I should've known," Peter whispered. "I could've made a better work and then we—"

"And maybe I should've stopped you," Lia interrupted him, at her limit. "Or I should've noticed the moment you modified the machine too much. But I didn't, because I know shit about quantum physics. We can blame ourselves all we want, but that won't help us get home. You're only seventeen and already created inter-dimensional travel. Who the hell needs a ship to pass by and rescue us? We'll rescue ourselves."

That did seem to make Peter feel better. He tugged on the edge of the shirt Sue had given him this morning. Johnny’s old clothes were huge on him.

A strong gust of wind hit them in the face and Peter smiled into it. "Do you really believe we can do this? " he asked.

"I believe we have to at least try," she answered, mustering all the conviction she had within.

Peter nodded. The early afternoon sun shone bright on them, as the time passed by. Lia watched an airplane fly high in the sky and Peter found figures in the clouds.

"Hey," Peter said after a long time in silence. "Do you think Tony would've figured this out faster than us?"

The hypothetical situation made her laugh. "He would be offended you have to ask," she nudged him. "What were you going to tell him?"

"What?"

"I mean, if this had gone the way we wanted. If we'd landed on 2017… what did you plan on telling him?"

"Oh, right," Peter shook his head. "I think I—"

"What are you two doing up here?"

Lia and Peter turned around at the same time to see Johnny, burning hot and flying above the roof.

"Talking," Lia rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

"Weird place to talk," Johnny's flames turned off as he landed and crossed the distance. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he complained.

"You poor thing," Lia said, as Johnny plopped himself besides her.

"I know, I was beginning to think that you ran away," he said, as if he had missed Lia's sarcasm. "I thought we would have to activate the Protocol."

Peter leaned forward, to look at Johnny. "You guys have a protocol for when people from another universe run away?"

"I'm sure Sue would put one together," Johnny shrugged. "Listen, I just wanted to say that—"

"Oh, god," Peter interrupted, and Johnny just glared.

"No, I'm serious. Herbert told us what Reed said, and…"

"If you make a joke, I'm pushing you off the building," Lia deadpanned.

"I was going to say I'm sorry," Johnny said instead. "It's a very harsh situation to be in, and I know I'm not Dr. Reed 'The Smartest Man in the World' Richards, but I'm still here, you know. I can… I dunno, help you, with whatever you need."

Lia just stared at him. Johnny was very much earnest in his words, but honestly, everything about him confused her to no end. One second, he's doing everything to get under her skin and the next, he's giving them a motivational speech.

Under her stare, Johnny's confidence wavered a little. "I mean, we're all here to help, of course," he said. "And Reed’s the most useful in this case, I suppose, but we're all— well, you can count on me… on us! You can count on us, both of you, yep."

His awkwardness at the end to his speech amused Lia, but she tried to hide it, looking ahead to the skyline.

"Thank you, Johnny," Peter said. "We really appreciate it."

The wind blew again, saving Lia from having to add anything. Johnny complained, as he struggled to make sure his short hair remained unmoved by the strong breeze. "You guys really enjoy this whirlwind?"

"What, afraid it's going to suffocate your little flame, Jonathan?" Lia teased.

"Ha, you're funny, Amelia," he said, humorlessly. "But seriously, if we don't go back inside soon, Reed put a tracker on my watch and Sue is not afraid to use it."

Lia sighed, as she stood up. "Is Ben going to cook dinner tonight?" she asked, as she held a hand out Peter, who didn’t take it right away. She was afraid that he was still keeping his self doubts he wasn't telling her. Lia would have to keep an eye out for it.

Johnny laughed, and Lia took her eyes off Peter to look at him. He was a very gleeful man, much so that it annoyed Lia, because a part of her felt like he was trying mock her, even if, for the most part, Johnny and his family hadn't been anything but kind to them.

You don’t scream, and don’t slam the door.

Instead, it shuts the way it always does, lock clicking into place, and you toe your shoes off quickly. One flies askew, bumps into the wall. The other stays stubbornly stuck on your heel, making your curse under your breath, low and bitten off.

You have to exhale through flared nostrils in a bid to remain calm.

“Hey,” Joe calls from the kitchen, voice soft, like he’s trying his best not to startle you. “That you?”

“Mhm,” you hope he hears your hum as enough of an answer, and hope even more that whatever bad mood you’ve carried into the building gets left here, by the door.

Joe’s place smells amazing. There’s a faint trace of garlic and butter, of something sizzling in a pan. Nothing too overpowering, but nice enough to know that Joe’s been at it for a while already. Usually, the smell would’ve probably calmed and comforted you, yet tonight, it makes your stomach twist.

Joe steps out, wiping his hands on a tea towel. His hair’s a little messy, his sleeves rolled up into messy bunches around his elbows, and he smiles when he sees you. It’s awful how easy it looks for joy to find him upon seeing you. You want to match it, but you know that a smile from you would look sarcastic and mocking right now, so you don’t.

“Hi,” you just about manage, short, tight.

“Hi,” he echoes, a little slower, reading the air. “Everything okay?”

You focus on the motion of hanging your coat and try to hang your bad mood right beside it.

“Yea. Long day.”

It doesn’t work.

Joe tilts his head, entirely unconvinced. “Long day or bad day?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. It comes out sharper than you mean it to and you’re immediately scared that Joe thinks it’s aimed at him.

“Same thing.”

You know you should elaborate, that you should give him something to work with. Some version of the truth to explain the sour look on your face, but you can’t begin to explain it. There’s too much. It’s not one thing. It never is, is it? It’s a whole chain-reaction of small humiliations and miscommunications that stretch back months. This is the kind of anger that has built out of sheer exhaustion at this point.

Giving Joe the backstory could easily take you over an hour, and you don’t want to talk about this absolute bullshit for over an hour. You don’t want to talk about it at all.

Joe steps closer, a little wary. “Want to talk about it?”

No.

Joe didn’t invite you over for you to dump a whole bunch of issues on the table.

You don’t want to be that person.

You imagine Joe doesn’t want you to be that person either.

“Not really...”

“Want to kiss about it?” Joe jokes, trying to save the mood a little. It’s a shame that it falls flat with the look you give him.

Joe takes the hint. He nods and goes back to the kitchen, back to his cooking, giving you the space that you’ve silently communicated you need. You follow eventually, because what other choice do you have?

There’s pasta on the stove. Joe stirs it gently, pretending he’s not watching you in the reflection of the lid that’s on the counter beside it.

“You hungry?”

You shrug. “Maybe later.”

“You should eat now. You’ll feel better.”

The way he says it, like it’s simple, easily solvable, makes something twist in your chest. “Yea, maybe.”

He turns to you. “Not how it works?”

That makes you feel bad. Joe’s been slaving away to make you something delicious, and here you are, being a whole bitch about it.

“Yea, no. Yes.” You shake your head in a bid to shake it off. “Sorry. Let’s eat.” You try your best at keeping your voice level, but it somehow still sounds a little sharp. You hate it. Also hate how small this kitchen feels, suddenly.

Joe blocks your path when you try to get some plates out, then sets the spoon he was holding down and crosses his arms.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You look mad.”

“Joe…”

“It’s fine if you are. Just–”

“I said I’m not mad!”

The words snap out of you before you can catch them, all of them louder than anything you’ve ever said to him before. It startles you more than it does him.

You wish you’d just gone home after work today.

You feel extremely unlikable at the moment.

But, Joe’s face doesn’t shift into hurt or into surprise at all. Instead he blinks a couple of times before the corners of his mouth twitch up. It’s almost as if he’s amused by this teeny tiny outburst of yours.

“There it is.”

You stare at him. This isn’t funny. “I told you I didn’t want to talk.”

Joe takes a small step closer to you, one that prompts you to take a small step back.

“I know. And I heard you.”

Another step from him.

Another one from you.

Joe gets the hint and stops stepping closer.

“You can’t always be in a good mood, you know?”

“That’s not–”

“You can be grumpy, that’s all right. If you feel mad, be mad. Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “You don’t get it.”

“Yea, I don’t. So tell me.”

“I can’t! It’s complicated, alright? It’s not even about you.”

Joe inhales in a quick little gasp, eyes twinkling at the mere possibility. “Is it about me?”

“No, I said it’s not about you.”

“Then what is it?”

“Why are you pushing me?”

“Because you’re holding back so hard you’re shaking.”

Somehow Joe’s managed to close the distance between the two of you which you had attempted to keep in place.

You open your mouth, but quickly close it again, eyes darting around to look anywhere but at him. You want to stay quiet, want to stay small and calm and pleasant, but he keeps looking at you all steady and unbothered, it makes your skin crawl.

“Can we drop it, please?”

You feel a little cornered with the way Joe’s letting his eyes rake over your body. He pushes his tongue into his cheek, then smiles a little mischievously when he asks, “What happens if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll get angry. It’ll ruin dinner.”

“Good.”

Oh.

That makes you blink a couple of times. “Good?”

“Yea. Good.” Joe tilts his head, a faint grin playing at his mouth. “Show me what that looks like.”

You huff a laugh to break the tension. “A ruined dinner?”

It doesn’t work.

“No. You, angry. You’re avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“What does angry-you look like?”

You huff, finally stepping around him and opening the cabinet to get two plates out. “I’d like to stop this conversation now.”

“I don’t.”

You turn sharply. “Stop it. I don’t like this. You don’t like me like this. Can we forget about it and talk about something else? Tell me about– yea. How was your day? What did you get up to?”

Joe calmly steps closer and takes the two plates your holding from your hands. Places them down on the counter, just to get them out of the way. He’s close enough now that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “Says who?”

You know exactly what little part of all of the things you just said he’s referring to.

“Says everyone.”

“Yea, well. I’m not everyone.”

And that shouldn’t land as hard as it does, but, here you are, feeling something crack within your chest, and it makes your frown deepen slowly.

“You’re so–…” you have to stop yourself from saying ugly words, hands curling into fists at your sides.

Joe watches the motion, curious. “So what?”

“So–…” You groan, rubbing both hands down your face, pulling at your cheeks so hard it makes your eyes go funny. “You’re so calm it makes me crazy.”

“Then take it out on me,” Joe says softly. “Come on. Show me what you’ve got.”

For a moment, you’re caught between laughter and disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nods challengingly, only once. “Yea, come on.”

“Can you not just… take pity on me and distract until I forget about everything?” you pout in an attempt to make him realise he can also just hug you and stroke your back for a minute for this to be over. “I don’t want to yell at you.”

“Yea I’m trying to hold it in. Because, surprise, I actually like you, Joe.”

“Then trust me to handle it.”

You can’t look at him anymore. You cross your arms, stare at the floor, and feel the frustration in your face. There’s so many things you were angry about before you stepped into this flat, and somehow, Joe’s replacing every single one of them with every second that passes.

The air’s tense.

You feel like you’re a bomb that’s about to explode, and whilst you’re trying to best to step on the fuse to prevent an explosion, Joe’s lightly blowing on it, feeding it oxygen.

“Show me.”

He steps in again, close enough that you feel the heat of him. His fingers find your chin, gripping you gently, but firm enough to tip your face up until your eyes meet.

“Frown at me.”

“What?”

“Frown.” he repeats, eyes steady on yours.

You do, not because you want to follow his directions – you very much don’t – but because it’s an absurd thing to ask of you, you don’t feel taken seriously or listened to, and now this man who’ve you not been around for long enough to get into an actual fight with him is telling you to frown at him?

What the fuck?!

The sight of your brow furrowing makes Joe’s breath catch, the sound low and involuntary. You have to use force to get Joe’s hand off of your face, twisting free from his hold, which gets followed up by an actual groan from him.

“What the fuck is wr–”

He cuts you off by grabbing your face, both his palms warm against your cheeks, and before you can think, before you can even decide whether to protest, he’s kissing you.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not slow.

It’s messy, and sudden, and hot with leftover adrenaline. Joe pushes you back until you hit a wall and presses up against you roughly. You’re arms are weirdly caught in between your chest and his, and you attempt to push him away, but Joe just strengthens his grip. Moves a hand down to your hip and presses there to keep you in place, squeezes so tightly, it’s almost painful.

Shit.

It’s hot.

Joe’s kissing you like he’s about to die, his heavy breath warm on your face, and, Jesus. Fuck.

You don’t want to admit it, but this is hot.

The very second you stop fighting it and start kissing back, you can feel his smile against your mouth, and it only makes you kiss back harder. Angrier. More desperate for him to feel and understand without having to raise your voice at him.

You don’t want to fucking ruin dinner.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning. Breathlessly, he manages to say, “Finish your sentence.” before his mouth finds your neck, and it takes a second to even remember what sentence you’d started. It doesn’t help that Joe’s tilting your chin up so he can get his lips in all the good spots, all the best ones.

