for you, anything

by xxwinterschildxx

Summary:

A year before the accident that changed the lives of four scientists, you meet Johnny Storm.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he told you before he left.

What a joke.

*Spoilers for Fantastic Four: First Steps

Notes:

Spoilers for FF: First Steps (2025)!

Chapter 1

You’re walking behind Dr. Richards, moving briskly to keep up with the mastermind and his quickly moving brain. Evidently, his legs move in longer strides than you can keep up with. Your heels clack against the polished, sparkling floors of the Baxter Building.

“—all I’m saying, Dr. Richards, is that I think we could do something about the amount of power the Baxter Building is generating right now, I mean, we could be channeling this output into wind or solar or—“

His hand in the air, a finger waving, he thanks you for your time. “—a pleasure, really, and I will absolutely consider the proposition you’ve brought forward. I’m doing very important work here and I will do better in the future to be more of a conservationist, but truthfully, we’re on the edge of a scientific breakthrough and—“

“—and I understand that, but what good is seeking space travel and the greater beyond if you’ll leave behind nothing?”

That causes him to stop. His shoes skid on the floor, the screech echoing the empty hallway. It’s a bright hallway, orange and blue and colorful, warm. It’s also silent, besides the two of you. Dr. Richards turns. It’s the first time you see his face in person. Your scheduled meeting turned into you chasing after him as he walked through the Baxter Building, as he aimed to return back to his workshop minutes after you began grilling him about conservation efforts for the planet.

He was older than you, but not by many years. He’d begun to go gray at his temples, matching grey streaks lining just behind his ears. His brow came together as he looked at you, the bags under his eyes evidence of many late nights with racing thoughts and working hands. Most of all, he looked at you with curiosity.

“I don’t think it’s right,” you said gently, taking your chance. “You’re on this mission to get out, to go to space, when there’s so much to do here, on Earth. We need your mind here, Dr. Richards. I do. I need help preserving natural resources and transitioning the world to better sources of power than finite resources and—“

“I hear you,” he interrupted you, and for the first time since you met him, you believed him. You were staring at each other, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Do you?” you questioned.

“The boundaries of man require pushing,” Reed said, his resolve sound and unwavering. “But I understand the importance of protecting what we have here. I truly do. I’d actually like you to meet someone.”

A pair of heels started to echo the hall, and a warm smile rose across Reed’s face as he raised his hand, gesturing to a tall, blonde woman joining your talk.

“My better half,” he introduced, joining their hands with a kiss to the back of her hand. Their eyes sparkled with pure love when they met. You felt, momentarily, like you should leave the room until her gaze turned to you. “Meet Sue Storm.”

“Pleasure,” you and Sue said at the same time, and shared a smile. She turned to her husband, one brow raised. “I thought I’d come meet the brilliance that is Y/N L/N for myself.”

Your face flushed. “Oh, wow, I-I really appreciate that, ma’am, thank you.”

She grinned. “I will always be in support of those working to make our world a better place,” she said, a hand over her heart. She added, with a wink, “Especially women.”

“Well, you’ve paved a road,” you acknowledged. “First woman to go to space. That’s an unbelievable honor, and that’s not lost on me, I promise. I understand the drive for space travel, but you’re both brilliant—you’re all brilliant, and I was hoping that we could put our minds together here . On Earth.”

“I don’t see why not,” Sue said, glancing to her husband, who nodded. “No reason we can’t multitask on scientific exploration, hm?”

You found yourself immediately drawn to Sue. Reed was standoffish, maybe a little awkward, and rushed. Five minutes with Sue got more done than any letter you’d written Reed, and more than your brief scheduled meeting.

Your eyes nearly started watering. This was what you had worked for, recognition, and now it was time for help on your mission to provide sustainable power for Earth.

“Reed will be preoccupied with finishing up our rocket, since we leave in a little less than a year, but I would love for you to meet with one of our other crew. Do you have time?”

You had nothing but time for the woman who could help realize your dream. “Absolutely.”

“Great, follow me, then,” Sue said. She squeezed Reed’s hand, you thanked him for your time, and he waved to both of you before continuing his journey to his office. You almost felt his sigh of relief when your conversation ended.

“He has good intentions,” Sue said with a wave of her hand. “Brilliant mind, but seemingly not in the conversational area.”

You chuckled. “He was jovial.”

Sue laughed, throwing her head back. “My darling, I think you’re the only person to describe him such a way. Thank you, though. I’ll have to laugh about that later.”

In search of this mystery person she wanted you to work with, Sue gave you an inadvertent tour of the Baxter Building. You toured the various labs, the auditorium, the robotics bay, and you met a dear robot named Herbie in the machine shop.

“Absolute pleasure,” you said warmly, shaking his three-fingered hand delicately. Herbie cooed and shook his body excitedly.

Behind him, you heard a clash and subsequent bang come from the swinging saloon doors. A string of swear words later, the commotion died down. You turned to Sue curiously.

“That’ll be him,” she said, waving her hand for you to follow. She pushed gently through the door, holding it open behind her for you. “Y/N, meet my little brother—Johnny Storm.”

A blonde head of hair peaked up from underneath a sleek, blue car. Your eyes met, his a piercing and direct blue, and your face flushed immediately under his direct gaze.

“Jeez, Sue, thanks for warning me we’d have visitors,” Johnny grumbled, scrambling to exit from underneath the car.

You tried to avert your eyes as he stumbled to his feet, tools in his hand clattering, the creeper sliding out from him too early. Your face was warm with shyness as you felt your intrusion.

He tried to wipe the oil from his hands as he approached you, but it was not a success. He had oil everywhere—smudged on his face, his grey suit, which he’d rolled down to his hips, and on his t-shirt that was once white. You tried not to look at the way his t-shirt hung to his biceps as he reached for a towel, and suddenly, his towel-wrapped hand was in front of you.

“Johnny Storm,” he said brightly, confidently. He glanced at his unconventional hand. “I’d rather do this than not shake the hand of a lovely lady at our first meeting.”

You told yourself once, that as a woman in science, you were going to be headstrong. You were going to get something important done. You were going to be respected by men, and not fall for one, and pave your own path, without a man.

But when Johnny stumbled over to you and wrapped a towel around his oiled hand just to make sure he was polite, your affirmations wavered.

You grinned and put your hand in the towel, shaking it firmly. You both giggled at the informality.

“Y/N,” you introduced again, despite Sue’s former introduction. “Pleasure to meet you.”

He chuckled with you, his grin reaching his eyes. “Pleasures all mine.”

You didn’t notice you both hadn’t bothered to release your hands. The shaking stopped, but your hands were firmly together as you continued to shyly look at each other.

“Johnny’s working on a car for the team,” Sue said, and you felt the flinch in Johnny’s hand as he, and you, remembered she was there.

You broke apart. You took a short step back, though Johnny stayed put, his other hand coming to grasp the towel where your hand once was.

Although you turned to listen to Sue explain Johnny’s current engineering work, Johnny didn’t move, and you certainly felt his eyes still on you.

“So you’re a brilliant engineer,” you clocked, finally, returning your eyes to his. You were nearly knocked off your feet by the sincerity in his eyes.

“My sister’s kind,” he said.

Sue rolled her eyes. “I want you to work together,” she decided. “Y/N has aspirations for sustainability that need a good engineer. I’ve brought you a great one.”

You raised a brow. “What do you think, Mr. Storm?”

“Johnny,” he said immediately, and when you repeated his name with confirmation, you saw the way his head tilted. The smile across his lips didn’t waver.

“Do you think you can help me?” you wondered. 

You hadn’t felt nervous, meeting Johnny, or any of them, truly. There was no pit in your stomach, no shaking hands, just a drive to do better for this world. But under Johnny’s eyes, asking for his help, the nerves crept in. Your hand, as you reached to move a stray piece of hair from your forehead, trembled.

Johnny saw. He reached a hand out, before he realized it was uncovered by a towel. But you took the chance. Your hand reached across the short distance between you and into his palm. His hands were warm, nearly on fire, and his clammy hand was tense with yours in it until you met his eyes, securely, and he relaxed, tightening his grip around your hand.

“I’d like to try,” he whispered.

With your hands together in an agreement, and maybe something more , you and Johnny agreed to work together.

“Great,” Sue said gently. She hid her laugh at both of you flinching back to reality behind her hand.

You took your hand back, noticing the oil smears, and held it delicately against your dress. You turned to Sue.

“I’ll share your contact information with her, Johnny, and you two can start working together. Does that sound ok?” she wondered.

“Perfect,” you said, while Johnny said, “Yep, great.”

“Lovely,” She smiled warmly. “Well, Y/N, thank you for joining us today at the Baxter Building. We are honored to have you, and we so look forward to helping you.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your eyes welling with tears. You reached to dab under your eye. “Truly, it’s a privilege to be here and to have spoken with your team. I’m so grateful.”

Sue smiled and placed her hand on your shoulder. “You’ve earned it, Y/N.”

You bid your goodbyes to Sue, and you smiled at Johnny one more time, before Herbie escorted you back to your car. You wanted to look at Johnny once more, before he was out of your sight, but you elected to grip your hand tighter and march on.

You had to be strong. You were going to be working with him frequently, you would see him every day, and you didn’t need to be falling for someone at your first real opportunity. You couldn’t .

As you left, you were too far to hear, but Sue couldn’t resist heckling her sweet baby brother.

“‘I’d rather do this than—‘“ she started to mock, pushing his shoulder as she laughed. He retreated immediately back under the car and away from her, his face bright red. She got on her hands and knees to bother him.

“Johnny,“ she said pointedly. “You are in so much trouble.”

Johnny pointed a finger at her. “You did this to me! You didn’t have to bring a beautiful, smart, interesting woman into my garage, but you did!”

She enjoyed watching him fluster. “I did,” she admitted. “And you’re going to be lovely to that girl.”

Johnny sighed, his head falling back onto the cold garage floor. His eyes met Sue’s knowing ones. “She’s going to ruin me.”

Sue winked. “The ones that are worth it usually do.”

Chapter 2

The agreement was to rent the lab for one day a week. It was all you could afford, though you asked Sue to not share that with Johnny, and she was gracious in agreement.

Your work with Johnny started as a brainstorming session, the two of you using a lab and a giant chalkboard to discuss ideas. He greeted you, on the first day, with half of the board already covered in thoughts for electric cars and public transit projects. Your heart swelled—he was taking this seriously.

“Good morning,” he said warmly, waving graciously at you when you entered.

You blinked heavily, not believing your eyes on his head start. “Good morning, Johnny, wow!”

“I got some of my own ideas going, but of course, you are the leading lady, so I bow to you,” he said, completing his sentence with a graceful bow.

You curtsied in response, which made him laugh. After hearing his laughter, you briefly thought that you would do anything to hear it again.

“We don’t have to use any of mine,” he continued. “Not even sure how much they’re environmentally friendly as opposed to Johnny-wants-to-build-this—“

“Johnny,” you laughed, reaching to nudge his shoulder. Your eyes sparkled as you read the ideas on the chalkboard. “It’s perfect. It’s a perfect start.”

Johnny grinned. He tossed the chalk into the air and swiped it quickly, a hop in his step as he positioned himself at the board. “Alright, then. What else is going on in that brilliant head of yours?”

You jumped onto the table behind you, notebook in hand, and started rambling. He scribbled on the chalkboard, both of you pausing frequently to discuss, to challenge each other, and to laugh.

It was immediate with Johnny. It was comfortable, and like you’d been in this rhythm for years.

By the end of the first day, when Johnny heard, “See you next week!” from you, he all but malfunctioned.

“‘Next week’?” he repeated, spastically slapping his hands on the pile of papers beside you. “What? No. We have to keep brainstorming.”

“I rented the lab for one day a week,” you said, flushing red. “It’s okay, really, we’ll at least have much to talk about next time—“

“Come back tomorrow,” he said. It was almost a beg.

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “Johnny, I can’t. I only rented it for Tuesdays.”

“Then I’ll rent it for the rest of the week,” he said with a shrug.

He was losing you, by the indecision on your face, and held up a paper from the stack, upside down, but he didn’t need to know that. “But what about this? This is important work that needs to continue!”

It was actually your list of places near the Baxter Building that you wanted to grab lunch, but again, Johnny didn’t need to know that.

You sighed and took the paper from him. You slid down from the table and started to sort your papers back into your purse.

“I appreciate the help, and I want to keep working, but really, it’s best we continue next week,” you said. “We have a lot of great ideas. Let’s see what we come up with next week.”

Johnny pursed his lips, eyes wandering in thought before the gears in his head clicked and his blue eyes snapped to you. “What if we had too many ideas next week and we needed another day to even get through those ideas?”

You weren’t sure why he was desperate to increase your days in the lab. It was an amazing session, with insanely talented ideas, and lots of laughter, but he likely had tons of sessions with the same sentiment. He had met thousands of scientists. Why was he smitten with your work?

“Do you believe in this?” you decided to ask. You were brave enough to confront Reed Richards, you could do the same for the engineer in front of you. “Sustainability. Understanding finite resources. Do you?”

“I believe in you,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat. He was as serious as a heart attack. It was fresh, to see someone with pure resolve, and an unwavering determination in their eyes. It should have scared you, but it didn’t. It only made you want to know why .

“If…” you said, taking in a dramatic breath. “If we have too many ideas next week, so many that we just can’t make 90 minute sessions work, I’ll stay for maximum two hours.”

“I can work with two hours,” he agreed. “And when I talk for more than two hours, then what?”

“Then we consider two and a half hours.”

Johnny tilted his head playfully. “And if I talk for eight hours straight with so many ideas that you get tired of me and have to come back a different day, what day would you come?”

You grinned. “Probably Thursday.”

“Thursday sounds perfect,” he grinned back at you. The grin dropped as he became serious, a hand outstretched. “But only if we have so many ideas that you have to stay for an extra two hours and then eight hours and then a whole ‘nother day.”

You were dead serious. “Only then.”

“Then I’ll see you next week, Ms. L/N.”

You chuckled. “Thank you for today,” you said honestly. Your eyes scanned the room, your heart swelling with joy and your brain tired, but challenged. “This is all I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Johnny smiled, looking around as well. “I’m new to the business of making dreams come true, but you’re a fine first customer.”

You laughed. “We’ll see, Storm. YouI’ll have to impress me with some prototypes first.”

But Johnny liked a challenge. For every time you pushed, he delivered. He came prepared the following week with several ideas, that pushed you both past the 90 minute mark. When the timer went off, the look you shared was filled with excitement from him and skepticism from you.

When two hours had gone by and Johnny had showed a few prototypes, you thought that was it. But then he unveiled a small scale miniature of a flying, electric car that you mentioned as a fleeting thought last week, and you realized he got what he wanted: another day working with you.

“Oh, you are trouble, Johnny Storm,” you mumbled.

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Me? Never.”

Although you kept paying for one day a week, Johnny quickly asked you to come by twice a week (for science, of course) then three, and that developed into five days a week. You confirmed with Sue and Reed that no one else needed to reserve the lab, and to please share with you if someone else needed the lab, but there was no protest from either of them. 

You and Johnny worked for long hours, often forgetting to eat until one of your stomachs rumbled and you were suddenly picking up lunch together, brains and mouths moving at the speed of light. You would order something Johnny wanted to try one day, and he would order something you wanted to try the next.

Weeks later, developing a rhythm of working together in the lab, when Johnny started working on multiple prototypes to showcase, you handed him tools when he needed. When your mind started racing and your hand cramped on the chalkboard, he continued writing for you.

You noticed, one day, viewing Johnnys prototype for a solar panel that your initials were together. You ran your finger of his J, and your first initial, and the ampersand between them.

You were quiet, which is how he knew you were occupied, and he looked over at you, his head fully tilted back to see you through his high-spec goggles.

“You ok?” he asked, sliding his goggles up.

“Yeah,” you said. You held up the prototype. “I guess I’ve just never had my name on something before.”

“Well, really, it’s both of our names—“ You rolled your eyes and he laughed, before he tilted his head warmly. “I'll take my name off when we do the final presentation. You deserve it, Y/N. Truly. This is all you.”

“It’s not,” you said with a wave. You walked closer to him, leaning beside him to view his work on the new prototype. “This is both of us. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Ah, I’m just the hands. You’re the brain,” he said.

You kept his eye. “Why do you do that? Belittle your work?”

Johnny shrugged, his eyes breaking from yours to inspect the work under his hands. A clear redirect. You didn’t push, so he didn’t continue, and you both decided to move on.

“Well, I think you’re brilliant,” you said quietly, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I’m thankful to know you.”

Johnny placed his hand over yours. He squeezed it gently, hearing you and your words, then went back to work.

The hardest part of your days should have been acquiring materials for the work, or contacting the city for permits, but it wasn’t. It was a breeze compared to the end of the night, when Sue, or Reed, or Ben had to come into the lab and tell you both to go to bed.

“You’re here all hours of the day,” Ben told you one day, slinking an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t you have people that miss you?”

You chuckled kindly, albeit awkwardly. “My work is important to me.”

Ben decided to let it go, but the way that Johnny’s head turned to you, examining your face, told you that he noticed the hurt on your features. You weren’t surprised that he did. He seemed to always notice you. 

“Reed’s rubbing off on you, kid,” Ben said. “Not too sure that’s a good thing.”

“He has you all to keep him human,” you said. “Otherwise he’d probably just talk to Herbie all day.”

At that, Herbie produced a sad noise, but you untucked yourself from Ben’s side and grabbed Herbie’s face, placing a giant and aggressive smooch on his head. Your lipstick stained with the shape of your lips.

“And what a lovely life that would be,” you said to him.

He twirled and continued his work.

You placed your hands on your hips, looking at Johnny pointedly after a glance to the watch on your wrist. “Ben’s right, Johnny. We should wrap up and get some rest. We did great today.”

“We did amazing today,” Johnny corrected. He continued writing with the chalk until his thought ended, then he placed the chalk on its mantle. “But as usual I yield to you, m'lady. We’ll break for today.”

Ben waved to you. “Get home safe, kid.”

“I will. Thanks for keeping us in check, Ben,” you said with a smile.

“Anytime.”

Herbie followed Ben, leaving you and Johnny alone in the lab. You started to gather your things. You collected your notebooks, strewn across the lab, and tossed your empty food containers into the garbage. You paused and checked your pockets. Where was your favorite pen?

You turned to Johnny to ask, but he was suddenly standing behind you. Your eyes left his to notice your pen in the front of his chest pocket. A mischievous glint sparked in your eye.

“Looking for something?” Johnny asked, his brow together in fake concern.

“Nope,” you said, popping the p. “I think I’ve got everything.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

You and Johnny stared at each other. The longer he kept his eyes on you, the less it took for your shell to break. You knew what he was really wanting to ask about, why he really took your pen.

“We work together, yeah,” he said softly, his eyes gentle. “But I think of you as my friend. I hope if you wanted to tell me something, you could. It won’t change how I think of you. Nothing could.”

Things between you and Johnny were good. Comfortable. You liked him, valued him and his mind, and you worked well together. But there was a boundary you hadn’t crossed. You didn’t touch, not really, beyond handshakes, you didn’t hang out outside of the Baxter Building, and you certainly didn’t share many personal details.

You knew about him, though, because his family worked with him. Sue had shared stories about their teenage years and Ben shared embarrassing stories about Johnny snoring loudly or how he ate breakfast cereal at all hours of the day.

But he didn’t know you, beyond your work. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to. You were perfect, here, working well together and you were thought of as smart and kind and you didn’t want that to change. Not at all.

“Thank you for saying that, Johnny,” you said softly. You placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re my friend, too.”

A sad smile flashed on his lips, but he nodded, and pushed no further.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.

You smiled. “Of course.”

When you saw Johnny the next week, it seemed you both had surprises for each other. You showed up to the Baxter Building with a bright blue folder with his name on it (little did he know, it was the fourth folder because you agonized over how you wrote his name) and when you met him in the lab, there was a delicately wrapped gift on your usual spot on the table.

Johnny was nowhere to be found, so you placed your present next to his, and cracked open your notebook to start the day.

You had created a few prototypes together, a model for an electric flying car, solar panels, wind and water turbines. You were at a point, two months in, where it would be time to produce experiments before the hard part would begin: finding someone who believed in your work and could produce it on a large scale. You hoped to present your prototypes to the Future Foundation, but for now, renting a lab and collaborating with their best engineer was more than enough.

As usual, you heard him before you saw him. He was singing today, a light hum and whistle, before he busted through the swinging doors. You beat him there, so he paused as he saw you, but his typical crooked grin spread across his face.

“Good morning,” he greeted. He all but skipped to you and leaned on the table beside you, pointedly looking at the unopened present. “And why haven’t you opened this yet?”

“Because I have self control,” you said with a wink. You nudged the folder towards him. You suddenly felt a deep drop in your stomach, nervous for his reaction. “You first.”

Johnny did a double take at the folder. His lips turned down in a frown, a hand over his heart. “For me?”

You nodded, inhaling a sharp breath. “For you.”

“At the same time, then,” he prompted, with quick hands, placing your present in front of you and holding his.

You obliged. You counted back from three together. He opened the folder and you lifted the lid from the present.

“Oh, no way,” Johnny giggled as you said, “Oh, Johnny.”

It was a beautiful wrap job for essentially the same thing you had gotten him— a stack of papers. As you read through them, you realized it was a contract from the Future Foundation to partner with you and produce your work.

You turned to him with tears in your eyes. “B-but we haven’t even done any experiments or any real size prototypes-“

“I had a meeting with the CEOs. Said they believe in your work and wanted to claim a small percentage of the profits, but mostly, help the world be more sustainable or whatever,” Johnny said casually. He shrugged coolly. “I was going to put in a good word but I didn’t even need to.”

You wanted to feel ecstatic. You wanted to jump with joy or hug Johnny or scream. This was it—your moment to change the world. And yet, as Johnny spoke to you, you couldn’t help but realize that this was a reality because of who he knew.

He clocked the frown on your face immediately. He tilted his head. “I feel like we should be celebrating. Why are we not celebrating?”

“I want them to believe in me,” you said, clutching the papers in your hand. You skimmed the bold lettering on the front page.

Y/N L/N and Johnny Storm present… in association with the Future Foundation…

“I needed the Foundations’ tech and I needed your beautiful brain, but Johnny, I want you all to seriously believe in this. Not just push this because we’re friends—“

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he cut you off immediately, hands on your shoulders. “No. No. I believe in this. Sue and Reed do. You’re not just getting this because they like you or because I do. You’re getting this offer because you deserve it.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for a feeling that wasn’t there. Johnny, as sincere as ever, told you that your work was important and believed in by his family. By him.

“You’re sure?” you mumbled.

“Yes!” he said, shaking your shoulders. You laughed and slapped your hands on top of his, brushing him off. “Yes. You have an offer to produce and own your work. Take it home, look it over, sign it now—whatever. Whatever you decide, we’ll scream from the rooftops. But I know you’ll say yes.”

You rolled your eyes. You tucked the papers back into the gift box and nodded to his gift. “What do you think?”

“It’s ridiculous,” he said seriously. He reached into the folder and leaned beside you, showcasing the various mockups of a logo for your product. Your initials, together, inside of various recycling symbols or shields.

You deflated. “What?”

“Remove my name,” he said. He grabbed a pen from behind his ear and scratched out the ‘J’ in one of the designs. He caught your eye. “I’m serious. This is all you, Y/N.”

“Johnny—“

“‘I couldn’t have done this without you’” he mocked your voice and you laughed, immediately denying sounding like that. “But you would’ve. Someone would’ve believed in you, if we didn’t. I’m just glad we had the opportunity first.”

You frowned. You took a page of designs from his hands and imagined a logo without his initials.

“I’m about to get a whole lot more famous,” he mumbled. He was staring at the designs, too, before turning to view the rocket ship being built outside of the lab window. “I don’t want your work to get lost in that because of me doing something insane.”

“It’s not insane,” you said immediately, reaching to hold his hand.

The speed at which your hands clasped shocked you, but you ignored it, you wanted to comfort him. He had spoken briefly about his “side mission” to go to space with his family, in the time you worked, but some part of you believed your time together was a distraction for the fear he felt.

The first people to leave Earth. It was monumental. Yet, the way the others spoke about it in passing was like going into space was the most natural thing in the world. With Johnny, alone, you noticed his avoidance of the topic.

“You’re going to be remembered in history forever,” you said. “Isn’t that what every scientist dreams?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. He squeezed your hand, humming with a thought. As usual, he didn’t really want to talk about his upcoming trip.

“I appreciate the gesture,” he said, fingers sliding over the designs. “I do. But I want your name on here, not mine. Mine can be in small, tiny, minuscule print in the paperwork. Deal?”

“No,” you said with an eye roll. You leaned your head into his shoulder, feeling eternally grateful and warm. “But yeah.”

You felt his head on yours. You shared a breath, together, before you separated. You noticed the tint of red on Johnny’s cheeks and smiled.

“Shall we get to work?”

“We could,” Johnny agreed. “Or we could ditch for the day and go do something fun.”

“No,” you said, waving a finger at him. “Just because you secured funding doesn’t mean we get to be deviants, Johnny!”

“I’ll be the deviant then, you come be my accomplice,” he said, shaking his head with a challenge. “We’ve spent three months in this lab! Don’t you want to get out? See the world?”

You stared at him, your eyes squinted. He stared back, his eyes wide and face filled with decision.

You asked anyway. “And do what?”

“You’ll see!” he said, and he grabbed your hand, yanking you from the seat and taking off running.

“Johnny!” you yelled, heels clacking aggressively against the floor as you tried to keep up. “You are trouble !”

He ignored you and laughed, the sound echoing off the empty halls of the Baxter Building. He pulled you to the garage, retrieving his keys from the security box by the door, and guiding you to his sleek, beautiful red car. He opened the door for you.

