the three times johnny storm got rejected and the one time he didn't
The first time Johnny Storm asked you out, you had been working at the Baxter Building for exactly twenty-three days.
Not that Johnny knew that.
Or cared.
The exact number only mattered because Ben had started counting.
Apparently there was a betting pool now.
You discovered this later.
Much later.
After Johnny had already become the single greatest inconvenience in your professional life.
The afternoon itself had started normally enough.
The main laboratory was alive with its usual rhythm â the low hum of machinery, holographic displays casting blue light across the walls, Reed muttering equations under his breath while completely ignoring the sandwich sitting untouched beside him.
You occupied one of the workstations near the center of the room, reviewing data collected from a recent space survey. Several holograms floated above the desk in front of you, columns of numbers shifting as you reorganized them.
The work was tedious.
Which was exactly why you liked it.
Nobody bothered you when you were working.
Well...
Almost nobody.
You had become so focused that you failed to notice Johnny enter the lab.
A mistake.
A terrible mistake.
Because Johnny Storm had the uncanny ability to detect when he was being ignored.
You became aware of him only when a shadow fell across your desk.
Then came the smell of smoke.
Not actual smoke.
Just warmth.
Like standing too close to a fireplace.
You didn't bother looking up.
"Hello, Johnny."
There was a pause.
A surprised one.
"You knew it was me?"
You continued typing.
"Nobody else announces their arrival like a burnt marshmallow."
From somewhere across the room, Ben barked out a laugh.
Johnny ignored him.
You could practically hear the grin stretching across his face.
"That was funny."
"It wasn't a joke."
"It was a little funny."
"No."
"See, that's your problem."
"My problem?"
"You're denying yourself joy."
Finally, you looked up.
Johnny was leaning against the edge of your workstation, arms crossed over his chest.
And unfortunatelyâ
Very unfortunatelyâ
He looked good.
Everybody knew Johnny looked good.
It wasn't exactly breaking news.
The problem was that he knew it too.
The confidence practically radiated off him.
The easy smile.
The bright eyes.
The infuriating certainty that the world belonged to him.
You had met men like him before.
Men who thought charm could unlock any door.
Men who believed persistence was romantic.
Men who expected eventual success.
Johnny Storm simply happened to be the most attractive version of that problem.
You looked back down at your screen.
The conversation was over as far as you were concerned.
Unfortunately, Johnny disagreed.
"So."
You sighed.
"So?"
"So."
His grin widened.
"Wanna get dinner with me?"
The laboratory fell silent.
Not immediately.
Not dramatically.
But one by one, the conversations died.
You noticed Sue stop walking.
Ben stopped pretending to work altogether.
Even Reed glanced away from the monitor in front of him.
Waiting.
For what?
You had no idea.
The answer was obvious.
You looked up at Johnny.
At the confidence in his expression.
At the certainty.
The expectation.
Then you smiled politely.
"No."
Silence.
Johnny blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Like his brain needed an extra moment to process the information.
"...No?"
"No."
"Just no?"
You nodded.
"That's usually how no works."
Ben immediately doubled over laughing.
The sound echoed through the entire laboratory.
Johnny pointed at him without taking his eyes off you.
"Stay out of this."
"I literally can't," Ben wheezed. "This is the funniest thing I've seen all week."
Johnny looked genuinely offended.
Which somehow made the situation even funnier.
You gathered a few files from your desk and stood.
The conversation had reached its natural conclusion.
At least for you.
Johnny, however, looked like a man experiencing a minor existential crisis.
"You didn't even think about it."
"I did."
"For how long?"
You considered it.
"A second."
"A second?"
"A generous estimate."
This time Sue laughed.
Actually laughed.
Johnny turned toward her.
"Sue."
She raised both hands immediately.
"I'm not helping you."
"You could've helped me."
"You asked her out before learning her middle name."
"I know her middle name."
"No, you don't."
Johnny opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
You smiled.
Sweetly.
Professionally.
The exact smile that had terrified investors, government officials, and one NASA director.
Then you walked away.
Leaving Johnny standing in the middle of the laboratory.
Staring after you.
For the first time in a very long timeâ
Completely speechless.
The second time Johnny Storm asked you out, he had a plan.
Now, in Johnny's defense, this was already more effort than he usually put into anything.
Johnny Storm was many things.
Confident.
Impulsive.
Charming.
Occasionally heroic.
Frequently annoying.
Planning ahead, however, was not one of his stronger qualities.