You’re about to say something, about to ask him what the fuck is wrong with him, which you guess will only spur him on more.

It really might’ve gone somewhere from there… except, suddenly, you smell it.

The faint, acrid tang of something burning.

You look over his shoulder, “Oh my God, Joe–”

He hums against your throat, not moving.

“Joe,” you say again, firmer now, pushing at his shoulders. “The pan, the pan! The food!”

“Oh, shit.”

He spins on his heel so fast it nearly makes you laugh, stumbling toward the stove in a panic that feels so at odds with the smug version of him that had you pinned against the wall seconds ago. You’re still half pressed there, breathing hard, hair messy, lips wet, and Joe’s waving a tea towel whilst fiddling with the buttons of the exhaust fan.

You watch as he yanks the pan off the heat, smoke curling up into the air, filling the room with the smell of burnt regret.

“All right,” Joe says between laughs, “I ruined dinner.”

You stare at him, lips swollen, heart hammering. “You–…”

“Ruined dinner. Yea,” he says, grinning, chest rising and falling as he grabs the pan and places it into the sink. “So now you can’t!”

Joe eagerly steps back toward you, eyes dark and bright all at once. “Might as well,” he murmurs, hands finding your hips again, “I don’t know, frown at me again.”

You huff out a laugh, disbelieving, already leaning forward despite yourself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, just before he kisses you again.

“Want to talk about it?” he grins into your mouth, knowing full well what the answer to that question is.

Joe’s right.

Dinner’s ruined.

But the night isn’t.

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The Taglisted

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The night was half way done when Reed finally put the used up chalk away. It wasn’t because he had found all the answers he’d been looking for though, but because he encountered a bump he couldn’t calculate his way out of.

He turned to ask his two guests, Lia and Peter, to ask about a variable he needed insight on, only to find the boy fast asleep on the girl’s shoulder and she was not that far behind, her head droping by the second, no longer giving him any attention. Reed stepped back and sighed. This would have to wait until morning.

Johnny was leaning against the wall on the other of the lab, eyes still droned in on the outsiders. Sue and Ben had left hours ago with Franklin, but Johnny decided to play guard. Because lord knew Reed could get absorbed by his calculations.

For no apparent reason, the redhead was startled awake. Her gaze fell on Johnny first, across the room, and he held it. In the dim light of the lab, her brown eyes looked almost black. She broke contact first, turned to Reed, who was tidying up his desk. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked, with a voice so soft you wouldn’t guess she’d fought the Fantastic Four with tooth and nail just hours before.

Reed turned to look at her, surprised to see her awake. “Yes. But I don’t suppose you could tell me the quantum parameters that your machine operates with.”

“Oh… No, I have no idea,” she admitted, with what Johnny could only describe as shame.

“Don’t worry, I can figure it out once I have your machines with us,” Reed reassured her. “You should probably go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure you can? It’s just that… well, Peter modified our bands. I imagine his changes to the blueprint did more than he intended too. Can you see that too?”

“That’s probably why you ended up here,” Reed nodded, his mind away to some other calculations.

“Mhm, maybe. But don’t tell him that, this is already hard enough for him,” Lia tried to sit up straight, without waking up Peter.

Reed watched them closely. “Is he your brother?” he asked.

“No. Not really. We, uh, we met through a mutual friend,” Lia shrugged, and it was clear she didn’t want to elaborate.

Reed hummed. “He seems young.”

“He turns seventeen in a few months,” Lia nodded.

“Only sixteen and he already invented a way to travel to another universe. Quite the genius,” Reed’s compliments were a rare thing, Johnny knew, and it made the redhead smile.

“Yeah, he’s always been. Tony used to joke that one day, Peter would run him out of the job,” her smile was frozen in her face, and turned to look at the two men in the room with her.

Against his better judgment, Johnny kept quiet and stayed out of the conversation, only observing the way Reed walked closer to Lia, who shrank into herself a little.

“Tony,” Reed cleared his throat. “That’s what you called Doom, yes?”

“That man on the TV was not Tony,” she said, her voice more stern. “Tony was a lot of things, and a good man was one of them. That man, he looked so…” in the end, she could only shake her head.

“Doom can be very cruel,” Reed nodded. “He’s always believed he’s right, and anything he does is justified. In his mind, he stands alone above all. He either controls everything or destroys it.”

Something about the way Reed said those words left Lia visibly unsettled.

“Tony helped me. I was… in a tight spot. I’d like to believe I would’ve figured it out on my own but, well, Tony made sure I would never be alone again. He had an ego, for sure, but on the TV, he looked so… I dunno, the man I knew would never be like that.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Reed nodded, and then cleared his throat again. “We are talking parallel universes here. Nothing in our home is reflective of yours. For all we know the only thing they have in common is their appearance.”

“Thank you,” the redhead nodded, but it did nothing to erase the dejection in her black eyes. Reed took his case from the desk. “Oh, you’re leaving?”

Reed looked like he had forgotten something. “Right, we should give you a room. Uhm, come with me. Sue said we have a spare room for you to use.”

Peter was barely awake when he and Lia followed Reed like little ducks out the lab. On his way out, Reed flicked the lights off. Lia had her eyes glued to Johnny as she entered the elevator, he didn’t know what to make of it. “Is he staying here?”

“What, who?” Reed asked, but the doors were already closing on them. 

Johnny stayed in the dark for a while, his mind never wandering far from a pair of brown eyes that seemed so sad they could break a heart.

H.E.R.B.I.E. brought two chairs to the breakfast table from one of the lower levels of the Baxter Building, while Ben was finishing up the breakfast and trying to get Johnny to stay away from the stove. Reed came into the kitchen asking if the baby food was ready, with a whining Franklin in his arms. Lia and Peter stood by the door, choosing to stay out the mess that was the kitchen in the morning.

“Reed, does this look like a restaurant to you? Make the porridge yourself. Johnny, set the table. You two, go sit down. Somebody call Susie. Breakfast’s ready,” Ben instructed and pretty much pushed everyone out of the kitchen.

The little robot was beeping incessantly as it moved around the table. “Mind your manners, Herbert,” Johnny lightheartedly chastised the robot, while scratching its head. “We have to be good hosts.”

“What’s he saying?” Lia asked, sitting down. Ben left a glass of orange juice in front of her and she reached out to it.

“Let’s say he’s holding a grudge on you for locking him in the bathroom,” Ben deadpanned.

Lia made a face. “Oh, I’m sorry about that, Herbert.”

“H.E.R.B.I.E.,” Reed corrected her absentmindedly, setting Franklin into his highchair. “Only Johnny calls him that.”

“Right,” she said and turned to Peter who was yet to sit down. The table was clearly only big enough for the four people who lived here and their baby. They were going to be cramped, and Sue was yet to come downstairs.

“Why are you two still wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” Ben asked, as he finally sat down on his place.

“Yeah, wearing a burned suit to breakfast isn’t part of our etiquette,” Johnny pointed at Peter with his fork, after taking the first bite of his breakfast.

“We weren’t supposed to stay in the past for more than an hour,” Lia explained. “I didn’t bring any spares.”

“My clothes are in my backpack,” Peter lamented, as he finally sat down and downed the juice like it was alcohol.

“I’m sure we can give you some spare clothes while you’re here. Maybe even buy some for you,” Reed offered, while he was smashing a banana to feed Franklin.

Lia closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, Pepper’s gonna kill us.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asked.

“What do you mean 'what do I mean’? I mean Pepper is gonna kill us when we go back.”

“I’m more of a saffron guy myself, but I don’t think pepper is that bad for your health,” Johnny joked, and laughed at his own joke.

“Good thing the bursting into flames thing worked for you. You would starve as a comedian,” Lia glared at him.

“Maybe the tomatoes would be enough food,” Peter laughed looking down to his plate, and it was Johnny’s turn to be unamused. Peter started to eat. “Uhm, about my backpack,” he said with his mouth full. Lia elbowed him and he swallowed his food.

Reed cut him off. “I’ve already spoken to the Captain of the Police Force. The park is cordoned off. We can go back after finishing here,” he nodded.

“Before that,” Sue said walking into the dining room, ready for the day and with a manila folder in her hand. “The Future Foundation and the local media will want a written confirmation that you two are not criminals. I prepared this statement last night, but I wanted to run it by you before Lynne comes for it and sends it out.”

She passed the folder to Lia and Peter, who squeezed themselves into a tight corner of the table to make space for Sue to sit down. Inside, there was a single letterhead page, stamped with the logo of what Lia supposed was the ‘Future Foundation’. It read like this:

To the people of New York City The Fantastic Four were seen yesterday during a fight against two unidentified enhanced individuals at Kissena Park, both of whom were reported by multiple civilians in the hours prior to the fight. Following their arrest and interrogation, the individuals identified themselves as: Peter Parker Leah Larsen Though they were misinterpreted to be hostile at first, neither of them suppose a threat to New York City or the world at large. They have claimed to be travelers from another world and are looking for a way to get home. Parker and Larsen apologize profoundly for any and all damage done to property and are willing to collaborate with the Fantastic Four. The Future Foundation

Lia looked up from the sheet and found everyone at the table, including the baby, looking at them expectedly.

“You got my name wrong,” she commented, shrugging one shoulder.

“Do we have to give out our real names?” Peter asked at the same time.

Sue seemed surprised by both comments, and didn’t know which one to address first. She turned to Peter. “Well, it would certainly help people trust you, being transparent with your identities and your intentions.”

“So we’re just going to tell people everything?” Peter asked, now defensive.

“You’re not here to do any harm, theres’s no reason to hide anything from the public,” Reed explained.

“Are you always so transparent with absolutely everything?” Lia asked.

“You aren't?” Ben retorted.

“Obviously not,” Peter said bluntly. The Four stared.

“To be fair,” Lia pointed at Peter, “he was, like, 14 when he started out. And back home, yeah, it’s best to stay anonymous for as long as you can. I mean, the first time I teleported in public, I was arrested.”

“You got arrested for having superpowers?” Johnny’s brow arched.

“Eh, it was more complicated than that,” Lia wave it off with an 'it is what it is' attitude.

Sue shook her head slightly and reached out to Lia’s hand. “I’m sorry, you said I got your name wrong?”

“Ah, yes. It’s spelled l-i-a. As in Amelia but—”

“Wait, your name’s Amelia? So you just straight up lied to us yesterday?” Johnny asked amused.

“I didn't lie,” Lia frowned. “It’s a nickname. Sure you understand that, Johnny,” she put emphasis on his own nickname.

“Liar,” he said under his breath and she gritted her teeth.

“I would really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone our secret identities,” Peter told Sue, before Lia and Johnny got into an argument.

“At least his,” Lia tried to compromise. “You can tell mine, it’s not like it’s a secret even back home. I’m in the Avengers, after all.”

“The Avengers? What is that, a band?” Johnny asked.

“It’s a team, nitwit. You know, like the Fantastic Four. Except we are, you know, bigger.”

“Oh, it’s a competition now?” there was something in his tone that struck Lia as flirty, so she backed off. The last thing she needed was to go into that territory.

Sue also noticed it, because she flicked air and a wave that glistened like a rainbow reached Johnny, hitting him in the side of the head. He feigned innocence and neither woman called him out. Sue turned to the other two. “It will create speculation, but I suppose stating we are respecting your privacy will be enough,” she assured the boy.

“People back home call me Spider-Man,” Peter nodded. “You can use that.”

“Will do,” Sue smiled at them.

“We should leave now,” Reed wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up with his plate in hand. He turned to Lia and Peter and nodded towards the balcony. “The sooner the better.”

The two of them thanked Ben for the food and took their plates to the dishwasher, they followed behind Reed.

Johnny, who had barely eaten anything, swallowed the rest of his breakfast in a blink of an eye and stood up, leaving his plate on the table. “I’m coming with you!” he announced, running up to them.

“No, you’re not,” Reed said without looking twice at him. 

“You can’t stop me,” Johnny said in playful defiance. Reed stoped on his tracks, turned to look at Lia and Peter who stood still, doing their best not to show bias, and Johnny right behind them, a smirk on his face. Sue stood at the archway of the dinning room, holding Franklin and with a soft smile.

Reed didn’t agree, but Johnny was right. He couldn’t stop him.

“So you deadass call this thing the Fantasticar?” Lia asked and she closed the car’s door, now at the park.

“I what?” Reed asked in pure confusion.

“I’m not hating,” she clarified. “I just— well, it’s cheesy, no? Like if the Baxter Building was the Fantastic Building.”

“I think he’s just confused by the deadass,” Peter said, voice muffled by his mask, as he landed on his two feet, letting go of his web. Reed was easily distracted by it.

“Are you going to leave that thing there or…?” Reed pointed at the web, as it dangled from the top of a nearby building.