Your hand on the door, you barely lifted a foot before you paused and looked at him.

“You’re sure we won’t get in trouble, Johnny?” you wondered softly.

His eyes softened. “I’m not. But if we do, you’re innocent to me.”

You smacked his hand, exhaling a growl. “This better be worth it.”

The million dollar smile on his lips made your heart skip a beat. “It will be, darling.”

Chapter 3

Your eyes were closed with serenity. Your chest was rising, holding for a few seconds, then lowering. Your hair is a mess, and if Johnny was talking to you, you weren’t aware over the loud and groovy beat coming from the radio. You welcomed the wind to cascade over your features, your hand outside of the car, riding the waves. You were at peace, with the wind, with the sun beating down on your skin. Driving could have been the event, and you would have felt satisfied just driving along the shoreline of New York City with Johnny.

You opened your eyes, squinting through the bright sun, and let your head turn to him.

He was singing, his head bouncing. One hand out of the window, like yours, and the other on the steering wheel. He glanced at you as he felt your eyes, flashing a grin between lyrics, before returning his eyes to the road.

You kept looking at him. Your eyes traced his profile, down to his arms in that tight t-shirt, and his fingers gripping the steering wheel. You had been looking at him nearly every day for three months, but he was right to suggest being together in a new environment. You were intrigued by him like this—in the warm and illuminating sunlight, with his hair blowing in the wind.

Johnny glanced at you again, reaching to turn the stereo down. “Something on my face?” he wondered, sliding a hand down his face.

“Nope,” you said, deliberately keeping your eyes on him for a second longer before turning to the road ahead and reaching to turn up the radio. “Just enjoying the view.”

It was Johnny’s turn to freeze, his brows flicking up in surprise at your words. He pursed his lips, nodding singularly, before turning back to the road. He said no words, but you could feel in his response the unspoken response of ‘challenge accepted.’

Johnny’s first stop was lunch. He chose a beachside cafe with outdoor seating. He pulled your chair for you, which you thanked him for. You sat politely across from each other, your legs crossed, and when your ankles touched each other underneath the table, your eyes caught each other over the menu. It was a brief game of chicken, but neither of you moved. You raised your menu to hide your sheepish smile.

It was a cute cafe that served maybe too many items, resulting in you both choosing a few appetizers to share. When the waitress came, she batted her eyelashes at Johnny, nearly ignoring you entirely until Johnny said, “And for the lovely lady?”

Feeling whimsical, you ordered a Shirley Temple. Johnny was gracious and waited until the waitress left to chuckle. “Very adult of you.”

“Following your lead today, Johnny,” you defended, raising your hands. “It’s childish to skip work, but here we are.”

The waitress returned quickly with Johnny’s root beer and your Shirley Temple. Johnny was quick to steal the umbrella from your drink and chuckled with delight when he saw the two cherries on the end of it. You were more than aware of his lips as he dragged his teeth on the end of a single cherry, his lips brushing across the other cherry. He handed the umbrella back to you, a single brow raised, a challenge.

You didn’t skip a beat, though your heart was fluttering in your chest. You took the umbrella from his fingers and kept your eyes on him as you mirrored his movements, your cheeks coming together as you sucked the cherry from the toothpick and settled the umbrella back into your drink. You pretended not to notice him adjust in his seat.

“Tastes like great childhood memories,” you said coyly.

Johnny took a swig from his beer, leaning back in his seat. His legs spread underneath the table, separating from where your ankles had been touching. You missed the warmth immediately. “Please share,” he encouraged.

“Nothing much,” you said honestly, glancing at the waves crashing against the shore. Your fingers tapped anxiously on the table, your lips splitting with thought. What did you want to tell him? What could you tell him, that would keep this situation positive? “Good Shirley Temple after a long day at the beach. Not much better than that when I was twelve.”

“The world is full of wonder when we’re young,” he muttered.

“It is,” you said. “Did you always want to be an engineer?”

He tilted his head with thought. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think I kind of just did whatever Sue wanted me to, so I did, but I love it so I was right to trust her. Not like there was another option, though.”

You smiled. “It seems like you have a great relationship with her.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he confirmed. His hand fell to the back of his neck, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, which was something you hadn’t seen him do before. “Sue and I lost our Mom when we were pretty young, so we’ve been really close since that.”

“Oh, Johnny,” you said with a frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He nodded appreciatively, letting his fingers run down the neck of the bottle. “Our Dad tried, but, he wasn’t, uh, the greatest. Sue and I made it out, though. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be.”

“Well, me either, so cheers to her,” you admitted, tilting your glass to his.

When the waitress returned with several plates, you and Johnny tried each plate and responded silently with either a scrunched face or a pleasant nod. He asked which was your favorite and you pointed your fork at the one in front of him, which he immediately switched to be in front of you. He wouldn’t accept your protesting. You enjoyed the meal, but left a few bites for him to finish.

“Should you even be, like, eating real food right now? Aren’t you training for space?” you wondered.

“If a few mozzarella sticks kill me upon exiting the atmosphere then I want you to know I lived a good life and it was worth it,” he said with a shrug.

“Johnny,” you giggled. “I’m serious, what’s your training like?”

He took an obnoxious bite from a mozzarella stick, waving it in the air while he talked. “Usually do it on the weekends. Right now, it’s a lot of boring meetings about updates. The Excelsior is being built, we’re getting in peak physical form, blah blah. Other than that, nothing crazy.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing your fork around your plate. “You’re so nonchalant. You’re going to space.”

“I’m going because I’m Sue’s little brother and they needed a fourth chair.”

You paused, your eyes hard. “Johnny.”

He knew you didn’t like when he belittled himself. He raised his hands in surrender.

“This is a big moment. First humans in space. What are you feeling? Genuinely. No bullshit,” you asked.

“Well, no bullshit, I want to go,” he admitted. His eyes left yours to look up, at the bright and sunny sky. “I want to be up there, in the sky, the stars. I’m about to do it. Make history, see the Earth from the stars.”

You waited patiently for the ‘but’.

His face became solemn. “With my sister. My brother in law. My brother in laws’ best friend. The people I love most in this world.”

You understood. “You’re scared, too.”

“Reed would never let anything happen to us, there’s not a scenario he hasn’t thought of, a security measure or test he won’t run,” Johnny said confidently, but there was still a grimace on his face. “Still. My family is going into space and, yeah, this is the most exciting thing to happen to me and monumental for the world, but there’s just some part of me… Some terrible, horrible part of me that is praying everyday that we all come back. Otherwise…”

You didn’t need to hear what he had to say. “You may be alone in this world.”

“Yeah,” His blue eyes were piercing with guilt. He looked down. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to completely kill the mood here.”

“No, no,” you said. Your hand raised to twist your earrings shyly. “I…I am alone, Johnny,” you decided to admit. He was sharing with you; it was the least you could do. “It’s why I’m always available, why I stay late with you at the lab. I don’t have anyone. My parents, they didn’t support this for me. They wanted me to do something safe, like being a teacher or a nurse,  something…more feminine. But I couldn’t. I’m a scientist. It’s in my blood.”

Johnny frowned. He mumbled your name, laced with pain. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think differently of me,” you said, and he shook his head. “I’m just saying I understand your fear because I live it. Your home is filled with love and support and it’s busy. There’s noise, at all times. I understand being afraid to lose all of that."

Johnny didn't have a response, letting you share, and you felt a weight off your chest at his calming reaction. He leaned in, intently, a crinkle in his forehead as he looked at you and understood you a little deeper. 

You leaned in, too. "But would you rather go into space with anyone else?”

Johnny’s response was full of resolve. “Not a chance.”

The waitress returned with the bill. You reached to pay for it, but Johnny was offended by your offer. “We’re celebrating you,” he said. “You should’ve left your wallet at the lab.”

You decided to walk along the shore to browse different shops and enjoy the sun. It didn’t take longer than one store for Johnny to buy you a pair of sandals to switch from your heels, but you ended up convincing him to change into entirely different outfits. You were both in long pants and sweaters, both of you always complaining about how cold the Baxter Building was. When you both emerge from the dressing room, you were both in shorts, sandals, and you had a blue tank top on while Johnny has a blue t-shirt.

“You chose blue on purpose,” you said, embarrassed at your matching shirts. “I chose blue first.”

“It’s a nice blue,” he defended.

Your clothes were together in a tote bag on your shoulder. You stopped at different stands along the beach, Johnny trying on silly sunglasses, and you trying on different hats, until you put on a yellow bucket hat and Johnny adored it so much he bought it for you instantly, again, not hearing your protests.

You continued to walk the shoreline together. You were keenly aware of your hands brushing against each other as your arms swung. There was an excuse, at least, to walk close to each other, as the pavement is crowded with people. You are walking together to not get lost. Yeah. That’s it.

You pointed to the shoreline, at a spot where there were jagged rocks, deterring people from gathering. “See, that’s actually a perfect spot for a solar or wind panel—“

“Ah, ah,” he said, grabbing your hand from the air and lowering it. He didn’t let it go, and instead laced your fingers together, swinging your hands theatrically. “Nope. No shop talk.”

“But—“

“This is a stress free day!” he protested.

“I don’t get stressed at work.”

“Alright,” he said with an eye roll, not believing you. He tugged on your hand. “Come on, what’s our next fun activity? You pick.”

You didn’t need time to think. You brought your conjoined hands to gesture at the water.

“We don’t have swimsuits,” he said.

You started to drag him towards the water, breaking from his hand to take off your sandals as you landed in the sand. You started to run towards the water, turning briefly to challenge him: “Who said we need swimsuits to swim?”

He followed you, cautiously. “Uh, the world?”

You stopped at the shore and dropped your bag, the sandals in your hand. You hurried across the hot sand and into the water, up to your ankles. You turned back to Johnny, who stood a the shoreline with his hands out, shaking his head like you were unbelievable.

“We don’t have towels!” He protested.

“When did you start being logical?” You challenged, throwing your hands up. “Don’t make me come get you, Johnny Storm.”

He smirked, running his tongue over his lips and dragging his teeth on his lip. He spread his legs, grounding himself in the sand. “Well, that makes me want you to try.”

You took the challenge. You marched right up to Johnny and stood behind him, your hands spread across his back, and pushed with all of your might against his back. You obnoxiously grunted and even kicked up sand. He took pity on you and budged a few steps, clearly letting you move him.

“That’s what I thought—“ you started, until he turned on his heel and threw you over his shoulder, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs. You bounced on his shoulder as he trudged through the sand and into the water, giggling wildly, and then you held your breath and slammed your eyes shut when he threw both of your bodies into the water.

You emerged, laughing, and running your hands through your hair to push it out of your face. You splashed Johnny upon seeing him pop up beside you.

“You said you wanted to swim,” he sang.

You naturally found each other, given his feet touching the floor, and yours not quite there. He reached for you underneath the water and you allowed yourself to be taken, at first holding onto just his hands until you became tired keeping yourself a float and let go of his hands to wrap an arm around his neck. He started to step backwards into shallower water, one arm around your waist, using the other to paddle.

“My makeup is probably shot,” you muttered, wiping a wet hand under your eyes.

He asked to see, smoothly guiding your other arm around his neck, sliding you in front of him. Your feet brushed against the sand. You didn’t need to hold onto him anymore, a fact you both definitely knew now, but chose to ignore. You were in front of him, your arms loosely around his neck, and his around your waist. The water splashed gently on your back, moving the both of you along with the rhythm of the waves.

“Looks perfect to me,” he whispered.

You watched a drop of water from his hair slide down his forehead, over his nose, to his lips. You wanted to reach to rub the water from his lip.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, there with him, how much you like him. You searched his eyes; they were completely smitten with you, fixed on you, like you were the only thing in the world to him. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if this was a spur of the moment, or if Johnny really wanted you, or how it would be back at the lab. You didn’t care. You just wanted him, in that moment.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered back, breathing in deeply. “It’s been perfect.”

“For you, anything.”

And you believed it. You leaned forward and put your head on his shoulder. His grip around your waist tightened, until one of his hands dropped and reappeared on the back of your thigh, guiding your legs around his waist. You allowed it. Your nose in his neck, you held him tightly, the quiet splashes of water all the sound you needed in that moment.

“I meet a lot of people who want to use the Future Foundation to fund their ideas,” he whispered to you. His lips were by your ear, his head pressing against yours. “Not one of them has compared to my sessions with you. You’ve brought back my love for the work. You bring energy and passion to it, every day, and you've pushed me to be better in every sense. I just wanted to take you out for one day to show my appreciation and to celebrate you for being you.”

“Oh, so you don’t do this for all your pretty partners?” You grinned at the shake of Johnny’s body as he laughed.

“Not a chance,” he said huskily. “I don’t hold them like this either.”

You leaned back, raising one hand to tilt your hat back to see him better. You were close, your noses close. He nudged your nose with his, getting you to giggle, and he smiled at the sound.

“Where you’re touching me is a little more than coworkers usually do, Johnny Storm.”

He was quiet, for a moment. Then, a careful whisper: “Is that what we are?”

You couldn’t miss the slow drag of his eyes to your lips. You also didn’t miss the quick aversion his eyes made as he noticed something behind you, and any semblance of desire instantly left his face, his hands loosened from around you, distancing you both quickly. His hand even reached to lower your hat back over your eyes.

“I’m sorry, we have to go,” he said.

He gave you no explanation, just distanced from you, and put one hand at the small of your back to guide you towards the shoreline. You were shocked by the rapid turn of events and the warmth in your stomach, your chest dissipated even faster. You decided to not say anything, instead, watching him and his rigid movements. He was moving quickly once you were back to the shore, twisting out his clothes, grabbing the bag, handing you your sandals.

“Johnny, what is it?” you wondered. You wanted to reach and place your hand on his bicep, but given how quickly he pulled himself from you, you decided not to.

“I’m just a fucking idiot,” he muttered, turning towards the path.

You didn’t speak the rest of the way. You were glad your hair was wet, at least, the droplets blended with the tears leaking from your eyes. If he was an idiot, then you fucked up, too. You shouldn’t have done this with him. You definitely shouldn’t have been that close in the water to him.

You walked beside each other all the way back to the car, both of your sandals squeaking with water, but there was no humor behind it. Something chilled him, enough that you were both silenced back to the car and back to the Baxter Building.

When the garage door opened, you saw a pair of heels waiting patiently, and a string of curse words exited Johnny’s mouth. You lowered your gaze from Sue’s penetrating eyes. You glanced at Johnny, but he didn’t spare you a glance. He pulled the car into the garage and took a deep breath before he left the car, opening the door for you.

“Sorry,” he said briefly, a short moment with you at your door, before he turned to face Sue. “I fucked up, I know—“

“Oh, you know?” She was on him in an instant. “You know better than this! You should know better than this. How long have we been talking about laying low? And now you’ve dragged her into this, after we just agreed to fund your project. Do you even know what you’ve done? How bad this could've been?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. You lowered your eyes, your shoes suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. You weren’t going to speak unless she directed a response from you. If you were honest, you were trying to turn invisible, hoping she would forget you were there. Johnny didn’t respond, and Sue turned to you. When she said your name, your eyes welled with tears, your mind flying to the worse case scenario. You were fired, funding was cut, get the Hell out—

“I’m sorry,” Sue said earnestly, and your eyes bulged. “It was my fault for trusting Johnny to even treat something with care. Your work deserves the world, and not this. What happened today, as close as you are in that photo—“

You shook your head. “What? What photo?”

It was then that you saw Herbie, hiding behind Sue’s legs. He flew forward and to your height, handing you a folder. Paparazzi pictures. You and Johnny, though, there was no identifying features of you, given how your back was to the camera. You were, however, clearly hanging on each other, closer than friends would. You were stuck on one part of the photo, no doubt the desirable part of the photo—Johnny’s eyes, the way he looked at you.

“Oh,” you said stupidly.

Sue was back on Johnny with barely a break. “Do you even know how hard it is to build a serious reputation in this field for a woman?”

He took every word. He didn’t break eye contact with Sue, staying completely still, and not saying a word. He didn’t argue with her or try to defend, not even once.

It dawned on you that he broke your conversation off because he saw the camera, not because he wanted the conversation to stop. He kept your back to the camera, he hid your face. He wanted his name off of your project. He wanted you to be you. But you both forgot, oblivious in your bubble together, who he was, and who he was about to be.

“I wanted to go,” your voice was small, but you spoke up anyway.

Sue turned to you, the fire in her resolving when she looked at you.

“Seriously,” you said, nodding. “Sue, I was so honored that you wanted to fund my project and I wanted to celebrate with Johnny. I’m sorry. I forgot he’s famous, you all are, and we shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t have gone out like that, let alone ditch work. I'm so sorry."

Sue’s eyes flickered to Johnny. From the corner of your eye, you saw him staring at you, but you didn’t dare turn, standing tall and strong in front Sue. He had been trying to defend you and fight for your deserved role in the community—none of it should be erased by a single mistake on both of your parts.

“I appreciate your honesty,” Sue said. Her eyes were softened when she looked to you, but when they turned back to Johnny, they were devastating with disappointment. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You clutched your bag tighter to your chest and left, too, walking to the lab. You were gnawing at the inside of your cheek as you rushed to the lab, hoping that you could grab your items and leave and avoid conversation with Johnny. You didn’t even know if he was following you, but when the door swung open again behind you, you knew that he was.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You kept your back to him as you pulled his clothes out and laid them on the table, replacing them with your notebook and computer. You were so embarrassed. Sue was disappointed in you, you were almost a headline, Hell, you might still be. You could see it now— Mystery Woman Leaves No Space for Space Explorer Johnny Storm. You were stupid. Sue was right, you almost threw all your progress away for a kiss.

Johnny took another step towards you, huffing with exasperation. “You didn’t have to speak up for me, or take the hit, it was my fault, I asked you to go—“

“Well, I did want to go. I wanted to celebrate. So it’s fine. I’m sorry, too. It’s fine,” you interrupted. You took your bag over your shoulder and turned to him, facing him, flashing a polite smile. “I’ll see you later, Johnny.”

He shook his head in disbelief, blinking rapidly. “No, please don’t go, I just…”

You cleared your throat with a shrug, unable to say anything for fear of a crack in your voice. You just wanted to go home. You couldn’t stand in front of him a second longer, thinking about what it felt like to have his hands on your thighs, and even worse, disappoint Sue, or live in the absolute fear of your work being overshadowed by a crush.

“I just don’t want to put a damper on your career by… Well, because I—I mean, by—“ he was stuttering after you as you made your way to the door.

You stopped and turned. Your heart begged for a chance, and you gave in. “By what?”

In your head, you saw the photo Herbie showed you. Johnny looked at you like you were the center of the universe, and in his arms, you certainly felt like it. You gave him a chance, there, to say something to make you stay and think about what you wanted to, instead of what you should do. You hung on his next words, a piece of your heart hoping this was the time he would finish your conversation in the water.

“By being your friend,” he finished lamely.

Friend.

Your stomach sank immediately. “Yeah,” you said through your clenched jaw. “I’ll see you later, Johnny.”

The doors slammed together loudly after you practically ran out. You didn’t even make it to the hallway before a single blink igniting tears. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you repeated to yourself, jamming your finger into the elevator button at the end of the hallway. Your sobs were quiet and you used your other hand to wipe at your face. You weren’t thinking much about someone being in the elevator when you entered, but, of course, when the doors opened, Reed Richards’ face appeared and you didn’t mean to, but you groaned.

“Hello to you, too,” he said with surprise. He lowered the clipboard in his hand when he saw your tears. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Richards—“

He interrupted you to call him by his first name. He glanced behind you, no doubt searching for the source of your current state, but the curiosity on his face resolved when he saw someone down the hall, no doubt Johnny, trying to come after you.

“I just want to go home,” you said quickly. “Are you going down?”

“I am now,” he said, sliding over to make room for you.

You entered the elevator and leaned against the wall, keeping your back towards the doors until they closed. You furiously wiped at your tears.

“My apologies, Reed, really. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

You were a bad liar. Reed didn’t have to tell you that.

“I’m not really great at the comforting people thing,” he said honestly.

You shrugged. “I’m apparently not great at being professional.”

“You’re a kid,” Reed said plainly. You shyly looked over at him. He was sincere, a crooked and closed-lipped smile on his face. “Can I share something with you?”

You nodded.

“I was always an outcast,” he said. He fidgeted with the pen in his hand, tapping it annoyingly against the clipboard as he spoke. “I was weird. Too smart. Not many people liked me, maybe still don’t like me. Felt like a lot of people tolerated me and my brain. Do you ever feel like that?”

You nodded again, wiping under your nose. You certainly weren’t as smart as Reed, though you could relate to feeling like an outsider. You could relate to feeling like people tolerated you.

“I worked really hard to be where I am,” he continued. “It did matter to me, but it didn’t really matter to me, truly, until I met Sue. When I met her, it was like all the fun in the world I was missing came alive with her.”

You could tell. You always felt like a third wheel when they were in the room, the way they orbited each other, how a conversation between them could be so intimate and serious. She poked fun at him, he sometimes didn’t understand the joke, but he was always happy to be near her. They were as good a representation of soulmates as you had ever seen.

“I know what happened today,” he said, and you closed your eyes with regret. “Nobody’s in trouble. We’re not pulling funding because you and Johnny played hooky for one day.”

“Sue was really mad—“

“She’s not mad, she’s worried. There’s a difference,” Reed corrected.

You nodded and tried to hear him. “It means the world to me to be here. I hope you know that. I’m not here to…” you paused, unsure of how you wanted to end that sentence. Reed’s brow raised, awaiting your next words. “I’m here to move science forward. Please know that.”

“I do,” he said.

The elevator doors opened to the ground floor. You stepped out and he followed.

“You gonna be okay to drive home? Herbie can drive you,” Reed offered.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath in through your nose and letting it go through a small opening in your lips. “You’re very kind, Reed, thank you. I’m okay. I’ll make it home.”

Reed nodded. He awkwardly patted your shoulder and it made you laugh, which seemed like a success to him. He pressed a knuckle into the elevator button to return upstairs.  You started to leave, but his voice calling after you caused you to stop.

“I shared how Sue makes me feel because if I could go back, to when we first met, I wish I could tell myself to have more fun,” he said thoughtfully. “I wasted a lot of time putting science over her, and maybe I shouldn’t have. That’s all. Have a goodnight, Y/N."

You nodded, your mind elsewhere, his words spinning in your mind. "You, too, Reed."

Chapter 4

Your almost-kiss and the subsequent mania was, luckily, on a Friday. You didn’t have to see Johnny for two days. You spent those two days in near silence, your mind loud enough to save you from needing external noise.

Reed’s words meant something to you. You appreciated his sentiment beyond belief. But, ultimately, you were young. You had time to fall in love.

Johnny was going to be big and famous in mere months. He would meet women, far more successful and interesting, and leave you, anyway.

You decided it was best to finish this project, get your own headquarters, and never see him again. You could get through the next few months until he was off to space and things would change for the better, with both of you doing what you were meant to do.

Luckily, the paparazzi photos were not released. You knew Sue paid the photographer off, a high enough price to keep them secret, saving your career. You were, as you found yourself often being, endlessly grateful to her.

You returned to work on Monday reinvigorated and with a clear sentiment in mind: this was work. That’s all it would be.

Unfortunately, you felt yourself waver when Johnny entered the lab doors, as always, his broad shoulders turning slightly with each step. How could someone walk attractively?

He locked eyes with you and smiled. You knew that it was muted, clearly resistant to the full force of how he typically greeted you. You mirrored him, cautious, and yet still polite.

“Y/N,” he said with a nod. He stopped at the opposite end of the table, which felt like the opposite end of the Earth to you. “How was your weekend?”

You raised a sleek eyebrow. Oh, so he was going to pretend like nothing happened. Fine. You could play that game, too.

“Amazing,” you said with a grin. “Yours?”

“Fantastic,” he said with a tight smile. “Shall we get to work?”

“We should,” you agreed.

It was tense. There was no normalcy between you. You were worlds apart the entire morning—Johnny walked across the room for a new chalk piece instead of taking the one beside you. He came with his own drink, instead of sharing yours. You now felt awkward challenging any thoughts he had.

You started to become irritable the longer the hours went on. You were supposed to be the angry one, not him. He almost crashed your career. How dare he act like you were bothering him?

When lunch time came around, Johnny bid you goodbye.

“Where are you going?” You couldn’t help but ask. You hated how desperate your voice sounded.

He turned over his shoulder. “Going to get lunch,” he said briefly, then continued out the door.

The tears were instant. The aloofness with what he said, the irritation building from how tense your session, let loose like a flood gate. All your work over the weekend to psych yourself up for today was gone in an instant with Johnny’s careless attitude. Three months together, and he had never gotten lunch without you.

You were done. You had to end it early, that was it. You were going to get through the day and walk right into Sue’s office and tell her that you are so thankful for her help but you and Johnny could no longer work together—

The doors opened. Johnny walked through with a large paper bag. He froze instantly upon seeing your tears and blinked hard, before placing the food on the counter and rounding it quickly to be in front of you.

“Whoa, hey,” he muttered, reaching for your hand. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

You tore your hand from his and slid from the chair, distancing yourself. You wiped harshly under your eyes. “Stop, Johnny, stop it. We can’t do this anymore, I can’t. We need to talk to Sue, I need a new engineer. I can’t do this.”

Johnny deflated. He slouched on the chair, his hands falling to his lap. His face dropped. “What?”

“You don’t want to be here!” You said, gesturing around you. “You’ve been across the room from me all day, you ordered lunch without me, you don’t want to be here.”

He scoffed, having the nerve to be offended. “‘I don’t want to be here,’” he repeated, scoffing again. He pushed himself from the seat and to his feet. “‘I got lunch without you.’” He walked around the table, to the bag, and pulled out two entrees, sliding yours across the table to you. “I don’t want to be here? I got lunch without you?”