Which was precisely why Sue became suspicious the moment she saw him ironing a shirt.
Not wearing one.
Ironing one.
Actually ironing one.
With concentration.
Like a man preparing for war.
"Johnny."
He looked up.
"What?"
Sue stared.
Then pointed at the iron.
"What is that?"
Johnny frowned.
"...An iron?"
"No. I know what it is."
"Then why'd you ask?"
Sue narrowed her eyes.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it.
"Why are you using it?"
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
"No reason."
"Oh, God."
Johnny groaned.
"Can you stop acting like I'm planning a crime?"
"You only iron shirts when you're planning a crime."
"I do not."
"Johnny."
"I don't."
"Last time you ironed a shirt you tried to race a fighter jet."
"That was one time."
"Johnny."
"Two times."
Sue sighed.
Deeply.
The kind of sigh that only came from being related to Johnny Storm.
Then she noticed the shirt.
Black.
The nice black one.
The one he only wore when he was trying to impress somebody.
And suddenly everything made sense.
"Oh."
Johnny immediately knew.
"Don't."
"Oh, my God."
"Don't."
"You're asking her out again."
"I wasn't hiding it."
"You ironed a shirt."
"That's not hiding it."
"That's announcing it."
Johnny pointed accusingly.
"You're supposed to support me."
Sue laughed so hard she had to sit down.
The annual Future Foundation charity gala occupied three entire floors of a Manhattan hotel.
Scientists.
Investors.
Politicians.
Reporters.
The usual crowd.
The sort of event Reed attended because he had to.
The sort of event Sue attended because she was good at it.
The sort of event Ben attended because there was free food.
And the sort of event Johnny attended because cameras existed.
By the time the evening officially began, the ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers and designer gowns.
Music drifted through the room.
Champagne flowed freely.
People laughed.
Networked.
Discussed science and funding and the future of humanity.
Johnny spent exactly thirty-seven minutes pretending to listen before his attention wandered.
Not intentionally.
It just happened.
Because then he saw you.
And every coherent thought immediately left his body.
Across the room, you stood beside a group of researchers from MIT.
One hand wrapped around a champagne glass.
The other gesturing as you spoke.
The soft gold lighting caught the side of your face.
Your dress wasn't even particularly flashy.
It wasn't the most expensive gown in the room.
Or the most dramatic.
Or the most attention-grabbing.
Yet somehowâ
Johnny couldn't look away.
It annoyed him.
Deeply.
Because this kept happening.
Every time.
He'd see you.
And suddenly nothing else felt nearly as interesting.
"Uh oh."
Johnny didn't even have to turn around.
Ben.
Obviously.
"What?"
"The look."
Johnny frowned.
"What look?"
"The one where you forget how blinking works."
Johnny finally turned.
Ben was eating shrimp.
A concerning amount of shrimp.
"You sound obsessed."
Ben nearly choked.
"ME?"
"You."
"Brother."
Ben pointed his shrimp at him.
"You've been staring at that poor girl for five straight minutes."
Johnny rolled his eyes.
Then looked back across the room.
You were laughing now.
Something one of the researchers had said.
The sound didn't reach him through the crowd.
But he could see it.
The smile.
The way your shoulders relaxed.
The way your head tilted back slightly.
And suddenlyâ
The ballroom seemed a little brighter.
A little warmer.
A little easier to breathe in.
Johnny froze.
"...oh."
Ben saw the realization happen in real time.
"Oh, no."
"What?"
"You got it bad."
Johnny immediately scoffed.
"I do not."
"Johnny."
"I don't."
"You ironed a shirt."
"STOP BRINGING UP THE SHIRT."
The problem with you was that you never made anything easy.
If you had disliked him, this would've been simple.
If you'd been rude, dismissive, cruelâ
Simple.
Easy.
Understandable.
Instead, you were always nice.
Warm.
Funny.
Patient.
You smiled when he talked.
You laughed at some of his jokes.
You remembered things he told you.
You cared when he got hurt on missions.
You checked in after long nights.
You brought him coffee when he forgot to sleep.
And somehowâ
Somehowâ
You still wouldn't go out with him.
It was maddening.
Completely maddening.
Because Johnny knew when someone disliked him.
You didn't.
Which meant the issue wasn't him.
At least...
Probably not.
Hopefully not.
Maybe.
Actually he wasn't sure anymore.
Which was somehow worse.
He found you nearly an hour later standing near one of the balconies overlooking Manhattan.