“Oh. Don’t worry, it dissolves after a few hours,” Peter waved him off.

Without any warning, Johnny landed near them, still on fire. It scared Lia into teleporting a few feet away from him. She regretted it the moment the flames went away and he seemed very satisfied with himself.

“Where exactly is the backpack?” Reed asked Peter, because the park looked as empty as they had left it yesterday.

“Well, when Johnny pushed me, I webbed it to a tree trunk. You know, to protect it while we were fighting. It’s got to be on the floor by now,” Peter explained as he started to look through bushes.

“Don’t blame me!” Johnny exclaimed cheerfully, as he turned to wave to the many people that surrounded the cordoned off park. Many people, mostly women, hollered at his acknowledgement.

From her spot, Lia was miffed at Johnny’s antics, she rolled her eyes. “He has an ego, doesn’t he?”

“That might be an understatement,” Peter also turned to look at the small crowd that had gathered on the other side of the street.

After nearly an hour of looking around trees, and even bushes, the backpack was yet to be found. Lia and Peter were turning every rock upside down, running around every tree to check. All to no avail. Even Reed was starting to get frustrated, he contacted Sue through the comms on his special wristwatch, telling her they were going to take more time than he had expected. The park was running out of trees.

Not for one second was Johnny useful. Every time he made a move, the crowd would cheer and he would get distracted. He watched the civilians so closely, one in particular caught his attention.

Johnny came to stand by Lia. “Tell me, Amelia—”

“Lia,” she corrected him.

“Amelia,” he doubled down with a smile. “Look at the people over there. See that man with the green trench coat on the middle? Don’t be obvious.” 

Acting casual, Lia’s eyes quickly wandered throughout all bystanders, until she found the man Johnny was talking about. While the rest of the people looked highly invested on their work looking for the backpack, that one man remained impassive, his face mostly hidden underneath an ivy cap. Seemingly uninterested on them, but he remained glued to his spot at the front of the crowd.

“Doesn't he look suspicious?” Johnny leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Oh, my god,” Lia groaned. “So one guy doesn’t cheer for you, and he’s a villain?”

“What? No, that’s not—” Johnny’s tongue tripped over itself trying to explain why his suspicions were valid, but Lia was already walking away from him.

Johnny, then, had to resort to his brother-in-law. Reed was still preoccupied with his watch, talking to Franklin, or rather, listening to his babbling over the comms. 

“That’s very nice, magic baby, we’ll get right back at ya, okay? Goodbye!” Johnny hang up on Franklin and Reed was not happy about it. “Listen to me, I have a hunch. There’s one guy back there that seems very suspicious. He’s wearing green. He might be working for Doom.”

“The last time you said that, we ended up housing two people from a parallel universe, Johnny. Let’s not do that again,” and with that, Reed also walked away, ready to call Sue and Franklin again.

Peter came back from wandering around, without the backpack. “Where’s everyone?” he asked, seeing that Reed and Lia weren’t there.

Johnny didn’t suppose Peter would believe him either, so he didn’t even tell him. “Tell me you found the backpack already,” he said instead.

Though his face was hidden behind a mask, the way he visibly deflated gave away his answer. “I left it somewhere around here, I remember it like it happened yesterday. Because it did!”

Johnny clapped Peter on the shoulder. “Your memory sucks,” he told him plainly.

Unlike how Amelia would’ve reacted, Peter just sighed. “I know.”

Then, something happened. Peter stood with his back straight, alert. “Something’s happening,” he said, like he was confused himself.

“What’s happening?” Johnny said.

“I’m not sure…” Peter turned to look at their audience. As it happened, the guy Johnny had been suspicious of was making his way out of the crowd. Now, however, he was carrying something he didn’t have with him before. “Wait a minute,” Peter pointed at him and loudly exclaimed. “That guy has my backpack!”

Upon hearing him, the crowd tried to stop the man coming through, but he pushed everyone out of his way. His escape must have been planned, because at the corner, a car was waiting for him. He climbed in, and off went the getaway car.

Without any hesitation, Johnny flamed on and went to give chase. 

Spider-Man was not far behind. He landed on the car roof. He bent down to knock on the driver’s window. “Hey, I think you have something that’s mine!”

He moved out the way when the window lowered and the driver put out his hand with a gun, taking blind shots at him.

Johnny flew ahead of the car and planted himself in the middle of the road, assuming that would force them to stop the car. He was wrong, the car didn’t stop and he barely had the time to move out of the way. “Damn, these guys aren’t playing around.”

Spider-Man had no other choice than to break the passenger’s window with a punch. He stuck his hand inside, probing around to find his backpack. “Hey, just— Give it back, I— Whoa! Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch that!”

The car started to steer sharply to one way and then the other trying to shake him off.

The Human Torch flew above them, scrambling his brain for a way to stop the car that wouldn’t involve potentially endangering the civilians around. 

“Johnny! Johnny, where are you?” Reed called out from the comms.

“Didn't you say you could see everywhere I went?”

“In the lab!”

“Somebody stole the backpack, we are trying to get it back!”

“You better get it, hothead!” Amelia’s voice came through.

Up ahead, Johnny could see a bridge crossing a creek that would take them to Jackson Heights. He positioned himself to the car’s right side. The man on the passenger seat kept trying to shoot Spider-Man. 

“Take off already,” the passenger’s voice was weirdly emotionless.

“What do you think I'm trying to do?” the driver answered, equally aloof.

“You guys going somewhere?” Johnny asked cheekily, flying close to their right side. When they saw him, the gun was passed around and now was directed at him.

From the roof, Spider-Man shot a web and finally got the chance to take the gun away from his hands. “You’re not gonna be needing that!”

When the time was right, Johnny got close enough to the car to force it to take the turn to the left and go into the bridge to get away from him, lest their tires melt with Johnny’s flames. 

“The car can’t fly. Now or never, Spidey,” Johnny called out to him.

“It’s been fun and all,” Peter put his hand inside to open the lock and just open the car door. “But enough is enough.”

The man on the copilot seat had the backpack on his feet. Spider-Man glued himself to the side of the car and reached out for the bag. The man kicked at him. “Hey, mind the face!”

A flying car approached from over the left side of the bridge. “This is the NYPD,” a voice announced loudly. “Stop the car. I repeat, stop the car.”

The car, of course, didn’t stop. The driver switched lanes, to overtake another car. And because Peter and Johnny had rotten luck, the criminals finally got the car to take off. 

As the car rose up in the sky, with Spider-Man still glued to its side, it flew in the opposite direction of the police car, they almost hit Johnny. “Oh god,” Peter exclaimed.

“Grab the bag now!” Johnny called out to Peter, as the car started to fly over the creek.

Spider-Man finally took a hold of the backpack. The copilot took out a pocket knife and stabbed him in the arm. In the scuffle that ensued, Spidey got to push the man out of the car. He landed somewhere in the creek.

The Human Torch proceeded to intentionally hit the car on its left side, with enough force for its flying engine to malfunction and sent it spiraling down to the water. Unfortunately, so did Spider-Man.

‘Can spiders swim?’

In the heat of the moment, Johnny plummeted down, trying to catch Peter. He didn’t reach him in time, and the two of them went into the water.

They both broke the surface unscathed, Johnny’s head releasing steam. Peter held the backpack tight to his chest.

Above their heads, the Fantasticar hovered. Reed was driving. Amelia had half her body out of the car, looking down at them with a big smile. “You guys are a mess!” she said, completely delighted.

“She’s not gonna let us live this down, is she?” Johnny asked Peter.

“Prolly not,” Peter looked up at her.

“Jesus, that’s nasty,” Lia hissed, as Sue cleaned Peter’s stab wound.

“It looks worse than it really is,” Sue reassured them both.

Peter nodded. “It’s okay, I heal fast anyway.”

“Still, you could’ve been more careful, you know?” Lia flicked him in the forehead. Sue didn’t try to hide her amusement, as she packed the med kit.

“It certainly could have been handled better,” Reed agreed from the other side of the lab, as he tinkered with the time machines they had recovered in the backpack.

“Did the water damage them?” Peter asked, as he hopped off the table and walked towards Reed.

“All damage seems to be minimal. Even if not, the hardware should be enough to reverse engineer it,” he took a step back to look at them.

“Put them in rice, maybe?” Lia suggested. When Reed looked at her, she shrugged. “That’s what we do when our phones get wet.”

Reed made his thinking face. “Might be worth a try.”

The elevator doors opened and Ben and Johnny walked in. “The police just left. They arrested the driver, but haven’t found the man who was stalking the park yet,” Johnny informed them, hands behind his back.

“So he got away?” Peter sighed.

“Not yet. The guy was hanging around, even after he had secured the backpack. Maybe there was something else he needed to do and—”

“And he might still try to complete the mission,” Reed completed Johnny’s sentence.

“If he’s working for Doom,” Ben clarified. “Which we don’t know for certain. The driver hasn’t talked.”

“At all?” Sue’s eyebrow quirked.

“At all,” Ben confirmed. “The officer felt the need to let us know that he was eerily silent during questioning.”

“Yeah, but who else could it be?” Johnny questioned.

Lia frowned. “Why would he go for the backpack? How could he know what was inside it?”

Reed clicked his tongue. “Maybe he went for the backpack exactly because he doesn’t know anything yet. He’s gathering data on what we’re doing. It might not even have anything to do with you two. Yet.”

“Another reason why we shouldn’t announce who we are,” Peter pointed out.

Sue smiled helplessly. “I also redacted why you're here in the statement,” she informed them. “When Reed called to say the backpack wasn’t where you said it would be, I had a bad feeling.”

“So what now?” Johnny asked Reed.

Reed looked around the lab, at his team, then to the malfunctioning time machines and finally their two visitors. “We lay low,” he declared. “Doom has his eyes on us. We give an inch, it’s enough for him to take a mile. Who knows what he might be able to do if he gets a hold of technology from another world. Once we get Peter and Lia home safely, we can focus on him.”

The team scattered around the lab after that. No one left, to Reed’s dismay, who wanted a moment alone to concentrate entirely on the time machines. H.E.R.B.I.E. brought Franklin to the lab, straight to Reed’s arms.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Lia sighed, as she approached Johnny.

“What was that?” he asked, enjoying how much she looked like she didn’t want to say the words.

“You said the man was suspicious, I didn’t believe you. Sorry,” she gritted out.

“Can you repeat that?” Johnny made the show of tilting his head to the side, ‘to hear better’.

“Don’t push it,” she warned him. “I still think throwing the whole car into the river was stupid.”

“Creek," he corrected her. "And it got the job done,” he debated.

“Hardly.”

Peter turned away from the machines to look at them, exasperated. “Can’t you guys have one conversation without fighting?”

“It’s fighting or flirting with Johnny,” Ben informed him. “Believe me, fighting is better.”

As the day turned into night, Reed slowly worked into understanding how the machines were supposed to operate. Every now and then, he would extend his arm from the table to the chalkboard to make an annotation without moving. Peter an Lia stayed in the lab, answering any question Reed would have. Peter explained in full detail his modifications to the original model, Lia just nodded along.

Ben ordered Chinese takeout from Sue’s favorite restaurant and sent Johnny to pick it up downstairs. Lia was halfway done with her chop suey when four alarms activated at the same time.

She turned to look at all sides before she realized the came from the Fantastic Four wrist watches. Her eyes were then pulled to the window.

“Oh god, what’s happening?” Peter asked.

“There’s an emergency, we gotta go!” Sue informed them.

“I can see that,” Lia said, and the pointed to the window. In the distance, a building was on fire, a thick column of smoke ascended to the sky.

“Johnny,” Reed said faintly and the next moment, Johnny ran to the window, opened it and flew off. The other three went straight to the elevator, to get to the Fantasticar. Lia and Peter followed them.

“No,” Reed stopped them and passed Franklin to Peter. “Stay here,” he instructed them. 

“What?”

“Doom can’t know anything about you. Stay here, out of sight,” and they left.

Lia and Peter shared one look. “I’ll see you there,” she told him.

“Yeah. Herbie, can you watch Franklin for a little while?” Peter turned to the robot, as Lia teleported.

Back when Lia was a teenager, crossing large distances through a single teleportation was strenuous on her body. When she joined the Avengers, most of her training consisted of building the stamina needed to constantly make jumps in space, gradually enlarging the distance. Today, she needed only 3 jumps to cross the city to get to the building on fire.

It was an apartment located on a residential area, most of the fire seemed to be on the upper levels. She could see Johnny approaching at the distance. 

People on the lower levels were scrambling to get out. She hesitated only for a second.

Lia teleported inside the building, its third floor. People around her were running in a panic, someone at standing in a doorstep was frozen in fear. “Let’s go, guys, let’s, go! No pushing!” She took the young man frozen by the arm and directed him to the stairs, where everyone was evacuating.