Your face was hot. You opened your mouth to apologize. He cut you off.

“All I’ve been doing all weekend is thinking about you,” he said with a head shake, in complete disbelief. “How much I fucked up, how badly I want to go back and do it again, right, this time.”

You viewed the entree in front of you. It was the food you ordered at the beach side cafe, still hot, delivered all the way across the city. You imagined he sent Herbie to get it for you.

He wanted a do-over, of your tender moment in the water. He wanted you.

You looked at him, hopeless. His eyes were desperate, seeking to understand you.

“I’ve spent nearly every day with you for the past three months, convincing myself that it was a bad idea to ask you out,” he continued, his jaw clenched, his hands waving wildly. “Sue told me not to, Ben told me not to—“

You noticed his omission of Reed.

“—I took my name from all of this because I want you to have this on your own, with no tie to me. I want you to choose science. You should choose your career. But honestly?” He said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. His hands fell loosely on his hips with a shake of his head. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you to choose me, too.”

Your heart sank, all rational thoughts with it.

Johnny was standing in front of you, telling you he wanted more for you than just him, that he thought about you daily, that he wanted you. Your mind was short circuiting.

Johnny’s voice cracked. “If that’s what you want, a new engineer, then fine—“

“No,” you whispered, the first time you spoke. Your voice cracked, too, but you were as sure as could be. You said it again. “No.”

Johnny blinked. You were both at a loss of words. Seemingly frozen in time, you stared at each other frantically, on the edge of a step that could change your lives.

He spoke again, breathless. “Then, what do you want?”

Your answer was clear. You didn’t think about it or hesitate. “You.”

Johnny was silenced; the first time you’d seen him not have something to say in the time you’d known him.

“I want you,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s not the most logical idea, and Sue’s right, Ben’s right, you’re right, that I my career might tank with this, but I have to try. I have to try to have both because I can’t sit here and pretend like we’re just coworkers, Johnny, or just friends.”

You took a step closer to him. His eyes flickered with you, attentive to your every step, every breath.

“I would’ve kissed you either way,” you whispered. “I would kiss you in front of the whole world, Johnny, if it means that we could try.”

You could see the gears in his head spinning as he looked down at you. He was spending too much time with Reed—

“What if you can have both?” he asked. He glanced away from your eyes, his hand coming to run over his face, before he met your gaze. “What if we do this secretly so you can have both?”

You knew he meant no ill intent. Towards you, there was nothing Johnny could do with anything less than thoughtful intent. Yet again, he was offering a suggestion that was in support of you, your career.

Your proposal was scheduled to come out next week, Johnny’s name removed entirely. You were going to have banner events and ribbon cutting ceremonies, a press conference with Sue. This was all beyond the oncoming press storm that would be covering their intergalactic excursion. Scrutiny over semantics and validity of your work wouldn’t exist if you weren’t seen together.

You don’t think about how hard it will be. You don’t think very much at all beyond hearing that Johnny likes you. You just thought one thing: you wanted him. In any form.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Johnny tilted his head inquisitively. “Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

He nodded, a nervous smile stretching his lips. “I want you, in any way I can have you.”

You released a breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding. Relief flushed over your body, cooling the butterflies in your stomach, calming the headache in your temples. You bit your lip, subduing the giant smile you knew was seconds away from lighting up your entire face.

“I’ve been very patiently waiting for a do-over,” you whispered. 

Johnny nearly flew over the table to stand in front of you.

“So the scene was a little like this,” he said playfully, sliding your hands around his neck. He slid his feet to the side, crouching to your height, and you went on your tip toes. “And I was sort of like this,” he said, his hands on your waist. “And we were saying that we’re coworkers, and you were saying—“

“Johnny,” you said pointedly.

“Right, right,” he muttered, and you saw for the first time that he was nervous. It mended your heart, seeing him nervous to kiss you, knowing that for all the suaveness he mustered, you could make him flustered.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You pressed your chests together and caught his lips in between yours, your hands sliding into his hair, to his neck, your heart pounding so wildly out of your chest that you thought he might feel it against his.

Johnny’s hands were everywhere, sliding up and down your back, your waist, until he was holding your face in his hands, long fingers tangled in your hair. You would take suffocation rather than stop kissing him, but he was a good man, and pulled your faces apart.

His lips were swollen, his eyes drunk with passion. “You’re sure?”

You fought against his hands, winning immediately to press a gentler kiss to his lips.

“Yes,” you mumbled in between kisses.

“You’ll be my secret girlfriend?” He asked. He pressed a kiss to your neck, between your ear and shoulder that sent a shiver down your spine. You arched your back in response, flipping your hair over your shoulder to open your neck to him, nodding breathlessly.

Johnny did not kiss you, and instead broke from you to throw his hands up and cheer, complete with a small jump in the air. “Fuck yeah. Secret girlfriend. That’s so hot.”

It was then that you both heard a low beep, and both of you paused.

“Herbert!” Johnny yelled.

Half of Herbie’s head peered out from behind the counter, his entire body trembling in fear.

“Oh, Herbie,” you said, crouching down. “Come here, it’s fine.”

“Herbert, what did you see?” Johnny interrogated.

Herbie shook like a leaf. In a quick spew of bops and beeps, he confirmed that he saw you both kissing and didn’t know what to do, so he hid.

“Well, obviously we need to erase his memory bank,” Johnny said with an eye roll. “Jesus. Haven’t been secretly dating for five minutes and already someone found out.”

Herbie screeched in fear, his hands flying to his head.

“We are not going to erase your memory, Herbie, stop,” you said to Johnny, slapping his chest. “Herbie, you are going to be a great boy and not tell anyone that Johnny and I are secretly dating. I trust you. Can you do that?”

Herbie said no.

“Herbie,” you said sternly. “You keep a secret or we erase your memory. Which one is it?”

He reluctantly agreed. You had to confirm that yes, secrecy included everyone, including Sue, Reed, and Ben, but he eventually agreed.

“Now what did you originally come here for?” you asked.

Herbie opened his front compartment and presented a letter to you.

You flipped it over, reading the return label. “Holy shit.” You held it up for Johnny to see.

“Holy shit,” he agreed.

It was an offer for the Ted Gilbert show. A guest spot, early in the show, nowhere near to prime time hours, but a spot nonetheless.

“You’re going to be on TV!” he said, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around. “This is amazing!”

The doors to the lab swung open, hands coming together in a clap. It was Sue, a wide grin on her face. She rounded the table to meet you, stealing you from Johnny’s arms in a hug.

“I guess you both heard the news,” she said with a squeeze.

You and Johnny glanced at each other, your smiles due to something else, though at least covered partly by the joy of your success. Certainly a close call.

While you thanked Sue, Johnny turned to stare at Herbie threateningly, making the poor robot tremble.

“Alright,” Sue said, leaning on the counter. “So you’ve got your funding and a spot to promote your work on the biggest show in America. What will you do next?”

“Cry,” you said in all honesty. You ran your hands through your hair, eyes moving between the siblings. “Sue, this is unbelievable.”

“Well, believe it,” she said. “Lynne will contact you to guide you through PR basics, what to wear, what to say. It’s a good opportunity to get yourself out there and gain partnerships with other companies.”

You nodded enthusiastically before your hands fell to your hair again. “God, I’ll have to get a haircut.“

Sue cut you off from spiraling. “It’ll be worked out. Don’t worry. I will not let you go on national TV anything but beautiful.”

You believed her.

“You’ll be out of this lab soon,” she said with a sign, looking around with a frown. “I’ve become accustomed to knowing you’re in here, but with one bird out of the nest, we should make room for other people with ideas to save the world.”

You understood. This was meant to be a six month deal. It was beyond your comprehension that you’d succeeded much earlier than that, but you knew exactly why. You turned to him, as he watched the two of you interact with a grin on his face.

“Johnnys been getting sick of seeing me anyway,” you said with a small smile.

“Ah, I’ll keep you close by,” he said, a playful arm around your shoulder. “Plenty of nearby offices for rent. Maybe even one where we can wave at each other through a window.”

“Yeah, right,” you said, shrugging him off.

“I’ll let you two get back to it,” Sue said warmly. She held your hands again, a joyful smile on her lips. “Congratulations, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

Herbie followed Sue out, making sure to cast another nervous glance at you and Johnny. You both narrowed your eyes at him.

“No chance he’ll keep a secret,” you said.

“Not at all,” Johnny said. He turned to you, glancing once more at the door, before placing his lips on yours, his hands gripping your waist. “Unbelievable. Late night television, your own lab, your own company. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

“You know what I’m gonna say,” you said, clutching him tightly in a hug.

“I know,” he said gently, hugging you back. “We make a good team.”

 

Chapter 5

Notes:

Anyone else keep thinking about Johnny trying Herbie’s food?? Asking for a friend…

There’s nine months left until launch.

Not only are you busier once your work is published, but Johnny’s days are picking up, too, with more meetings and safety checks and “whatever else they need me for” as he typically said.

Tests on your prototypes were successful, production was accelerated, and before you knew it, you and Johnny had no logical reason to keep renting the lab space.

“Start small,” Reed had given you advice. “Be good at a couple things, really good. And then build from there.”

Johnny and Ben helped you hire a small team, several duos of scientists and engineers (which they grilled to make sure they were nearly as good as their resumes said), Sue hired you two marketing professionals, and you situated yourself as the Owner/Director of your company. 

It was a whirlwind. You were answering your office and home phone constantly, booking meetings, introducing yourself to other companies, answering any problems occurring at HQ. You were cordial and kind in every pitch meeting, but every offer, you ran by Ben or Sue, always slightly unsure of what decision to make. You were terrified of making the wrong one.

Sue’s advice was always the same: “Stay true to yourself.”

Ben was a little more honest. “Solar powered jet ski? Be serious, people. What are we, gonna solar powered everything?”

You were cutting ribbons in front of newly placed solar panels and wind turbines all over the city. You were interviewed by local newspapers. You talked a lot about your inspirations,, how important it was to you to have your dream come true, and what you wanted to do in the future. Although interviewers kindly pretended to be interested in your environmental science babbling, there was one question that was asked consistently: “And do you have a boyfriend? Husband? Kids?”

Your response was calculated and said with a tight smile: “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll meet a lovely man soon enough.”

It was an ideal public relations response that Lynne told you to say. “We all hate it and would love nothing more than to shove microphones back in their faces,” she had told you in that warm and slightly passive aggressive way that only she could pull off. “But we are women. Pioneering women, but still women. Leave yourself open and available.”

Your appearance on the Ted Gilbert show was the worst of it. He, at least, apologized to you beforehand and admitted they need to ask the age old question for the views.

“I think it’s great what you’re doing, amazing, a beautiful woman and environmentally conscious,” he said like you would understand the complexity, like you simply couldn’t be both. “We do need to let the guys know you’re single. And hey, who knows, you might meet the love of your life doing this science thing.”

“Who knows,” you had laughed with him.

Your segment was prerecorded, so you were able to watch it live with your secret boyfriend when it premiered later that night.

Johnny catcalled you when you walked out onto the stage. You sunk deeper into the couch, shaking your head with embarrassment.

You had worn a form fitting black turtle neck dress with white lining and two embroider floral pockets in the front. Your dark hair had a matching white bow. Blue eyeliner and makeup—a touch of your favorite color—and the cutest pair of Mary Jane’s, your own, which you begged to wear instead of the heels they prepped for you.

You groaned as you were announced, already judging and scrutinizing your former self. “Nope, this is awful, I can’t watch,” you said, tucking your head into Johnny’s chest.

He shushed you. “Quiet, my beautiful girlfriend is on screen!”

You sat in the cozy armchair and sat upright, with your back stiff, your legs crossed. You politely held your hands at your knees. The smile you had practiced in the mirror was bright on your face. It made you look warm and inviting. Ted asked you about your work. You were slightly honest and told the crowd that you were lucky enough to have submitted a proposal to the Future Foundation and wrote Dr. Richards every month until he agreed to meet with you. You told them how grateful you were that you clicked with the team at the Future Foundation and how you were forever indebted to them for believing in you.

“And the team, that’s Susan Storm and Reed Richards?” Ted confirmed, glancing at the cards in his hands.

There is a minuscule hesitation in your face as you want to say more than just their names. You nod and smile. In response to Ted. He continues to ask you questions and you even tell a silly story about your first day at the Future Foundation, which is completely made up, but gets the audience to laugh and it makes you likable.

“You are a bright young woman,” said Ted warmly. “Where can we find you next?”

“Well, I’ll be partnering with the Future Foundation to create a high speed, electric monorail. Completely solar powered. It’ll get you across town in less than ten minutes,” you said proudly. You visibly flinch as people cheer and clap. Your laugh is genuine, your eyes close with joy. Ted smiles warmly at your sincere reaction.

“That is just lovely,” he says. “Absolutely lovely. Yes, yes, let’s hear it for our wonderful guest. And now, now,” he says as the crowd quiets. “I have to ask…”

“You do?” You say, leaning forward.

Ted laughed. “Tell us, please, are you seeing anyone?”

You look calm as he asks. Little did he know, you’d had nightmares about that question every night since Herbie handed you the invitation. You imagined that you would say, “Why, no, Ted,” and that he would pull out the paparazzi photos of you and Johnny and ask you again. But that’s not what happened.

Your typical line spills from your lips: “No, but I hope to meet someone absolutely fantastic soon.”

Next to you, Johnny booed at your response.

“I know, I know,” you said, snuggling closer to him, your head on his chest.

You watch yourself thank Ted with a hug. You blow a kiss with both of your hands to the audience as they clap, hoot, holler at you, and then you disappear behind the curtain.

You sighed. “If I could scream from the rooftops that I’m dating the Johnny Storm, I would, don’t worry.”

Johnny was familiar with the feeling. He had gotten the same PR notes from Lynne as his interviews would begin to increase, too. People were becoming more interested as the time until launch shortened, interviewers wanting to hear from the four astronauts headed into the unknown.

You saw some of the behind the scenes when you visited the Baxter Building. Your biweekly meetings were with Sue or Reed, typically whoever was available. You stayed longer than your allotted time when it was Sue, chatting about everything except what you were truly there for. When you met with Reed, he was brief and to the point, wrapping up your meeting well before the allotted time.

No matter who you met with, Johnny always made time in his day to be around when you came to the Baxter Building. He happened to run into you in the hallway and you happened to always have an hour to catch up with your old friend.

Herbie had a heart attack every time he saw you two together, which became increasingly worrying when you were in the presence of Johnny’s family, but was usually subdued with threatening looks from you two.

Beyond your friendly, yet ‘impromptu’ meetings at the Baxter Building, you and Johnny could only truly be together in one place: your apartment.

He was there every other night, sometimes, before you even got home. You didn’t know why you left the spare key in the plant outside—it might as well have been his.

Johnny became comfortable quickly and you didn’t mind. You had forgotten what it was like to come home to someone and to share space with someone. You liked when he left a small mess in your kitchen, or the TV on a station you would never watch. They were reminders that you had someone, and he had you. You bought a few pairs of sweatpants to keep in the dresser for when he came from work but didn’t bring a change of clothes. He brought snacks to leave in your pantry. You chose the left side of the sofa and he chose a signature spot to leave his shoes by the door.

There was only so much television. It very quickly became background noise as you and Johnny couldn’t resist each others’ magnetic pull. You spent a lot of time ignoring the television in favor of kissing him, touching him, letting him take off your shirt and kiss your chest, but never quite going all the way.

Johnny didn’t push. You were grateful. You wanted to, you thought about it every night, but it was important to you to wait. You and Johnny were experienced; it wasn’t nerves, it was the contrary. You knew what casual sex felt like and you knew being intimate with Johnny would feel completely different. It would be special. You wanted it to feel special because of the way you felt about him. He wasn’t casual to you.

“I want to,” you had told him, one night, when his hands were circling your pants, silently asking. “Just not yet.”

“Baby, trust me,” he whispered to you, kissing between your neck and collarbone like he knew you liked. “When you’re ready, I’ll make it worth it.”

You liked the slow build, the tension of waiting.

You loved that he, slowly, started to touch you everywhere except one area. He liked to kiss your lips and kiss down, unhook your bra and throw it across the room. He liked to leave bites on your breasts and press kisses to them like he was sorry, but he absolutely wasn’t.

The more time you spent together in your little sanctuary, the harder it became to resist him. You could only be together and lay on the couch so often before you both became stir crazy of looking at the same four walls.

The night you let his hands touch you was nothing special. There was just something about his hands that day that made you want him, bad.

You had been watching them since he came into your apartment. You watched his hands know his way around your space, grabbing the remote, grabbing a bowl from your cabinet, gripping the cereal box as he poured it. His hand on your lap when he laid next to you on the couch.

When he inevitably kissed you, the squeeze of his fingers on your throat made you primal, and you grabbed his other hand, placing it high on your thigh, too high to mean anything else.

Johnny nudged your face from his, searching your eyes. You nodded once, hoping he caught it, and went in for a kiss.

“Tell me you want it,” he mumbled against your lips. His fingers gripped into your thigh and you held back a moan.

You raised yourself onto his lap, desperate to pull off your clothes. You pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it, and Johnny unhooked your bra. You raised yourself to your knees and leaned your chest to his mouth, his hands splayed on your back as he pressed your chest further into his face. You kicked off your pants, leaving your panties on. You chuckled at your mismatching bra and panties. You really didn’t plan this out, not that Johnny noticed, or cared.

Johnny’s hands had been on your ass before, but never before with the option to feel his hands on your bare skin. Your skin lit up with desire when he ran the pads of his fingers over your curves, under your thighs. He kissed his way back to your lips and leaned you back, on your back, setting you down on the couch. You pulled at the neckline of his shirt impatiently. He laughed as he grabbed the back of it and pulled it off with one arm. You could’ve moaned at the smooth motion.

He paused as he was beside you, his hand on your lower belly. You were on fire.

He asked again and you realized that you never answered. “Tell me you want it, sweetheart.”

“I want you,” you whispered, blinking slowly.

Johnny slid his hand between your legs. You tucked your head into his neck, pressing sweet kisses to his neck, clutching his forearm as you waited for him tot ouch you.

His touch was gentle. He entered your panties and moaned when he slid a finger between you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“Are you shocked when you kiss me like that?” you wondered playfully.

He answered with a rough kiss, catching you off guard by bitng your lip. You gasped, as you felt his lips on your teeth and he entered you with two fingers. You squeezed your legs together immediately, wanting more.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

“Relax,” he whispered into your neck as you threw it back. “Let me take care of you.”

You listened. He pumped his fingers delicately, smoothly, pressing his thumb higher on your middle and you couldn’t help except breath heavier.

You couldn’t help it. You wanted to touch him, too. He was making you feel like you were walking on clouds, you wanted to touch him, too, needed to touch him.

“Johnny, can I—“

“Yep,” he said quickly.

You placed your hand on his erection, poking through the sweatpants on his hips. You touched him over his pants, grabbing his length, until he started to shake his fingers inside of you and any sense of gentle went out the window. you shoved your hand down his pants and grabbed him, splaying your thumb on the head of his member, spreading the wetness and running your hand up and down his length.

“Fuck, Johnny,” you moaned. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“You feel so good, baby,” he mirrored you. “So good.”

Johnny found a rhymthm with his fingers inside you that had you seeing stars, your hand stopping as all you can do is squeeze your entire body with pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back, your legs coming together to trap him there, keep him there pleasuring you, and then it’s over.

When you opened your eyes, you realize he’d leaned back to watch you. You cowered, suddenly embarrassed by your reaction, but a cocky grin spreads across his face, pleased with his power over you. It didn’t stop there. He pulled his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, not daring to break eye contact with you as he sucks them clean.

You forgot your hand is on his dick but the shiver that ran down your spine reminded you and it’s now your mission to make him moan. You dropped down to his waistband, tugging his pants until his dick sprung out. You barely gave him time to adjust before your lips are on him.

Johnny’s hand found its way to your hair. You feel his hand at the back of your head, guiding you, pushing you down further when you let him. You didn’t try hard to get him to moan and with every whimper of curse, it made you want to work harder.

It doesn’t take long until he finishes when you’re on him like that. He clenched your hair in his fist while he released into your mouth, and you make sure to lick up every drop.

Johnny groaned with pleasure and flopped on the couch. “ Fuck , you’re hot.”

You winked. “Back at you.”

It was like the floodgates opened after that night; you two could not keep your hands off each other. It became a competition—to make each other moan, to learn his body, for him to make you feel good, and you almost throw your reservations completely out of the window to feel him fully inside you multiple times. You managed to stay strong.

Your nights end with you both lying together on the couch or in your bed, one of both of you half or fully naked, finally exhausted enough to watch whatever show you put on.

Johnny held you loosely, one arm over your waist, the other tucked under his shoulder. His head on your chest, you comb your fingers through his hair. It’s not long, but long enough for you to stick your fingers through. You told him weeks ago that you liked it long and he’s been trying to grow it since.

His voice is quiet. It vibrates your chest. “I miss seeing you every day.”

You hadn’t seen each other for more than two days in a row since you left the Baxter Building. Johnny visited you every night he could, and while you tried to swing by the Baxter Building more than you needed to, it was also best you didn’t stay beyond employee hours. Knowing how Johnny could likely make you do anything, you also weren’t sure you could leave if you visited him there.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t offer anything. Your circumstances changed faster than either of you prepared for, but this was your new reality. You were on an upwards trajectory with your career and you needed to ride the wave while there was momentum.

As much as you yearned to be with Johnny at every waking moment, you both had to remember why you chose to date secretly. Remembering why didn’t save any frustration that came with your situation, however.

Johnny abruptly pushed himself from your grasp. He pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I should get going.”

“You’re sure?” you asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” he said, throwing his arms above his head and stretching. Your eyes tracked the thin slice of skin that showed under his belly. “Long day tomorrow. We have final touches on the suits before they’re ready.”

You weren’t sure how you forgot. It was marked in your calendar with giant exclamation marks. Suits!!!!!

Preparations were underway. Final touches. Their mission to go to space would kick into high gear over the next few months.

The idea of space exploration used to excite you. You were just as thrilled as anyone else about the prospects of witnessing history.

Then, you met them. You worked with them, laughed with them, teased Reed and loved Herbie, and now, there’s nothing more terrifying to you than their mission.

You don’t have time to spiral, though.

“I guess they didn’t clear a disco ball in the suits?” you wondered.

Johnny sighed dramatically. “They said there was no use for it.”

You threw your hands up. “There’s always use for an impromptu dance party.”

It got him to laugh, at least. He pushed himself up from your bed and searched the floor for his clothes. “You dance?”

You pulled on a large shirt over your body, brow together as you thought about the last time you danced. “Jeez, haven’t gone since college probably. I went on a date with this nice boy—“

“Yuck—“ Johnny gagged.

“Shut up,” you laughed. “He asked me to dance at a bar and I said yes but he didn’t know how to lead. It was a lot of stepping on feet. I had bruises the next day.”

“Sounds lame,” Johnny said, his keys dangling in his hand as he approached you. He leaned on the back of the couch, pressing a kiss on your lips upside down. “You want to go dancing with me sometime?”

He didn’t do it often, but certainly more than you ever did. You were good at pulling when he asked you to go somewhere in public together as a fleeting thought and when he truly meant it. It broke your heart when he truly meant it.

“Yeah, here , Johnny,” you said gently. “Bring your favorite records and a pair of dancing shoes and we’ll hang out here.”

“Great,” he said with a grin. He pressed another kiss to your lips, then your nose. “Friday night at 7, be ready to dance.”

You were shocked instantly by his cordial agreement. You became suspicious. You were on your feet in seconds, chasing after him, feet dancing quickly across the hardwood floor.

“No, Johnny, you’ve never agreed to something that fast in your life,” you said with a wagging finger. “What are you doing? Spill.”

Johnny scoffed, raising his hands. “I’m more than agreeable., especially when it comes to you.”

“My ass,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You squinted at him. “What do you have planned, Johnny?”

“Don’t you trust me by now?” he asked, instead, as he shoved his feet into his shoes. “Can’t you trust me for one night to take my beautiful girlfriend outside of these four walls? I’m going stir crazy in here. The walls, they’re speaking to me.”

“What are they saying?”

Johnny held up a finger and closed his eyes. “They’re saying, ‘ Johnny, Johnny, you gotta take your girlfriend dancing’ . They’re saying that.”

The worst thing to you about Johnny was how he made you incapable of saying no when he really wanted to. It was a superpower. You couldn’t say no when you skipped work to be with him, you couldn’t say no to not dating him, you always said yes to ice cream and to him coming over when you were really busy and he distracted you while you prepped for meetings with his handsome face. Johnny was not someone you could say no to. He charmed you, in every sense, and made you forget reason.

He, unfortunately, knew this, too.

“That’s my girl,” he said, joyfully laughing with success. He stepped forward to kiss your lips one more time. “I’ll see you Friday, beautiful.”

You sighed as he slipped out from your apartment, leaving you alone and back to the quiet demeanor of your home. The lack of his presence was sobering.

You locked the door behind him and turned off the TV, crawling into your bed. It was stiff and cold. You wished he could stay and keep you warm while you fell asleep.

When you drift off, you’re thinking about how much you like Johnny. Yet again, you found yourself pushing the boundaries of what you should be doing in favor of what you wanted to do with him.

And once more, you thought about Reed’s words, playing it like a mantra in your head. You should have fun. You should be with Johnny, loudly, becuase you did like him, and he liked you.

Why should it ever be more complicated than that?

Chapter 6

It’s Friday night. You were practically buzzing the entire day, losing your spark a little as you sat through dozens of boring meetings and the worst backache, but as soon as the clock turned 5pm, you were invigorated.

