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“Can you believe this?” The back of Johnny's hand swatted the newspaper with a big thwack. “I haven't been on the front page in months, but this lame-o Spider guy's been on here for two weeks straight!”
The heat of envy surged through his fingers in a fit of rage, slowly burning holes into the bold headline.
Ben choked out a laugh, grabbing a cold beer from one of the higher shelves in the fridge. “Ah, don't take it so personally, kid.”
Those little words of advice did absolutely nothing to persuade as Johnny was already on a roll. “Robbing banks, throwing cats into trees, pushing old ladies into traffic, I mean, come on! Who does this stuff?”
Ben only shrugs a rocky shoulder, too busy emptying the contents of his beverage into his squishy-like interior to add a sly comment.
“Ya know, they're only eggin' him on. They're givin' him all the attention he wants. I'm sick of all these Doctor Doom wanna-bes takin' the top stories! And I'm not gonna sit around for this!”
The singed newspaper was now a crumpled ball of black and white rocking gently on its pointy edges in the corner of the kitchen.
Ben held back some of his weight as he leaned over the counter-top, poking the air with the tip of the bottle at the man across his way. “Well, whatta'ya gonna do, bust in there and threaten to burn down their building unless they agree ta print y'ur ugly mug on da cover every single day until their sales drop below zero?”
Johnny frowned. The dumb boulder had a point. He couldn't exactly just waltz in there and demand change, even if he was probably the most handsome and most famous superhero around. But, hey, he didn't appreciate Ben's rugged tone of voice so of course he had to argue.
“Yeah? Well, you're one to talk about ugly. Your entire face is a collage of butt cracks.” Then he slumped in his seat, exhaling deeply with crossed arms, adding, in a mumble he half hoped Ben wouldn't catch, “And besides, it doesn't have to be every single day. Every other day is still kinda reasonable.”
Ben laughed out loud again and Johnny really wanted to jam his foot in his big dumb mouth because how dare he mock him? This is a really delicate and serious situation here. The public wasn't getting their daily dosage of his immaculate beauty so who knew what kind of permanent side effects this could cause! It was actually starting to worry him.
“Shut the hell up already, Ben! I'm being serious here!”
Ben finally quieted down but only to slurp down the rest of his beer. Even the way he suckled on the rim was irritable and made Johnny roll his eyes so hard it was worthy enough of a mind-splitting migraine.
Ben dropped the glass bottle onto the granite surface with a startling clang. “Hey, don't let it get ta ya, kiddo. We're the FF. Yeah things've been runnin' kinda slow lately, but it'll only be a few more days before Galactus tries ta eat da whole world again and we'll save da day like we always do an' then we'll be all over every newspaper in town from here to Beijing.”
It was true. Things have been kind of slow around here for the past few weeks. But it's not like it's the first time it has happened. For some reason the bad guys always decide to cut them some slack just when the holidays are creeping around the corner. Maybe it's the cold keeping them away or their Christmas spirit kicking in, well whatever it was, it was awfully nice of them to give them a break just before the new year. And it's always fun at first, too: more time to party, hook up, sleep in, etcetera. But somehow, one way or the other, that kind of fun stuff always leads to bad press. And with no bad guys around to stand in as punching bags, there's no good press to cover up all the bad. Then all the dirty laundry just builds up and up until the pile's so high it spills all over his reputation. The only thing that makes it embarrassing is the fact that the other heroes see it too. None of them take him seriously as it is.
However, they're no where near December. It's the middle of summer! The most busiest time of year for those low-life villains, so where the hell are they? Lounging on beach chairs somewhere building sand castles? What they need to be doing is getting back to their evil lairs, devising their evil plans to take over the world so the FF can foil those said plans and kick the snot out of them so they can be popular again. Villains are so selfish sometimes!
“Hey, Johnny. Earth to Johnny. You alive in there?”
Johnny's eyes flicker and he snapped back, slapping Ben's bricked hand away, “What?”
“Were ya daydreamin'a somethin'?”
“No, stupid, I just--” His eyes opened big and round. And just like that the moons aligned with the planets and the angels came down with their baby diapers singing their heavenly songs. He snapped his fingers, unmindfully igniting a brief spark of fire. “I got an idea!”
He swiveled around and slipped off the stool, snatching up the ball of paper from the other side of the room. He quickly unraveled it, flattening and spreading it out across the counter like it was a really important ancient map. “Him!”
Ben's ever lovin' confused blue eyes darted from the picture of Spidey back to his teammate. He let out a low grunt. “Huh?”
A slim gloved finger underlined the name of the photographer. “Him. This Peter Pecker guy.”
The sound of crunching rocks twisting into a weird contortion drew Johnny's eye.
“Uhhh...I think that says Parker,” Ben corrects.
The blond eyed his friend skeptically as if he just told the most obvious lie. It was only when Ben scooped up the wrinkled paper and shoved it in his face that Johnny would inspect it in narrowed vision.
“Oh, yeah.” He said with a tiny chuckle he tried to keep to himself. “My bad.” He shrugged off his mistake, snatching the paper back from his teammate's grip, nearly ripping it in half.
Ben only shook his head at Johnny's offense and dismissed it in its stupidity. “Okay, so whatta'bout this guy?”