The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass.
Thousands of lights scattered across the darkness.
The skyline glowing against the night.
For a moment he just watched you.
Not in a creepy way.
Probably.
Okay.
Maybe slightly.
But in his defense, you looked beautiful.
The kind of beautiful that made people stop mid-sentence.
The kind of beautiful that made entire rooms feel quieter.
The kind of beautiful Johnny was rapidly discovering could be extremely dangerous to his health.
You sensed him before he spoke.
Without turning around, you lifted your champagne glass.
"Hello, Storm."
Johnny grinned.
There it was.
Storm.
Always Storm.
Never Johnny.
Never anything softer.
Just Storm.
Like he was some persistent weather condition.
"You knew it'd be me."
"I heard the ego approaching."
Johnny pressed a hand over his heart.
"Wounded."
"You'll survive."
"I might not."
You finally looked at him.
Amusement flickering behind your eyes.
And there it was again.
That feeling.
That awful, wonderful feeling.
The one that had become increasingly difficult to ignore.
Johnny leaned against the railing.
Trying very hard to appear casual.
Trying very hard to ignore the fact that his pulse had suddenly sped up.
"Dinner."
Your eyes narrowed immediately.
"No."
"I haven't even finished the sentence."
"You don't need to."
"Come on."
"No."
"One date."
"No."
"One drink."
"No."
"Coffee."
"No."
Johnny stared.
The smile on your face grew.
Tiny.
Barely visible.
But definitely there.
And suddenly he realized something.
You were enjoying this.
Not the asking.
The teasing.
The back and forth.
The challenge.
The fact that Johnny Storm kept trying.
The realization made him grin.
"You think this is funny."
"A little."
"A little?"
"A moderate amount."
Johnny laughed.
Actually laughed.
Because somehow that answer felt exactly like you.
Then he looked at you.
Really looked.
The city lights reflecting in your eyes.
The breeze catching your hair.
The amused expression you'd never show reporters.
And before he could stop himselfâ
Before his brain could catch upâ
He asked quietly,
"Why not?"
For the first time that evening, you paused.
Not because you were considering it.
He could tell you weren't.
But because the question surprised you.
Johnny wasn't usually serious.
Not with this.
Not with you.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
Then your smile softened.
Just slightly.
Enough that he almost missed it.
"Because you're asking."
Johnny groaned immediately.
"Oh, that's evil."
A laugh escaped you.
Warm.
Genuine.
The kind he rarely got to hear.
And somehowâ
Somehowâ
It felt worth the rejection.
Which was probably the most concerning part of all.
Because as you turned and started walking back toward the ballroom, Johnny found himself watching you leave.
Again.
Not upset.
Not discouraged.
Not frustrated.
Just...
Wanting to follow.
And that realization hit him like a freight train.
Because somewhere between the first rejection and the secondâ
This had stopped being a game.
And Johnny Storm, much to his horror, was starting to think he might actually like you. REALLY like you. Which was a disaster.
An absolute, five-alarm, Baxter-Building-level disaster.
The third time Johnny Storm asked you out, he made the mistake of believing he was making progress.
In his defense, there was evidence.
Actual evidence.
Not much.
But enough.
You laughed at his jokes more often now.
Not all of them.
That would have been ridiculous.
But enough that Johnny started keeping track.
You no longer immediately walked away whenever he approached.
You voluntarily sat next to him during meetings.
Once, you had even fallen asleep in the common room with your head resting against his shoulder after a thirty-hour work session.
Granted, you'd been unconscious.
And yes, Ben still brought it up every chance he got.
But still.
The point stood.
Progress.
Tiny.
Microscopic.
Embarrassingly insignificant progress.
But progress nonetheless.
Which was how Johnny found himself wandering into the lab at two in the morning feeling oddly optimistic.
The Baxter Building was quiet.
For once.
Most of Manhattan slept beyond the massive windows.
The city lights glittered against the darkness while the lab itself remained illuminated by computer screens and floating holograms.
Reed had finally been forced to go home by Sue.
Ben had disappeared hours ago.
Even H.E.R.B.I.E. seemed quieter than usual.
The only person still awake besides Johnny was you.
Of course.
Because apparently sleep was optional for scientists.
You sat alone at one of the workstations, knees tucked beneath you in your chair while several files floated across a holographic display.
A half-finished cup of coffee sat forgotten beside your laptop.
You looked exhausted.
Your hair wasn't done.
Your glasses had slipped down your nose.