Once she was sure everyone in this floor and the one above was on their way downstairs, she teleported two floors up, where the fire was already consuming the wooden structure.

Most of the doors were wide open, left in a hurry, except for one, from where Lia could hear a cry. She kicked down the door and found a mother holding her baby closed to her chest, flames surrounding them.

She teleported to avoid the flames, the heat alone scalding her. “It’s okay. You can trust me,” she reassured the terrified mother. Lia saw Johnny floating outside the window.

“How did you—?” Johnny asked loudly, but Lia didn’t have time for this.

She put her arms around the mother, cushioning the baby between them. She held them as close to her body as possible and made the jump.

One second they were in the middle of a room on fire, the next they were standing in the street, surrounded by people. The mother gasped looking around, the baby kept crying. Everyone cheered around them, as Johnny worked towards absorbing every flame in the building. 

The firefighters arrived on scene. From them, Lia took wet cloths, teleporting to the top floor of the building, looking for people still coughing from the smoke. As she was helping a man stand up, holding the cloth to his mouth and nose, Mister Fantastic’s arms came through the closest window.

Lia let him take the man. Reed carried him to the fantasticar, on the other side of the window, and it went down to the floor.

In the middle of the street, everyone gathered around the Fantastic Four, cheering and thanking them. Lia teleported a few feet away, underneath a lamppost, looking to the crowd.

“That was faster than I expected,” Spider-Man landed on top of the lamppost.

“Yeah, quick work for them, I guess,” she said like in a daze. She wasn’t used to people cheering for superheroes anymore.

“Look,” Spider-Man pointed to a neighboring building. A man was standing on the roof looking down at the Fantastic Four.

It was dark, and Lia had never taken a good look at him in the first place, but he was still wearing the same trench coat and ivy cap. “It’s the man from the park,” she realized.

Spider-Man swung himself towards the building, Lia teleported to stand right behind him. "You caused the fire," she wasn't asking.

"Ordered to lure everyone out," was all the man said. His voice was stiff, clipped, void of any emotion.

"Ordered by Doom?" Spider-Man asked.

"What does he want?"

"To show everyone the truth," he said, and he turned to the two.

Lia gasped. The thing standing before them wasn't a man, it was a machine built to look like a man. "People like the Fantastic Four are useless to the world."

The robot threw the first punch.

No matter where Johnny looked, Amelia was nowhere to be found. He had seen her inside the building, he was sure of it, and now she wasn't there at all.

"What is it?" Sue whispered to him, as Reed stepped forward to answer a couple of questions.

"Amelia's here," Sue sighed.

"So is Peter. He didn't stay far behind us," she told him.

"Can you see them?"

Sue looked around the public. "Can't say I do."

Reed was entertaining the public and the few press that had arrived on scene. "We will need more time to pin point the exact reason of the fire, but we are happy to report that there were no casualties and—"

The interview was crash-landed, literally, by Spider-Man. He fell from up above and hit the ground hard, even breaking the cement on the street. People were quick in clearing the area in a panic.

Before the Fantastic Four could ask him what had happened, a man came down on him and landed a punch on him.

"Hey, Bolts, catch it!" Amelia appeared behind him with a crowbar and hit him the face with so much force his face dented in and it send a few sparks flying, giving it away as an automaton.

The thing answered in kind, pushing Amelia to ground to make its escape, flying up. Sue stopped it, encasing it with a force field, but when the thing took to shoot at them, she had to let it go. "Protocol Universal Truth begins," it said, with its automatic voice.

"It's a robot!" Spider-Man and Amelia said at the same time, loud and breathless, still on the floor.

"It's a Doombot!" the Fantastic Four corrected them, also in chorus.

The thing made its way to the roof of the burned apartment building. The six heroes followed. Johnny knew better than to straight up destroy the Doombot, given that keeping them was a way for Reed to chart the technological advancements Doctor Doom had.

Amelia was already at the top when Johnny got there, but she wasn't moving, eyes droned in on what the automaton had in its hand. "It has a bomb," she said.

"Not here," Reed tried to talk sense into the Doombot, like it was possible. "There's civilians here."

The blue light it had on its eyes flickered for a moment. "All the more people to see your failings," the voice of the machine changed, no longer dry and cut. Johnny recognized it almost immediately. Now it wasn't a automaton operating on its own, every move it made now, Victor von Doom was behind it.

Peter audibly gasped, when hearing its voice. The Doombot turned to look at him. "You're new here," it noted, but Doom didn't care for him. The robot sent out a beam of energy, meant to kill Spider-Man no doubt.

Amelia appeared at the last second, a scrap of metal used as a makeshift shield. This Doombot was clearly more powerful than its previous iterations, because its continuous attack dragged Amelia and Peter back, no matter how hard they tried to plant their feet to the ground. The scrap metal was disintegrating away.

Johnny attacked the bot from the back, shooting enough fire to distract it from Peter and Amelia, who were now dangerously close to the edge of the building.

Sue took the chance to get the bomb away from the Doombot, and started to work towards defusing it.

When it realized that, the Doombot let Amelia and Peter go, they stumbled forwards into the ground. It turned towards Sue, but Reed's arms engulfed the thing to stop it.

To get rid of Reed, the Doombot seemingly electrified itself, and Reed in turn, who had to let go of it.

Ben was the one to put an end to it, hitting the Doombot on the head. Amelia had already damaged it before, so a good punch from The Thing took its head right off the rest of its body.

Metal hit the wood, sparks kept flying out. Its body fell to the floor with a thunderous thump and stayed there limp. Everybody sighed in relief.

"What was that?" Peter asked to no one in particular.

"That's Doom for you," Johnny shrugged, and leaned down to pick up the severed metal head.

"We had a brief chat with the robot," Amelia let out a breath. "He really hates you, huh?"

Reed swallowed and nodded. "We have… history."

"This could've gone very bad," Peter noted, as Sue finalized defusing the bomb.

"I'm more worried about the fact that he knows about you now," Sue said, lifting the bomb in her arms with care.

Amelia waved her off, untroubled. "Doesn't mean he knows the most important part, we can still hide that."

"Wait and see," the head that Johnny held in his hands lighted up, scaring everyone.

Peter pointed at it. "That's creepy."

Without any warning and fast as lightning, the headless Doombot stood up and ran up to Peter and Amelia, as if trying to catch them.

The two of them split up, jumping in different directions. The robot turned to Amelia, she teleported the further away she could, on the edge of the building, it followed her there.

Ben once again stepped in, he threw the Doombot into the ground, and stepped on it, hitting it until the metal caved in.

Unfortunately, Amelia was too close to the edge, even if the danger was gone. One foot slipped, and she tripped backwards, falling into the nothingness.

It felt like time had slowed. Reed could've reached an arm out for her, Sue could've stop her fall with a force field, Peter could've lunge out and get her, Amelia herself could've teleported to safety. But it was Johnny who reacted first.

As Amelia rapidly fell down the building, Johnny fought gravity to get to her. A hand on fire reached out. Without thinking, he closed his fist around her closest limb, which happened to be her ankle.

Johnny stopped the two of them, leaving them floating not too far above the ground. It was a close call.

Hanging upside down, Amelia doubled over to take a look a Johnny. Their eyes met, just like they did the night before. She was breathing in huffs and puffs. If time had slowed before, now, holding her in the air, it stopped altogether. Maybe the world faded away, leaving behind only the wind against his flames and her brown eyes that betrayed how scared she was.

"It burns," she said out of breath.

"What does?"

"Your hand, it burns."

That's when he realized what she meant. He hadn't flamed off the hand that was holding her by the ankle. He felt terrified, thinking he had burned her severely.

As quickly as he could, Johnny lowered her to the ground. As she laid on the street, it was a surprise to see her ankle mostly okay, for someone who'd had direct contact with his burning body.

“Holy shit, Lia!” Peter exclaimed as he landed gracefully on the street, worry obvious even through the mask. He held her close by her arms, practically pushing up on his own.

Amelia, however, had her eyes focused on the man who saved her, floating up above her. Eyes stabbing through his soul, Johnny couldn’t help but compare to what he had seen the night before.

When she’d talked in the dark about a man who looked like Victor von Doom, Amelia’s eyes had never looked so sad, a brown turned black. Now, as she looked up at him, he couldn’t decipher what emotion laid behind her irises. All he could see, all he could notice was how they glowed.

With no brighter light in the night, Johnny's fire lighted up Amelia’s whole face. Her eyes, most of all, they glittered so much one could’ve mistaken them for gold. Her red hair, wild in the strong night wind, ebbed and flowed like the flames that surrounded Johnny’s body. The image took his breath away.

“Thank you,” her voice was barely a whisper, but Johnny heard her anyway. The only response he could give was a nod.

Not for the first time tonight, a group of journalists and reporters gathered around them. Fortunately, Reed, Sue and Ben were already there to take the lead and take their attention. The other three stayed more on the back. Oblivious to Johnny's dazed mind, Peter gently held on Amelia’s elbow and guided her into the crowd.

Johnny stayed back, just for a moment, gathering his wits, trying to make sense of every thought and feeling that went through him in the last couple of minutes. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

After five years of being the Human Torch, Johnny was used to the feeling of his entire body burning alight. His heart, though?

That was new.

“Just so we are clear,” Sue Storm stopped her brother from leaving the kitchen. “You are to just roam around the city. Do not get involved in anything. You see something suspicious, you call me and wait for us to arrive.”

Johnny made a face, he had already changed into his suit and was ready to head out. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, knowing full well Sue had every reason to say such things.

“I mean it,” she said, dead serious. “You do anything and you’ll be grounded for weeks.”

“You do realize I just turned 25, right?” Johnny suppressed a laugh, as he gulped down what little remained in the cereal box. “Save that for the one year old who is, by the way, eating his sippy cup,” Sue turned to take a look at Franklin, sitting on his high chair, nibbling on his empty cup.

“Break a leg,” Ben called from behind the oven, he’d said in the morning that he felt like having quiche tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, see you for dinner,” Johnny waved Ben off and left the kitchen, a cereal box still on his hand.

He made his way across the living room, straight to the balcony for take off. Half way through, the elevator door opened and Reed stepped out. “Johnny, come here for a minute,” he called.

Johnny didn’t bother to hide his irritation, loudly groaning as he turned back. Reed didn’t even react to his antics, instead holding out his arm with a wrist watch like the one he had on right now.

“I made a quick improvement,” Reed handed the watch to Johnny. “It sends out a radio signal we can pick up from the lab, and that way I can know where you are at all times.”

“So you can spy on me?” Johnny’s brow arched, still, he replaced his current watch with the new one.

Reed sighed, “so we can react quickly when you need assistance. Just call us through the comms and we’ll be there right away,” he helped Johnny tighten the strap. “Enjoy yourself out there and don’t create any more problems,” he called out as Johnny walked away.

“Ye of little faith,” Johnny joked, as he leaped off the balcony, and went up in flames.

Now, Johnny remembered why the Fantastic Four didn’t do patrols anymore.

For someone who was supposed to be on the down low looking for dubious activities in the city, his presence sure wasn’t going unnoticed. A group of people cheered him on when he flew by. A girl from the Flaming Hearts Club came running to him, begging for him to sign some old photo of himself. A journalist wanted an interview. A young kid screeched at him from a window.

Worst of all, flying around not knowing what he was looking for soon became tedious and therefore, boring.

“Nothing yet?” Sue’s voice came out of his wrist watch.

“Nope,” he said, floating above apartments in Queens. “If there’s something out of the ordinary I cannot find it.”

“Well, Victor did just make that speech earlier today. It’s too soon, perhaps” Johnny noticed the comms didn't have as much interference than they did with his old watch. Reed had truly improved the watch.

“Yeah, I’ll just make one more round before heading— WHOA!”

Somebody body-slammed Johnny and the two of them went tumbling down. Johnny landed on one apartment roof, while his assailant landed on another, across the street. He could see the other guy was wearing a full body suit, red and blue, and his face was covered by a mask. His suit, however, had caught fire from coming into contact with Johnny’s flames, and he was rolling in the ground, trying to extinguish the fire that remained.

“Johnny?! Johnny, what happened?!” Sue’s question on the other side of the comm went unanswered.

Before Johnny could cross the distance, in a blink and miss it moment, a girl appeared standing next to guy rolling on the floor.

“I leave you alone one second!” the newcomer exclaimed, more annoyed than anything else. She bent down and for a second, Johnny thought she was hitting him, but in reality, she was helping him smother the flames with her hands. “What even happened?”

“I think I hit something on fire mid air,” the guy said, as he stood up, shaking dust off him.

“Mid air?” The girl echoed as she looked up and around. She made eye contact with Johnny, who felt a thrill running down his spine.