“Every picture he takes of this Spider dude ends up on the front page.”
“So?”
Johnny leans over the counter with a mischievous grin spreading across his face smooth like butter. “So, I'm gonna hire him.”
***
She pointed a polished nail. “You're the Human Torch.”
“Uh... yeah, that would be me.” He couldn't help himself. He had to flash the lady a generous, winsome smile, if only to watch her melt in her seat. Which, of course, she did.
“I'm Betty. Betty Brant.”
She held out her hand for a shake only for it to be swept up into a kiss. “Nice to meet you, Miss Brant.”
Her face flushed a variety of different rosy red colors, her free hand pressing to her chest.
She was a pretty one, no doubt about that. The length of her hair was probably longer than her skirt and the dark shade complimented the cute freckles along her nose. Her low dipped top revealing just the right amount of cleavage was an eye catcher for sure and—No. It was too easy to get caught up like this. He couldn't allow himself to get sidetracked. He came all the way down here to the Daily Bugle for business purposes only.
“So, how may I help you, Mister Storm?”
Johnny shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked on his hind heels. “Well, I'm actually looking for a guy who works here. His name is, uh...” He dug the name back up from memory. “Peter Parker?” Good God the name was horrible. Sounded like something you'd name a parking lot after.
Her face shot up in surprise. “Oh, Peter? Um...I don't think he's here at the moment.”
She was already shuffling for a pen and paper to scribble on. “Would you like to leave a message?”
Okay, so he really didn't plan this far ahead. He was expecting the guy to be here so he could work his charm to get his way. What kind of message do you leave? 'Hey, you wanna take pictures of me?' That sounds kind of lame and desperate. And he can not look desperate for a dude whose salary is probably worse than the people at McDonald's. Bad for the rep and all. But there's no other way of getting in contact with this guy.
“Can you just tell him I dropped by?”
It's vague and not too desperate, right?
Perfect. Great.
***
The waiting game is so not fun. Two days and a gazillion and one phone calls later and the Parker dude still hasn't made any effort to reach out to him. It's not like he doesn't know where the Human Torch lives. Everyone in the whole world knows where he lives. It's literally a big, tall building in the middle of Manhattan with a four on it. Like a really, really huge four on it. You'd have to be blinder than Daredevil not to see it. He's a frickin' celebrity willing to pay top dollar, why the heck isn't this kid taking advantage of this opportunity?
Whoever said patience is a virtue must've been a really sad lonely person, and Johnny's not about any of that. This process needs to move along a lot quicker because this turtle pace is so not doing it for him. Which means he might need a little help from a certain little someone.
“Reed? Hey! Brainiac! You in here?”
Johnny creeps into Richards' lab. There's stuff everywhere in every corner, on every counter-top and all around whatever that weird glowy thing is in the center of it all. You'd think the world's smartest man would be way more organized. It must be impossible to find anything in here.
He approaches this humongous contraption that kind of looks like a super-sized tanning bed and as he carefully tries to maneuver around it he still somehow manages to trip on a wire, yanking it out of the outlet from all the way on the other side of the room with a frightening, rippling spark of electricity.
There's a reason Ben calls him the Human Klutz whenever he's in Reed's lab, which, by the way, he's probably gonna be banned from again.
“Uh oh, Reed! I think I broke something!”
Before the sentence was even completed, Reed's terrified face meets Johnny's from an elongated neck. His expression instantly relaxes to calmness and he sighs in relief when he discovers no real damage had been done. The cord was attached to a harmless fan.
“Johnny, it is extremely important that you not enter without supervision. There's very delicate objects in here, need I remind you of what happened last time?”
Johnny rolled his eyes apathetically. “Geez, knock over one 'toddler-ray' and you never hear the end of it.”
Reed's lips sealed in a tight line, clearly not amused. “Johnny, I am very busy at the moment. What exactly is it that you need?”
“I need your help.”
Reed exhales heavily through his nose, knowing exactly where this was headed.
“Johnny...” he started.
“Reed, you know I'm not gonna leave you alone until you do it.”
It was a theory Reed had tested on multiple occasions. The outcome remained stagnant throughout each trial. Statistics suggest there was no point to protest regardless of the disastrous results that were likely to consequent. “Alright, Johnny, fine. What is it you need me to do?”
The blond overlooked the scientist briefly, curving his brows into an abstract art.
“First, I need you to bring yourself back to proper proportions because that giraffe thing you're doing is disgusting. And second, I need you to work your magic,” he wiggled his fingers and typed along the flow of air like a magician, “to tell me where a guy named Peter Parker lives.”
Reed slowly shook his head, already regretting his surrender. “Johnny, I do not believe that is entirely legal--”
The blond only shifts his stance, leveling majority of his weight onto his right side and tips his head skyward, prodding his finger to his chin with increasing speed of a tapped foot, searching the ceiling and humming as if in deep thought.
“Hey, Reed, remember that time Sue told you not to build that thing but then you went ahead and built that thing I promised I wouldn't tell her about?”
Reed's eyes glare at him menacingly, acknowledging his own defeat, allowing his expression to sag disappointedly.
“Okay, Johnny, have it your way.”