One sleeve of your sweater covered most of your hand.
And somehowâ
Somehowâ
Johnny thought you looked prettier than every supermodel he'd ever met.
It was honestly becoming a problem.
A serious one.
A medical condition, probably.
"You know."
Your voice broke through the silence before he'd even spoken.
Johnny smiled immediately.
"You know what?"
Without looking up from your screen, you replied,
"If you're standing there staring at me, you could at least say hello."
Busted.
Johnny walked further into the room.
"I wasn't staring."
You finally glanced up.
The look on your face said liar.
"No?"
"No."
"You've been standing there for at least thirty seconds."
Johnny dropped into the chair across from you.
"Okay, maybe a little."
"A little."
"A moderate amount."
That earned him a laugh.
A real one.
Not polite.
Not professional.
A genuine laugh.
And suddenly Johnny felt absurdly pleased with himself.
Which was dangerous.
Because whenever Johnny Storm felt confident, terrible things usually happened.
Like now.
You returned your attention to the files in front of you.
The room settled into comfortable silence.
Comfortable.
The word itself surprised Johnny.
A year ago, silence would've driven him insane.
Now?
Now he didn't mind it.
Not with you.
He watched the glow of holograms reflect against your face.
The way you absentmindedly tapped your fingers against the desk while reading.
The little crease between your eyebrows whenever something annoyed you.
The tiny details he'd somehow memorized without realizing.
The realization should have terrified him.
Insteadâ
"Hey."
You didn't look up.
"Mhm?"
Johnny grinned.
"Wanna go out with me?"
The answer came instantly.
"No."
Johnny groaned.
"You didn't even think about it."
"I did."
"For how long?"
"Long enough."
"You're impossible."
This time you looked up.
The corners of your mouth twitching.
Amusement dancing in your eyes.
And suddenly Johnny had a horrible feeling.
The kind that only appeared right before disaster.
You were planning something.
He could tell.
You leaned back slightly in your chair.
Studying him.
Far too innocent.
Far too calm.
Dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
Johnny narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
You smiled.
Slowly.
"Oh, nothing."
That smile.
That smile had never meant anything good.
Johnny pointed at you.
"See? That's exactly the smile."
"What smile?"
"The one that means you're about to emotionally damage me."
Your laugh echoed through the quiet laboratory.
And for one brief, beautiful moment, Johnny forgot he was supposed to be suspicious.
A fatal mistake.
Because then you spoke.
Casually.
Like you weren't about to commit a crime.
"I don't date blondes."
The silence that followed was immediate.
Complete.
Johnny blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"...what?"
You looked completely serious.
Terrifyingly serious.
"I don't date blondes."
Johnny stared.
Then stared harder.
Then looked around the room as if waiting for somebody to jump out and explain the joke.
Nobody appeared.
Because there was nobody else there.
Just you.
Trying very hard not to laugh.
And him.
Experiencing psychological warfare.
"I'm sorry."
Johnny held up a hand.
"No."
He pointed at his hair.
"My hair?"
You nodded.
"Your hair."
"My hair is the problem."
"Unfortunately."
Johnny sat there.
Speechless.
Actually speechless.
Which almost never happened.
Then he leaned forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he was handling unstable explosives.
"Your reason."
"Mhm."
"For rejecting me."
"Mhm."
"Is because I'm blond."
"Correct."
Johnny stared.
You stared back.
Neither of you moving.
Neither of you blinking.
And thenâ
The tiniest smile appeared.
Right at the corner of your mouth.
Johnny immediately pointed.
"THERE."
You burst out laughing.
Immediately.
Completely.
The sound filled the laboratory.
And suddenly Johnny understood.
"Oh, you're evil."
Your shoulders shook.
"You should hear yourself."
"You rejected me because of my hair."
"It was funny."
"It wasn't funny."
"It was a little funny."
"It was deeply hurtful."
That only made you laugh harder.
Johnny slumped back in his chair.
Hand over his heart.
Absolutely devastated.
Or pretending to be.
Mostly pretending.
Maybe.
The problem wasâ
The problem was that he couldn't even be upset.
Because you were laughing.
Really laughing.
The kind that made your eyes crinkle.
The kind that made your entire face light up.
And God help himâ
Johnny would probably let you reject him a hundred more times if it meant seeing that look again.
The realization hit hard.
Hard enough that for a moment he forgot to joke.
Forgot to flirt.
Forgot to play the part everyone expected from Johnny Storm.
Instead, he just watched you.