Even if the guy’s suit had caught fire, it didn’t burn the way normal fabrics would, which meant that it was made to be somewhat resistant to Johnny’s powers. The girl wasn’t wearing a suit per se, but there was something about the way she looked that made her stand out like a sore thumb. These two couldn’t be any more suspicious, and one of them had already attacked Johnny.

If Doctor Doom had sent someone to New York to steer trouble, it had to be them.

Without much thought, Johnny launched himself to the other roof. His two suspects shrieked in shock and scattered, dodging his first offensive. Once he had his two feet on the ground, he turn to the guy, with the intent of sending out flames, but before he could get to it, the guy on the suit shot at his face some kind of substance, which covered it entirely. When he tried to take it off him, his hand just got stuck.

Johnny struggled and blindly stumbled around, until he finally flamed on and burned away whatever was on his face. Not even a second later, the girl appeared behind him and hit him on the shin, bringing him to his knees. She held up a pipe, no clue where she got it, with the intent of hitting Johnny again.

Her mistake was to get close enough to him and his flames for her purple jacket to catch on fire. “Oh shit!” she exclaimed as she threw the thing off the shoulders and threw on the ground. Seeing this, Johnny turned off his flames, to not burn her. She took another swing with the pipe. This time however, he caught it with his palm and took it off her hands.

He threw it away, but the other guy (who now Johnny saw had a spider splayed out on the chest) shoot more of that sticky substance and wrapped Johnny up in it. His limbs were know pressed tightly against his torso, he couldn’t move.

“That was my favorite jacket, man,” the girl complained. Her spider-themed partner picked up a backpack from the floor, put it over his shoulder and turned to leave. What he had used to tie Johnny, he shot at the building next to them and used it as means to swing away. The girl just straight up disappeared.

Left alone in the roof, Johnny flamed on again to burn the sticky web and lifted off, catching a glimpse of the Spider guy in the distance.

“Johnny!” Sue called out from behind. He turned to see the Fantasticar with Sue, Reed and Ben. “I told you to call us if you found something!”

“No time for that,” Johnny shook his head. “We have to catch them, follow me!” And with that, he took off, the Fantasticar behind him.

To the Spider’s credit, he was fast. It took Johnny five minutes at full speed to catch up to him. He grabbed him by the shoulders mid air, careful not to touch the already burned parts of the suit, and took him to a nearby park, empty as the civilians ran away.

The Spider landed, rolled and stood up, ready for a fight. The Fantasticar parked in the middle of the grass where no car should park and its three occupants hopped off. The Fantastic Four had him surrounded, and as he looked around, he seemed to realize he was at a disadvantage.

Before anyone could make the first move, the Fantasticar roared to life, the girl that had hit Johnny behind the wheel. She drove the car towards Sue and Reed, who barely got out of the way in time. She clearly wasn’t an experienced driver, because she also almost hit the Spider, who to Johnny’s surprise, jumped effortlessly high in the air.

“Watch where you’re going!” he squeaked as he landed.

“Sorry!” she turned the car around and this time she drove right into Ben, who hesitated to let the Fantasticar be damaged. Still, he stopped the car with his bare hands, denting the hood.

From a distance, Reed reached out with a long arm, to open the door and drag the girl out of the car. She tried to fight it, kicking and scratching Reed, but was shocked into a pause when she noticed Reed’s abnormally large arms.

At the same time, the Spider another one of his sticky webs at Johnny, who was floating above the scene. The web landed on his chest and the Spider used it to pull him down to the floor, where his closed fist connected right into Johnny’s face.

As Johnny held his nose in slight pain, the Spider was pushed away by Sue’s doing. He went out flying and landed right besides where Reed was holding down the girl. Reed’s arms were quickly replaced by Sue’s force field, trapping the two of them inside.

The Fantastic Four surrounded the force field, as the two inside staggered to get up.

“Quite skittery, aren’t they?” Ben said with humor. “Who are these two?”

“Doom’s people, for sure,” Johnny said, serious for once. “That one hit me mid flight,” he pointed towards the one with the suit.

“Huh?!” was all the Spider had to say in his defense.

Reed took one step towards the force field. “State your names and intentions,” he commanded, but neither of them seemed eager to answer.

“Maybe not here,” Sue said, as a helicopter and a few cars flew above the park, trying to catch a glimpse of the Fantastic Four in action.

The girl inside the force field took the opportunity to once again teleport from one place to another; this time, right behind Sue. She had one fist raised, ready to hit Sue, but before she could, Ben got in the way, sweeping her off her feet, and holding her tight so she wouldn’t escape.

“Hey! Don’t touch me! You piece of— Wait, what are you, a rock?! Let me go!” the girl fought, trying to break away from Ben’s grip. She failed, as Ben took and dropped her in the back of the Fantasticar. She tried to get out, but Ben just pushed her back inside.

Sue turned to the masked guy. “Can you just walk normally to the car, or do we have to carry you too?”

“I can walk,” he nodded, voice cracking at the end.

“Wait, we’re taking them to Baxter?” Johnny asked, incredulous.

“We need to interrogate them. If they truly are sent by Victor, doing so anywhere public would be a safety hazard,” Reed explained. Logically, Johnny knew that, but it still didn’t feel rights to do so.

“Sent by who?” the guy dressed as a spider asked, but he was duly ignored.

“So we’re going taking them right into our home,” Johnny turned to Sue. “Does that make any sense to you?”

“Hey, we’re not sent by anyone, I think we—”

“We have them under control,” Sue reasoned with him. “As long as we keep an eye on them at all times, we will have the upper hand. Neither of them seem particularly vicious.”

“Listen, we clearly started on the wrong foot. My name’s Peter and—” the Spider guy tried again.

Johnny pointed at the girl Ben was currently wrestling into staying in the backseat. “That one literally just tried to deck you. We’re lucky Ben reacted quickly.”

“Or you can just ignore me. That’s fine too,” he gave up.

“It’s okay, hotshot,” Reed put a hand in Johnny’s shoulder. “We’ll take them straight into the lab. They try anything weird and we put the place into lockdown.”

“Hey, can we leave already?” Ben asked from the Fantasticar. “If this girl tries to escape one more time, I’ll knock her out.”

“Say that to my face!” the girl in question roared in anger.

After a very weird drive (or flight, more like) to the tall skyscraper with a 4 plastered on the outside, their four captors escorted Peter and Lia to the entrance. The place was crowded by a bunch of reporters, with cameras and flashes blinding them.

“Sue, Johnny!” one of them called out. “Can we get a comment on Victor von Doom’s speech earlier today?” the question was absolutely ignored.

Peter was somewhat knowledgeable about cameras, old and modern, and even through the flashes and lights, he could tell these were more advanced than what they should be. He could even see what looked like a camcorder, shoved right into the leader of this team, ahead of them.

“Mister Fantastic!” one of the reporters called out, loud above other voices. “What can you tell us about these criminals you’ve just arrested, are they a threat to the city?”

The older man stopped and answered the question diplomatically. “It is too early to truly ascertain just how dangerous these individuals are, but now that they are under our custody, whatever threat they may have imposed can be considered neutralized.”

“Hey,” Lia leaned over to whisper to Peter. “Do you remember Plan HR?”

“Lia, no,” Peter pleaded. “These people think we’re sent by someone. If we talk to them, maybe they’ll help us.”

Above their heads, the man on fire flew by, eyes ready for the moment any of them acted out. Lia looked up at him, her eyes hid something indiscernible. “We’re doing HR, at my signal,” she declared, like it was the final decision.

“Stop that,” the man seemingly made of rocks pushed them past the journalists and inside the building, straight to the elevator. The man on fire flew upwards. A group of people, mostly women, cheered and called out to him.

The design choices inside the building definitely said “retro” to Peter, but he supposed this was the current fashion trends for the three people riding the elevator with them. There was even a jolly tune playing in the background of an otherwise silent and tense ride. When the elevator doors opened, they were inside a lab, just like the Mister Fantastic had said back in the park. The man on fire, who they’d called Johnny, was already there.

“Let’s start then,” he said, clapping and rubbing his hands. “Why did Doom send you?”

Lia looked at him like he had grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard the question, save everyone some time and don’t play dumb.”

“The only dummy here would be you, wearing those pajamas,” she nodded toward his baby blue suit. Peter sighed, she was still in fight mode, even when the two of them had their hands tied to their backs.

“Can we start over? I think we should start over,” Peter tried to cut in.

“Dummy? Wow, those are some big words there,” Johnny made fun of her, which only made her even angrier, her face almost as red as her hair.

Mister Fantastic took a step forward, pushing Johnny back. “This is getting ridiculous. What is the plan? You two clearly wanted to be taken in. You’re here, now what?”

“Yeah, you got it wrong, we have nothing to do with any of you. We’re… lost, somewhat. We’re trying to get home,” for a second, Peter tried to gesture to make emphasize on what he was saying, he forgot his hands were tied. He could probably break it, if he tried hard enough.

The blonde woman’s head picked up at Peter’s words. “So Victor’s blackmailing you?”

“Who’s Victor?” Peter asked.

“Okay, we’re done here. HR,” Lia nodded at Peter and disappeared. Johnny and Rock Guy immediately tensed up, looking around the lab for her.

“Where did she go?” Johnny asked Peter, who could only shrugged, because he really didn’t know.

Plan HR was one of the many blanket plans Lia and Peter had come up with following Peter’s fight against Adrian Toomes, when Lia swore up and down that, after she was done with her house arrest, the two of them would go out on the streets as a team. HR here stood for Hit and Run. It was a simple escape plan: Lia hits someone very dramatically, attracting everyone's attention and giving Peter an opening to escape on the opposite direction.

“The cameras,” the blonde woman instructed Mister Fantastic, who turned back to the back of the lab, where many monitors stood. Rock guy left the lab altogether.

Johnny got a hold of Peter’s shoulder and dragged him deeper into the lab. Lia chose that moment to teleport back, in front of the two of them, holding a cutting board. “Hey, that’s Ben’s,” Johnny said, pointing at the piece of wood.

The older man and blonde woman turned back from the cameras in time to see Lia striking Johnny across the face with the board, successfully making him let go of Peter, who didn’t hesitate to break his ties almost effortlessly. Lia nodded at him and disappeared right away.

“I’m so sorry, I swear this is a misunderstanding, we’re not after you,” Peter said, as he shot a web with each hand to slingshot himself to the door of the lab before Johnny could stand up.

Peter made a point of getting away from the lab as fast as he could, turning corners blind, not knowing where he was going to end up in every time he opened a door to pass through. Should he leave through a window, or find Lia first? Peter had nowhere to go, and they had no rendezvous point when stranded in the 60's.

He opened one door, only to come face to face with the Rock Guy. “Enough is enough, come here!” he said, reaching out for Peter, who slammed the door on his face and turned around to run.

His escapade led him to what looked like the building’s living room. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and so he crashed into someone. Both he and Lia jumped back, startled, and sighed in relief when they realized they had found each other.

Their ease didn’t last long, though, because Rock Guy’s ruckus after Peter could be heard from the distance.

“I locked a little robot on the bathroom, we have to leave now,” Lia said, taking Peter’s hand in hers and leading him up some stairs.

On this floor, there was a long hall full of closed door, they ran through. Downstairs, their four captors reconvened on the living room they had just been in. They were exchanging info on where they had last seen the duo.

“I told you bringing them here was a bad idea,” Johnny said.

“Franklin,” the voice of the woman was laced with sudden worry.

Knowing they were eventually going to come to the next floor, Lia pulled Peter into one of the bedrooms and closed the door behind them.

Sue couldn’t have run up the stairs faster. There were two strangers inside their home and Franklin had been left in his nursery, while they had gone out when Johnny stopped answering his comms. Ben said he had found H.E.R.B.I.E. inside the bathroom, which meant that Franklin was alone.

She could hear Reed, Johnny and Ben behind her, checking the rest of the rooms, but Sue went straight to the nursery. She opened the door silently and her heart was on her throat when she saw the two strangers inside, but it seemed neither had seen her baby, focused on the window.

She turned herself invisible and closed the door behind her, completely unnoticed by them. Franklin was standing up, holding onto the crib’s side rail, his face barely above the wooden frame. He was looking at them curiously, a small smile on his lips.

The boy with Spider suit tried to punch and break the window, but last year, Reed had made sure nothing inside Franklin’s room could be breakable, lest he hurt himself. When he failed to open the window, the boy doubled over in pain, nursing his hand against his chest. “What’s that thing made of?” he managed to groan out.

Still on their efforts to break the window, the girl took a lamp from the nightstand closest to her and threw it against the window. Neither the window nor the lamp broke. “Even the lamp?!”

From his crib, Franklin cooed. It attracted the girl’s attention, the surprised expression on her face when she realized who was also in the room with them.