***
Reed's tracker led him to this ordinary-looking two story house on 26th street somewhere in the middle of Queens. The whole trip here had him looking over his shoulder and around corners every other second because this entire neighborhood gave him the hibbie jibbies. Coming down here is like making a death wish. Way he sees it, he might as well be signing his own death certificate while he's at it. So what would a kid named Peter Parker be doing living in this neck of the woods? And with the high crime rates in this area, how the hell'd he manage to stay alive this long? He was beginning to doubt this was even the right area but he didn't really have to remind himself that Reed's never wrong.
The tracker indicated that he was at the right spot but the place had this stink to it that made Johnny want to turn around and forget the whole thing. He couldn't stand the creepy shadows lurking in the streets in the dead of the night. It made his skin crawl.
The house was pretty old looking. If he were to guess, he'd probably say it were a gazillion years old. Although Reed'd probably say otherwise.
It was dark. All the lights were off, so he figured that Parker kid must be sleeping by now. Didn't matter. Johnny believed he really did deserve to be woken up in the middle of the night just for making him wait on him this long and making him risk his precious life traveling all the way out here for this. It wasn't even fair.
Ripples of flames fluttered away into strands of smoke as he landed on the awning draping above the front door, spanning out to the width of the ground floor. It creaked a little when he stepped and almost made him jump out of his skin because what if that was a raccoon and it jumped out and bit him in the arm and gave him rabies and he died right here on this ugly awning in the middle of Queens? This place was scary, okay?
There were two windows. He cupped his hands around his face, pressing up against each clear barrier, peering into the bedrooms of both occupants. But it was way too dark to distinguish anything from any other thing or anyone. There was no way of knowing. Not that it mattered because he didn't even know what this guy looked like. One thing he was sure of was that one of these people had to be Peter Parker so he did the eeny, meeny, miney, moe hoping to land on the correct window.
He got the left window. God, he hopes this is the one.
Johnny tapped on the glass, his voice a harsh whisper, “Psssst. Psssssst. Hey, parking lot boy. Open up! It's me, your new employer.”
He waited. No answer.
So Johnny tugged on the window like a common thief. (Oh, the irony.)
Locked.
He sighed a heavy huff, his forehead resting against the fogged glass. He was running out of ideas here. Trying the doorbell like a normal person wouldn't be much fun would it? Especially if a crazed lady opened the door and slammed it on him to call the cops because only creepers knock on doors this late at night.
Johnny pressed his luck and went to the other window. Not to get all Star Wars on anyone but it was his only hope. Just when all of his optimism was pretty much flushed down the toilet, all of his good deeds had finally paid off because it just so happened to be cracked open just the tiniest bit. And it made him pause. Not that he was about to break and enter into someone's house, because technically it was already open, but because who in Queens sleeps with their window open? That's it, now he really doesn't know how this Parker guy is still alive. What's his secret to survival? Having a terrible name?
He pushed the window up half way and stuck his head in. “Psst. Psssssssst.”
Nothing. No answer.
What the heck is up with this dude? Is he in a damn coma or something?
Johnny climbed in and cursed to himself when he pulled over his leg and knocked his knee against the windowsill and practically fell in.
Suddenly he was thankful Parker was a heavy sleeper because wow that would've been kind of embarrassing.
Now that he was inside he could get a better view of the place.
A mess. That's all that really came to mind in all honesty. Piles of clothes in one corner. Stacks of books in another. There were two other pillows laying on the floor against the base of his bed and Johnny suspected he was a pillow hoarder because who needs three pillows? The ratty furniture looked like a bunch of garage sale rejects. Nothing matched anything. He had terrible taste. And those Avengers bedsheets did nothing to persuade him otherwise.
Speaking of which, Johnny tip toed over to the bed like the Grinch stealing Christmas presents and hovered over the sleeping person. What a trouble maker this guy was for making him go through all this.
He lit a small fire atop his finger to get a good look at the guy. He was young. About his age. And well, if Johnny was being honest with himself, he wasn't bad looking either.
Hmmm. Peter. Johnny figured he looked more like a Brian. Or a Paul. Or a-- huh. Guess he kind of does look like a Peter when you look at him from that angle. Johnny bets he's a nerd.
Johnny jumped back and held his breath when Parker murmured something in his sleep and rotated to lay flat on his back. With this new position he had this really annoying fluctuating snore that made Johnny want to smack him in the face with a pillow. Which, hey, wouldn't be such a bad idea if it woke him up.
**--SMACK--**
“Why haven't you been answering my messages?!”
Parker bounced up in a hurried daze. Dark eyes floating about wildly, his heavy lids pealed back to full capacity when they landed on the intruder.
“What the—what are you doing in my room and-and who are you?”
How insulting. Johnny leaned in close, a small spark of fire at the tip of his index finger rippled strange, frightening shadows along the structure of his handsome face. “Don't act like you don't know who I am!”
Parker sure looked alarmed but not all that surprised or at least not as surprised as Johnny expected he would be. A superhero in his bedroom: How is this not the weirdest thing that ever happened to him? Also, why isn't he begging the Human Torch for an autograph? This is one weird guy.
The brunet only shushed him by holding a vertical finger to his own mouth.