“You totally have a date tonight,” one of your marketing coworkers called after you.

“Yeah, she does, look at that pep in her step!” Another said, gesturing at your walk.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Your assistant wondered. 

“I’m going to call HR in mere minutes,” you threatened, jokingly, and bid them all a goodbye. “Have a lovely weekend. Rest! Enjoy!”

When you entered your apartment, you realized you have an hour and half to pull yourself together. Cupid is on your side, however, and everything goes smoothly (except for the nick on your leg from shaving). You pulled on a light blue halter-top dress and a pair of short heels, knowing they’ll come off as soon as you hit the dance floor.

You were nervous. You and Johnny saw each other a lot. You were together, intimately, and yet, for a night out, you could see your hands shaking as you fixed your earrings. You watched yourself in the mirror, raising your chest with a deep breath, and letting it out slowly through your nose.

You were nervous to be on a formal date with him, sure, but also at the thrill of being caught. Things were going well for you both in your careers. You did not want to jeopardize the publics intrigue with single, sexy Johnny Storm just as much as you didn’t want your own career to be invalidating by dating the brother of the CEOs that jumpstarted your whole career.

Just trust him. It’ll be fine.

He knocked at your door. You leaned out of the bathroom to check the timer above your kitchen and frowned—the one time Johnny was actually punctual.

You grabbed your bag from the couch and slung it over your shoulder, pulling open the door with a smile.

There was not a man standing at eye level. You looked down, confused, and grinned at the little robot in front of you with a bow tie on his chest.

“My darling!” you said, laughing joyfully. “What are you doing here?”

Herbie shook with excitement, wiggling when you were happy to see him. He asked you to join him, holding his hand out.

“Oh, of course,” you agreed, taking his three-pronged hand.

Herbie led you to a car parked in the alleyway of your apartment building. It wasn’t Johnny’s, nor a car that you knew from their garage. He rented a car for you.

You pouted, moved by the decision, and pressed a kiss to Herbie’s head when he floated up to open the door for you.

Herbie talked the entire ride. He talked about what Reed and Sue were up to, how Ben was teaching him how to cook, and how Johnny was absent a lot. He turned to you when he said that, pointedly, and you reminded him to focus on the road with an eye roll.

Johnny rented out the highest rooftop bar in New York City. You and Herbie take the elevator to the top, his hand graciously extending to allow you to step out first when you arrive on the top floor.

It’s private. There are ample shrubbery and privacy screens around the roof, dim fairy lights lining the awnings, and a beautiful wood platform at the center. You know Johnny’s at the record player based on his quiet mumbling and your heels clicking against the concrete as you find him alert him to your presence.

You felt like the center of his universe when he looked at you, noticing you the first time, then fully turning to you the second time he catches your eye. He dropped the record in his hand on the table and beelined for you.

You were swept into his arms, his lips on your face and your lips in seconds.

“Oh, my beautiful, beautiful girlfriend,” he muttered against your lips.

You eventually get him to let your feet touch the floor again. You pushed him towards the record player to finish what he was doing, but you aren’t exactly subtle when your eyes run down his body, especially the backside in those khaki pants that he knows you love.

Herbie is your server and your DJ as you both sit down for a quick dinner. You shared a steak and salad with Johnny, deliberately keeping your intake small so you’re able to dance.

“Wine for the lady?” Johnny offered.

You raised an eyebrow. “Hmm… Trying to get me drunk and handsy, Storm?”

“I don’t have to get you drunk for that, sweetheart,” he said and you nodded in fairness. 

A glass of wine later, his words were like a prophecy. You are crashing into him on the dance floor, your shoes behind you, desperate to feel his hands on you as you dance together.

“I’m so happy when you dance with me,” you sang into his face, your head bobbing. He cuts off your next words with a kiss.

“In this world there’s nothing I’d rather do,” he sings gently to you. “‘Cause I’m happy just to dance with you…”

He planned all of this just to have a private night out with you. You feel it, then, for the first time, an assuredness of your feelings for him that notches into your heart.

You and Johnny danced to so many songs. Herbie is busy changing records, bringing you water or another glass of wine. You try to swing him on the dance floor with you but Johnny saved him from the embarrassment.

“Hey, hey, hey, lover,” you sang, reaching to hold his face in your hands. You put your hands on his face and remembered this moment, him, and the way he looked at you.

For love is just the same without fortune or fame

Just give me

True love and understanding

Eventually, Johnny coaxed you from the dance floor by having Herbie pretend one of his records was scratched. You pretended to not know their secret deal and sat down anyway, pleasing Johnny.

“My feet are gonna hurt tomorrow,” you said. You grinned up at him. “I needed this.”

Johnny shrugged. He knew you, more than you realized. He knew you needed that beach day mere months ago and he knew, right now, you needed to be carefree and let him help you have a good night.

“You tired yet?” he wondered.

You were, but you didn’t want to be and you didn’t want the night to end. The pout of your lips told him enough.

“One more song,” he promised. “We’ll take it slow.”

Johnny helped you onto the platform, taking your hand and setting it on his chest, his other hand on your back. You leaned your head into his chest and let yourself be swayed.

Earth angel, earth angel

Will you be mine?

My darling dear

Love you all the time

There was nothing to say. It was a perfect night. An expensive one, you were sure, and planned to argue with him about when you weren’t seeing double.

Johnny hummed along to the song and you smiled, closing your eyes as his chest vibrated under your ear.

I’m just a fool

A fool in love

With you

Herbie made a noise and you both turned to him. It was getting late.

“Do we have to?” you groaned.

“I’ll do this for you anytime,” Johnny said with a kiss to your forehead. “Say the word and it’s yours.”

You were sure there were stars in your eyes when you looked at him. “You’re good to me, Johnny.”

“Hard not to be,” he said. He kissed you again, swaying you gently to the song, as it ended. “Is it okay if Herbie takes you home?”

You nodded. You kissed him again, longer, deeper, not wanting the night to end. The minute your lips left his, it was over and back to reality. The thought made your eyes water. You didn’t want to do this anymore. You wanted to love Johnny, loudly, in public, with other people.

“Hey,” he said against your lips. He wiped at his cheek, your tear. He frowned when he saw you, whispering your name sadly.

“I’m happy, I promise,” you said. “I’m just sorry, Johnny. I want to be able to do this with you all the time.”

“One day,” he said. “For now, I’m content renting rooftops and watching terrible television in your apartment. As long as I’m with you, not much else matters.”

Herbie took you home.

“Herbie, I’m in a lot of trouble,” you sighed on the ride home. “I really like that man.”

Herbie asked when you could start telling people. He wanted freedom from your secret.

“No, pal,” you reached to scratch his head. “Not yet.”

 

*                   *                  *                     *

 

You were due for a visit at the Baxter Building the next morning that you thought hard about pushing back to a later time. Herbie had a heavy pour, it seemed, and your head was pounding as you prepared yourself to face the world.

You were going to be brave and not wear sunglasses, but when you exited your apartment, you hissed and threw them on anyway.

Your meeting that morning was with Reed and you knew he wouldn’t comment, or likely even notice your sunglasses indoors. Your meetings with Reed were typically scheduled over something he was doing, so they were brief and to the point.

“Everything good?”

“Amazing,” you said with a thumbs up, forgetting that he wasn’t looking at you anyway. 

“Great, see you in two weeks.”

You pushed your sunglasses to your hairline and blinked heavily at the bright light. You took a seat at his desk, leaning back in the chair.

Reed turned when you didn’t leave. He mirrored you and pushed his blue safety glasses to his forehead.

“Something else bothering you?” He wondered.

You were probably still slightly drunk from last night, but you were feeling brave that morning. “I want to ask you something, like, completely off the record. As far off the record as possible, actually.”

Reed raised a single eyebrow. “Is this about you and Johnny?”

Your jaw fell open. “What? No. What? Why would you think—“

“Herbie told us the day you kissed.”

“What?!” you screamed. You were on your feet in an instant, your angry eyes on the robot across the room, and you were about to run after his screaming, fleeing form until Reed waved his hand.

“Stop, stop, he didn’t tell anyone else,” Reed promised. “Just me and Sue.” He paused. “Well, and Ben.”

You wanted to melt alive. You put your head into your hands. “Oh, my God.”

“If nothing else, it earned me points since you took my advice. Now Sue says I’m a tad bit better at consoling people,” Reed said proudly.

You barely heard him. “Oh, my God, we’re such idiots.”

“We were going to find out sooner than later. Likely the first week you left, since Johnny basically did, too,” Reed tried to console you.

You threw your hands up. “He said he told you guys he had friends!”

“Really? Who?”

“That what I said,” you agreed.

You collapsed into Reed’s chair. You felt so ridiculous. All this time, you and Johnny were working hard to keep the secret from his family and there was no reason to. You were, however, going to hit Herbie over the head when you saw him.

Reed leaned on the desk beside you. “I think it’s sweet,” he said, nudging you with his foot to get you to look at him. “You and Johnny.”

You could be honest with him now that he knew. Had known. You bit your lip, sighing.

“I don’t want to be quiet about it anymore,” you admitted, looking at your shoes. “I really like him.”

Reed hummed. “At the risk of sounding blunt…” he muttered and you waved your hand, welcoming it. “So?”

You huffed. It seemed so easy when he said it.

“At the end of it all,” he continued, pausing. “When you’re staring death in the face, what will you be more grateful for? Choosing your career or choosing love?”

You nodded slowly. You both let his words hang in the air for a moment before you inhaled a big breath and stood, patting his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t believe what everyone says, Reed. You are pretty good at advice,” you said. “Thanks. I’ll see you later!”

“What? Who else says I’m bad?”

You pretended you can’t hear him as you push through the door to his lab. “Huh? No one. Bye, Reed!”

You fall through the doors and immediately run into a body, apologizing profusely, before you recognize that flop of blonde hair and smack him on the chest.

“Johnny Storm,” you snapped, hands on your hips. “You snooper! What did you hear? Did you hear any of that?”

A stupid grin spread across his face. “Oh, were you talking about me, beautiful?”

“What? No,” you said. “Don’t be so conceited.”

“Right,” he said, dragging the word out. He leaned his shoulder against the hallway. “Funny seeing you here. Want to grab lunch? I happen to have an hour.”

“Oh, we can stop with that,” you said with a wave of your hand. “Herbie snitched. Your whole family has known we’ve been together since we made it official.”

Johnny’s eyes almost fell out of his head. “What?! Herbert!”

You paused, waiting to hear if you could heard him squeal somewhere on the floor, but the hall was quiet.

“Yeah, I think he went into witness protection,” you said. “I almost killed him, too.”

Johnny groaned. “So, my whole family knows?”

“Yep.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I guess that means you can come to the suit testing tomorrow now.”

It was your turn to be shocked. “What? They’re ready?”

Johnny’s confirmation made you want to throw up. Your excitement about space exploration died a little more with every day that went by. This was a huge step in preparation. It was becoming real; they were headed into space in mere months.

Johnny bit the inside of his cheek. “Do you, uh, would you want to come see me?”

You loved to see him nervous. “Absolutely,” you said, reaching to touch his chin sweetly.

He pressed a quick kiss to your hand and then pushed himself from the wall, peering into Reed’s lab. “Is he busy or what?”

“Normal Reed levels of busy,” you shrugged. “Why, what’s going on?”

“I was going to ask him about a project I’m working on, but all good. I’ll ask later,” Johnny said. He tilted his head, silently asking you to walk with him. “What do you want to get for lunch?”

You were stuck on his new project. He told you he hadn’t been working with the Future Foundation on any collaborations since you left. He wanted a break to focus on preparing for space, and, well, you.

“You’re working with someone?” You wondered curiously.

“Nah, just something I’m working on by myself. I probably won’t take another partnership until I get back from space,” he said.

“You peaked?”

“Yeah, don’t want to risk crushing on another one,” he said. You hit his stomach. “I mean, yes, my beloved darling, my life peaked when I met you and I can’t imagine ever working with anyone else.”

“Correct,” you agreed.

You head to the 20th floor. Johnny makes you both sandwiches in the kitchen and you share a bag of chips between both of you. You’ve been to the top floor before for lunch with Sue, calculated and side-eyeing Johnny whenever he got too close in front of her. With his family knowing, though, your reservations are gone.

You, unfortunately, couldn’t stay very long. You thanked him with a long kiss and he sent you off with some medicine for the headache he knows you’re nursing.

“I’ll see you later?” You wondered.

Johnny checked his watch, clicking his tongue. “I… I will have to let you know. I’m almost done with this project, but if it’s not done by tonight, I have to keep working.”

You squinted at him. “Crazy deadline for this mysterious project.”

“You have no idea,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll call if I’m going to come.”

Johnny didn’t end up coming later that night, still giving you a call to break the bad news. He was caught up on his project and promised he would see you bright and early instead.

You were almost brought to tears that morning, seeing them done up in their suits.

None of them looked surprised to see you when the doors opened up and you walked through, but you noted their knowing looks to each other and to Johnny. He was not shy about his smile when you entered the room.

“What a nice surprise,” he said. He came to you, stretching his hand to shake yours. “Happy you could make it.”

His family knew, but the other scientists in the room did not.

“Johnny, thanks for the invite,” you said sweetly. “It’s an honor to see behind the scenes.”

He walked with you to the table, where you greeted Reed, Sue, and Ben. You peered at their suits as they walked around you, gathering the right parts and items, learning where to hook tubes into and how to communicate through the earpieces.

Johnny remained beside you as the others moved. He nudged into you subtly when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

“Pull it together, sweetheart,” he mumbled. “Getting sentimental on me.”

“I tend to forget,” you admitted, clearing your throat. You blinked heavily, trying to clear the tears, too. “You’re my friends, but you’re also about to change history.”

Johnny smiled at you sadly. You knew he wanted to hold you. “Come check my helmet,” he said, instead. He grabbed his helmet from the table beside you and held it out for you, allowing your hands to touch for a few seconds of comfort.

You closed your eyes with relief. He saw you, always. There was no doubt about that.

You held up the helmet and secured it on his head, fastening it and squinting at the hinges to ensure it was air tight. Your hands on his helmet, you tilted your head, asking how it felt.

Johnny gave you a thumbs up through his gloves. “Fits great.”

You made a small noise as your brow came together, sentimental over viewing him in the suit. “Fucking hell,” you said, stepping away from him to get yourself together.

“Give me a kiss.”

You turned back to him, your eyes wide. “Johnny,” you snapped, sobering. You glanced around you; you were not near other people, but still.

Johnny raised his brow. “You heard me.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, and smear my lipstick on the glass?”

“Yep, I want a reminder of you while I’m up there,” he said seriously.

It made you laugh. Your hands come together over your mouth, your eyes closed with laughter as you were taken back by how unserious he was. It worked, though, and you stopped tearing up. You giggled and he smiled at you like he always did, like you could ask him anything and he’d do it.

The moment was ruined by a shutter click behind you. You both froze at once, any sense of warmth and familiarity leaving your bodies as you noticed the reporters filling in.

Johnny turned to Reed, shaking his head with confusion. Reed shrugged and mouthed an apology.

“Stay,” Johnny muttered to you, raising his arms in a stretch and covering his mouth from the cameras. “Wait for me upstairs?”

You nodded.

“Ms. L/N,” a few reporters noticed you. “What brings you here?”

You forced a friendly smile as the camera shutters capture you.

“Stopped by to see the finished product up close, just like all of you,” you said with a grand smile. You put your hand in the air to Johnny, grinning when he high-fived you. “Looking good, Storm. Grimm, you’re next, get over here.”

Ben played along, coming under your worrying hands and lifting his neck for you to check his oxygen valve. He peered at you, those blue eyes shining with amusement.

“Smooth,” he muttered.

“Can it,” you mumbled. You patted his shoulder and gave a thumbs up to the rest of the team. “Looking great to me. I’ll see myself out. Enjoy your shoot!”

You waved and blew kisses to the team, waving at the press, and you left without sparing another glance to Johnny.

You followed his directions, though, and took the elevator to the 20th floor. You made yourself comfortable in the conversation pit, turning the television on to one of your bad shows while you waited for them to finish.

An hour later, when the elevator doors chimed, you pushed yourself up on the couch, expecting to see Johnny. You were surprised to see it’s Sue  instead.

“Hey,” you said, your face flushing with heat. “Sorry. I probably should’ve asked, Johnny asked me to wait for him, I totally didn’t mean—“

“Make yourself at home,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you have a minute?”

“Always,” you agreed, sliding over on the couch and welcoming her, like they didn’t have an entire conversation pit for her to join you.

Sue glanced behind her at the elevator before sitting down beside you, her legs curled underneath her. “You doing okay, dear?”

You frowned. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Johnny and I completely didn’t know the press would be there—“

“Stop, stop,” she said, reaching to slow you down.

You glanced at the elevator door when you heard a bang from inside of it, but Sue cleared her throat loudly over the noise.

“I have nothing to say about that I haven’t already said, or that you haven’t already thought,” she said, holding your hand. “I just want you to know that Johnny finds you endlessly interesting. Do you know that?”

You smiled, nodding. “I do.”

“Good. I would ask the same of you, but I’ve seen the way you look at him,” she said with a squeeze of your hand.

You weren’t able to respond, as the elevator doors flew open and Johnny appeared, wild and sweating, his arms bulging. Had he pulled the elevator doors open? He looked around frantically for you and when he saw the two of you sitting together, he growled, a warning rumble in his throat and sprinted for Sue.

Sue squealed, jumping over the couch. “I just came up here to say that if you’re going to be kissing my brother, you should come to family dinner!” She yelled out as she narrowly avoided Johnny diving on the couch after her.

“Sue, gross!” Johnny yelled.

“Sunday at 7!” She said, slipping from his grasp and running back to the elevator. She shoved her finger repeatedly into the button to close the doors. “See you then!”

Johnny landed in front of you. He growled under his breath and pushed himself up. “Did she bring out the photo album?

“Nope,” you said simply. “She threaten naked baby pictures again?”

“Yes,” Johnny said. “I need to burn those photos. It’s not right to photograph a naked child.”

“I’m sure your Mom thought it was sweet,” you defended, chuckling.

“Speaking of family,” Johnny said with a pointed look. “Guess I’ll be seeing you on Sunday.”

You sucked air between your teeth. “Jeez, Johnny, I don’t know. I gotta check my calendar.”

He responded by tackling you onto the couch, his fingers in your sides. “Say you’re coming and I’ll stop!”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming to family dinner!” You cried. “Stop, stop!”

He stopped. He hovered over you, lowering down to kiss you, radiating warmth and delight at the prospect of you being involved at family dinner. You grinned at his reaction, until his face dropped suddenly.

“Fuck, I gotta clean my room.”

 

    *                *                *                 *

 

You heard from a little Herbie that Maisie’s cookies were a hit among the family, so that was your first stop before you arrived at the Baxter Building for dinner.

You arrived with cookies and flowers for Sue, feeling still like you should have brought a side dish, at least, but Johnny and Herbie had assured you that just you coming was enough.

You should have been nervous having a traditional dinner with your boyfriend’s family. It shocked you that you weren’t. Although you recently found out that they did indeed know about your secret relationship, it changed nothing. You were still you, Johnny was still Johnny, and your relationships with his family were unaffected.

The only difference? Now Johnny could touch you freely in front of them.

He would not leave your space. When you arrived on the 20th floor, the doors opened to his awaiting face and you flinched, startled.

“Excited much?” You wondered.

“Can you let me live? My not so secret girlfriend is having dinner with my family,” he said, offended. “This is a big moment for me.”

You politely nodded and gave him a second to collect himself. When he was ready, after a jump in the air with excitement, he extended his arm to you and guided you into the kitchen.

There were cheers from Ben and Herbie when you arrived.

“You look lovely,” Ben said, his hands working on cutting on onion, so he leaned over the counter to kiss your cheek. He did a double take at the box in your hands. “You did not bring Maisie’s! How did you know?”

“I have my ways,” you said, shrugging coolly. You left them on the counter, far away from Ben, after he asked, not trusting himself to wait until after dinner.

Johnny followed on your heels as you shrugged off your coat. He placed it on the back of your chair and then was right back to your side, his hand brushing yours, then moving to your back, then back to your hand.

“What are you making?” You asked Ben.

“Special dish for our special guest,” Ben said, tossing the onion into the pot beside him. “Baked mostaccioli. Grimm family recipe. Super secret, can’t share, so don’t watch me cook too closely.

“Understood,” you said promptly, averting your eyes.

Reed and Sue cascaded down the steps together. Reed leaned in for a hug and Sue gasped when she saw the beautiful flower in your hand.

“You are darling,” she cooed, kissing your cheek. “Let me get a vase for these.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Reed offered. 

“No wine,” you and Johnny said simultaneously, glancing at each other and laughing. “Uh, water, please, thank you, Reed.”

You stand around the kitchen island as Ben and Herbie expertly move through the kitchen to prepare your dinner. You asked to help with the garlic bread, at least, but Ben wagged his finger at you.

“No, ma’am, you’re our guest,” he said.

You sighed. “I know all of you. I don’t feel like a guest.”

“We know you on a professional level,” Sue corrected. “Well, except for Johnny.”

“Sue!” Johnny snapped, again, his face turning red. “Gross!”

You can’t help but laugh. It’s easy to be with them. They invite you to be present and involved; your heart is warm.

“Tell me about you,” Ben asked, glancing up at you. “Do you cook?”

“Microwave meals,” you admitted, leaning on the counter. “I suppose I could follow a recipe if I wanted, but I don’t know if I’d have much time for cooking.”

“I thought I could follow a recipe too, and then they say ‘a pinch of salt’,” Reed agreed. He shook his head in disbelief. “A pinch is not a measurement.”

You completely agreed. It sets you all off on a tangent about cooking being an art versus a science—or at least, you, Sue, Reed, and Ben start to argue about it. Johnny is beside you, silent, and reached his hand to hold yours. The sudden urge from him quiets you and you turn to him, tilting your head.

“I’m just happy,” he whispered to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

The timer goes off minutes later and as Ben pulled the steaming dish from the oven, you helped Reed set the table. You watched Reed, knowing he would be particular about the positioning of napkins and silverware, and follow behind him to mirror his work.

You don’t know it, but Johnny and Sue are watching you both.

“You are smitten,” Sue whispered to her brother, grinning at his lovesick face. “God, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I really like her, Sue.” He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Sue patted his back. “I guess you have a decision to make, then.”

Johnny turned to her, a crinkle between his eyebrows.

“You can’t love her in secret forever, Johnny,” Sue said pointedly. “At some point, you have to make a decision. I hope it’s not made for you.”

Sue left him with that, stepping in to help bring the food to the table.

Johnny followed behind her to help. He realized, later, that he didn’t correct Sue. Love. He supposed it didn’t need a correction.

Dinner was perfect. Johnny pulled your chair out for you, Ben served you the first slice of the dish, you all set napkins on your laps, and dig in when Ben served himself last.

Reed told you a story about the first time he met Johnny. Ben told you that this was the first time he’d ever seen Johnny not use cereal as an appetizer. Sue threatened the naked baby pictures again.

You felt comfortable enough to share a few stories about your childhood. You told them about one of your wildest college stories and how you wanted to be a gardener when you grew up. You told them you weren’t always a New Yorker, but moved to the city from the Midwest when you were eighteen. You told them you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

They avoided asking you about your family and you’re grateful. It’s about you.

“Johnnys treating you well, I hope,” Reed said with a clearing of his throat, glancing between you both.

“He’s the best,” you said without hesitation. “Couldn’t ask for better.”

Ben brought your cookies to the table when you all finished. You invited them to enjoy while you tidied up, gathering dishes while Johnny loaded the dishwasher.

It’s over before you know it. The time flew.

“Thank you for coming,” Sue said. Her warm embrace is enough to make you want to cry.

You don’t realize until you have it how much you’ve been missing being apart of a family.

They bid you, and the others, goodnight. Ben and Herbie helped you and Johnny clean up the kitchen, after you insisted, then you hug Ben goodnight and it’s only you and Johnny left.

Lovesick doesn’t begin to describe it. You’re swept into his arms the second Ben disappears upstairs and Johnny’s hands are all over your body.

“I cleaned my room for you,” he said between kisses and you acted like you were unbelievably honored. “And I have a present for you. Care to join me?”

You didn’t protest. Your hand in his, he guided you upstairs and to the last door on the end.

It’s a great view from his window of the Excelsior and the water. He had a small seating area and a record player, with a collection that you knew would be phenomenal if you browsed through it. His shelves were filled with pictures of Sue and his parents, a few little league trophies, and decorations you were sure Sue touched the room up with.

Johnny sat you down on his circular bed, asking you to close your eyes and hold out your hands. You deadpan stare at him and he assured you he was not going to put his dick in your hands.

You opened your eyes when you felt a device in your palms. It’s like a miniature television, with a couple buttons at the back, and a small screen. You pulled it closer to your eyes.

“What is it?” you wondered.

Johnny fell to his knees in front of you, pulling a matching device from behind his back. He showed you what buttons to press, then there is a short ringing period, and your screens flicker on at the same time, showing his face.

“Is it a camera?” you asked. You flinched when you heard your own voice come through the device. “Oh, it’s like a baby monitor!”

“It’s like a phone call with video,” Johnny said proudly. He reached to turn them off. “But you can call me and I can call you and the audio isn’t great but we can see each other. I’ve been testing the distance with Herbie. It should reach from here to your house.”

You had never seen anything like it. Johnny invented it. He invented this for you, to see your face every night.

You are completely overwhelmed. The perfection of the last few days, dancing with Johnny, spending time with his family. You have never felt more important and desired and sincere.

The urge to tell him how you feel has never been stronger, but you back out of it. You haven’t been dating that long. The last thing you want to do is scare him away.

Johnny tilted his head curiously at you. “Do you like it?”