She shook the boy’s shoulder. “Peter,” she breathed out, and nodded towards Franklin.

Sue ran to stand beside the crib, still invisible. Franklin had a way of knowing when his mom was there, even when she was invisible, and he turned his head away from the newcomers to smile at her.

“Of all the rooms, we had to walk into their nursery,” the boy grumbled, as Franklin let go of the rail to reach out to his mom.

Sue hesitated to make herself known to the two strangers. Without the support, Franklin didn’t last long on his feet, and fell on his butt. He turned to look at the other two like it was their fault and started to wail a little.

“Oh no,” the girl mumbled, as she rushed to the crib and picked Franklin up, tapping his back to calm him down. “Hush hush, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” she said in a honeyed voice, which made Sue turn her head to the side, observing the scene unfold in silence.

The boy named Peter walked over to her, and leaned down to take a closer look of Franklin, who started to cry louder. “Your mask is scaring him, idiot,” she reprimanded him, turning her back to him, so the kid wouldn’t see him.

“Oh, sorry… so sorry,” Peter took off his mask for the first time so the kid could see his face, and Sue was able to see just how young he was. Franklin’s eyes scanned him, turned to look at the girl holding him, then to Sue, and started to giggle. “Aw, you’re so cute,” Peter pinched the baby’s cheek.

It struck Sue as a sweet moment, reminded her of how Johnny and Ben would interact with Franklin.

Speaking of which, Reed, Johnny and Ben walked through the door and stopped in astonishment to see the two people they had been chasing inside the baby’s room, holding Franklin.

Peter jumped in front of his friend. “Please don’t, we’re not hurting the baby, I swear!” he was quick to announce, hoping to soothe the three men.

It didn't. “What are you two doing here?” Ben demanded to know.

“It was an accident. We didn’t mean to,” said the girl, rubbing Franklin’s back.

“They’re telling the truth,” Sue spoke up, finally revealing herself.

The two newcomers couldn’t hold back their short screams when they saw her, standing not too far from them, and they stumbled back a little. Sue’s brow arched. Johnny was amused, Ben wasn’t. Reed just stared.

“Have you been there the whole time?” The girl asked, voice cracking.

“Yes,” Sue deadpanned.

“So can we, like, talk? Like normal people,” Peter asked, finally relaxing.

“I remember you two were the ones who started these fights,” Johnny said, with an accusatory tone.

“Pretty sure you assumed we were criminals first,” the redhead’s tone was dry.

Ben took a step forward to take Franklin from the girl’s arms, but he didn’t agree, as he held as tight as he could to her clothes, and when Ben insisted on taking him, he gripped her red hair. “Hey, no, don’t do tha— Ouch!”

“You said you were lost,” Mister Fantastic, whose real name was Reed, said once they were back in the lab, this time without Lia’s hands tied behind her back.

Lia nodded, a headache settling in. “Yeah, it’s… complicated.”

“How complicated?” he pushed.

“Uhm… the future?”

“The future?” Sue echoed from her place, with baby Franklin at her hip. “Are you saying you’re time travelers?”

“Not by choice,” she exhaled. “We just wanted to go a few years back, but our time machine brought us somewhere else and broke down here.”

“What year are you from, then?” Ben asked, with genuine curiosity.

“2023,” Lia answered and watched the Fantastic Four take in her words. Reed immediately turned to his chalk board, his extraordinarily long arms erased all it had written, and started to write down all types of formulas Lia didn’t even attempt to understand.

“So if your time machine broke, you just need to repair it and you’ll be on your way?” Ben asked. Lia and Peter nodded repeatedly. “Reed can do that. Probably.”

“Yeah, it’s in the backpack,” she pointed to Peter, and she turned to him. “Where’s the…” as the question left her lips, Lia realized it had been a long while since she last saw Peter carrying the backpack.

Peter seemed to realized this at the same time, eyes widening in terror. “Oh my god, I left it at the park.”

“You what?!” Lia exclaimed, standing up from the couch. “You said you would take care of it!”

“Yeah, but that was before Fire Man over here kicked me out of the sky!” Peter pointed at Johnny like it was his fault.

Johnny lifted his index finger. “Actually, it’s the Human Torch.” The two of them turned to look at him unamused, which in turn, delighted Johnny even more.

“The park has been closed off after the fight,” Sue reassured them, placing a hand over Lia’s shoulder and kneaded her a little. “We can go get your backpack in the morning.”

Lia sighed and closed her eyes for moment. “Thank you,” she said with a smile, which Sue returned kindly.

“So how good’s the future?” Johnny asked with mirth. “Are we remembered as the best heroes ever or what?”

Lia shared a look with Peter. She was yet to fully process the entire day, she was tired. But it was completely undeniable that there’s something wrong at play here. Everything was different to what she knew, the details were wrong, even if she lacked the words to describe what it was to the Fantastic Four, who as far as she knew, had never existed at all.

“About that…” Peter started. 

“It is possible,” Reed exclaimed, interrupting Peter. In the short time their conversation took place, Reed had written out long and overcomplicated formulas, calculating something related to time travel, Lia guessed. “Time travel is theoretically possible.”

“You needed to do all that to know it?” Lia pointed toward the chalk board. “Aren’t we literally living proof?”

“Reed needs to do calculations to know if it’s a good idea to take one more cup of coffee,” Johnny joked, Sue scolded him.

“I calculated all the possibilities. The easiest way would be through the theorized Quantum Realm. Using it as a pathway…” Reed rambled on.

“Yeah, I could’ve told you that,” Lia interrupted him. “Our machine is built to use that quantum thing.”

Johnny snorted. “You’re not that versed in time travel for a time traveler, are you?”

“Well, no, but the people who built the thing are,” Lia snapped at him, even if he clearly enjoyed getting a rise out of her.

Meanwhile, Peter took a moment to actually read everything Reed had written on the board, taking in every operation and equation. Lia could practically see the cogs in his brain turning. He turned to Reed to ask a question about an specific set of numbers, Reed was happy to answer.

Ben took a step forward towards Lia. “I’m sorry, by the way,” he told her, sheepish. “For threaten to knock you out, back a the park.”

Lia couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. It was the first time someone apologized to her for something that had happened during a battle. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I guess I don’t know when to give up.”

Sue entered Lia’s visual field, so she guessed she could do some apologizing of her own. “I’m sorry for trying to hit you, and sneaking into your nursery. And for cussing you out.”

“When did you cuss me out?” Sue asked with humor.

“The whole ride here. In my mind,” Lia scratched the back of her head.

“Are you gonna apologize now for hitting me in the face with Ben’s cutting board?” Johnny arched a brow.

“Are you gonna apologize for burning my jacket?” she retorted.

They locked eyes with disproportionate intensity, and then both of them refused to look away, like it was a competition. Lia crossed her arms and Johnny put his hands in his hips. Ben and Sue shared a look, as they might as well have become invisible to the younger two. Franklin asked to be put on the floor, he crawled his way to his dad, who was still chatting with Peter.

“As soon as we get back your machines, we can start working on fixing them, so you can go home,” Reed promised Peter, holding Franklin in his arms.

Lia broke her eyes off of Johnny to look at Peter, who was already looking at her. Lia’s heart squeezed in her chest. She knew the boy well, she couldn’t begin to imagine all what was going on inside his head. The guilt, doubt and fear. She gave him what she’d hoped to be a reassuring smile, but she knew she was bad at it.

“So,” Johnny started, with a smirk, “you two really don’t work for Doom?” Lia glared at him.

“Well…” Peter voice cracked. Everyone turned to look at him with wide eyes, even Lia.

She teleported to cross the distance between the two, standing right beside him. “Dude, don’t joke.”

“But you saw him. On the TV. Tony…” Peter pleaded.

“No, they called him Doom, that’s not Tony,” Lia shook her head, nervous that his words would turn the Fantastic Four against them again.

“Wait, so you do know Victor,” Ben said, voice suspiciously even.

Lia rubbed her eyes. “No, that’s not— Your Doom stole Tony’s face, he’s not…”

“His face?” Reed asked, crossing his arms, holding his chalk in his arms and a frown on his face, not understanding what she meant.

“Doom is not Tony, they just look similar,” Lia tried to explain. Her words didn’t do anything to clear up the Fantastic Four’s doubts.

Peter took a step forward. “I have a theory.”

The other six people in the room, including Franklin, turned to look at him. Lia could see in his face he was trying not to cave in to the pressure of the attention. “You’ve just made calculations about time travel. But I don’t think that’s what we’re dealing with anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Johnny asked, incredulous.

“So you’re not from the future,” Sue said at the same time.

“By all means and purpose, we are. But your 1965 looks so different from what we know ours should be,” Peter. “Your cameras, cars. You even have functional robots!” Peter threw his hands up in the air. “Worst of all, we have Tony here giving out threats on international TV before he was even born in our timeline.”

“So you’ve changed something,” Johnny rationalized.

“No, this is the furthest back we ever traveled. If our presence in the past changed anything, it shouldn’t have affected you. I think this is how your world was always meant to be like this. It is simply different from what our world is.”

“A parallel universe,” Lia breathed out, finally putting all the pieces together.

It is quite a curious thing, Lia thought, to watch people come to the realization that the world, the universe, is much bigger than they thought it’d be. She’d seen it in real time back in 2012, when she turned on the news to watch aliens invade New York City, and she saw it now with the Fantastic Four. Reed stood up a little straighter, Johnny and Sue’s eyebrows flew to their hairline, Ben remained impassive, baby Franklin nibbled on his dad’s tie.

Lia and Peter landed in the middle of the street, a taxi almost ran them over.

The two of them cussed the driver out as they ran to the sidewalk. “We’re in New York alright,” Lia puffed out as she fixed her hair. “You guys are so rude.”

“This looks like Brooklyn, though,” Peter looked around, ignoring Lia’s complaints. “I could’ve sworn I put in Manhattan coordinates,” he turned down to his wrist band, to check where he had gotten it wrong.

“We shouldn’t waste the Pym particles,” Lia said, putting her hand over Peter’s band. “We can take the subway.”

Before Peter could answer, a figure flying over their heads got their attention. Spider-Man, to be specific.

“Is that… you?” Lia asked, because she had a feeling that it wasn’t a past version of Peter.

Peter shook his head. “Uh, I’ve never had suit like that. Is it spray painted?,” without really meaning to, his feet followed where the flying figure went, crossing the street, but this impostor Spider-Man swinging made him faster and quickly went out of sight.

“Are we in 2017?” Lia asked, catching up to him. Peter took a look at his wrist band and his breath hitched.

“2020,” he said, perplexed. “Was there ever another…?” Another Spider-Man during the five years he was gone?

“Did you bring your suit?” Lia asked and Peter nodded, pointing to his backpack. “Then go change. Something’s definitely off.”

Peter ran to a lonely alley, and to his credit, he changed into his suit in record time. Without waiting another second, he shot a web into the tall building beside them and lifted off the ground. Lia teleported to the roof of the building, to get a better view. In the distance, she could see glimpses of this spider stranger, as Peter was swinging in their direction.

Rather than running to catch up to them, Lia kept closing the distance by teleporting, hopping from one roof to another. She stopped right beside Peter, who was kneeling in a building, watching on as this other Spider-Man was fighting… someone. A white figure with black dots all over it.

They were inside a grocery store, but through the windows, Lia and Peter could see all the ruckus their fight was causing. Then, out of nowhere, a big black spot appeared in the front of building and this black and red Spider-Man came out flying through it, along with a taxi, which was catapulted right into people walking by.

Peter took out his camera and snapped a picture of Spider-Man crash-landing against a hot dog stand. Lia was not amused. “You serious right now?” Peter shrugged her off.

“Hey, you could hurt somebody!” the other Spider-Man complained, catching the taxi with his webs, and he sounded young, maybe even younger than Peter. He came straight for the dalmatian-looking man, trying to punch him in the face. Turned out, the spot on where his face should be was actually another portal, and the hero ended up punching himself. “Can’t you just act like a regular supervillain so I can catch you?!”

The two of them kept fighting in the sidewalk, the portals laying all over the guy’s body made up for some bizarre positions, but no one around blinked twice in their direction.

“What the—?” Lia exclaimed under her breath. This was certainly not something the Avengers were aware that had happened in 2020, or ever.

“I think I might have messed up the time machine,” Peter said, mortified. His face was covered by the mask, but Lia imagined he was making a face. “I don’t think we’re in 2020, maybe this is not even in New York.”

“So, the future?” It made the most sense, given that it was clear that the Spider-Man fighting was not Peter at all, but Peter only shook his head helplessly. “Uh… should we go talk to that Spider-Man over there or…” the fight had moved over to another street, and now Spider-Man was texting, of all things.