“Lower your voice, you're gonna wake my Aunt,” Parker hissed in a whisper.
Johnny doused the flame to stifle a laugh because wow really?
“You still live with your Aunt? What are you, twelve?”
“Says the guy who still lives with his sister,” the stranger bit back.
Ouch. Low blow. How dare he?
“Hey! Not cool, dude!”
Parker moved lightning fast and plastered a hand to the blond's mouth and Johnny muffled a complaint into the sweaty palm.
“Be. Quiet.” Parker told him warningly.
Johnny's hands pressed hot against Parker's naked abdomen until he broke off of him. He wasn't expecting to feel rock, hard abs. He had to admit, he was pretty impressed.
“Geez, man, how much do you bench press?”
A suddenly self-conscious Peter Parker yanked on a random t-shirt he found clinging onto the pillar of his bed frame and ignored the question completely. “What do you want?”
Johnny rested one hand on a hip and pointed a heated finger with the other, “You got my messages?”
Arms crossed, Parker blinked wearily. “Yeah, all fifty of them.”
“So you did get my messa-!” In the glowing glare of the other man Johnny caught himself to reiterate in a lower tone. “So you did get my messages.”
The brunet only nodded and covered a yawn so this time it was Johnny's turn to cross his arms, and he shook his head in a manner that suggested he wanted further explanation.
Rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm to the point where Johnny thought he was trying to blind himself, Parker only responded in a shrug which threw Johnny into a fit.
“What the hell, man!”
“Look, I'm sorry, I know what you're looking for” Peter said, “but I'm not that kind of photographer.”
“Don't gimme that!” Johnny snapped, about ready to shake the guy into an agreement. “I got money! Lots of money! And, honestly, you look like you could really, really use some!”
Even through the dark he could see Parker's scowl. “Look, Mister,” he started with a heightened tone, “What gives you the right to come in here and insult me and--”.
“Peter?” A voice approaching the door split their conversation and Peter shoved Johnny off to the side and buried himself in the crack of the door.
“Aunt May? What are you doing up?”
Johnny couldn't see squat and he really wanted to sneak a peek, but Peter's hand commandeering him like a puppy told him to stay still and out of sight, so he obeyed, dropped down against the wall and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
“Peter, I thought I heard something. Is everything alright?”
“Everything's fine, May. I was just...uh, talking in my sleep, I guess. No need to worry, head on back to sleep.”
Johnny caught a glimpse of the woman's hand as she murmured something he wasn't quite sure of and patted Parker's cheek before disappearing back down the hallway where she'd came.
Parker shut his door quietly and slid down against it, letting out this sigh of relief that Johnny barely caught. They both stayed silent until the creak of the door down the hall could squeak the door closed.
“Get out of my room,” Peter ordered once the heavy silence settled and rang in their ears.
“Uh...no.” Johnny replied bluntly. “Not until you agree to work for me.”
“Out.” Parker pushed Johnny from behind, steering him towards the window and Johnny gripped onto the side walls, anchoring himself put as Peter tried to shove him outward.
Johnny turned his head, attempting to bring Parker into his peripheral vision, and ignoring the feeling of his back about to be cracked in two. “Dude. I'm serious. I'm not leaving until you agree to work for me.”
Peter only pushed harder and Johnny couldn't tell if he was holding back or not. “Dude, I'm not playing. I'll yell and wake up your old lady again.”
That did the trick and Parker pulled his strength back, dropping his arms to his side. And when Johnny turned to face him with this daring look in his eyes, he gave in completely. “Okay. Fine.”
Johnny's smile brightened the room. “You'll work for me?”
“Yeah. Whatever. Now get out.”
***
“Umm... am I being paid by the hour?”
From the other end of the couch, Johnny scoffed and made a face at the TV.
“Not unless you're my friggin' lawyer. I pay you per photo, remember? We've been over this already. Unless, ya know, you have a problem with that.”
Parker only shifted his position uncomfortably. “No, no, no. No siree. No problem here. It's just...” He paused, his gentle face twisting into a knot. “...Why am I sitting here watching you play video games?”
It was a... good question. And the truth is: Now that he had him, Johnny didn't really know what to do with the guy. And could he even really trust him? After all, he has been working for that Spider menace for at least a year now. He could be evil. You never really know.
Johnny swung over a hand, offering the gaming controller. “Look, we can take turns if you want.”
Peter's hands waved about as he shook his head, declining. “No. It's okay. I'm good.”
Johnny narrowed his blue eyes into a steady line. He already had a hunch about the guy and that made him even more suspicious. Because who doesn't like to play video games? Super villains that's who!
“Alright, so...” He had to choose his words carefully now. He couldn't let the villain know he was on to him. “...would you rather do something else... like...oh, I dunno, maybe rob a bank or something?”
“What?”
Johnny threw his hands up, “Hey, look man, no pressure. It's up to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Okay, alright. Forget I brought it up.”
Geez, super villains are so sensitive these days. But Johnny had to play it cool. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. That's the motto, right?
Peter only huffed, yanking out a marble notebook and a dull pointed pencil with a half chewed off eraser from his backpack, flipping page after page until he came across a blank one.