You held the device to your chest. “I love it,” you said easily. “If you ever ignore my call, you’ll feel my wrath, though.”

Johnny grinned. “Never.”

Chapter 7

There’s six months left until launch.

They insisted on you joining family dinner once a month, at least, after you repeatedly said that you don’t want to intrude on their family time. It’s unspoken, but you feel the sense of welcoming either way.

On Mondays at 7pm, you join Sue to watch the premiere of a terrible show that you both love, saving Johnny from watching it with you. He still joins you both on the couch and pretends he’s not watching. Every once in a while, you hear him scoff at it and you both pretend not to notice.

You and Ben could talk for hours. When you’re at the Baxter Building for a meeting or to pick up supplies, if you run into Ben, you know to cancel your next meeting. He started to help you cook more, and every time you see him you have a question, or to ask where to get a certain ingredient. You also start to chat about baseball, when you notice his favorite teams’ hat one day, and he insists you should all go to a baseball game together.

You and Reed’s relationship remained the same. Your meetings with him are brief, then you hang around for a minute and wait until he explains what he’s working on, forcing him to chat, and you laugh and leave. He gave you great advice; you were offering a service helping him casually converse with people.

You and Johnny… Well, you’ve never been in such a perfect relationship. He’s so into you and you know it. His hand is on you at every private moment, he’s attentive, he talks about all the places he’s going to rent for you both to visit on date nights.

“I’ll pay for one,” you offered, feeling bad about the extravagant cost. “Wherever you want to go.”

“I want to go to your place. What’s the cost of that?"

You sighed. “Johnny, let me handle one,” you said. “It’s the least I can do.”

“All I want from you is to be you,” he said, taking your face in his hands and ducking his head, ensuring he’s your whole vision. “I don’t need you to be anything else.”

You can’t help it when he says things like that. When he says things like that, you want to share with the world that you’re dating and he’s all yours.

It’s perfect, except you and Johnny have a few hesitations. The clear one, obviously, is not sharing with anyone outside of his family that you’re dating. The next is sex, because you can’t quite be alone now that his family knows. When you’re at the Baxter Building, someone is always there. With the countdown until launch approaching, Johnny is busy, and you only see him a few times a week, hence your impromptu visits to the Baxter Building just to look at his face and lock yourselves in a lab to kiss and get handsy. But you both know your first time is not going to be rushed and not in a lab. 

On a rainy day, your assistant, Vivian, runs into your room and you think she might explode with joy by how she hopped into the room.   

“You got it!” she screamed, and then you’re both screaming, jumping together with pure joy.

One of your newest projects centered on expanding your monorail to different cities. Your most anticipated city was Chicago, and with Vivian’s confirmation, you scored it.

“You’re leaving tomorrow night,” she said, and you stopped jumping immediately.

“What?” you said, the smile faltering.

You’re supposed to join Johnny to celebrate three months of dating tomorrow night. He was renting a restaurant in the city, a beautiful and romantic Italian spot that you knew was expensive. 

“Yes, they want to start right away,” Vivian said, widening her eyes at your reaction. “I thought you would want to go as soon as possible?”

“No, yeah,” you said confusingly. “Right, right. Right. Right….”

“It doesn’t sound right,” she muttered.

“No, it’s fine,” you said. “You’re right. I’ll leave tomorrow. Just send me the flight details.”

“Already have,” she said with a wink. She started to leave and then stopped at your doorway. “Boss…”

You rolled your eyes. You and Vivian were close, probably closer than you should be with your assistant, but you absolutely adored her and she had access to your calendar. You typically marked any event with Johnny or his family as ‘L’ which sent her guessing the name of the man capturing your attention, though it truly meant nothing more than ‘love’. You enjoyed the game, though.

“It wasn’t on the calendar,” you defended with a wave. “That’s my fault. I’ll handle it.”

She leaned against the doorway. “You’re sure?”

You nodded and smiled at her. “I’m sure. Thank you, again. You can handle things while I’m gone?”

Vivian was offended that you even asked, rolling her eyes, and you shooed her away, telling her to lock your door on the way out.

You pulled your device from your purse and dialed Johnny.

“Hello, my beloved,” he answered instantly. He jogged back into his closet, the device barely showing him, except a glimpse of his bare chest as he changed. “I have a second, but I’m about to head to training.”

“I’ll be quick,” you promised. “And really, really mean.”

Johnny tilted the camera to show him. He dropped everything to look at you, inspect you, and your sad eyes.

“I have good news and bad news,” you started.

“Bad first.”

“I have to cancel our date tomorrow,” you said, running your hands over your face. “I am so sorry, Johnny.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes dropping. He was upset and you knew instantly. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “And the good?”

“Chicago said yes,” you said, sheepishly looking at him.

“Shit!” he said, his face lighting up. He shook the camera. “Oh, my God!”

“I know,” you squealed for a moment then became serious. “Problem is, Viv scheduled me to leave tomorrow night.”

“And you’ll be gone for two weeks,” Johnny sucked air through his teeth. “I’ll be in space for likely longer than that, so I guess I can’t be too mad.”

Your heart faltered. You nodded, though, in complete understanding. There was no more time you wanted to be apart from him before he went, some backwards psychology like if you spent too much time with him you wouldn’t miss him while he was gone. You missed him even when he left the room; you were sure you would be a mess when all four of them left—Hell, five, with Herbie also leaving.

“You’re doing it again,” Johnny sang.

You had been thinking a lot about their trip lately, or as Johnny corrected, worrying.

“One day at a time,” you both said together.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” Johnny said. “Seriously. I’m happy you’re going, and I will absolutely call you later, because I need to go before Sue kicks my ass for being late again.”

You blew him a kiss and he smiled at you before the line went dead. You stared at your device longingly, pouting, before you realized something even worse—these wouldn’t work miles and miles apart.

You swore and tucked it carefully back into your purse, packing your bags. You had an urgent matter to attend to, immediately.

It very quickly became a secret mission. You “snuck” into the Baxter Building and found Herbie in Reed’s lab.

“Herbie,” you said seriously. “Need a huge favor and need it in less than 24 hours. Are you up for it?”

Herbie, of course, said no, but he had a soft spot for you so he snuck up to Johnny’s room and grabbed his device. Leaving them together, you left a note for Reed.

 

Reed,

 

Can the most brilliant man in the world make these reach to Chicago? Asking for a friend.

 

Love,

You know who :)

 

P.S. I need them by 4pm tomorrow please!!!

 

                                                                           *

 

Bags packed for two weeks away, your house on lockdown, Vivian as your lead at work while you’re away, you had one stop before the airport.

You hadn’t spoken to Johnny last night, knowing he was exhausted from training and he knew you had a lot to suddenly do before you left. You talked on the home phone briefly in the morning.

“I can’t believe I don’t have any time to come see you before you leave,” he muttered.

“We’re busy,” you played off. “You think you have time for a call around 4pm tomorrow though? I can ring you before I leave for the airport.”

“I’ll make time. Be waiting for you by the phone, beautiful,” he promised. “Can you call me on the hotel phone while you’re away?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you said.

“If only our devices transmitted that far,” he muttered. “Dumb.”

“Stop,” you said sternly.

He scoffed knowingly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll just have to think about the last time I saw you in my minds eye for the next two weeks.”

You laughed. The last time you saw each other was the first time Johnny, or any man for that matter, had gone down on you. It was long, sensual, sending your body into shock and extreme sensation as he took care of you and explored every inch of your body. You passed out completely, naked as the day you were born.

You remembered his note fondly, still on your bed stand.

 

Princess,

 

If I stay the night I think I’d ask you to go all the way. Sleep well.

 

All my love

J

 

“Yeah that was…” you squirmed just thinking of it and he knew.

“Better stop there before we get started,” he said, and you agreed. His family phone was in the living room, no doubt around the others.

“4pm tomorrow,” you confirmed.

“4pm.”

Well, it was 3:55pm, and you called a cab to bring you to the Baxter Building. You know Johnny will be upstairs waiting for you to call, so you go straight to Reed’s lab and aren’t shocked at all when he has the devices ready for you.

You know he doesn’t like hugs, so you fist-bump him instead. “I just adore you, Reed. My absolute hero.”

Reed slid his chair across his desk and grabbed the devices in one hand, safe guarding them. “I will give these back to you under one condition.”

Your time is short. “Say the word.”

“Go with Johnny to the Gala.”

The Gala. Right. The ANSA Gala, being held in about a month, where the brave four going into space are honored, wined, and dined before being sent into the unknown.

You were invited by association since being a partner of a Reed Tech/Future Foundation. Many of Reed and Sue’s other former and current partners were invited, as well as the entire team of scientists and engineers who were working on  the launch. Everyone in the Baxter Building will be there, which is the only reason you said yes, after they cornered you at the last family dinner.

“I am going to the Gala, Reed,” you said sweetly.

“With,” Reed emphasized. “With Johnny.”

With a glance to your watch, you realize you don’t have time for this right now.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching for the devices, but Reed rips his hand away.

“No.”

You growled at him and he shrugged. He glanced at the clock, knowing you’re on a time crunch, and you have to go.

“Fine, just give it."

“Promise.”

“Reed,” you said pointedly. “I can’t, Reed, that’s such a public outing and there will be cameras and we can’t—“

“A dance then,” Reed negotiated. “Save him a dance.”

That’s easier than showing up on his arm at his event. You agreed easily and Reed placed the devices into your hands, but not before you flip him off quickly and then change your tune immediately after, telling him he’s the best and you appreciate him dearly. 

The clock struck 4pm exactly when you arrived on the 20th floor. Johnny’s back to you, he was waiting patiently for your call, but when he heard the elevator chime and footsteps, he glanced behind him and did a double take.

“Heard you had a four o’clock meeting?” you said.

Johnny rushed to you. He grabbed you in his arms, spinning you around, and only planted you down when you gripped the devices so tightly you thought they might leave your hand.

Johnny looked at you, endlessly confused by not only why you’re in front of him but also why you have both of your devices in your hand.

“I feel awful I can’t be with you, so I asked for a favor,” you said. You handed him his. “Reed said they’ll make it to Chicago.”

Johnny pouted, warmed and pleased by the gesture. He put a hand to the back of your head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re my whole heart,” he said. “It’ll help me miss you less.”

“I tried,” you admitted. You leaned forward to kiss him before hugging him tightly. “I just wanted to stop by, I have a flight to catch.”

“Who’s taking you?”

“Have a cab running,” you said, already backing out and towards the elevator.

“Well, we can cancel it, because I’ll take you instead,” he said.

You wanted to argue, but you do really have to leave, so you chose not to fight and agree. Johnny met you in the parking lot out front and you let the cab driver know you’ll be staying, grabbing your luggage and tossing into Johnny’s opened trunk while he busied himself putting on a hat and sunglasses.

You slammed the door behind you. Johnny checked once to make sure your seatbelt was on before he took off towards the airport, his hand sliding between your thighs comfortably, as you hold onto his arm.

You don’t need to warn him, but you do anyway: “You can’t get out when you drop me off.”

Johnny doesn’t reply, instead, he squeezed your thigh. I know.

He dropped you off in front of your airline. You squeezed his hand, his arm, wishing and wanting to kiss him.

“One?” he asked, lowering his glasses to show you his puppy-dog eyes.

You can’t resist. You kiss him once, catching your lips together in a long kiss before you nudged your nose against his.

“Bye, Johnny,” you said quietly.

“Bye, princess,” he whispered back.

 

                                                                          *

 

Two Weeks Later

You’re able to fly back on your original return date, for twenty-four hours, before you have to fly back out to Chicago. Production lagged, and they need you back promptly, but you managed to negotiate one day back in New York City.

You and Johnny have spoken every day since you left, no shortage of stories to share. Absence does, however, make the heart grow fonder and you were itching to see him. You don’t tell him, but there’s one reason you flew back to Chicago.

Johnny was waiting at your place when you arrived. Your keys barely made a noise outside of your door and it flew open, your arm is grabbed, and you’re sucked into your apartment, barely throwing your bags in before he slammed the door shut behind you.

There are no words, no greetings. Johnny grabbed you and you jumped, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs securely around his waist. His hands gripped your thighs so tightly you knew there would be bruises the next morning.

He sat you on the kitchen counter, first, before you groaned and pulled him tight to you with your legs.

“Bed, now,” you managed to say in between messy, sloppy kisses.

“Now?” he asked, leaning back, checking your face. He knows and you know what you mean. “Now?”

“Now, Johnny,” you groaned.

Johnny did not wait another second. He grabbed you from the table and secured his hands on your ass as he walked you into the your room. Your lips didn’t leave each other, sloppy and deep, your tongues battling, leaving bites and broken lips.

Johnny released hold of your legs by your bed and you pulled away from his lips, pulling off your pants, peeling off your sweatshirt. Your hands impatiently reach to strip Johnny of his clothes, too, until you’re both down to nothing, and he doesn’t even spare you a glance before he tackled you to the bed hungrily. He doesn’t want to look. He wants to feel.

Johnny’s thigh pushed between your leg, spreading your legs. His hot breath is on your neck, your chest, his tongue swirling your nipple and taking it between his teeth while he spread your legs apart to line himself up to you.

It’s dark in your room, neither of you bothering or remembering to turn on the lights and it helped you to focus, to be in the moment. You and Johnny are two bodies and two people who need each other, desperately, and you don’t have to see each other to feel it.

That’s clear, more than ever, when he paused to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. You can feel his head along your thigh, his knuckles brushing against your legs as he held himself ready at your entrance.

“You’re sure?” he whispered.

“Please,” you begged.

You both released a moan when he entered you. He pressed into you, his hands coming above the sides of your head as he leaned deeper into you and you relaxed, letting him in as far as he can go. Your legs hooked around his back and drive him in, and Johnny’s head is thrown back with pleasure at the movement.

He swore. He dropped to his forearms, pressing more of his body weight against you, and catching your lips. His kisses are different once he’s inside of you—sloppy, desperate, hard. He pulled himself out halfway and started to thrust, one of his hands reaching back to hold your leg, to cup your ass.

He felt like he belongs in you, like he was meant for you in every sense of the way. You’re drunk on the feeling of him pumping slowly in and out of you.

He said as much: “God, baby, you’re perfect,” he moaned into your ear. He sounded somewhere in between pleasure and pain.

You can’t take it anymore. You liked this position fine, but his moaning is sending you over the edge, and you want to hear more of it.

You bit his lip to get his attention. “My turn, please,” you muttered.

Johnny pushed himself slowly into you one more time before pulling out, shivering at the loss of sensation. You don’t make him wait too long, because you’re feeling the same way—annoyed, the minute he left your body. Johnny fell back onto the bed and you climbed on him, sliding onto him and it’s then your turn to throw your head back at the sensation of him filling you up.

Johnny’s mouth attached to your nipple. Both of his hands reached for your breasts, pressing his mouth between you, on you, taking out his pleasure onto you as you slowly rock up and down on him. Your fingers dig into the headboard behind him.

You moaned his name. He looked up at you, his teeth on your nipple, tugging it, and you clenched your inside, smirking at the way his eyes rolled back.

You continued to rock on him, slow, fast, with him grabbing at your breasts and your ass and finally you take one of his hands and put it at your throat, placing his thumb on your chin and into your mouth.

“Fucking Hell,” he swore at the move, and he pulled his hand away and pulled you off of him, gently pushing you face first onto the bed.

You practically wiggle for him. Your legs spread, you hold yourself up on your forearms and wait for him. You felt a finger first, his fingers run along your openings, and you can’t help the involuntary shake that comes with him admiring you by touch. You felt his fingers slide along you, gasping when a finger slipped inside, and then was replaced promptly with his penis.

Johnny’s hands dig into your waist as he slowly entered you and then pulled out completely, over and over, the entrance, filling, and exit making you sleek and despairing, moaning and breathing his name over and over.

You squeezed him with every entrance, holding him tightly inside of you, not wanting him to go but wanting him to just to feel the entrance again. It’s a sick routine, nasty, and Johnny loves it so it took mere minutes before he clenched up and pulled out of you quickly, covering himself with his hands as he came.

You turned to watch him. His head is back, he’s on his knees with his dick in his hands as it emptied. He looked like he was saying a prayer. For all intents, maybe he was.

It took you a second to settle back to reality, your head spinning, your insides clenching and throbbing, missing him already. You left the bed to run to the bathroom. It’s your house, you don’t need the lights on in your own space, so you are quick to the bathroom for wet towels and hand him a few.

“Damn,” you said, throwing your arms over your head as you stretched. “Worth the wait?”

Johnny laughed once, teasingly, and was up moments later, pushing you down on your back. You felt him between your thighs promptly, waiting for you to decide.

“Who said I was done, sweetheart?” He muttered, a playful bite on your ear. “You want me?”

You smiled. “Always, Johnny.”

When it’s over, and you’ve pulled the thin bedsheet over your bodies, you laid on his chest. He had one arm around you and the other behind his head. You’re both sweating and muggy, but the intimacy and longing kept you both cuddled together. 

“You okay?” he wondered, when you were quiet for long. He didn’t like that. You and Johnny talked a lot, about anything and everything usually, so when you were quiet, he knew there were thoughts better out there than stuck in your head for you to handle alone.

That, and since you just had sex for the first time, he didn’t love that you were quiet.

“Feel like I’m on drugs,” you groaned, tucking further into his chest. “That was amazing.”

“You’re perfect,” Johnny agreed with a kiss to your head. “Everything I’ve ever waited for.”

You couldn't hold it in any longer. "I have bad news."

Johnny groaned. “Any good news first?”

“Yeah, we just had sex.”

“That is pretty good news.”

You sighed. “I have to stay in Chicago for another two weeks. Production issues, back up on parts.”

“Well, what is it?” Johnny asked. “I’ll have it express shipped.”

You forgot sometimes about the privileged life Johnny existed in. Although it hadn’t always been like that, the ease and aloofness with which he thought things out of his control could be fixed started to annoy you. Yes, knowing him made it easier to get your company off the ground, but the ease ended there. To the public, you were a sole entity, and you would look incompetent if you accelerated production by calling in your friends.

“Johnny,” you said pointedly. “No.”

He tilted your chin to meet his eyes. “I would move Heaven and Earth for you, sweetheart.”

“It’s not about that,” you muttered, pushing yourself off of him. “Some things I need to do myself, Johnny, or just let happen.”

Johnny pushed himself up. “Is this about the Gala? Do you not want to go?”

“No!” you said, astonished at the thought. “Of course I want to come. I just have a job, Johnny.”

He said okay, but you know by his tone and sigh that he was still upset.

You made no move to comfort him, irritated yourself, and instead left the bed to shower.

You spend another few hours together, making a quick dinner and watching a movie, trying to work past the fact that you’ll be leaving for another two weeks, the excitement of your first time together just a blimp in the short time you have to see him before you leave the next morning.

 

                                                                        *

 

Two Weeks Later

When you returned back to Chicago, you put the team into overdrive. Without calling on the Baxter Building for aid, you made personal calls to production companies for expedited parts, you were on site daily, and you raised morale so much that production was over with by the expected time frame.

It gave you a day to spare, the day of the Gala.

Your flight would land about an hour before the event. You had to buy a dress in Chicago, buy the right make up, and hair products—every single minute counted, but when you were walking up the steps to the Gala, you knew every effort would be worth it once you saw Johnny.

You were so excited to see him and, like you promised Reed, save him a dance.

You missed him a lot. Your one day together between the two week periods of leave was tumultuous, outside of the amazing sex, which you thought about pretty much every day since you left.

When you spoke over the phone, and Johnny said, “I’m thinking of you,” you knew he meant how you were that night. Bent over, begging for him, and you had said a number things over the past few weeks to him that indicated you wanted more.

It’s a packed event hall. There is a live band on the stage, playing a soft guitar melody that has a few people dancing, but most are in groups along the dinner tables, chatting and laughing.

You spotted Ben, first, his tall frame easy to see over the crowd. Your eyes scan for Ben, Reed, and Sue, thinking Johnny will be near them, but he’s not.

Johnny’s standing beside a woman, with her hand on his arm, laughing with him. You noticed, first, that she was beautiful and clearly into him by the way that she leaned into him. His back is to you, though, and he would never notice you’re there if you don’t go see him.

Your stomach dropped on the walk over. You felt dizzy and nauseous, at the thought of interrupting, but you have to. You can’t watch him be close to someone else. He’s yours. 

You tapped on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you started, a pleasant smile on your lips. “Just wanted to say hi to Johnny.”

Johnny turned at your voice. He laughed as he saw you, leaning back to take you in, your dress, your appearance, you’re here, and he hugged you politely. It’s brief. You are slightly shocked by how brief, but you smile back at him. His hands drop from you.

“Nice to see you,” he said pleasantly. “Thanks for coming. I think my sister’s over there if you want to go say hello to her and Reed.”

Your smile faltered. You glanced at the woman beside Johnny, who is politely smiling at you, clearly waiting for you to leave. You turned to Johnny, pausing and waiting for him to make a joke or ask you to stay or tell that woman to leave, but he doesn’t.

“Got it,” you said, rocking on your feet. You threw a hand over your shoulder at Sue’s direction. “I’ll make the rounds.”

But there were no rounds to make, because you were seconds away from crying and ruining the makeup you put on in horrible airport bathroom lighting, so you beelined to the door.

A body stepped in front of you. “Whoa, there,” he said, and his hands are on your shoulder. “What’s the rush, doll? You just got here.”

When you look up at Ben, tears in your eyes, his face hardened. “Where is he?”

“Talking to a girl,” you muttered. You blinked and a tear fell, but you didn’t move to collect it. “I’m tired, Ben. I want to go home.”

“Want me to take you?” he offered.

“No, it’s your event. Stay. I shouldn’t have come,” you muttered, patting his arm lightly in sincerity before you moved past him and went to leave.

You’re thinking you should’ve just told your cab to wait, walking through the grand and massive halls of the building. Your name echoed around the empty space when he called it, and you spun around to shush him but he is on you, pushing you behind a grand pillar and out of sight.

“I’m sorry—“

“I don’t care, I want to go home,” you cut him off, stepping outside of the pillar, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back in. “Johnny, stop!” you snapped, pushing his arm away.

He held his hands up. There was a beat of a pause, you’re exasperated and frustrated and he looked at you with those big blue eyes, desperate to make his behavior up to you. You know he’s sorry by the way he looks at you, shaking his head, pleading silently to you to just listen. You paused for a second too long and he continued to talk.

“I didn’t want to make a big scene, baby, I know you don’t want people to think anything—“

“You could’ve acted a little less like you cared more about talking to whoever that was!” you snapped.

“No, no,” Johnny said. “She works for ANSA, she just—“ he stoped and shook his head. It didn’t matter. “Look, I’m so happy you’re here, I’m unbelievably happy you made it—“ He reached for you again but you glared at his hand so hard that he retracted it.

“What did you want me to do?” He snapped, a flame behind his eyes as he looked at you. “Seriously, what was I supposed to do? We’re not public! I can’t pick you up and spin you around and give you a massive kiss in front of all these people. You barely let me kiss you at the airport!”

You recoiled softly at it, his tone, having never heard the frustration in his voice before. You heard him, though, and although you don’t want to agree, he’s right. What did you expect?

“I’m going home, Johnny,” you said with a sigh. “Enjoy your night.”

You turned and went to leave, when you noticed a pair of young women peering between the pillars you and Johnny are standing in. They squealed when you stepped away from Johnny and grabbed each other, whispering excitedly. You know why and your face, if it hadn’t been frustrated before, is pissed now.

“Are you Johnny Storm?” One of the girls squealed.

“I am,” he said, a tight smile on his lips. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

You hated the way he made it seem like you weren’t just fighting. You’re simultaneously impressed by his ability to pull it together. You, on the other hand, are essentially glaring at the girls, your brow together and your eyes hard. They ignored you.

“Can we get a picture, please?” One asked.

“Please!” The other girl begged.

“Of course,” Johnny said, reaching his hand to shake theirs and ask for their names.

“Can you take it?”

You snapped your eyes to the young woman. You are the only person standing nearby to take a photo.

You grabbed the camera from her hand and they scooted near Johnny, hands on his chest, smiling so big that their eyes are barely open. You took one photo, lazily, and you hoped it was a terrible one, but then one of the girls goes in for a kiss on Johnny’s cheek.

You heard the crack of the camera before you gasped, a sharp pain bursting from your hand. The camera fell from your hand and shattered on the floor, and you clutched your hand to your chest.

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head at the young women. You looked down at your hand and saw blood pooling from a cut across your palm. You crushed the camera in your hand by accident.

Johnny took a step forward to you, but your eyes sharply land on him and he remained where he was.

“I’ll grab a broom. Sorry,” you muttered, turning on your heel.

It’s quiet, but you’re all standing far enough from the faded music to hear it anyway.

“To fly away on?”

It’s a joke. A dumb, mean joke from a young girl who just had her camera broken by you. It shouldn’t mean anything to you and any other day, you would’ve likely ignored it. But you couldn’t.

Johnny wrapped his arms around you the minute you turned around to confront them. He tried to guide you away, but you shoved him, not caring who saw or how you looked. You shoved him away from you and don’t cast a glance at him as you leave the Gala.

To make matter worse, it’s begun to rain. You didn’t bring a coat and your hand is bleeding. You’re sure there’s glass fragments that you’ll have to go to the hospital for.

“What a fucking mess,” you muttered, a lazy hand over your head as you scurried down the steps and underneath a nearby awning to hail for a car.

You don’t expect him to leave the Gala. It's for him. You know he bought a nice suit, nice shoes, he even spent days on finding the perfect hairstyle. You don't expect him to ditch it all for you. You heard him, moments later, calling your name, running after you.

“Get back in there, Johnny, it’s your Gala,” you said pointedly.