Quietly.
And something shifted.
Small.
Almost imperceptible.
But real.
Because suddenly it wasn't about winning anymore.
It wasn't about proving he could get a date.
It wasn't about the challenge.
The chase.
The game.
It was you.
Just you.
Sitting across from him at two in the morning.
Laughing at your own terrible joke.
Looking happier than you'd looked all week.
And for the first time, Johnny realized he would be perfectly happy sitting here forever.
Not because he thought you'd eventually say yes.
Not because he expected anything in return.
But because he liked being around you.
Way more than he probably should.
Way more than was safe.
Way more than a man was supposed to like someone who had just rejected him because he was blond.
A beat passed.
Then another.
Eventually, your laughter faded.
The room settling once more.
And before either of you could say anythingâ
The lab doors slid open.
Ben walked in carrying three sandwiches.
Took one look at Johnny.
One look at you.
And immediately knew.
"Oh, she rejected you again."
Johnny sighed.
Deeply.
Painfully.
"Because I'm blond."
Ben stopped walking.
"...what?"
"Because I'm blond."
The silence lasted exactly two seconds.
Then Ben doubled over.
The sandwiches hit the floor.
And his laughter echoed through the entire Baxter Building.
Johnny seriously considered setting something on fire. Probably Ben.
You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you reached for your laptop.
"You're both ridiculous."
"She says after rejecting me because of my hair."
"Which was funny."
"It wasn't."
"It absolutely was."
Ben nearly dropped another sandwich laughing.
You ignored both of them.
With the ease of someone who had spent far too much time around the Fantastic Four, you began shutting down the holograms floating above your workstation. One by one, the glowing screens disappeared until the laboratory finally returned to its usual dim lighting.
The clock in the corner of the room read 3:07 a.m.
A fact that suddenly made your entire body feel exhausted.
You closed your laptop.
Gathered your notes.
Finished the last sip of your coffee.
Then stood.
Johnny immediately frowned.
"Where are you going?"
You blinked.
"...Home?"
"It's three in the morning."
"Exactly."
"You can't just leave at three in the morning."
You stared at him.
Johnny stared right back.
As if this was a completely reasonable concern.
As if he hadn't personally watched you leave the building at worse hours.
"Johnny."
"What?"
"I have to be back here at nine."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
Johnny stood up.
Looking genuinely offended.
Like the answer should've been obvious.
"I can't let a lady go outside by herself at three in the morning."
The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds.
Then your expression changed.
Not amused.
Not teasing.
Just...
Confused.
"Outside?"
"Yeah."
"Johnny."
"What?"
You adjusted the strap of your bag.
Still staring at him.
"I'm not leaving the building."
He blinked.
"What?"
"Sue gave me one of the guest rooms."
Another blink.
"...What?"
You pointed vaguely toward the elevators.
"Two floors down."
The realization hit him all at once.
The room.
The guest room.
The one Sue had offered months ago after one too many late nights.
The one literally inside the Baxter Building.
The one Johnny somehow forgot existed.
"Oh."
You smiled.
Sweetly.
Far too sweetly.
"Goodnight, Storm."
Then you turned.
Walked toward the door.
And left.
Just like that.
The laboratory doors slid shut behind you.
Silence.
Johnny stood there.
Motionless.
Staring at the empty doorway.
Ben watched him for a moment.
Then another.
Thenâ
"...You forgot she lives here."
Johnny pointed aggressively toward the elevator.
"She doesn't live here."
"Close enough."
"Not helping."
Ben snorted.
Johnny dragged a hand down his face.
Then sighed.
Long.
Deep.
Dramatic.
The sigh of a man experiencing true suffering.
Finally, he muttered,
"I'll dye it."
Ben frowned.
"What?"
Johnny looked completely serious.
"If that's the problem, I'll dye it."
For a second, Ben simply stared at him.
Trying to determine whether this was a joke.
Unfortunatelyâ
It wasn't.
Johnny was genuinely considering it.
"You cannot be serious."
"I am."
"Johnny."
"I am."
"Johnny."
"I'll go brunette."
Ben folded in half.
Actually folded.
The laughter that erupted from him was so violent he had to grab the nearest desk for support.
Tears immediately sprang to his eyes.
"Oh my God."
Johnny looked offended.
"What?"
"You've got it BAD."
"I do not."
"YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT CHANGING YOUR HAIR."
"It's called commitment."
"It's called being down catastrophic."