“Look, maybe we should go over some things. Like angle preferences or maybe we can work out a schedule.”
Schedules? This was one organized villain. Maybe he's setting him up for a clean hit. And now that he looks at him, he does look kind of suspect. Damn, it's always the quiet ones. Peter was rummaging through his bag again looking for a pencil sharpener and it got Johnny thinking he really should check in that bag of his. It looks pretty packed. There could be a homemade bomb in there. Again, you never really know.
“How do Wednesday and Friday afternoons sound?”
Sounds like more than enough time for him to plot his evil plans. If there's one thing Johnny has learned over the years, it's that villains always like to have free weekends. It gives them just the time they need to perfect their evil schemes.
“Or would you prefer weekends?”
Shit. The villain knows he's on to him and now he's trying to cover his own ass.
Johnny shrugged a calm shoulder. Gotta keep it cool. “Up to you, man. I mean, I'm cool with whatever.”
“Okay. Weekends it is then. It'll make it much easier since I have school during the week.”
School. Right.
“So what ya studying?” Johnny questioned, way too invested in this kid's line of work. Well he had to be if he was going to foil his plans and save the day. He had to find out what he was up to. What he was so called studying. He bets it's something evil like how to build an annihilator out of scratch. Or how to zap all the trees off of the earth so everyone dies without the circulation of oxygen. Or how to perfectly imitate that creepy cackle of Doom's.
“Currently I'm studying in the fields of biochemistry, physics, biology...” He had this really goofy grin that got wider and wider with every coming word. “--I'm a sucker for science.”
Science stuff. Right.
He continued, that goofy grin sticking with permanence. “I-- well, it may be a little far fetched, but I hope to one day be as successful as Doctor Richards and Doctor Pym, finding and creating new technologies and equipment all to better the world and …..” Blah blah blah blah.
The conversation was a bore so Johnny ended up surfing through the cable channels hoping to find something worthy of his attention. The news channels he flipped past one after the other all showed various angles of the same scene. Talk about boring.
It caught Peter's eye though and he stopped jabbering for a moment to tell Johnny to go back to one of the news channels. Of course the bossy villain would like to know what's going on in the world he plans to take over.
On the screen were these magical creature type guys trying to turn the Young Avengers into talking pigs. What else is new?
Peter only stared at Johnny, who made a weird face in turn, “What?”
“Uh, aren't you gonna go help them?”
It was a ploy to get him out of the building so he could sneak into Reed's lab and blow the entire place to smithereens. Johnny was sure of it. But no way was that going to happen. Not on his really expensive Rolex watch.
“What? Those guys?” Johnny flapped a careless hand at the TV. “Those Z-Listers are so not FF super villain material. Those newbie Young Avengers kids got it.”
Peter was on his feet now, hefting that bomb onto his back with delicate care. Johnny quietly studied his every move before actually registering what he was doing. “Hey, where you going?”
Peter stopped in his tracks, seemingly fumbling over an excuse. “Oh, I gotta go. We-- I, uh, just-- you know, got things... to... do.”
“Like what?”
“Um... college stuff...?”
He was a villain. Johnny was sure of it now. Absolutely positive. Like a pregnancy test positive. Like Bill Clinton indeed had sexual relations with that woman positive. Like-- well you get the point. Anyways, he wondered what he called himself. The Parking Lotter? Sounds lame enough.
“I'll catch ya tomorrow, okay? Maybe we can take a couple of shots down by Madison. Later, boss.”
Johnny's on to you, Parking Lotter.
***
Johnny followed Peter out to Madison park like they discussed earlier. It was for some test shoots which Johnny had to admit came out pretty good. Y'know for a super villain photographer and what not. It was actually kind of impressive how he made it look like he knew what he was doing. Although Johnny still has his suspicions that the camera doubles as a laser gun built off of really ancient alien technology he probably forced one of his unfortunate captors into constructing for him because he's evil and that's totally something an evil guy would do.
With that as a given, Johnny found it quite strange that Parker would let all of those opportunities to laser him down during the photo-shoot go to waste; all those missed opportunities that had Johnny on his toes every second, ready to dodge when the moment came. So he figured it was just bad timing for the villain and took a seat on a nearby bench to await his next move.
Parker had all the time in the world. And Johnny would be right here when he slips up. Which was only a matter of time anyway. So the hero tilted his head back and enjoyed the shades of red sparkling behind his lids while the rays of the sun beamed down upon them.
Parker plopped down beside him ready with his camera in his lap, legs jittery and hands fidgeting every so often. He had this annoying knack of never being able to stay still. Which Johnny supposed were symptoms of nervousness. Maybe things weren't going according to plan.
Johnny smiled to himself at that because how lame of a villain is this guy? His cover's been blown a long time ago and he doesn't even know, still trying to keep up the facade. Johnny mentally promises Parker that when this is all over, he'll give him the award for the worst villain in the history of ever. Because no one else is more deserving of it than him. Not even Paste-Pot-Pete. He felt a burst of laughter rumbling up through his throat until a maddening poke forced him to gulp it down in haste.
“Um...Excuse me, Mister Storm.” Parker's hushed voice clawed against a chalk board and his bony finger prodded the blond's arm with the sharpness of a needle. “Are you awake?”