“What? No. I’m coming with you to the hospital, you just cut open your hand—“

“I don’t want you to come!” You yelled at him, exasperated. You laughed at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh, my God, Johnny. Please. Go back inside. I don’t want you to come. I’ve spent nearly a month without you, I can spend another day without you.”

You hate yourself for saying it right away, but you don’t apologize, because it’s true. Yes, you missed him while you were apart and yes, you want to spend time with him now that you’re inches apart, but not right now.

Johnny’s crushed and you can see it. He adjusted his feet, furthering the distance between you both. He fidgeted, his tongue moving across his cheek, a hard swallow moved his neck. All the while, his eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for you to fix it, to mend your words, but you have no intention to.

Johnny nodded, singularly, ending your conversation. You have nothing else to say either.

He stepped away from you and into the rain, hailing a cab for you. He made no move to shield himself from the rain. He stood there, hand out, until a yellow cab honked and pulled to the curb. He doesn’t even look at you when he opens the door for you, and when he ducked his head in to ask the cabbie to take you to a hospital, it’s out of duty, and not concern.

You turned to thank him, but the door closed before you can. You thought about asking the cabbie to wait a second, to roll down the window and thank him, or ask him to come, to apologize, but the car began to pull forward, and you missed your chance.

You watched in the rear view mirror as Johnny’s silhouette remained there, no move to turn back inside or turn away. He watched you leave, the rain soaking down to his bones.

Chapter 8

In a true show of comeuppance, you and Johnny didn’t speak for two days after the Gala.

Your hand was patched up fine. Unfortunately, you needed stitches. You showed up to the hospital dripping wet in a beautiful gown, your makeup cascading down your face both due to tears and the weather, and you had to convince the hospital you did not need a wellness check—you were just probably broken up with.

“Been there,” the Nurse said, and you nodded sadly.

The bandage wrap over your hand and the medicine you had to take twice a day was a constant reminder of your poor decisions. Most of all, you hated it, but Johnny was right.

What did you expect from him? Why were you really mad? Because you weren’t publicly together. That’s no one’s fault but your own and it’s due to your own opposition. If you wanted him to hug and kiss you in front of all of those people when you travelled halfway across the country in time for his Gala, you should’ve made it obvious.

So why didn’t you?

You spent most of the time in Chicago working, but also thinking about your relationship. Being away from Johnny granted you time to think about what you two were truly doing and how you felt about him. You knew it was obvious that you missed him, however, after the first initial days of dread wore off, a deeper longing situated itself in your heart. You missed more than the whirlwind romance; you missed him because you liked him.

It certified, at least, that you liked him beyond attraction and wholly. You wanted to be with him, currently, in secret, but you began to second-guess yourself and that decision.

Reed has told you, time and again, that you two would be fine if you publicly announced your relationship.

“Your company is successful, it’s established, you’ll make it work,” he told you, once, after looking at a presentation of your numbers.

But Sue was logical, too. “Public opinion doesn’t always show in numbers, Reed.”

You don’t know if it’s right, for either of you, if you choose to go public. You don’t know if you want pitchforks at your door, angry fans who love Johnny, and you don’t know if you want Johnny’s public persona to falter because of being in a relationship.

You noticed, once, the types of ads he started to get as they got closer to launch. Name brands, clothing brands—the types of offers for advertisements that screamed you’re a hot, single man, let us look at you and scream.

Did you want to be responsible for the rescinding of those offers? Did he want to be responsible for discrediting your career?

Is how you both feel enough?

Is it real?

Your next conversation, whenever it is, must culminate in a decision.

With four months left until launch, you can keep secretly dating and hate your circumstances; you can tell the world that you’re together and be in the public eye for your entire relationship; or you can go your separate ways and watch as he becomes one of the biggest names in history.

Two days of radio silence on both of your ends, you started to wonder if it was over and if you would even have a final conversation.

But then Vivian delivered flowers to you, and you know he’s telling you it’s not over.

“Are these from your secret flame?” Vivian teased as she placed them at your desk, and handed you an envelope.

You know they are by the flowers he chose. They’re your birth flowers, together, which you discussed after a silly late-night conversation about thinking both of your birth flowers were ugly. They look silly together and you know the florist probably fought him on the presentation. It warms your heart anyway.

 

There’s an address on the card, then his handwriting below:

Meet me?

 

All my love,

J

 

At least he signed it kindly, you thought, the pit in your stomach unraveling, feeling more secure about the idea of you both not breaking up with each other. He wouldn’t have signed it so nicely if he wanted to break up with you. Or maybe he would, if he wanted to trick you and then—

“Deep breaths,” Vivian reminded you, cutting through your thoughts. “I can see you spiraling.”

“God, is it so obvious?!” you groaned, letting your face fall into your hands.

“Yep.”

You rolled your eyes and told her to get out. You have somewhere to be.

It’s gotten colder outside, with the arrival of fall. You bundled up in a coat and a cozy hat, somewhat grateful for the weather because you are able to meet in public without anyone overtly noticing you two.

You recognize his coat as it sits tightly around his body. He chose a park bench overlooking the water. It’s a nice park, filled with hues of orange and brown fading leaves, and at this time of the day, there are not many other people around.

You sat beside him, crossing your legs, tucking your hands into your armpits. You glanced at him, shyly, and see him looking at you with a similar expression.

“Hi,” you mumbled.

“Cold?” He asked.

“Always,” you offered, shrugging.

He scooted across the bench to you. Your thighs are touching, your shoulders together, and you’re so grateful for him not only blocking the gusts of wind but touching you after two long days. You reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers even with your gloves on, and hold it in your lap. You can feel his body loosen under your acceptance of his touch.

“I’m happy you called,” you mumbled.

“I’m happy you came,” he said. You felt his kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” you said. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It was dramatic and I ruined your night. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, Ben almost beat my ass for making you cry,” Johnny said.

“You could take him,” you assured.

Johnny chuckled. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I didn’t know what to do, really. I couldn’t believe you were able to make it, but I mean, we were in front of people and cameras and more than just my family, so…”

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you admitted.

“Well, that’s sort of why I asked you to meet me,” Johnny sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want your career in jeopardy and I don’t want to not kiss you when I want and I want to take you to dinner and not care who sees.”

You hummed. “I know.”

“But I also don’t want girls to be mean to you and I don’t want our entire relationship in the public eye.”

“I know.”

“So what, then?”

You don’t have an answer, either. You pulled your head away from him and take a deep breath, shakily, deciding to be honest with him. “I really like you, Johnny. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else,” you admitted softly. “I spent a lot of time in Chicago thinking about you and us, and I came back really knowing that I want to do this.”

“Then we do whatever you feel is right,” Johnny said, and for the first time since you sat down, he turned his shoulders to you, his other hand reaching to cup your conjoined hands. His eyes softened when he met yours. It felt like he was seeing you in a new light, taking you in, your face, your lips. “I don’t want to lose you. Please know that.”

“I do,” you promised.

“I just want you.”

It made your heart flutter. As usual, you were sure there was nothing Johnny couldn’t talk you into when he looked at you like that. But that’s what got you into this in the first place—want, desire. Passion.

Johnny’s eyes fell. “We have four months left until I go up there.”

You made a sound of disapproval and reached for his chin, lifting it back to your eyes. “Stop,” you pleaded.

He continued anyway. “If it doesn’t go well—“

“Johnny,” you said pointedly because you don’t allow yourself to consider that, ever.

“I want you to be it for me,” he continued and you scoffed, your hands flying to your face to wipe tears. “I don’t care about hundreds of girls. I care about you. I want to spend these last four months with you.”

“They’re not going to be your last, stop saying that,” you begged of him, but you both knew it was a possibility.

“I hope not,” he agreed cheekily, ducking his head to meet your eyes as you tried to avoid him, frustrated by his plea. “I don’t know what the right answer is for us. I just don’t want you out of my life.”

So, you’re at a standstill and nowhere new in this conversation. You’re both sure about the important thing: you want to be together.

“One day a time,” you broke, ignoring all reason and leaning in to kiss him. You placed your forehead against his. “I don’t know what else to do, Johnny.”

“Just be with me,” he promised.

That’s all you knew how to do.

 

                                                                         *

Four Months Until Launch

There’s a certain level of romantic relationships that you’re familiar with. The casual attraction, the flirting eyes, watching each other secretly. You’re familiar with the feeling of the first time you hold hands, your first kiss, the first time you have sex.

What’s new to you is staying together after a fight. Whether it was you or him or a mutual decision, your past relationships have ended after one fight. This is new territory for you to remain in a relationship after a fight and it, at first, scared you, made you unsure about how to move forward, but Johnny barely waited a day to start making jokes and any hesitancy you had is immediately gone.

You’re making a microwave dinner to share when he suddenly laughed, an obnoxious, one note guffaw that purposely made you glance over at him.

He’s chewing gum from the side of his mouth, his brows raised at you. “Remember when you tried to break up with me and cut your hand open?”

The spatula in your hand flings to point at him. “Johnny Storm, I did not try to break up with you—“

“—That’s how I remember it—“

“—I flew hours from Chicago to New York City—“

“—really, it was a sign from above that you can never break up with me because you have a scar now—“

You shut up at that, because you did. You looked down at your palm and the jagged scar across it.

“God, you’re right,” you groaned. “I’m always gonna remember the night I almost broke up with you.”

Johnny pointed at you. “So you admit it!”

It doesn’t take long for you to feel like before, but it’s still different. A good different. You feel secure, assured. You both chose each other. There was an out, and neither of you took it. There’s no more doubts about being together.

Soon, the tension between you both about sharing your relationship with the world is a small problem compared to the growing and unbearable dread you’re feeling about their mission. The closer you get to launch, the less you worry about being secretive, desperate to spend time with him and hold him every chance you get. You begin to feel that way about all of his family.

Before you know it, there’s a week left until launch and you’re crying at family dinner.

It’s embarrassing and you tried to hold it together, but they’re very kind. (Johnny warned them you would cry).

Ben hugged your side. “You gonna come see us off?” He wondered.

“No,” you said through your sniffling. You smiled at Sue as she handed you a tissue. “I don’t think I should.”

“Well, I’d love you to come,” Sue said, her hands over her heart. “I just don’t think I can go up there without a hug from you.”

“It’s actually on our official ANSA checklist,” Ben agreed. “We all have to get our mandatory hugs before launch.”

It made you laugh, at least. Johnny smiled sadly at you. Your brief moment of connection masked Sue elbowing Reed in the stomach to join the conversation.

“Why, yes, yes,” he stuttered, grabbing his side. “I also think you should come.”

Your brow raised, you looked at each of them. “You’re all sure?”

“Absolutely.”

The night before launch, you surprised Johnny with a private dinner at his favorite restaurant in the city. You paid the owner a massive chunk of cash to rent it out and demanded minimal staff with your own addition—Herbie, as your server, to avoid anyone seeing who you were with. Herbie is a wonderful server to you both and has a heavy pour for you, since Johnny is unable to drink.

Johnny reached across the table for your hand. You had been keeping it together, but he noticed the tears sitting at your waterline every time you looked at him.

“I appreciate you,” he promised. “You didn’t have to do this, and you did. It’s been great.”

They sound like final words and it sends you over the edge. You groaned at the single tear down your cheek and fight to meet his eye, aggressively sniffling and blinking to hold back others.

“I did have to do this,” you told him. “I don’t want any regrets, Johnny.”

He understood. “Then, let’s make this a perfect night.”

For one night, your last night before he changed the course of history with his family, you acted like a normal couple. You held hands as you strolled along a path on the waterside, you stopped for ice cream, you danced in front of a street band, and when he walked you back to your place, you stood together at your doorstep like he hadn’t ever entered your place and destroyed your body and soul in your bed.

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, his lips sweet and sultry. You sighed as you kissed, melting into him fully.

“If you have time, I have one more present,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I can probably guess what it is,” he muttered back, slipping away from your lips to press a gentle kiss to your neck.

“Ok, you could act surprised,” you rolled your eyes.

For that, he has time. You entered your place and your clothes are off moments later, enjoying the feel of each other, taking it slow, savoring every brush of skin and moan of pleasure. Through it all, his eyes never leave you, memorizing the features of your face and your touch, in case it is the last time he ever touches you.

You both know you can’t lay in bed together when it’s done. He’ll never leave if you do. You kiss and kiss more, until his watch alerts you that he has to leave.

Tears fell from your eyes at the notification and he sighed, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I know, my darling,” he whispered to you.

It feels wrong to be the only person on the Earth dreading tomorrow. The entire city has banners on stores, everyone has USA flags waving, it’s a monumental step in history, and you feel like you’re the only person alive who is terrified.

“You have to sleep, too,” he said, helping you slide your shirt on over your head. “You have to meet us bright and early. Sue wants her hug, she told me it better be good.”

It’s your turn to watch him as he pulled his clothes back on. You felt a deep stir in your belly, your breath hard to catch. You want to tell him. It may be your last chance.

You and Johnny have been dating for almost nine months and haven’t said that you love each other. You’ve both said versions of it— I appreciate you, I adore you, you’re my heart, all my love. You know every time he’s ever indicated that he feels deeply for you.

But you knew it meant something to him and to you to make an active choice to love someone.

“He loved her so bad he couldn’t function without her,” Johnny said, once, of his father. “Threw away his whole life once she was gone. Could barely keep it together for Sue and I.”

You remembered thinking it wasn’t right, what their father did, but how could you blame him? Losing the love of your life…You couldn’t imagine.

“Love is scary,” Johnny continued. “The idea of giving yourself to someone, fully, choosing every day to show up and give your all and trusting them to do the same.”

“Have you ever been in love?” You had asked him.

He took a while to respond. “I guess I don’t know what it feels like.”

“It probably feels easy,” you said. You remembered touching his chin lightly. “Probably feels like an easy choice every day.”

You felt your words, months later. There was no fanfare or specific moment. It was a sudden realization, like it had been there all along and you suddenly realized that you loved him.

You kept your words, though, because Johnny deserved to know the feeling himself before you said something to him. You wanted him to understand and know that feeling; you would never recover if you told him and he felt obligated to feel the same.

The problem? He’s leaving to space tomorrow and still hasn’t told you.

It made you nauseous. You spent part of your night hoping that in the silent beats, he wanted to tell you, before he left, that he loved you.

Johnny’s face filled your vision as he leaned down to kiss you one more time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He asked you.

You inhaled a breath and smiled, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he promised.

You both know it’s an empty promise. He can’t promise that and you can’t believe it. His intent is there; he would say anything to make you feel better.

All you could do was kiss him again. 

Chapter 9

Notes:

<3 sorry friends

Johnny

What is meant to be the most important day of his life is overshadowed by a decision he now has to make. A terrible, awful decision that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

He barely slept. He was awake nearly all night, his mind racing, his body moving and pacing, racking his brain for any solution, anything at all, but he can’t. He can’t fix what has been done. He slept a little, but when he slept for a mere few hours, he dreamt of you and him, in a reality far away from here, and he woke up to empty his stomach with the thought of losing you and what he has to do.

By then, it's time to go. Ben pounded on his door.

“Johnny, let’s go! You’re already late!” 

All the training in the world for this mission could not prepare him for how poor he’ll feel on the Excelsior. There will be no physical reason when they test him, no disease or sickness. He’ll be dying of a broken heart.

He knows when you arrive because of an alert on his watch. A reminder of what time you’ll be arriving, which was scheduled meticulously in between tests and putting suits on and interviews and last checks. It’s a brief five minute window, and he knows you’ll be seeing Reed, Ben, Sue, Herbie, and then him in your old Lab, where it all started. When he fell in love with you.

God, he should’ve told you. He can never tell you now. You would hate him for it. It's a cowardly move to tell someone you love them and then leave them.

“It probably feels easy,” you had told him once, about the act of falling in love. He could feel the phantom of your fingers on his chin. “Probably feels like an easy choice every day.”

He remembered his heart breaking. How could no one have loved you until him? He can’t ruin that for you. You deserve to be told you’re loved by someone who can stay and who can give you a peaceful, private life. It’s not him.

The clock he’s staring at while they check his vitals is taunting him. It seemed to whisper, sending a shiver down his spine every time he looked at it and time continued to pass. He wished, above anything, that he could freeze it and never have to move on from this moment, where you're together and you're happy and he's not about to make the worst decision of his life.

“Almost time,” Ben said as he passed Johnny, and the wink he gives is not because of their upcoming mission.

Johnny deflated even more. He can’t tell them, either. They’ll object, be upset, try to help. He’s fucked up enough. There’s nothing else to do.

Sue is exiting the Lab when he enters the floor. There’s a grand smile on her face from meeting with you and continuing to the next step. He can tell that his sister is excited, she's nervous, but when she saw her brother, her face turns to panic.

“Johnny, you look pale,” she said, her hands reaching to his forehead, the back of his neck. Johnny can’t meet her eyes. “Johnny, breathe, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

He nearly dry heaves.

“I have to do something really dumb,” he says and his eyes are watering, red. “Really really dumb.”

He broke from her hold and continued on down the hallway, and ignored any calls after him. Johnny pushed through the swinging doors to you. Your smile makes him want to throw everything in his life away. He wants to take you and run for the hills. 

You speak before he can. “Good morning,” you greeted warmly, and then noticed that you wore no make up this morning. It's likely due to the tears you all know you'll be shedding when you say goodbye. Part of him is glad you scheduled short goodbye's with everyone. There's a chance he's going to ruin all of your relationships with them, not just yours.

He noticed you’re holding a box in front of you. You grinned. “I got you something.”

He couldn't speak. He took the box from your hands and slid it open. It’s a bracelet. A thin, metalic bracelet, and there’s a note laying underneath it.

 

J,

 

I just thought, while you’re up there, you might want to have a reminder of someone who’s always rooting for you.

 

Love,

Y/N

 

Johnny closed his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he had the power to freeze time or to turn it back, or to do anything else other than crush your entire spirit in mere seconds.

“Johnny?” You asked, your hand reaching for his bicep. “Are you okay?”

“You’re going to hate me,” he muttered. He closed the bracelet box and held it, fingers denting the box, because he can’t hold onto anything else.

“I could never hate you,” you said, but he sincerely doubted that. “Are you worried about launch?”

He was, a little, but how he was feeling about you trumped any sense of how nervous he was about going into space. He realized he hadn’t said more than a few words to you, so he opened his mouth, then closed it after he thought he might throw up. He swallowed hard. There wasn’t enough time in the world. You had both meticulously planned this time, you had five minutes together, and he spent two of them staring at you in horror.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, finally, and he was talking to both himself and you. He didn’t believe himself.

“Sure,” you said, your brow furrowed. “Everything’s going to be fine, love.”

He wanted to reach out and hold you one last time. He wanted to do a lot of things one last time, but he had three minutes. He couldn’t hold you, because he wanted you to forget. He wished that time could pass and you would forget him and move on, without ever having this conversation.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered to you. He blinked, tears filled his eyes. You became blurry to him.

“What, the launch?” you asked, holding to his forearms. “Johnny, breathe, you look so pale—“

“No, not the launch, you and me.”

He said it before he could waste any more time. He choked it out.

Your hands fall from his arms. “What?”

A million things run through his head on what to say to you. He’d thought all night about what to say, how to say it, how truthful to be. Yet, standing in front of you, watching your tears fall and the blinding look of shock on your face, all he can do is lie and hope that you hate him more than you may love him.

“This was dumb,” he found himself saying. “It was borrowed time. It was a good time. But I can’t let this go on. It’s not only about your career, it’s about mine, and we have to stop before this goes public.”

It takes everything in him to remain still and to not grab you when your lip starts quivering. You’re looking up at him hopelessly confused.

“Johnny, what?” you said. “What? Where is this coming from? Did I do something? Do you not like the bracelet?”

The timer on his watch goes off. It’s time to go. 

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said blankly. He closed his eyes, keeping back the tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“You’re being cruel,” you spat at him, ferocious, but you’re still sobbing. “What are you doing? How can you just walk away?”

Good, he thought, wanting you to hate him. He hated himself for speaking the words.

He shrugged at you, shaking his head, then turned away, each step heavy and agonizing to take. Each sob he heard from you made him want to turn around, but his task was done. He broke it off with you.

It was better that way.

 

*

Y/N

What is supposed to be the most monumental day in the history of Earth is barely experienced by you.

You felt nauseous the entire morning. You were early to the Baxter Building, wanting to secure your short time with Reed, Ben, and Sue, where you wished them the best of luck and talked about what nice dinner you would have ready when they got home. You reminded Herbie to protect them.

You saw Johnny, and he broke up with you.

The minute he left the Lab, you were on your knees, sobbing, clutching at your chest so hard you can barely breathe.

You can’t understand. You don’t understand. You wondered if it was the message with the bracelet that made him rethink things with you, or maybe he had the same thought that you did last night, and realize he didn’t love you.

You don’t understand.

You don’t hear when the door opens and you flinched, hard, when there are warm hands engulfing you.

“It’s okay,” Lynne soothed. Lovely Lynne, who has found you a cradled a mess on the floor, and instantly gathered you in her arms. “It’s okay, darling.”

You gasped for breath, but you remember his face, the blank look as he told you it was over, and you wailed again. Lynne doesn’t know why you’re crying and why you’re asking why. She just held you, rocking you, on a cold lab in the floor of the Baxter Building as you entire being shattered.

 

*

You don’t remember much about that day. You spent most of it sobbing, a lifeless shell, but you worked hard after you had no more tears left to cry to block it out. As much of it as you can, anyway, because you see moments of it every night. It haunts your nightmares. You’re always standing before him, your hands on his arm, your heart bursting with love and fear all the same. It’s a paused moment at the breath before he tells you it’s over. He haunts your dreams and he haunts every blink, every quiet moment, every inch of your home.

In your waking moments, you do everything you can to forget about your time with him.

In a blinding rage, you threw everything that reminded you of him into a box and shoved it into a closet. You threw out all of his leftover snacks in your cabinets, you threw out the clothes in your bedside table, moved the doormat to a new location. You did all that you could to remove any reminder of him from your space. 

You increased your involvement of production at work, you started to say yes to any invitation that took you across the United States, busying your schedule and workload so you have no time to think about that day, the previous days, time with him or his family. You put your head down and kept going. You just exist. 

"Boss," Vivian said, shyly, one day as she met you in your office. She squinted at you over her notepad. "Your calendar is looking pretty busy these days."

"Noted," you replied sharply, sending her a warning glance with your eyes. 

She understood the message. "How about a trip abroad?"

Your lips formed a smile, but the rest of your face didn't match. "Works for me." 

You're doing everything you can to keep moving. There is no processing or sitting or talking about it. You run from any still moment that makes you remember, like you never met him, or them, like the last year of your life was a blip in time. 

It’s hard not to hear about them, though. You don’t turn on the news at your home and you spend most of your time in the office in your private office, away from the cubicles, where the news is on and everyone’s talking about it. But that’s part of the problem. Everyone’s always talking about them.

"Didn't you work with them?" One of your coworkers asked, one day, vaguely gesturing to the mounted television in the cubicle space. He always leaned so far back on his chair that you were secretly taking bets with other coworkers on when it would snap under his weight. 

You glanced at the television. All stations were reporting constantly on any new updates from the Americans in space. When you looked, of course, it was a photo of Johnny on display, from their official ANSA portraits. You took a breath, closing your eyes, and shook your head. 

"Briefly," you replied curtly. 

Your coworker didn't get the memo. "Which one? Reed, Sue? Johnny? Ben?"

"The Future Foundation provided funds to help jumpstart the company," Vivian cut in, sparing you no glance. "Ours was one of hundreds that Reed and Sue put into production within the last year. I've never even met them and I've been with Y/N since the start."

You fake laughed. "Yep, yep. Exactly. So, what is it we're working on currently?" 

Another coworker raised a brow at you. "Boss," she said directly. "This is the biggest thing to happen on Earth, like, ever. You're not even a little into this?"

"I prefer to be on Earth," you said decidedly. "In fact, the thought of space makes me sick to my stomach, so I will be focusing on Earth exploration instead. Any other questions for me while we're all feeling nosy today?" 

They did not have any, and you retreated back into the comfort of your office, cursing yourself every step that you couldn't keep it together in front of your team. 

Vivian knocked on the door. You know it's her by her 'secret' knock. 

You sniffled, wiping your eyes and fixing your hair before you called out to her. She snuck in, closing the door quickly behind her, turning to face you while her hands are behind her on the door knob. You leaned back in your chair and looked at her scrunched face. 

"May I speak frankly?" she wondered. 

"I don't want you to, but yeah," you agreed. You slouched in your chair and let your eyes close, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest, trying to keep your tears in. 

"Clearly you're going through a break up," she said.

You groaned, digging your thumbs into your eyes as you choke back a sob. 

"You don't see the others enough for them to notice something's up, but clearly, I know you," Vivian continued. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. If you need anything, beyond scheduling flights or filling up your calendar, I'll be there." 

Her offer made you cry harder. It was the only offer you had heard. You didn't have anyone to tell. Not only were you secretly dating, but your entire social life for the past year was him, his family. You isolated yourself to a degree where the only person who noticed you breaking was your assistant. 

You chose Johnny. A year ago, you chose Johnny, instead of you, and he's left you with nothing. The regret broke you, and Vivian rushed to you, assuredly locking the door, before she gathered you in her arms and lets you cry for as long as you need. You're sure to reward her for her secrecy and support with a massive gift card to a fancy restaurant and a pay increase. 

"You deserve it," you told her, with the news. "But also you'll be working harder because I'm planning on not being in New York City for more than a day at a time these next few months."

Vivian looked at you over her glasses. 

You pointed your finger at her like a warning. "Let me self-sabotage in peace."

"You're going to be spending a lot more money in restaurant gift cards, then," she sang teasingly. 

A month into their excursion, you exited your office briskly, needing to speak urgently with Vivian. You exited, your pen twirling between your fingers as your heels announced your arrival to the office.