“No,” Peter shook his head. “No, we should go home and see what exactly I did wrong.”

“Ugh, Pepper’s gonna kill us,” Lia said absentmindedly, and lifted her wrist, ready to press the button upon Peter’s command. “Home we go, then. And good luck to that spider over there,” she said as the Spider-Man with the spray-painted suit fell through a portal on the floor.

“I hope we don’t have to fight that guy in the future,” Peter said, as they disappeared from the roof and from this world.

This time, they landed on grass. They were on a clearing, a big mansion not too far ahead.

“Peter…” Lia called.

“Yeah, this is not home,” a frustrated Peter took off his mask and showed her his mobius band. “1983.”

“Oh, great,” she groaned. “I stocked up on the Pym particles so we could make more jumps than necessary, but at this rate, we’re gonna run out of them.”

“I don’t know why this is happening, I—”

A yellow car was driving towards the mansion, Lia could see they were a bunch of teenagers, and they certainly looked from the 80’s. “We should talk to them, ask them where the hell we are.”

She knew Peter would object, so she teleported before he could. Now closer to the mansion, there was a plaque with the inscription Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. She had never heard of it; maybe a young Tony was here, he certainly could be described as gifted.

Without any buildings to swing from, Peter had to run to catch up her. He hadn’t changed out of the suit, but he had taken off his mask and thrown a sweater on top of it, and his backpack wasn’t fully closed, and he had his camera out. “What’s that?” he asked slightly out of breath, looking at the plaque.

“Not a clue. Should we ring?”

Peter’s whole body tensed. Wind hit Lia’s left side, like someone had ran past her, but much stronger. Before she could wonder what was that, a lot of things happened at once.

From Lia’s perspective, a bunch of people had appeared on the garden surrounding the mansion, in a matter of seconds, like they had been dropped there. Almost everyone in the crowd was teenagers, like the one in the car they had seen before. Lia didn’t have time to fully process the people appearing, because the mansion blew up. The yellow car parked close by and its passengers ran out.

“Him,” Peter pointed to the one guy in the crowd who didn’t look utterly confused. He seemed older and had googles set upon his silver hair, and he looked content to be eating a twinkie. He looked familiar, Lia thought. “He got everyone out of the mansion. He was running like, really fast. I think I got it in picture,” he checked his gallery. The picture was blurred, but you could definitely see a figure going out of frame.

“I didn't even see him running,” Lia was in awe. “I heard Wanda’s brother was the same.”

A helicopter came flying over the ruins of the mansion on fire. “We should go. Seems like they have a lot going on,” Peter said, as he snapped a picture of the crowd and another of the building on fire.

“Yeah, and we better go home this time,” she let Peter configure the bands and they were off.

“Oh my fucking god,” Lia exclaimed.

They were on a highway and they had walked into a real carnage. There were guts, blood and dead bodies everywhere, and she was trying really hard not to look at the person slammed against the green sign; she didn’t want to know how they got there.

They got in time to see s a man in a red leather suit take out three men at the same time with one bullet. The bodies touched the ground, the man in the red suit took a deep whiff of the smoke coming out of his gun, and started talking to himself. Lia couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was very animated for someone surrounded by corpses.

Peter seemed absolutely creeped out by their surroundings. “What the fuck?”

“We gotta go,” was all Lia said, more on instinct than anything.

Unfortunately for them, they had already caught the attention of the guy who was probably behind this massacre. “Hey, who the fuck are you? Colossus is supposed to be here any second now… Oh my god, are you Tom Holland?” he called to them, now sounding delighted. “What are you doing here?!”

“Is he talking to us?” Peter asked, as he was reaching for his camera, Lia swatted his hand.

“Don’t look at him, we have to leave,” Lia said, and he got into action, trying once again to write in the right year and coordinates, but he was getting nervous under the pressure of the guy starting to walk up to them, talking something about Sony, Fox and Disney.

“I— I can’t—” he was tripping over his own words, and the guy was getting closer.

“Are you joking? We gotta go!” Lia was now also getting nervous.

“Let’s not panic!” The boisterous guy on red said, now a few feet away from them. “I was hoping for Andrew Garfield, but we can all be friends! My name is Deadpool, by the way. Well, not my name, but you know what I mean—”

Finally, Peter got it right and they left as fast as they had arrived.

“Wait, can you at least put up a good word for me with Feige?! I promise to be good!”

“Oh, thank god,” Lia sighed of relief when they appeared inside a random building, away from the lunatic in red leather. “Now, where on earth are we?”

“I don’t know,” Peter all but cried. “Here it says it’s 2025, but I swear I put in 2023. This thing is doing whatever it wants!”

It seemed like stress was getting to Peter, so Lia tried her best to soothe him. “Well, it’s okay, we have enough particles for two more jumps, so let’s just take a minute. Breath in, breath out. And then we should— is that a kaiju?”

Peter turned around to look out the window, and indeed, there was giant monster standing in the middle of a park, just across the street. Even in his stress, he found it in himself to take a picture.

Lia teleported to see the monster closer. As usual, the bystanders weren’t running away to safety, rather most of them had their phone cameras focused on the monster’s feet. She didn’t understand why until something under the pavement slithered away from the giant’s foot.

Peter got there in time to see someone emerge from under the ground. The man clad in blue and a red cape went out flying into the sky like bird or a plane. Kids around cheered. The flying man came and punched the monster on the nose and it made such impact that it staggered backwards.

“Is he… wearing his underwear on the outside?” Peter asked, a hand over his eyes to cover from the sun as he was looking up.

“Yep,” because it seemed like this hero had everything under control, Lia turned her attention to their little time traveling problem. She had had little understanding of how Tony’s time machine worked, and now she understood less about Peter’s. But she was going to be the one to direct the next jump, to either make finally get them home, or at least take the responsibility off Peter’s shoulders.

“Where are we again?” Peter asked, as he started snapping pictures of the superhero.

“Uhm,” she checked the coordinates displayed by the mobius band. “Delaware?”

“Delaware? And I thought New York had it crazy.”

By the time three more heroes arrived on scene (a girl with wings, a man on a flying chair and a guy just floating around) telling everyone to clear the area, Lia had finished putting the right coordinates and was ready to make the jump.

“We should have more people that can just float like that in home,” Peter commented, as Lia configured his band,

“Actually, I agree, that would be nice,” Lia nodded. “Ready when you are.”

Peter took one last photo and was ready to leave. “Home this time?” he nodded.

“Home this time.”

They were, once again, not home. They landed, once again, in the middle of the street. This time however, a taxi didn’t try to run them over. On the contrary, the driver stopped in the middle of the street and hopped off the vehicle to help them off the street, asking if they were alright.

“Thank you so much,” Peter gleamed at the older man, who just tipped his hat and went back to his taxi. He had been very kind, but he didn’t look like he was from 2023.

Or the 21st century, for that matter.

Lia realized that they had a big problem now. Four times in a row, they had been hopping around different years, no matter what they put in the mobius band, and now they only had one jump left, which meant they should stop, find somewhere safe and check the devices before making the last jump.

“Oh, god,” Peter muttered, and Lia turned to look at him. He had his whole attention on his wrist band, poking multiple times. “It’s not working anymore, it’s… off.”

Lia’s brow arched. “Didn’t you say they would never be off so long we had Pym particles?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not on. I can’t even see when we are.”

Lia checked her own band and it was indeed unresponsive. They now had an even bigger problem, great. “Okay, let’s not panic.”

“Not panic?!” Peter asked, very much panicked. “This thing broke, and we don’t where we are.”

“I mean, that we can find out,” Lia nodded a man in front of a hot dog stand. She walked up to him, Peter in tow “Sorry, sir, what year is it?”

Instead of being weirded out by Lia’s question, the vendor smiled at her. “1965, can you believe that, miss? Time has been flying by, specially after that Herald came to—”

“Indeed, sir, thank you very much, have a good one,” Lia walked away from the conversation after she got the year. “See? It’s okay, '65, could be better, but definitely could be worse. We just need to find somewhere we can fix these things.”

Lia knew very well that was definitely going to be easier said than done, but Peter was already on the verge of hyperventilating, someone needed to be levelheaded one, and that was going to have to be her.

“Stark Industries,” Peter said, turning to her. “If there’s a place with technology advanced enough to fix this, it’s gotta be them.”

“Has Tony even been born yet?” Lia asked and then shook her head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter, you’re right, we should go there. Surely Howard Stark wouldn’t turn us away. We can say we—”

Before she could finish her thought, she was distracted by movement above her. She looked up and gasped.

“Flying cars?!” Peter choked out. “In the sixties?! We don’t even have those in the future!”

Lia turned over to take a good look at their surroundings. Of course, she had never been to the 60’s before, but there were details that didn’t match up to what she knew for a fact about this decade. A Wendy’s was opened on the other end of the street. A blue bus drove by with its outside printed to say ‘Thank You, Fantastic Four’. A young woman walked by with what looked like a flip phone. She then turned to her side of the street and saw a little robot cleaning the windows inside a Radio Shack.

“Sorry, do you two need help?” the guy from the hot dog stand came to them, genuinely concerned. “You look lost.”

Peter was the one who spoke up. “Thank you. Do you know how to get to the Aveng— ehm, the Stark Tower from here?”

The man frowned. “The what tower? Never heard of that before.”

Lia snapped her head back to the man. “What? Come on, it’s the big skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan, ‘Stark’ written in big letters.”

“Maybe there weren’t letters back in the sixties,” Peter leaned over to whisper to her.

“Uh, do you mean the Baxter Building, perhaps?” the man offered, with a nervous smile. “It’s on Madison Avenue.”

Lia shook her head, and Peter looked away. “No, it’s on Park Avenue.”

“Well, if you want to go to Park Avenue, you should—”

They were interrupted by a loud sound of a television. The window of the Radio Shack displayed multiple TVs displayed. Some of them were showing something called The Ted Gilbert Show, some playing a baseball game. Most of them, however, were on the news channel, and they were reporting breaking news that the anchors were describing as ‘very worrisome’. The lower third of the screens showed the title:

‘Doom Threatens the Fantastic Four during Latveria’s Founding Day Speech’

Lia tried to continue her conversation with the vendor, but the news anchor had his whole attention. She turned to Peter who jerked his head to the side, indicating her to leave in the direction of Park Avenue.

The man on the TV, the so called Doom, wore a mask made of some kind of metal, covered in green fabrics. He was speaking on a language Lia didn’t recognize and so, she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but his voice conveyed so much passion to the point of sounding angry when he was addressing the masses on the tv.

Then he switched up, started to speak in English, no wonder to make sure that his receivers would understand every word he said. “And to my four friends back in America,” his voice boomed on the microphone. “I haven’t forgotten about you. Simpletons no more, yet not my equals in any way. I have done right by my people,” to prove his point, the latverians in the crowd cheered. “What have the Fantastic Four done for theirs? Spent countless resources on a plan that never came to fruition, refused to take the true route to save the Earth and instead let a Herald sacrifice herself for it. It is the telltale of your everlasting folly,” then he did the last expected thing: he took off his mask and in doing so took Lia and Peter’s breath away.

It was none other than Tony Stark, alive and kicking like Lia remembered him. He wasn’t the same as he had been, though. The most noticeable difference was of course the scar that ran down the right side of his face. He looked more stern and serious now, like Lia had never seen him before. His eyes were cold as ice.

“You seek knowledge just because you can, and you think of yourself as far above everyone’s intellect, Reed Richards, but you are nothing more than puny man. The world seems to think of your team as the saviors of the story and it will be my pleasure to prove all of them wrong.”

“We’re so screwed, aren’t we?” Peter said and Lia had no answer.

At the same time, somewhere else, on one of the top floors of the Baxter Building, the four recipients of the threat were also watching the news.

“He’s a little obsessed with us, isn’t he?” the youngest of them joked.

“This is no laughing matter, Johnny,” their leader, Reed, scolded him, frowning deeply at the screen.

“No, I know. It’s just a little on the nose this time around,” Johnny shrugged.

The blonde woman standing between the two of them, turned her back to take a good look at her child, still playing on the carpet behind them and oblivious to the news on the TV. “So much, it feels like bait,” she mentioned.

“If it’s bait, we should just ignore him for now,” the fourth member, Ben, said with confidence.

“Turn a blind eye to Doom? That seems way worse than playing into his hand,” Johnny argued. Before Ben could answer, Reed spoke.

“He wants to provoke us, but to do what exactly?” He wondered, thinking out loud. “If we make the next move and go face him, would we be walking into another one of his masterplans?”

“Or maybe this is his way of telling us ahead of time,” his wife said, going to pick up her child. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

“So only time will tell,” Ben concluded.