Johnny dropped his head to his right and cracked open a lid to find Parker's big nut-brown eyes analyzing his own. “What?”
Peter nuzzled beside him, reflecting the other man's position, limiting his tone to a soft whisper. “What are we doing? What are we waiting for?”
Johnny only pulled himself up, breaking the mirrored image out of spite. “Rule numero uno: You don't go to the villains. The villains come to you.”
Technically it was a true statement. The FF never go looking for trouble. Trouble just always had a way of finding them. Which actually saves them the trouble of finding the trouble to stop the trouble to once again have a trouble-free world. At least until the next planet conquering villain drops by for a visit. It's a tourist trend, he supposes. You can't just visit earth. You have to take it over or blow it up otherwise it wasn't worth the trip. Because assuming inflation affects Alien planets too, the ticket prices are probably sky high and it must be a hassle to get a refund.
But everyone knows there's no villain around worthy of getting their asses kicked by a founding member of the Fantastic Four. There hasn't been a worthy villain around in weeks.
Which means that this was the perfect excuse to study the Parking Lotter and stop him in his evil tracks.
Dark brows curved questioningly. “So we're just going to wait here until a villain shows up?”
Johnny swallowed down the nerve to tell Parker how technically the villain was already here sitting right next to him, but he couldn't let the cat out of the bag just yet so he bit his lower lip and nodded violently, blond hairs bobbing against his forehead and shooting back up to the clouds. “Yeah, pretty much.”
***15 Minutes Later***
Hands grazing against the pennies and silver coins drowned and pinned to the very bottom, Johnny pulled himself up and out of the sprinkle of water pooling around him. Drops of polluted fountain water dripping down from his soaked uniform, cameras flashing, the stains of wet footprints tattooed to the concrete, his blond locks plastered to his forehead blinding him with streaks of water trickling into his hooded eyes, his fingers curled into his palms and clenched into a tight balled fist as he made his way back to the origin of the incident.
The Parking Lotter.
There he sat all smug on that bench like he owned the damned thing. With this stupid look of innocence on his stupid looking face that made Johnny's blood boil and the moisture on his skin evaporate into rapid steams of snakes slithering to the skies with every step that brought him closer and closer and closer to that pain in the ass.
“Wow, Mister Storm!” Parker exclaimed, holding up his obsolete device out in front of him like the little show-off he is. “Those were some really great shots I got back there. You're quite the natural--”
Johnny's had more than enough of Parker and his little games. So he stomps his way over to the bench, pointing a finger in Parker's face, ready to gouge his eyes out, his voice so loud the pigeons flew away.
“Don't you start with me! You must think I'm some real idiot, dontcha? Well I got news for you, 'pal,' I may be blond but I ain't no idiot. I'm on to you!”
Parker squinted one eye, wiping spit from the side of his cheek, pushing back into the backrest of the bench when Johnny invaded his personal space. “Um, excuse me?”
His anger converting to heat completely sizzled away all the dampness from his body, his dry, pale strands of disorderly hair flopping about in the cool breeze with the freedom and grace of a common American flag. “Oh, so you wanna play stupid now, huh?”
The brunet gulped so hard down his now sore throat, Johnny could practically hear it making its trip all the way down his esophagus. “What are you implying?”
“This was a set up!” The hero sneered in a deafening shout that sent chills down Peter's spine. “There's no villains around here for two weeks straight and then suddenly when you show up your villain buddies come out to play and then while I'm distracted you run to get your favorite buddy Spider-Freak to help make an even bigger mess. I know exactly what you're up to, Parking Lotter, so don't sit here and try to sing me a different tune because I just ain't buyin' it!”
By the time he finished his speech, Johnny inhaled deeply. He was actually quite proud of his ability to get all that out in one breath. Who knew he had it in him?
Glued to the seat, Peter's face flushed and his ears were burning fire red. His upper lip quivered some and his jaw motioned with bitten pressure. In contrast, when he spoke his voice was brave and clear and just a little too damn confident for Johnny's approval.
“Well, Mister Storm. I can't say it was a pleasure doing business with you but I can tell you that you need some serious help.” And with that he rose and gathered his equipment, adding with a slight nod, “Good day, sir,” before turning on his heels.
“Hey, don't you walk away from me when I'm yellin' at you!” Johnny chased after him and he fought the urge to punch his lights out because damn he's rude. After everything he's put him through the least he could do is just sit there and let him tell him off for a little while. “You work for Hydra don't you?”
Peter halted in his steps to snap his head back with the sound of a crack at that accusation, personal offense scribbled all over his face. He scrunched his nose up at Johnny and jabbed a finger his way. “This is harassment, just so you know. If I could afford a lawyer, I'd probably press charges on you.”
“Oh, yeah?” The blond crossed his arms and swayed his head with his words. “Before or after you blow up the Earth, Hydra guy?”
As if on cue, there was a huge explosion rumbling the city from somewhere up east. Instantly a crowd of people swarmed the streets seeking safety, pushing and shoving and screaming in terror. It looked like something out of a video game. Or one of those zombie movies Johnny never gets to see the end of because he keeps falling asleep on it.