Normally, a few of your coworkers look over at you when you leave your office, to say hello or strike a small conversation or ask you about production. When you left your office, no one turned to you. In fact, the office is near silent, barring a small chorus of groans and gasps.

A sinking feeling started in your stomach. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Something's wrong. 

Vivian found you before you took another step. Her hands are on your biceps, holding you in place, preventing you from going further. Her eyes are watering when they meet yours. 

"Boss," she said quietly. "I don't think you want to see."

You felt dizzy. Your mouth goes dry. You can barely hear yourself when you ask her what she's talking about. Your fingers started to grip into her arms.  

It's so quiet in the office that you hear the newscaster anyway: "Folks, I...I regret to inform you that we've lost contact with the Excelsior." 

The floor has been pulled out from underneath you. Your knees felt weak and you emit a soft, "Oh," before you fall forward on Vivian. She grabbed you and hauled you back into your office, where you can't do anything except sink to your knees. 

You can see them all behind your closed eyes. Your hands dig into your eyes, trying to get rid of them, their smiles, their hugs, the last time you saw all of them, not just him. But it's his face that you see, over and over again, as the words ring in your ears. 

We've lost contact with the Excelsior. 

We've lost contact with the Excelsior. 

You know how dire it is for the news to share it. It meant it's not new. You knew the protocol because he recited it to you while he was learning it. The team at the Baxter Building has to try for over twenty-four hours to make contact with them before announcing to the public that something is wrong. They have been gone for at least twenty-four hours before the public knew. 

You wished you didn't know. You wished you didn't know anything about their protocols or how gravity worked or how you likely would never get their bodies back. They were lost to space. 

You can hear all of the times they reassured you. They've undergone a year of training, they're the best assembled team and the brightest minds on Earth, Reed would never let anything happen. You can hear yourself begging Herbie to keep an eye on them. You can hear Johnny's voice in your head telling you nothing is going to happen. 

But something did happen. 

"Tell them all to go," you managed to get out between sobs. "The office. Go home." 

Vivian left to share your wishes. You thought she would leave, too, but when the team has left, Vivian's back in your office with a water bottle and a box of tissues. 

"You don't have to be here," you mumbled to her. 

She hiked her skirt up to sit on the floor beside you. She used a tissue to dab at her tears, too.

"Who else is here for you?" she wondered. She reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. 

You sit together. You don't try to pull it together in front of her. Your whole body ached. There is an intrinsic, gnawing feeling threatening to tear you apart every time you think about them lost to the cold, dark vaccuum of space and it sends you to tears again. 

Part of you wonders if this is why he broke it off. Maybe he avoided telling you he loved you in case this happened. Maybe he wanted you to hate him in case he died. There's nothing you would love more than to have known, though, at the end of it all. In all honesty, you think it would've hurt the same knowing or not knowing he loved you. He's gone. They all are. 

Vivian's voice is small when she called your name. You almost forgot she was there until her hand twitches inside of yours and you managed to look at her. She avoided your eye, her eyes downcast. 

"It's Johnny, isn't it?" 

You sobbed, taking your hands from her to clutch your face, like pressing hard into your eyes will divert the pain from the hole in your heart. 

Vivian sighed. "I'm so sorry." 

 

*

 

You took the next several days off from work and your office did, too. Truly, the whole world felt like it paused.

You took out one photo from the box under your bed. A newspaper cutting that he had proudly shown to you of him in his astronaut suit.

“I don’t like the way they did my hair,” he had told you, but was proud anyway. “I wanted it longer since I know you like it long, but then they said long hair in space would be annoying.”

“I think you look very handsome,” you had said. “Gonna frame it and keep it next to me while you’re gone.”

Your thoughts chased you. They were awful and you had no distraction. You couldn’t turn on the news; they were mourning, too. You didn’t look outside—there were signs everywhere, rest in peace, we love you. You were stuck alone dying in your thoughts, grieving with the world over their deaths, and silently grieving your relationships with them. Grieving your love for Johnny. 

And then the phone rang.

You didn’t answer. You didn't care what anyone has to say. They’re gone. There’s nothing you can change or do about it.

But then it kept ringing.

You groaned and pushed yourself up, grabbing the phone from the hook. “Yes?”

“It’s Lynne,” she said. “Took you a while to pick up, my dear.”

“Not doing so well, Lynne,” you said, leaning your head against the wall. You took a deep breath. “How are you holding up?”

“We have contact with the ship.”

You shot up straight, your hands gripping the phone. You turned, to look out your window, like the Excelsior ship had suddenly appeared at the Baxter Building.

“What? How?” you asked. You wanted to ask a million questions, but you hold back, waiting for her reply.

“Herbie got the coms system working,” she said slowly. “We made contact with him. The public doesn’t know this yet; we’re just telling emergency contacts.”

You huffed, somewhere between adoration and disbelief. Of course, you were his emergency contact. The rest of them were with him.

“Herbie said something happened,” Lynne continued. “They’re alive, but they’re different. He’s bringing them home.”

“When?”

“They’ll crash land tomorrow morning. They’ll be held in a facility in Huntsville,” she explained. “If you want it, I’ll get you access.”

It’s your decision.

Lynne was with you, the day he left and took your heart with him. She held you as you sobbed, a broken woman, and cursed the man that could leave you behind. She knows what she’s doing by telling you all of this when she very well could’ve kept it a secret from you, or treated you like the general public.

But he was alive.

“I’ll be there.”

 

*

 

You barely slept.

You had taken a private jet to Huntsville not long after Lynne called you. You rented a shitty hotel room when you arrived, just for the night, and first thing in the morning, you were one of the first people at the facility.

They held you in a private waiting area. You were alone, with a television screen, and a security guard posted outside of your door. The room was white, clean, and with those fluorescent lights that told you serious work occurred here.

There were no signs in the entire building. No pleasant ‘welcome’, no door numbers, no directions. It was an empty, bland space that made you wonder exactly who worked here, and what would be done here.

What happened to them to incur this level of security?

You sat on the floor in front of the television. You e been bitting your nails raw since you hung up with Lynne, you’ve been pulling at the hair on the nape of your neck.

They’re fine. They’re alive. They’re just different. Whatever that means.

You stayed up all night thinking about why Johnny didn’t remove you from his emergency contacts. Your mind spiraled—did he want to break up with you? Did only put you because it was required? Did he request you to be there when he landed?

You had no idea. You weren’t thinking much about what you would do when you saw him, or how it would go, what you would talk about.

You wanted to just see him. You wanted to hold him. Even if it was the last time, if he truly did want to break up, his return meant you had time together. It might be solved if you had time to talk, you thought, or some sense of closure could occur with more time than five minutes before launch.

You have no idea what’s in store when they land. Apparently, the news had been notified at 5am that morning. It had given you a head start to travel to Huntsville, but they also did not plan to announce where the team was being transported to once contained. For now, you were apart of the most famous secret in history.

What’s left of the Excelsior crash landed in the ocean. It’s a shell of a ship, missing giant panels, a leg has broken off, and most of it is burnt to a crisp.

Emergency teams race for them. There’s camera crews from all angles—the sea, the sky, a poorly zoomed in look from the land, all focusing on the cockpit.

The world held its breath waiting to see them.

Moments later, you flinched, as the front window of the ship was punched out. An orange, clenched first broke through and hooked an arm onto the shell of the window, pushing itself up. It’s a man, covered in rock. There’s a blanket modestly behind held around his waist.

He held his free hand out, helping another person from the cockpit. You think you saw a hand, anyway, because it disappeared, then reappeared a moment later. You saw a flicker of blonde, long hair. Sue.

Reed was next, a long arm, longer than you ever remember, reaching to hold the hand of the rock man. He exited, too, but took a step and his leg slid from the excelsior, extending and sliding out from under him. He grasped at it, trying to hold it up as it fell from him.

You could barely believed what your eyes were seeing, watching Ben, Sue, and Reed exit the cockpit. They were different, down to their molecules, shifting and modifying in a way that they couldn’t control.

And still, no Johnny.

You watched the three of them suddenly pause, their bodies panicked, and they clambered to get onto the nearest rescue boat. They rushed to leave, and your hand reached to the television screen, your eyes scanning every pixelated grain of it looking for him.

The Excelsior caught fire seconds later. An explosion blew the remaining glass on the cockpit and your hand flinched, like you had been burnt, too.

You covered your mouth with a sob. You know he’s in the Excelsior, still, because the reporter is commentating. A burning body is crawling out of the ship, a hand is seen, and you feel absolutely sick at the thought of his last moments being caught on camera. You’re about to crawl to the garbage can to throw up when the news anchor stutters— “He’s flying!”

You raised your eyes. They’re right. He’s on fire, yes, but he’s floating in the air above the Excelsior. One leg burning, the opposite hand burning, and a patch across his chest is lit with red flames. He flew high enough to clear the Excelsior and he tried to make it to the same rescue boat. He failed, his flames extinguishing, and he plummeted into the water. He was rescued moments later by a speed boat, fire extinguishers pivoting from the Excelsior to his body.

They’re home. They’re changed beyond belief, but they’re all home.

 

*

 

Visitors aren’t allowed to see them for several days.

It’s Herbie that you saw first, after he’d been cleaned and tested and cleared. It’s you that he runs to first, when he’s released.

Herbie told you about all of it before you can even ask. He told you about the cosmic ray storm that came out of nowhere, how Ben was out beyond the ship and couldn’t make it back to the ship in time. He played you the broken recording before the storm killed the ship…

“Guys, what is that?” It’s unmistakably Johnny’s panicked voice.

It made you sick.

“Ben!” Sue screamed.

“Sue!” Reed yelled.

Then, the ship lost all power. Herbie told you about how he was able to reroute the power and jump start the ship, and how he was able to collect all of their bodies safely—well, beyond Johnny, who needed to be quarantined in a far part of the ship due to his fiery explosions.

“You saved them,” you told Herbie, bringing him close to you. “You brought them home, Herbie.”

You changed his disc to home. You remembered a time when Reed was testing the switch between space programming and home programming, and you remembered where he stored Herbie’s home disc when they left to space. Herbie wiggled with joy when you made the switch. You packed the space disc safely away in Herbie’s back compartment, knowing Reed will want to examine it when he’s ready.

You placed your hand on Herbie’s head. He cooed, those big spinning disc eyes staring up at you. You noticed, then, his small hand hadn’t left your leg since he first saw you.

“Have you seen any of them?” you wondered.

Herbie told you he had only seen Reed, so far. He wanted to check on Ben.

While the others are in separate containment units, far from each other, with around the clock care, the others can’t seem to keep their changed atoms together. Ben’s the only one who can’t keep them apart.

You and Herbie go together to see him. You’re initially denied access, but when Ben heard your voice alongside Herbie’s protesting, he asked for security to let you in. They step aside, their hands falling from containing you, and you fight back the urge to say anything. You will, likely, need to be kind to secure access to see the others.

He’s still being held in containment. He’s sitting on a concrete block, with oversized clothes on, a book discarded beside him. He held his hands over his lap, and there’s a faint clicking of his fingers tapping together that sounds like pebbles being kicked along a road.

But when you lock eyes, those beautiful Ben Grimm blues let you know he’s still him, beneath the rock. 

“Ben,” you breathed, rushing forward and putting your hands on the glass separating you. You instantly start looking to open it. “Tell them to let you out.”

“It’s fine, doll. It’s probably better this way,” he sighed, waving a hand. “They’re still doing a lot of testing. I don’t want you to catch whatever’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” you denied, your eyes flashing to him angrily.

He shook his head. “You’re being kind.”

“I’m not,” you denied. You sunk to the floor and sat directly outside of his containment cell. “Ben, I’m so happy you’re alive. I really thought…”

“I know,” he said, a humorless chuckle following. “Me, too. How are the others?”

You deferred to Herbie, who shared that he had snuck to their different wings to overhear the teams. Sue is working hard to control her phasing, unable to be seen every other minute, but it’s exhausting her. Reed is trying to hold a pencil to write down his thoughts and get to work, but he can’t hold it; his entire body is out of his control. Herbie said he spent most of last night transcribing Reed’s bumbling.

“And Johnny? I’m sure you’ve been to see him,” Ben encouraged.

You tilted your head, your brow coming together. “Uh, no. I haven’t.”

It was Ben’s turn to look confused. “What? He’ll be so happy to see you, kid. Should’ve seen him after the accident. Just calling your name, over and over. Could barely shut him up.”

The admission shocked you. You got the feeling that Ben didn’t know what happened before launch. With him going through enough, you decided to keep the revelation quiet, and instead nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ll see him when he’s ready.”

Herbie chimed in to let you both know that it might be a while; Johnny cannot stop exploding. He heard, this morning, that they haven’t been able to calm him down.

“Who better than you?” Ben asked. “You should go, Y/N. You’ll help him calm down, I’m sure of it.”

You suddenly don’t want to. You weren’t in a rush to see him, anyway, if you were being honest. The way that he left things was awful and sudden, you had been going over in your head how that conversation would even go now that the most life-changing thing occurred, and it made your breakup seem small. But there was a small voice in your head telling you that he still put you as his emergency contact, he likely wanted you here, and he was crying for you when he almost died? How could it possibly be over?

“I know he’s scared,” Ben said, scratching the back of his neck. “We all are. We can’t control this. I want him to be with someone right now.”

“Who’s gonna be with you?” you asked.

Ben smiled at you. You noticed the way he looked down to his hands, his feet longingly and breathlessly. You wondered if he slept at all, or if he’d been sitting on the concrete slab all day and night thinking, wishing, and hoping that he could turn the hardened exterior off. What if he couldn’t?

“You’re my friend, too, Ben,” you said, shrugging. “I’ll stay with you until your family comes.”

He stood from his concrete seat and walked to you. You pushed yourself up to your feet, both of your hands on the glass. The floor shook with every step he took towards you, the new weight of his body something you would all have to get used to. There was a small clink when he put his hand on the glass, over yours, and the size difference made you chuckle is disbelief. You met his eye, your head tilted with understanding and warmth, and a promise that you would not abandon him. You would never and could never be afraid of the man inside.

“I don’t think anyone’s coming,” he whispered, a sad smile on his face.

A tear fell down your face. “Then I’ll stay,” you promised. “I can stay and keep you company.”

“There’s not much they can do for me,” he said.

“You don’t know that, Reed is still working, they’re trying—“

Ben said your name, so softly, that you knew it was time to stop. You were right. He had spent the last few days stuck in his head, and he was not in the mood for hopeless optimism. You dropped your head and nodded, pausing to wipe the tears from your face.

“Go see Johnny, okay?” He asked you, the small smile on his face asking you to do something for him. “Go be with him.”

You bid Ben a tearful goodbye and do what he asked. Herbie, now seemingly back from space with a changed attitude, picked the pocket of a security guard for a badge key on your way out as you distracted the guards with wailing tears that go away when you round the corner.

“Now, where’s Johnny?” You asked Herbie when the badge key was successfully in your hand.

It’s a long, long walk to where Johnny is being held. He’s far away from everything that could possibly be detrimental if exploded. Luckily for you and Herbie, the people in Johnny’s wing are minimal and as you pass people in the hallway, you noticed their singed clothing. As you walk closer to the entrance, you also noticed the hundreds of fire extinguishers at the ready. You can hear explosions. Small, quick bursts every few minutes.

Your heart breaks. He’s uncontrollable. There’s a reason you shouldn’t be going to see him and you should wait, but Ben’s asked you to, and you would do anything for him right now. You would also be lying if you said you weren’t yearning to comfort Johnny, hoping that you could help him calm down and start to control his fiery outbursts.

Herbie floated alongside the entrance of the door, casually, and not suspiciously at all. He beeped to you that the coast was clear and you scurried forward, sliding the badge card through and you grabbed Herbie’s hand to yank him through the doors quickly before anyone saw. You know there’s cameras, you know someone is likely watching and will be there soon, but you have a short amount of time.

You and Johnny, it seems, are never granted the luxury of time.

“Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid.”

You paused at his words. The ward is dark, with minimal lighting, and you know he’s in the giant containment box at the center of the room. It’s a concrete box with windows at the top. You can’t see him and he doesn’t know you’re there. You can hear him pacing, his footsteps heavy and echoing the chamber.

You walked to a nearby computer bench. There’s a camera feed inside of the box. Your hand reached to touch his figure, your eyes swelling with tears when you see him. All he has on is shorts, a likely poorly fashioned mineral wool or fire resistant fabric to give him decency while different parts of his body flame on and off uncontrollably. It’s no wonder he can’t control it; he can’t calm down.

There’s a red button on the desk beside a microphone. You know exactly what it does. You pressed a single finger on it, taking a deep breath.

“Johnny?”

You watched him stop. He whipped around to the camera, flames engulfing his hands, climbing up his arms, his chest, until his head is on fire. You watched his eyes disappear into yellow orbs. In front of you, the containment box begins to emit a dense heat and you noticed smoke coming from the windows at the top.

He said your name. A strained, hurtful cry. Like he can’t believe you’re there.

“Yeah,” you said, wiping your sleeve over your eyes. “It’s me, Johnny. I’m so happy to see you, you’re okay—“

“Get out.”

His words cut yours like a lethal stab to your heart.

“Get out,” he said again, this time, he walked toward the camera, the flames on his body growing and engulfing him and you start to hear alarms go off at the warmth of his body, the height of his flames. He pointed somewhere, anywhere— “Get out! You have to leave!”

“Johnny—“ you sobbed.

You cried out as he exploded, the sound a flick of defeating crushing and creaking, the heat flashing over your body. The force threw you back and you cried again as your head slammed against the door you entered through. Your hand rushed to your head to hold the throbbing feeling at the crown of your head.

Herbie is beside you quickly, asking if you’re okay, if you’re burned. You don’t answer. You can only look forward, at Johnny.

Ash is falling, clinging to your bodies. The heat from his body is practically unbearable in such close proximity. You’re in pain, you’re uncomfortable, you’re scared. Sirens are screaming at you that he’s dangerous, that you should leave. 

In what’s left of this containment unit, Johnny stood and stared at you, his eyes fire red. “Let me go. Please.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have a chance to say anything, because thick, gloved hands grabbed you and dragged you away, putting out a fire on the cuff of your pants, patting at your body of any scrapes or burns or scratches, hands are clearing your eyes and your face, checking where your head smacked the door. The medics are concerned about your physical appearance, but no one asks you how you are.

If they did, you would tell them a part of you just died. 

 

Chapter 10

If they weren't famous before, they certainly were now after their brief show of power during the crash landing of the Excelsior. Speculation runs the news cycle on what happened, what their powers were, and where they’re being held.

You, unlike the rest of the world, went back to your normally scheduled routine. It was like your three day stint in Huntsville never happened, really, and you slid back into work and traveling and making calls and taking meetings as if you hadn’t gone. As if you hadn’t been there when they arrived, like you hadn’t cried to Ben, like you hadn’t been burned by Johnny. Literally and physically.

Now you had multiple scars from him. The glass shard on your hand, a burn mark on your ankle, and the stabbing of your heart when you let him hurt you not once, but twice.

You were an idiot. You were an idiot for ever saying yes to Lynne and ever thinking that you should’ve gone. You should’ve told Ben that Johnny broke up with you and saved yourself the pain of ever knowing how he would treat you.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t think you could. But you would never talk to him again.

While the world theorizes on the four astronauts and their return, you spend a few months traveling the globe. Vivian took it very seriously when you told her you only wanted to be in New York City for a few days of the month and she planned you meeting after meeting abroad, meeting with other environmentalists, nonprofits, and organizations who wanted to replicate your plans or collaborate on new ideas.

The traveling is hard on your body and you’re exhausted at the end of a day. It’s exactly what you need. You need to be moving. You need to be running from every thought and what-if and reminder of the situation that you were in with Johnny.

When you stood still, he was all you could think about.

So you tried not to stand still.

It’s about four months later when they’re seen again. You're standing in the cubicles, leaning on Vivian's desk and giggling about something when a breaking news banner flies across the screen and your coworkers hush everyone. 

There's a dull grey creature breaking out of a street in Manhattan, in the middle of Times Square. It's huge and has a hardened skin, and the roar from its mouth is so deafening the microphone on sight doesn't pick it up; there's a lag in sound and vision as the camera man flees the scene to a relatively safe distance. 

Just as the camera man pans around, there's a flash of orange fire that illuminated the the block. Your breath caught in your throat, your body freezing, and Vivian reached for your hand when the camera catches a flaming man directing a stream of flames to distract the creature. 

Ben joined, then Reed, and Sue--all arriving in a blue flying car that skidded to a stop in front of the creature. It's Johnny's project car. They're all wearing matching blue suits with a black collar and black sleeves.

Watching them defeat the creature, you begin to understand the manifestation of their powers. Ben's skin turned rock hard, he packs a punch; he projected a shell to hide his precious soul. Sue is protecting flying debris from hitting citizens and trying to catch the creature's punches before they hit any of her family; she's a protector at heart. Reed is using the environment and putting them all in a situation to quickly resolve the fight by twisting himself to restrain one of the creatures' arms; he's resourceful and uses his intelligence for a solution. Johnny ran head-first into the fight with no back up; he's impulsive. Their powers haven't damned them--they've enhanced what's already in their hearts and souls.

That's the day they're labeled the Fantastic Four. It's the day they become heroes and idols to the world. It's the day the world makes them the most famous people on Earth. 

There's a golden plaque in Times Square noting their famous first fight against the creature, who is later named Giganto. There's interviews, magazine covers, toys, sponsorships, and, oh, an influx of Mad Scientist Types who want to challenge the team after their public demonstration of power. 

Sometimes, you caught part of the breaking news segment, just to see them, but you're careful to turn the television off or leave the office before the press conference starts. Before you have to look at him. 

It took several months for you to hear from one of them. It's Sue, of course, who sent a letter to your office inviting you to lunch. She noted that their lives were getting back to normal and they were nearly ready to resume operations at the Baxter Building. She's careful to mention that their home is under construction to modify for their powers and has to have meetings elsewhere for the time being. You're thankful she won't make you go to the Baxter Building. You hadn't been there in months, since launch. You weren't sure if you could ever go back with the countless memories that had been built there. Just the thought made your ears ring. 

You met her for lunch at a nearby restaurant near your office. It's a private room, with closed doors and frosted windows, a long table for more people than two, but both of you know exactly why she rented the space. She's beyond famous. It made you thankful, if you were honest, that things with you and her brother hadn't worked out. You couldn't imagine the level of publicity they were living now. 

It's awkward. You don't go in for a hug and she does, you talk over each other, there's somehow nothing to talk about and everything at the same time. You don’t want to talk about yourself at all, and with their whole lives on display, she doesn’t really want to talk about herself either.

You can feel her pity, even as she tries to hide it, about what happened with her brother. You wonder how much she knows. It's not your place to share. She probably felt like it wasn't her place to ask.

"I'm happy you're all safe," you finally decided to say. You've had a glass of wine to calm your shaking hands, but you still can't meet her eyes. "I was so relieved, Sue. I am so relieved. You have no idea." 

Sue hummed. "Thank you for saying that," she said, and her words are chosen carefully. Both of you glance at each other, the thought crossing both of your minds, but you must have winced or cringed, and she smiled affably instead. "I'm glad you came. I was worried you wouldn't."

"It took a lot," you decided to be honest. 

"How are you?"

You brought your eyes to meet her. You searched for a sense of insincereity or scrutiny. You wondered if she asked to truly know or if she asked to gauge information for her brother. Sue, like all of her family, wore her heart on her sleeve. Despite it all, how deeply he hurt you, you wanted to hope that you could still be friends. 

"I'm okay," you said. The tears welling in your eyes said differently. "I'm okay," you tried again and smiled. The crinkle in your eye as you smiled brought a tear to drop, which you both ignored. 

"Day by day," Sue reminded you softly. She brought her hand up to wipe a tear from her own eye. You hadn't noticed she was crying, too. "That's all we can do." 

You started to meet monthly, when you could, anyway, and a villain of the week didn't schedule over your planned meetings. There's no conversation about it, but you continued to meet away from the Baxter Building. 

Until it requires you to go. 

Sue's out of the country. You begged to reschedule until she's back, but you need an important document signed by one of the CEOs of the Future Foundation and, apparently, Reed needs to speak to you about something. 

Vivian was sweet and asked if you wanted her to go with you. She can tell by how pale your face is before you leave the office that you're feeling sick at the thought of entering your old office space. That's what you call it now, trying to erase your memories of a warm, loving home. Of him. 

You decided to be brave and go alone. At that point in time, it had been seven months since Launch. Seven months should be enough time to feel better. Somehow, it's not. You're still having nightmares. It's the same, right before launch, and the way his eyes burned into you is on repeat every night. Sometimes, you speak to him. You've told him that you hate him, that you love him. You ask him why. He never replies. It's a dream. A fleeting wish for a final conversation. 

You prayed to anyone who would listen that you will not see him when you enter the Baxter Building. You held your breath, your fingernails clenching into your palms as you focused on the sound of your heels clicking against the glossy, polished floor. You scanned your badge at the door--a new addition to their building since they've become famous, and an ID that Sue had sent you in the mail. You had to scan the same badge in the elevator as you pressed the floor level for Reed's lab. 

His lab, at least, is unchanged. Herbie and him are working on something at a computer in the back, but when you push through the doors, Herbie all but screamed and raced for you. He ran into you with a soft force that pushed you back a few feet and you let out a small noise, trying to steady yourself on your heels. 

"My love, I've missed you, too," you said in response to him, your fingers patting his head. "How are you? What have you been up to?"

Herbie beeps and boops as he guides you across the lab to Reed. He tells you about all the construction in the building and how he's been making sure all the changes are up to code. 