“We’ll have to be on high alert for the time being,” Reed nodded. “Keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Maybe his speech is nothing but smoke and mirrors and the real plan is already out there. I’ll keep tabs on Latveria’s local news. Johnny, you might have to go out on patrol until further notice.”

Patrolling wasn’t something they did at all anymore, so Johnny was very much excited to do it. “You got it. You know what? I’ll be heading out right now.”

“Take all the time you need,” Pepper said softly, as she let the two young heroes inside her husband’s garage.

Peter looked around the place, taking in the large place filled to the brim with all the projects Mr. Stark had worked on for the past 5 years. That was something he’s still trying to wrap his head around. To him, their fight against Thanos in Titan had happened a little more than a month ago. He barely remembered what if felt like dying and coming back to life, because it felt like it had happened in the same breath, and then, he was thrown back into a another fight on Earth.

Where Mister Stark died.

A hand landed on his back, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Thank you, Pepper. We’ll go back soon” Lia’s voice was quieter than it used to be, Peter thought. Her hand tugged him into the garage.

Lia herself was another one of the changes Peter was yet to grow accustomed to. She had always been older than him, but since she hadn’t died when Thanos disappeared half the universe, she was now an adult, while Peter had stayed a teenager. He was a little afraid that this was something they would never get back from; they used to be close, but now it felt like there was an abyss between them and neither of them were willing to cross the distance.

“Most of this stuff he did to entertain Morgan,” Lia commented, checking out what looked like a drone in the form of a giant songbird. The thing wouldn’t turn on, no matter what buttons she’d press, so she just left it on the metal shelf she had taken it from.

Peter hummed, as he took a box full of projectors of various sizes. “So he really settled down for a while, huh?”

Lia nodded with a little smile. “Oh, yeah. You should’ve seen him play ‘duck, duck, goose’ in the front yard with Morgan. Never thought I’d see the day when he would be so clumsy on purpose.”

The smile didn't last long in Lia’s face, and they both sticked to their separate corners of the garage, looking for trinkets each could take as mementos from Tony. Earlier that day, Pepper had invited them to their lake house, and said that he would’ve like for the stuff in here to stay with people he’d loved, who would make good use of it. She said like that was meant to be a consolation for the two of them, it hadn’t but neither had the heart to tell her otherwise.

Peter had no idea what half of the stuff in the shelves was, so he dared not to touch it. His eyes caught a glimpse of what looked like digital camera, sitting at the back of a wooden bookcase, behind an old Iron Man helmet. He took it and turned it on, it had 28 percent of battery. Letting his curiosity win, he checked the gallery.

It had a few photos, mostly of Morgan and Pepper, Tony was with them in some of the pics. There was one which made him pause. It was Lia, sandwiched between Tony, Pepper and Steve, she was wearing cap and gown. Not for the first time in these last few days, Peter felt his throat tightened.

The photo brought back a memory, from just a few days before Thanos had sent his lackeys to Earth. Peter was at Lia’s apartment catching up on some school essay due to the next day that he had totally forgotten about. Lia sat beside him, watching write at the speed of light.

“I think I’m gonna do a GED,” she mentioned casually, and it took a second for the words to register in Peter’s mind.

“Wait, for real?” he asked, stopping his writing to look at her.

“Yeah, back then, the Avengers business took precedence and I never got to finish school. But I’ll be damned if you graduate high school before me,” she played it cool, like she always did, but Peter was genuinely happy for her, and offered to help her study.

Once again, to him, this was a recent memory, but it had happened 5 years ago. In the end, it seemed like Lia did graduate high school before him, and without his help. He was proud of her, even if seeing the picture was bittersweet.

Peter would like to keep the camera, if Pepper had no objections. He turned to look at Lia. She was now at the center of the garage, leaning on the work table, where a little projection gave away that F.R.I.D.A.Y. was present in the room.

“Lia,” he called out to her, and she turned her head to him over her shoulder, her red hair falling over her back. In that second, Peter snapped a picture of her. Her smile turned soft, even if just for a moment.

“Anything I can help you with, miss Larsen?” the AI asked.

“Well, this place is huge, we could be here all day, but I’d rather not. Do you have like a inventory or something?”

“There is an inventory,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, “but it was last updated in 2020.”

“Ah, very useful,” Lia’s sarcastic tone was not lost on the AI, whose creator was even worse. She turned to Peter, with a smile he recognized, that one she wore when she was up to a little mischief. “Maybe we can built something for ourselves. Finish a little project he started. What about blueprints, F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Anything he didn’t get to make?”

“Searching blueprints for unfinished projects… 627 documents found.”

“Jesus Christ, Tony,” Lia groaned. “Sleep is legal.”

“So much for settling down,” Peter laughed softly, as he reached the worktable, F.R.I.D.A.Y. projecting miniature previews of all the blueprints.

“Always working on something new before he had finished the last project,” Lia clicked her tongue, but it lacked real disapproval. “Well, let’s check it out. F.R.I.D.A.Y., let’s see the last one he worked on.”

“Project one of 627: Quantum suit. Blueprint last reviewed—”

“Oh, he finished this,” Lia interrupted the AI. “It’s what they wore to go back in time, it’s probably here because he finished them at the compound” she leaned over to tell Peter, who awkwardly nodded.

“Next one then, Friday. Please,” Peter said, turning his camera over in his hands.

“Project two of 627: Quantum band—”

“Is that the time machine?” Peter asked immediately, once again interrupting the AI.

Lia had her eyes glued to the 3D projection of the mobius strip. “Yep, it is. But why is it marked as unfinished? Maybe he did some last second modifications.”

“Friday, can you print this one out, please?” Peter asked, and the printer on the worktable started to work at the moment.

“What are you doing?” Lia asked, suddenly on edge.

Instead of answering her, Peter took the blueprint the second the printer was finished and turned to the worktable where F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s projection was. “Do we have everything we need to make this project?”

“Indeed,” she answered plainly, and that set Peter in motion, he started to walk around the garage, gathering the materials F.R.I.D.A.Y. instructed from all corners of the garage.

“Hey,” Lia took Peter by the arms, shaking him up a little. “What the hell? You can’t just decide you’re gonna make a time machine on a whim.”

“It’s not a whim, we—”

“Bruce said no more time travel, after what Steve did,” Lia reminded him. “Even without that, we can’t risk it. I can think of a hundred ways we could mess things up if we go even a week back, and it’s not—”

“We’re not going to mess anything up. We’re not even going to talk to anyone back there, we’re just gonna… go see him. One last time.”

“I don’t want to see him!” Lia exclaimed loudly and immediately looked like she regretted saying it. She closed her eyes, sighting, and Peter just stood there, with the blueprint in his hands, not knowing what to do next. “That’s no what I meant,” Lia’s voice was almost a whisper.

“I know,” Peter nodded.

“No, really,” Lia shook her head, her eyes were watering. “It’s just— I miss him. And I fear seeing him might make it worse for me in the long run and…” she trailed off.

“I miss him too. That's why I thought it might be a good idea. Just see him, out and about. Let the last time we ever see him alive be in his prime, safe and sound, instead of… you know. And if it gets bad after, then it’s not like you’ll be alone. I’m here, I’ll always be here, and May will say yes before you even finish the question. I just… this is just not what I thought life was going to go, but it’s done. And I want to close this for good. Finish the chapter and start a new book, if you will.”

“But what if I do something wrong? If I see him again, I fear I’ll warn him, change the whole timeline” she closed her eyes, like that might stop the tears. “What if I don’t wanna come back after that?”

Peter shrugged one shoulder, trying to keep things light, for both of their sakes. “Then I just drag you back. Even if you’re kicking and screaming, I won’t leave you behind.”

She opened her eyes again, and she looked rather defeated. Peter watched, in real time, how Lia put up her walls again, slipping on the mask of a happy-go-lucky girl she liked to wear. She smiled to him, there was a glint in her eyes that, if she was anyone else, he could have thought it was a her coming back from her low, but in reality it was an unshed tear.

“Okay then. We begin Secret Time Travel Operation.”

“I’m back!” Lia appeared in the middle of the garage, waving around a number of vials.

“What time is it?” Peter asked, lifting his googles after welding two parts together.

“Um, 11 p.m.,” Lia tried to suppress a yawn. She had just come back from sneaking into the Avengers Compound, to quietly procure some Pym particles from the time machine in Bruce’s custody.. “I got them. Nobody even noticed I was there.”

After Peter’s rather amateur welding, the mobius bands were now completed. He had done heavy alterations to the blueprint, so they wouldn’t need to use suits, only the bands on their wrists. ‘Like Ben 10!’, he had said excitedly, and Lia just sighed. All they needed to put the particles in, so they could start their short excursion to the past.

“Maybe we should take a little break? We missed dinner. Pepper’s gonna kill us. May too,” Lia said, as she stretched out her arms.

“I told May I might sleep over, that’s fine. A break sounds perfect,” Peter yawned.

“You’ve gone back school yet?” Lia asked, laying on her back in the garage floor, after leaving the vials alongside the bands. Peter followed her movement, their heads in the same height, but their legs on opposite directions. He was seeing her upside down.

“No, they said they needed another week to figure out how to group the current classes with us.”

“So they’re stalling. Have you talked to Ned?”

“Yeah, he called right away. We, uh… we cried. On the phone.”

Lia snorted, and Peter reached to hit her on the forehead, but she swatted his hand away. “What about your little girlfriend? MJ, was it?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said a little too fast and his voice cracked. “I don’t even like her like that.”

“Yeah, right,” she said mockingly. Peter once again tried to hit her and this time, Lia teleported away from him. One second she was laying on the floor, the next she was standing, leaning on the edge of the worktable.

Peter put his hand behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “How’s the work back at, what was it, Sword?”

“Yes, S.W.O.R.D.,” Lia nodded, serious, and then she shrugged. “Eh, it’s kinda up in the air right now, to be honest.”

“Why, because of what happened in New Jersey last week? They said y’all were doing some kind of testing,” Peter asked. The red dome around a little town had been national news, but no one had answered what exactly happened; Peter only knew that Lia had been an active agent in the case, and that S.W.O.R.D. was currently looking for Wanda Maximoff to interrogate her on her side of the story.

“It’s because my boss got arrested by the FBI, and I’m reconsidering every mission he sent me out to in the last year.”

“Was he, like, a super evil guy?”

“He certainly didn’t seem like it before, but… yeah what he did in Westview. He deserved it.” She clicked her tongue. “I think we should go to 2017.”

Peter moved to lay on his side, holding himself up on his elbow, surprised by the abrupt change of topic. “No offense, but you don’t look like you did in 2017,” in the most strict terms, it was true. Even if Lia hadn’t altered much about the way she looked (the most she had done was growing out her hair), Tony would definitely notice that a 24 year old Lia was not the 18 year old she was back then.

“Yeah, and anything beyond 2018, you’re dead, so which one’s worse?” Lia shrugged. Now that was a conundrum, Peter to think that one out. “Hey, don’t overthink it. We go to 2017 and I blend in the background, you can pretend you’re the same and… I dunno, say whatever you need to get off your chest.”

“But you won’t be able to talk to him,” Peter complained, as he stood up.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk to anyone at all,” she quipped. “But it’s alright, I don’t think I should talk to him anyway,” Lia reached her hand out to his head and then stopped, hesitating, but in the end her hand ruffled Peter’s hair. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“Did you guys get into another fight or something?” Peter frowned.

“Ah, you know us, nothing out of the regular. It’s just… yeah, he shouldn’t see me at all.”

“If you say so,” but Peter didn’t seem convinced, so she just shoved him a little and he shoved back. That make him laugh a little. “Should we go now?”

“I don’t see why not. If we did everything right, we should be back in, like, a minute, right?” Peter nodded. “And after that, we can go say sorry to Pepper for missing dinner.”

Peter reached for the mobius bands that were on the worktable, adding the vials with Pym particles that Lia brought in their proper place. He calibrated both of them to the year 2017 and the coordinates of New York City and passed Lia hers. They exchanged charged looks. “Ready?” Lia asked.

Peter smiled at her, and it became extremely obvious just how young he was. “Ready when you are,” he nodded, then his eyes opened wide, like he realized he had forgotten something. “Oh wait,” he went back to the worktable where he had left the camera charging all day. He turned it on and snapped a picture of the two of them. “For record keeping. I’m taking it with us, we can take some back there and another after we come back.”

“We shouldn’t do ‘record keeping’, we doing this undercover!” Even if Lia was complaining, she didn’t ask Peter to delete the photo, and that was good enough. He put the camera in a backpack that he had put together earlier in the day.

They stood face to face, with their wrists in front of them, close enough to touch. They pressed the buttons on their bands at the same time, and without any fanfare, they were gone, off to an adventure neither of them bargained for.

Exactly ten minutes later, Pepper came to check on them, but the garage was empty still.