Fear struck in and Johnny's hands flew up to the sides of his head. “Oh my God! You really are trying to blow up the Earth!”
Parker, all wide eyed, fixed his gaze back on the man in front of him, both in full panic mode. “What? You think that was me?”
“Dude why?! Like, you live here, too! Are you that suicidal?!”
“I didn't do that!”
Arched blond brows etched their way across his forehead as Johnny menaced forward. “Oh, really? We'll see about that. Flame on!”
At the speed of light, or at a speed he likes to think is faster than light because how cool would that be, flames engulfed his body whole, barring the arms that held tightly onto the underarms of the evil Parking Lotter. Now with Parker in tow he took off in a blaze of fire leaving behind nothing but an untraceable trail of smoke that mixed away into the polluted air of the one and only New York City. Johnny'll put an end to his villainous schemes if it's the last thing he does.
Parker's legs kicked around and squirmed in the FF hero's tight grip and Johnny really contemplated releasing him to the 20 foot drop. It'd serve him right.
Traveling at the speed of what felt like a really, really fast flying unicorn, the cold air whipped up through and against Peter's exposed belly from where his shirt was riding half way up his body as a result of the weird positioning and steady grip the hero clasped into his armpit, taking an uncomfortable handful of unnecessary cloth with it.
“Put me down I can help!” Peter called out as they buzzed past a blur of headlights, curling his legs up, careful not to hit into anything that looked like a traffic sign or the back of a truck or a pole or something equally capable of severing his well-needed limbs.
“You mean like call in your partner in crime, Spider-Douche, and make this thing a whole ton worse? How about no.” Johnny mocked, keeping his head straight and eyes vigilant with the scrutiny of an eagle. “I'll keep you right where I can see you.”
“What kind of hero are you?” Parker bit back only to interrupt himself with a high pitched yelp that made Johnny grin churlishly as they zipped a sharp turn around the corner of a building. “People are in danger!”
Johnny laughed at the irony, blowing steamed air out through his nose; the same trick he uses in privacy to pretend he's a dragon because dragons are cool. “Yeah, thanks to you.”
“I am not responsible for this! What do I have to do to prove that to you?”
“Well, for starters you can stop denying it.”
“I'm not evil!”
“Says the evil guy.”
It wouldn't have been as easy to spot the site from the distance if the dozens of police cars weren't a clue; the red and blue lights blinded him from blocks away. The people cheered and shouted in glee as he approached and suddenly he felt like a valued hero again. His appearance was relevant to the situation and it settled the people of Manhattan back into ease. This was it. This was his big break. It was his time to shine.
According to the police officers, the suspects were currently unidentified and could be at large, the office building had been evacuated of all pedestrians and there were suspicions of another bomb.
So what do superheroes do when there's trouble? Well, you head straight for it. Oh and also you try not to cry. That's pretty important.
He flew in through a broken window and took the evil Parking Lotter with him too and shoved him into a janitor's closet because he'd be damned if he gets out of this alive and he doesn't. “If I die, you die, too.”
Johnny was bruising his shoulder trying to slam the door shut because Peter Pain in the Ass Parker kept jamming himself in the way. Damn he was stronger than he looked. “Dude, what the hell? Move!”
Peter poked his head out from the corner of the door and held his hand on the frame to keep it from decapitating him. “If you think I did it then why wouldn't you just force me to locate the bomb for you?”
Hmmm... that was a good question. Also a good idea. Kind of. Maybe. Okay, yeah it was a really good idea but no way was Parking Lotter going to get any of the credit for it.
“Fine.” Johnny stopped over-exerting himself, thankful he could finally catch his breath, though he wished it were under more preferable circumstances, particularly one of his own thinking.
“Then spit it out,” he started right away, getting in Parker's face once he emerged from the dark depths of the creepy janitor's closet that stunk of dirty mop water that made Johnny almost gag to death. “Where's the bomb?”
“That's the thing,” Peter said, stepping away from the door's entrance so he wouldn't be pushed back in again, which he knew Johnny was two seconds away from doing if he didn't finish his sentence in his liking. “I don't know where it is because I'm not evil!” He made sure to emphasize that last part and it got Johnny wondering if it was code for something else. Like for Parker's pal Spidey-Spook to jump out and attack him from behind. Paranoia crept in and Johnny couldn't help glancing over his shoulder every now and then in a manner that was as inconspicuous as one can make it.
“And since I'm guessing this bomb's like most bombs,” Parker continued, and the blond nodded, not out of heed but out of conclusive proof because yeah, Parker would know, right? “I'm thinking maybe we should stop wasting time here and—Look out!!”
Just as Johnny unhinged his jaw to chastise Parker about how he was in no position to be barking orders, he was knocked out of the way into a nearby wall landing on the same already bruised shoulder, just in time for Parker to totally nail some creepy guy in the back of his head with the heel of his foot.
Johnny sagged against the wall in complete awe and shock and a mixture of a bunch of other feelings all wrapped up in one with a throbbing shoulder blade because that was probably the coolest thing he has ever witnessed.
“Dude!! That was sick! Where'd you learn to move like that?”
Parker's face reddened and Johnny liked to imagine it was from humility. “Uh... street fighter?”