Johnny opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
And unfortunately for him, he couldn't come up with a single argument.
Because somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice was already wondering whether he'd look good as a brunette.
By the time Johnny Storm asked you out for what would eventually be the successful attempt, he had completely given up on succeeding.
Not in a depressing way.
Not in a woe is me, nobody loves me way.
Just...
Realistically.
The same way a man stops expecting to win the lottery.
Or stops expecting Reed to remember where he left his keys.
Or stops expecting Ben to stop bringing up the blonde incident.
Some things simply weren't going to happen.
And apparently one of those things was you agreeing to go on a date with him.
So Johnny adjusted.
Mostly.
Kind of.
Not really.
The flirting never stopped.
That was impossible.
Breathing was less natural to Johnny Storm than flirting with you.
But somewhere along the way, the asking had changed.
It wasn't a challenge anymore.
Wasn't a game.
Wasn't even hope, really.
It had become routine.
Comfortable.
A running joke that belonged solely to the two of you.
A question.
A rejection.
A laugh.
Then life continued.
Simple.
Predictable.
Safe.
Which was exactly why it hit him like a truck.
The afternoon itself had been unremarkable.
The Baxter Building buzzed with its usual energy.
Researchers moving through the halls.
H.E.R.B.I.E. rolling around somewhere in the distance.
Reed locked inside a laboratory with three whiteboards and no awareness of time.
Normal.
Completely normal.
Johnny found you exactly where he expected.
At your desk.
Surrounded by files.
Halfway through organizing an absurd amount of research data because apparently nobody else in the building knew how to label things correctly.
Sunlight poured through the enormous windows.
Golden and warm.
Painting the laboratory in shades of amber.
You sat with your sleeves pushed up and your hair pulled back, entirely focused on your work.
Johnny smiled before he even realized he was doing it.
The sight had become familiar.
Comforting.
Like coming home.
Which wasâ
Nope.
Not thinking about that.
Absolutely not.
He dropped into the chair beside your desk.
You didn't look up immediately.
Just hummed in acknowledgment.
The sound alone somehow made him grin wider.
"Hey."
"Mhm."
"Wanna go out with me Friday?"
There it was.
The usual question.
The routine.
The joke.
Johnny reached for a pen on your desk while waiting for the inevitable rejection.
Maybe you'd say no because he was blonde again.
Maybe you'd tell him he talked too much.
Maybe you'd invent another ridiculous excuse.
Honestly, he was looking forward to hearing it.
Thenâ
"Okay."
Johnny grabbed the pen.
Then froze.
The room suddenly felt very quiet.
Very.
Very quiet.
Slowly, he blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Surely he had imagined that.
Because there was no wayâ
No possible wayâ
He looked up.
You were still sorting files.
Calm.
Composed.
Entirely unbothered.
Like you hadn't just detonated a bomb inside his ribcage.
"...What?"
You slid another folder into place.
"Friday works."
Johnny stared.
The pen slipped from his fingers.
Hit the floor.
Neither of you moved.
For one horrifying second, Johnny became convinced he was hallucinating.
Maybe Reed had accidentally released toxic fumes.
Maybe he'd finally lost his mind.
Maybe Ben had hit him with a truck.
Any explanation seemed more likely than what had just happened.
"You..."
His voice cracked.
Actually cracked.
Mortifying.
"You said yes."
You finally looked up.
And there it was.
A smile.
Not the polite one.
Not the professional one.
Not the one you gave reporters or investors or strangers.
A real smile.
Warm.
Soft.
Entirely yours.
And somehow that was even worse.
Because suddenly this wasn't a joke anymore.
"Oh my God."
You laughed.
Immediately.
Of course you did.
"Oh my God."
"Johnnyâ"
"OH MY GOD."
The laboratory doors slid open.
Sue walked in carrying a tablet.
She stopped immediately.
Looked at you.
Looked at Johnny.
Then frowned.
"Why are you yelling?"
Johnny pointed.
Couldn't form words.
Physically incapable.
Sue turned toward you.
You smiled.
Entirely too innocent.
"I said yes."
The tablet slipped from Sue's hands.
Clattered onto the floor.
Silence.
Thenâ
"...WHAT?"
oh my gosh WHY is my work all over the place thats what i get for not proofreadingđ but thank you all so much for liking it, just wanted to mention that i do not use any type of AI for any of my works (i know this is my first one here but anyway) but my formatting is shit for short fics like this one so i will be fixing it in the next long one and boy it is LONG