“That was awe-- I mean...” He rubbed the back of his neck, re-thinking his choice of words. “That was alright, I guess. Y'know, for an evil guy.” He shrugged.
Peter only brushed off the comment he refused to accept as a compliment of high regards and began searching the fallen man's pockets.
Johnny scoffed as he watched, “Wow, seriously, man? I'm right here and you're tryna rob someone?” The nerve of this guy. After that impressive display of acrobatics and super cool reflex, Johnny fooled himself to even think this villain had any class at all.
Parker shook his head, still searching like a man on a mission. “No, I'm just—Aha!”
The revelation was nothing of what Johnny would have suspected. He was prepared for something dangerous such as a gun or a knife or a crying baby. But no. Other solo heroes get cool villains like Bullseye, Loki, and the Red Skull but Johnny gets a lame villain who threatens to color all over his face. His features contorted his expression into an image of severe confusion and painstaking disappointment. “A sharpie?”
“What?” Parker gave a double-take at the device in his hand that suggested he might've had doubts. “No, look it's the detonator.”
Johnny's lids peeled back like the skins off a banana to reveal his big, ocean blue, sparkling eyes that Parker couldn't seem to break away from. He threw his hands up to the ceiling in surrender and backed up until his backside became one with the wall and there was no where left to go. With an ego as big as his, he hates to admit it but he was wrong. So very wrong because Parking Lotter wasn't just evil, he was super crazy!
“Whoa, dude. Calm down.” He's really not sure if he can talk his way out of this one but that doesn't mean he won't try. “Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Your moves were pretty bitchin'. You don't gotta blow me up over it.”
Peter rolled his eyes and held back a really long, drawn out sigh. “I'm not evil!” he exploded, arms extended so wide Johnny half worried he was going to kill him with a bear hug. When the fear in the hero's eyes darkened, Parker's skin flushed a soft pink out of frustration. “How many times do I gotta tell you that!”
“Stop tryna blow me up then!”
“I'm not trying to blow you up!”
Peter finally let out that sigh he was holding back for far too long and took Johnny by the arm, saying, “Would an evil guy do this?,” while gently and carefully placing the detonator in the palm of his hand.
“You tryna get me to do your dirty work?” Johnny asked in all sincerity, brows drawn into curious swiggles above his unreadable eyes.
Peter hung his head, chin slapping against his collarbone, smacking his jaw shut, and gave up. “Just take this to the police.”
***
“So...” Johnny broke the silence with the click of his tongue, leaning forward across the table with his forearms plastered against the surface and stretching the word out for as long as his lungs would allow. “You don't work for Hydra?”
Peter buried his face in the rim of his coffee cup, peering up between the slits of his dark lashes, not even wanting to dignify the other man with an answer.
“Do I look like I work for Hydra?” He retorted wearily, worn out by the reoccurring subject.
“I don't know, man.” Johnny admitted, with a borderline frown, wounded by the tone of voice he felt so very undeserving of, especially after he just bought him the most expensive cappuccino on the menu out of the kindness of his own heart. Which also happened to double as an apology. It was a two-for-one deal Parker couldn't pass up. “I don't know what those guys look like without their goofy uniforms,” he continued, adding with a hint of merriment, “You know they used to wear skirts?”
“Yeah, or so I've heard.” Peter mumbled into the scalding steam of the beverage arising along the bridge of his nose.
It wasn't the response he was looking for. Neither was it the question he really wanted to ask. So Johnny fell back into his chair and watched the pool of sunlight rotate to pour onto Peter Parker, covering him in the ray of light that showed every true shade of his being. And if Johnny was being honest with himself, he liked what he saw.
He hunched forward, his pretty blond hair hanging down, shielding his expression when he dropped his head to sketch invisible circles with the tip of his finger along the design on the tabletop. His voice carried out soft, low, and more bashful than he had wanted it to and he hid his vulnerability as he trained his eyes to focus on his doodles. He directed it to the other man across from him but spoke to the table, “You're gonna make me say it aren't you?”
He could hear the metal legs of the chair scraping across concrete when Peter shifted his seated position and it made him want to look up, which he did just in time to see Peter's lips slapping closed when he said, “Yep.”
Johnny lifted and cocked his head to the side to keep unruly strands of hair from poking into his eyes from an unexpected shift of wind.
“Fine,” he huffed, hesitating to bring Peter into his line of vision. But when he did, he shone through like a shooting star on an uneventful night, and Johnny held back his smile to save it for another day. “Will you work for me again?”
“Will you double the pay?” Peter asked bluntly, playful eyes focused on the contents swishing around in his cup with the motion of gentle swirls.
“What? Don't I pay you enough?”
“Not for what you put me through.”
Johnny couldn't argue with that and it made him feel powerless up against the confrontation, so he rolled his eyes as a form of silent agreement with that statement and conjured a verbal one of his own in a retaliation that put the other man on the spot for a change. “Alright, alright, okay. Deal?”
Peter only sipped his coffee with a careless shrug that held a hidden meaning of which Johnny couldn't quite figure out.
So Johnny huffed again, pink lips curving into a slight pout. “Deal?”
Peter grinned into his next sip, voice muffled into the cup as the liquid rushed his lips.
“Maybe.”