"--and he was supposed to be helping me, but clearly that has been lost," Reed finished up. He looked at Herbie over his safety glasses and paused his work, setting down his glasses and the tweezers in his hand. He offered you a tight, reserved smile. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?"

"Fine," you smiled, equally as poised. "Thank you for meeting with me. I have the forms for you, if you don't mind signing. And Sue said you had something else to talk to me about?"

Reed took the manila from your hand and stood, searching for a pen. You turned to follow him. You froze. Over his shoulder, their space suits are on display. The remnants of Ben's, which he likely tore out of. Reed and Sue's essentially undamaged besides scrapes and tears. And the last one, completely black, burnt and charred. 

Reed glanced at you. He had been speaking, and when you didn't reply, he turned to see what your gaze was on. "Oh," he said. He clicked the pen once. "Yes. I wanted to keep them."

You swallowed and tore your eyes from the suits. "As a reminder?" 

"Yes," he said honestly. He leaned against his desk, a soft sigh exiting his lips. "I failed them. I promised nothing would happen and I told them, I told you, that I prepped us for every possible scenario." He paused and looked at his hand. "But not this. Never this." 

You were shocked out of your trance on the suits. His guilt extended to you. It was blaspehmous. 

"Reed, stop," you said breathlessly. "You promised me you would all come back and you did. You didn't let me down."

Reed nodded at your words, believing they were empty and simple niceties. He wouldn't believe you or anyone, you figured, because his guilt would haunt him. He asked the people he loved most to accompany him on a scientific venture and he changed their lives forever. 

"Tell me it's not because he's changed."

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at him blankly. He avoided your eye, staring at the manila folder in his hands. You didn't respond immediately, the words echoing in your head, between your ears. You want to run. You don't want to talk about this. 

"You didn't do anything, Reed," you said sharply. "Sign the papers, please. Please."

Reed didn't move. His eyes were still on you, a crinkle between his forehead, desperate for your answer. "Is it because we're different now? Because he has powers?"

"No!" you cried, your fingers splaying out in disbelief. You choked out a sob. "No. Absolutely not. Never." 

"Then what?" 

You inhaled a shaky breath. "I don't want to do this, Reed, please," you begged. You smudged the palm of your hand over the tears streaming down your face. "Please sign the papers." 

He didn't stop. When you looked at him, you noticed he had tears in his eyes, too. "I'm sorry--"

"Reed, stop!" you snapped, your anger flaring and your patience thin, your heart tired. You stared at him in incredulity before you turned and left, damning the paper and damning him for putting you in that scenario. 

On Monday morning, the forms are faxed to you, signed by Sue. You're not invited to the Baxter Building for a meeting again and you don't meet with Reed again.

In the mail alongside your signed forms is an invitation. You've been personally invited to the grand opening of the Pan Am building downtown. You asked for Vivian to join you in your office and you show her the letter, both of you squealing and jumping for joy. 

This is huge for you; Pan Am is an international name for innovation and moving travel forward. It's an honor to be invited to a party at their building and you intend to make a phenomenal impression to move your company into a possible partnership.

When the day comes, you’re dressed in your absolute best. Your hair is perfect, your makeup is ideal, and you have practiced with Vivian your pitches, your background knowledge. You’re ready to make and close a deal.

An hour into the party, disaster struck. 

One minute you’re chitchatting with a secretary of the CEO, making your rounds, and the next, you’re covered in small shards of glass as the windows you’re standing next to explode. Your hands flew to your ears at the high-pitched ringing bouncing in your head and you fell to your knees, screaming in pain from the glass pricking your bare skin.

There’s less than a minute before the ground is pulled from underneath the building and you’re suddenly falling, your stomach dropping, a scream caught in your throat, your body flying up in the air before the building came to an abrupt halt, and you did, too. You smacked your head against the floor as you landed, your vision blurring and your head pounding. 

You flinched as you felt hands on you, your shoulders, your arms, then your face. "Hey, hey," you heard a voice. It's distant in your ears, but you know he's near you by his touch. "Can you hear me?"

“Fuck,” you swore, crying freely. Fuck your nice outfit and your nice hair and your heels. Your entire body aches. 

“So you can hear me, then,” said the voice cheerfully. “We have to move, now, I have to move you, I'm so sorry."

You grunted in pain as the man picked your body up and moved you. You blinked furiously, trying to stop the blurs in your vision. It resolved when he set you down, both of you crouching behind a desk deeper into the Pan Am lobby. He's close to you, and you're not sure if it's blood or sweat or both that you're sharing when your skin touches. 

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he said quietly. 

You rubbed at your eyes, then hissed when you realized your hands were bleeding. “Fuck,” you said again, wiping your hands on your dress.

“Quite a mouth on you, little lady,” Sam muttered.

You’re able to see him, slowly. The first thing you notice is that he’s handsome, a dashing and pretty face. The second thing you noticed is that there’s a giant gash in his forehead.

“You’re bleeding,” you noticed, nodding to his forehead.

“You’re bleeding,” he said in return, gesturing to your whole body. He shushed you for a moment and peered over the desk he hid you both behind. “Some freak in a mask is gathering people up. Not sure what for.”

You’re both quiet, trying to hear the shouting voice behind you.

“…Now, a moment of celebration turns larcenous as the Revolt of Subterranea unfolds! The newest architectural triumph dotting the soaring skies above the Big Apple- Stolen!”

You both shared a glance, uneasy. You reached into the desk drawer above you and pulled out scissors and a stapler. You handed Sam the scissors. When he looked at you, confused, you shrugged. 

“In case someone tries to take us,” you said obviously. 

Despite it all, the man attacking you, both of you bleeding and scared, Sam grinned at you. “What did you say your name was?”

“Y/N,” you mumbled shyly. “I probably would’ve made the rounds and met you if the party didn’t get interrupted.”

“Probably not,” Sam shrugged. “I’m a waiter.”

You glanced down at his suit and tie. You wrongly assumed he was apart of the party.

“Well, you saved me,” you said. “I’ll buy you a drink if we live.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll take you up on that.”

You both made surprised noises as you heard an explosion. You grabbed his arm, and he tucked you into him. You heard punching, screaming, and you wiggled out of Sam’s embrace to hold your stapler at the ready as you heard heavy, thudding footsteps embark towards your hiding spot. You inhaled a deep breath, your adrenaline numbing your pain and pushing you to fight.

Except it’s Ben.

Ben did a double take when he reached for the table you’re hiding behind and saw you. The thick line of rock serving as his eyebrows came together, his jaw dropping, and he looked between the two of you and the current fight occurring steps away.

“Uh, hey there,” he said awkwardly. “Mind if I borrow this table?”

You’re suddenly not in any pain and instead in a hurry to run.

“Not at all, go ahead,” you said quickly, grabbing Sam’s arm and dragging both of you across the floor to a different table. Sam grabbed your waist and helped you stand, his arms around you to help as you limped away.

“Bathroom,” you pointed out, and both of you move quickly into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Holy shit,” Sam swore. "That was the Thing!"

"H-his name is B-ben," you muttered. You're stuttering.

Your body is involuntarily shaking. You can’t control the shivers that run down your spine, the shaking of your lip, the tears that fall from your eyes. You turned your back from the mirror, not wanting to see how you look at all, and you slid down the wall, clutching your arms around your knees.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam sat beside you. He grabbed paper towels from above your head in the dispenser and started to dab at your arms, your legs.

You reached for towels, too, pressing one to his forehead. You can barely keep it still with how badly your hand is shaking and he took it over, telling you it was okay.

Sam grabbed you as the building started to shake again. A string of swears exits your mouth, clutching on to him like it would even matter, like he could even secure you again. This time, though, the building moves slowly. There are no windows in the bathroom to tell, but the slow and steady speed at which you’re moving tells your body that you’re going back to the surface.

You and Sam stay stuck together. You’re both watching the bathroom door, waiting for a knock. As soon as you hear it, the Rescue Team, you're pulled away from each other with not another word. You're in dire condition, you hear the EMTs say, and you're laid on a stretcher to seek immediate medical care. 

You're in shock. You're body is still involuntarily shaking through their tests, their alcohol wipes and bandaids. You can hear the EMTs talking to you but you can't respond. Instead, you're watching the sky. You know he's here, because Ben's here, and you had heard the familiar whoosh of Sue's forcefields. 

You don't want to look for him, but you do. In your paralyzing fear, your panic and flash of thought that you may die, you thought of him. Still, after how it ended, when you thought you may die, your only thought was Johnny's face. 

Ben found you. You're cleared from the EMTs care and situated on a sidewalk to wait for a ride to your loved ones, but the moment they leave you, you stood to leave. No one will come pick you up. You have no one waiting for you at home. You don't wait for anyone and you start to leave. The grey blanket from the EMTs is decidedly your parting gift and you held it tightly around you as you started to leave the scene. 

Ben called your name, repeatedly, when you don't answer, and it took him running up to you to get you to stop. When you peeled your eyes from the pavement to him, he says nothing more, and opened his arms for you to fall into. It's not comfortable, but you accept it without question, swallowing your small frame whole when he wrapped his arms around you. 

"It's okay," he whispered to you. "You're okay now." 

You have no more tears left. You're silent as he holds you, trying to steady your breathing and calm down your heartbeat down. You closed your eyes in his embrace. You're given a few moments of peace in Ben's arms. It's broken when you hear the crackle in the air of a flying, flaming man, and your eyes shot open. You pushed against Ben instantly, a headache forming at the front of your forehead, wrapping around your neck. 

"I have to go," you said blankly. 

Ben stepped in front of you. "You're in no condition to leave, doll, I can't let you drive. Let us call Herbie, we'll--"

You ignored him and turned past him. It's too late. 

For a moment, time freezes. There are no cameras, no press, no wreckage.

It’s just you and Johnny standing in front of each other. 

He looks at you the same way. Those big, blue eyes stare at you like you're the only thing in the world. His eyes bounce between yours, searching for something, canvassing your state and the way you look at him. His gaze stops on your cheek, where you know there are two butterfly stitches trying to hold the cut together. From the corner of your eye, you can see his hand start to raise towards your face. 

You can't let him touch you. You can't wait for him to say anything. 

You turn and leave.

No one stops you. 

Chapter 11

A year later, you would like to think you're doing well.

Some time passed before Sue spoke to you about the meeting you had with Reed, and she offered an apology on behalf of herself and Reed for overstepping work boundaries. It was a delicate conversation and part of you withered at how formal it was, but time was passing since you meant something to their family member. Your relationships were changing. The formality felt like a whole new can of grief opening. You lost a partner, and you lost three other formative relationships in your life. 

You found out that your meeting with Reed was meant to be about a different topic--a clean up and recycling crew for after the Fantastic Four's battles. You said yes, immediately, and found yourself in yet another partnership with the Future Foundation to better the world. At least, this time, it's of your own merit.

Every day that passes, you feel a little less, and the memories feel further away. It's impossible to avoid reminders of him. Unlike a normal break up, he is now one of the most famous men alive.

Sometimes he flies above your building or your car, and you wonder if he ever thinks of you, atop his pedestal of fame. You're inclined to say no.

But then you remember the way he looked at you, when Mole Man attacked, and the grief pouring from his expression. You talked yourself out of the emotional appeal when you remember that you were diagnosed with a concussion and therefore, can't be trusted. 

You still think of him often. Mostly, because he's everywhere. He's on cereal boxes when you grocery shop, he's on billboards when you drive through the city, he's on advertisements when you watch television, he's on magazines when you go to the bookstore.

His handsome face incurs a fan club: Flaming Hearts Club, which made your eyes roll to the back of your head when your coworkers squeal about their acceptance into the Club. 

You, unfortunately, can't help but read his interview with the Flaming Hearts Club when it's left out on a desk in your office one night. 

Q: What's your idea of a perfect date?

A: Something spontaneous! A surprise picnic at the beach or a late night drive with the top down.

You gasped gently. You read his answer, over and over. Your heart clenched, the feeling of wind in your hair as he drove you alongside the beach. The feeling of sand between your toes. You can still remember how he held you in the water.

You forced yourself to continue reading.

Q: What’s the most challenging part of being in the spotlight?

A: Definitely the lack of privacy.

You closed the magazine with a huff. The gust of wind that comes with it made a small sheet of paper fly from the desk. You pick it up and stare at it. It's sheet of wallet-sized photos of Johnny. He's posing in each one, the way he used to goofily pretend to pose for you when you practiced for photoshoots.

For the first time in a long time, the sight of him makes you smile. 

You tucked the photos back into the magazine. You tilt your head at the magazine, a handsome photo of him on the cover, and reach to run your finger over his short hair, like you could feel it under your touch. His hair was short. You wondered if he did so on purpose; he was growing it when you were together because you loved it long. You loved to run your fingers through it. 

It's a sobering thought when you see flashes of your intimate moments with him. You cleared your throat and closed your eyes, shaking out your body. You can't keep pining after him. You can't keep remembering. 

He left you, you have to remind yourself. He broke up with you before the biggest day of his life and he told you to leave days later, when you were called to greet him upon return. No matter how he looked at you, or the regret in his face that still flashed your mind when your thoughts were quiet, you have to remind yourself that he made a choice. He chose his career, and you have to do the same.  

After the fiasco with the Pan Am building, you were advised to sue for emotional distress and gained a lovely payout from the situation. Pan Am funded three more monorails throughout the city that helped you become a pioneer of fast, easy travel in New York City. 

So you were granted a few monorails, plenty of interviews and news coverage, and, oh, a boyfriend. 

You hadn't realized, in the chaos, that Sam never asked for your information. You weren't exactly shocked when he arrived to your office building with flowers, though, given you were on national television multiple times by that point and a growing name in environmental science. 

"So you tracked me down," you grinned at him. You accepted the flowers, red roses, and held them to your chest. 

"Hope you don't find it creepy," he smiled shyly at you. "I wanted to see how you were doing after everything.

"Sure, that's why," you said knowingly. You shrugged and said you were alive, then reached to brush the hair falling on his forehead to see the scar across his skin. You winced. "Bet that hurt." 

"So bad," he agreed and you both chuckled. "We both got split up pretty quickly, so I didn't get a chance to ask for your line." 

You grinned. It faltered for a moment, as you recognized the fluttering in your stomach, a feeling you haven't felt in a long time. Butterflies. It meant a lot of things, to feel weightless and open to something, but it meant one thing for certain: you were capable of moving on. 

"I think you really came because I owe you a drink," you teased, and he huffed. You checked your watch. "Doing anything in five minutes?"

He mirrored you. "Eh. Nothing that can't be rescheduled." 

You liked Sam. He was kind to you, never pushed your boundaries, always paid, despite making far less more money than you. You were able to hold hands, kiss on the sidewalk, and enjoy life in public with someone on your arm. 

Sometimes when he touched you in a certain way, or sat where he used to sit in your place, you think of your former flame. You can't help but think about him anyway. You tried to convince yourself it was normal to think of another man because it was recent; its a normal comparison. But you know Sam is very different than Johnny, and part of you knows you're dating him because he's so different. 

Sam doesn't know. He doesn't know of your recent break up and he doesn't know that you used to be close with the Fantastic Four. He knew you worked vaguely with them to kickstart your company and that you meet with Sue monthly. He'll never know, though, and despite them being mega famous, your conversations don't include them or science or anything much about your work. You talk about television and movies, you go to zoos and museums, the beach. He's fun. 

On a day at his apartment, you're sitting together on the couch sharing a pizza box between you, watching a rerun of Fantastic Science with Mr. Fantastic (it's unfortunately your guilty pleasure show) when a banner flew across the broadcast with interrupting breaking news. 

A year into the Fantastic Four, you barely have a reaction anymore. There is no threat they haven't stopped, no person they haven't protected. There's nothing they can't do when they put their minds to it and work as a team, so you've stopped watching their broadcasted fights with bated breath. It's entertainment, usually, except this time, it's personal.

The Mad Thinker, a foe they've fought before, has attacked one of your monorails. 

You're on your feet promptly. A pizza slice hanging from your mouth, you throw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys. You noticed Sam hasn't moved and is staring at you, confused. 

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

"That's my monorail," you said obviously, pointing to the screen with the pizza slice in your hand. You cried out as part of it exploded. "Are you coming or not?!"

"What are you going to do?!" he asked. 

"Something!" you cried, yanking the door open. You ran out, and Sam, who finally decided to join you, was on your heels.

You could only park so close with all the commotion. You had to shove through many civilians and show your own badge to the authorities, but you entered the barricaded scene with Sam, who you said was your body guard, your hands on your head as you stared at the exploded monorail. Your mind started to spiral, with concerns on the integrity of the structure, possible safety features failing, the monorail schedule, how much money will be needed to fix it--

"I'm okay, you know," Sue chimed in teasingly. 

You turned at her voice and waved your hand. "You're the Invisible Woman, Sue, I don't worry about you anymore," you said equally coyly.

"Who's this?"

You glanced at Sam. You turned back to her with a raised eyebrow, finding it comical that she cared about who was with you after literally saving the day. "This is Sam," you introduced, waving your hand between them. 

Sam reached out to shake Sue's hand. "Gosh, what an honor," he all but squealed, and you laughed at him. 

Sue was gracious and kind, then looked to you knowingly, asking with her eyes--boyfriend or friend? And your eye roll said everything. 

You ran a hand down your face. "Everyone okay? No casualties?"

"We were able to stop the track in time," she agreed, facing the exploded monorail with you, her hands on her hips. "Johnny went to help clear one of the cars about three blocks away. I believe Ben is taking the Mad Thinker to jail at the moment."

"Another win in the Fantastic Four's books," you winked. 

Sue turned her head as she heard a voice in her ear, their connected ear pieces. She held her hand over her ear as she asked for a repeat, then held her finger up to you politely and jogged towards your monorail. 

Sam grabbed your arm, pulling you back into him. Your ears started to ring, with the possibility of danger, of the fight not being over. 

It was just Johnny. Sue used her powers to raise a chunk of the monorail that had been blown clean off the track and Johnny flew around it, fire spewing from his hands, a concentrated effort that secured part of the track back onto the monorail. He lingered in the air above it, his head turned down the track, and you held your breath in a wince as the train car flew by, unscathed. 

Cheers erupted from the crowd. You released the breath you were holding, at least, from the train car surviving, but you had a harder time taking your eyes from the floating figure above. You clapped mindlessly, your eyes watching the orange flames lower, until he dropped from the sky with a running stop nearby Sue. The flames died from his body, the glow leaving his eyes, and you met his eyes for the first time in a long time.

You can't look away, and he can't either. Sue is talking to him and Sam is likely saying something to you, too, but you're stuck staring at each other again, like nothing else in the world is going on. It's shocking to you how magnetically drawn you are to him, even after all this time. 

Sue glanced behind her, at you, and there's a calculated smile on her lips as she notices the two of you staring at each other. That's enough to break your eye contact, at least, and you turned back to Sam.

"Huh?" you asked. 

He looked at you with wide eyes. "I'm about to meet two members of the Fantastic Four today. That is not how I expected my day to go. Have I told you dating you is awesome? Because I don't tell you enough."

"Johnny won't come over here," you said dismissively, before your mind could pause your mouth. Sam paused, and you did too. 

"What?" he asked. 

You were luckily cleared of answering because Sue returned, asking to speak with you privately for a moment. You stepped away from Sam. Her hand fell on your arm. She turned your bodies away from the cameras in the crowd.

You were facing Johnny, who was very obviously looking down and kicking rocks, excluded from the conversation and trying not to be bothered by it. It made your heart clench for a moment, before you reminded yourself that he was your ex-boyfriend. You shouldn't care. 

"Johnny thinks this may have been a targeted attack," Sue muttered under her breath. 

You laughed, and it made Johnny turn to face you before quickly looking away. "On who? Me?"

"It could mean something that the Mad Thinker targeted your monorail," Sue said seriously. "We're going to look into it."

"You can't be serious," you laughed. You could feel the scrunch in your entire face as you stared at her. "Me? No chance."

Sue said your name gently, in that motherly, demanding way that made you cross your arms and listen to her. "I know you won't accept staying at the Tower, but someone needs to keep an eye on you until we figure it out." 

"Send Herbie," you groaned. "We can have a sleepover and stay up all night waiting for the Mad Thinker to catch me."

Sue said your name, again, her tone clear that she was annoyed with you. "I would never forgive myself in something happened to you," she whispered, her hand reaching for your face. You softened to her touch, your fiery exterior melting. You were weak against the damn Storm siblings. "Please let some of our security stay outside of your building. Just until we know."

"Fine," you mumbled, sighing. 

Sue smiled at you. "Thank you," she said, bringing you in for a hug. She pressed a kiss to your forehead before she turned to Sam, pointing at you. "Keep an eye on her, Sam. If anything happens to her, we're coming for you, first!"

"She thinks I can stop you," Sam laughed as Sue jogged away, back to Johnny.  

You watched them chat for a moment, shocked at the clear sign of relief crossing Johnny's face as she no doubt shared the news that you would accept a security detail. You caught his eye again. He nodded at you, thank you, before his eyes were engulfed in an orange flame, his body following, and he shot up in the sky to make the signature '4' with flames, their new calling card. 

Sue was on his tail, jetting off in their FantastiCar, and as soon as they left, the floodgates opened, hundreds of people swarming the area, and press running directly to you. 

You suddenly regretted leaving the house as quickly as you did. You rushed to pat down your hair, adjust your clothes, and you glanced at Sam for a check and he winked at you. Good enough. 

"Ma'am, ma'am," a reporter yelled at you, a cameraman next to him, shoving a camera into your face. "The Fantastic Four just saved your monorail, what do you have to say to them?"

"Well, really, it was the Fantastic Two, given Reed and Ben aren't here," you muttered, blinking rapidly at the flashing lights in your face. 

Sam shoved an elbow into your side, giving you a pointed look, and you force a fake smile onto your face, blinking your long eyelashes in the naive and feminine way you were always asked to be on camera. You turned to the camera and placed your hands over your heart.

"I want to say thank you, Fantastic Four."

 

* 

 

Johnny had been told there was nothing more he could do, which was one of the worst sentences to be told. He paced outside of Reed’s office, he made an appearance at the Police Station, he even surveyed the Mad Thinker’s laboratory, but they were horrifically right. Time would tell if the Mad Thinker targeted you, or if it was just a coincidence. He prayed it was a coincidence.

At the very least, Sue convinced you to accept their police detail, a relief to him, but he knew he would also keep an eye on you, too. You didn’t want that, Sue made it clear, but he planned to be flying conspicuously nearby your place in case the Mad Thinkers henchmen came for you. 

Maybe then, he would gain the courage to speak to you. 

Until then, he was stuck, staring at the television screen, replaying the news segment from today where you thanked the Fantastic Four. He was slouched against the couch, remote in his hand, rewinding and replaying just to see your face and your smile, however performative it was. 

“She looks good.”

Johnny jumped at the voice, before he sighed and replayed the clip again. He had no shame to be caught looking at you. “She looks great,” he huffed. 

Ben sat beside Johnny on the couch, pointing vaguely at the television screen. “Who was that guy with her?”

“Boyfriend,” Sue said, walking by. She stopped behind Johnny and leaned against the couch. 

Johnny groaned. “You met him?!”

“He’s nice,” she shrugged. Johnny whimpered and she laughed. “I mean, he sucks.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Reed said, joining the conversation. “I believe they call that a rebound.” 

Johnny sunk further down into his seat on the couch. He wasn’t quite done, so he replayed the segment again. His family humored him and watched it with him one more time. 

Ben clapped a giant hand on his back. “Have you spoken to her, Johnny?” 

“No,” he muttered. 

“I thought you saw her at Pan Am?" Ben asked.

“Didn’t say a word to her,” Johnny said blankly. “Just stared at her and then she left.”

“No wonder she didn’t talk to you, you just stared at her!” Ben said.

“I’m doing my best!” Johnny screamed, throwing the remote to the other end of the couch and standing up. He could go watch his video in peace, in the safety of his room, without judgement. 

“Johnny,” Sue said pointedly, her eyes curious and soft, and stopping him in his place.  “When was the last time you spoke with her?” 

“Not since I freaked out and told her to get out.”

“What?” Sue asked. “What do you mean?”

From their perspective, you were at launch when they went to space, you saw Ben and Johnny at the Huntsville facility, then you never came back. Johnny had to calm Sue down at the news, as she was in an uproar, thinking you left because of the accident. He defended you, though, he assured her and them that he broke up with you, he promised that he broke up with you and that it was his decision. For a year, they’ve asked why and he’s avoided the conversation every time.

Until now, when your life might be in danger, and he can’t relax. 

Johnny rubbed his face and groaned. “Okay,” he said, raising his hands to his family, preparing them. “I’ll say it one time, so listen up, because I’m not talking about this again after I tell you. She’s got a boyfriend, she’s moving on, it’s time to move on.” 

“Johnny,” Reed said sadly, his eyes sympathetic. “What happened?” 

 

The Night Before Launch 

 

It was one of the hardest things he had to do, leaving your place. You planned a perfect send off for him. You even kept your tears in until the very last moment, after baring his soul and his body to you, making sure that every intimate touch was laced with love and passion, making sure that he remembered how your delicate fingers touched him and that your whispers were burned into his memory. 

He told you nothing was going to happen. It’s an empty promise. He just wanted to make you feel better. 

You kissed him like it was a goodbye, like it was your last kiss ever, and it shattered his heart to know you were so scared for him.

He left your place and pulled his cap over his head, shoved his hands into his pockets. He dipped through the alleyways near your place and started the two-block journey to where he parked his car. 

“Johnny Storm?” It’s a woman’s voice. 

Johnny turned slightly, his hands raised to indicate he had to leave. “Yes, ma’am, my apologies, I have to head home—“

“I think you’ll want to see this,” she said, sharply, and it stopped him in his tracks. He tilted his head and she raised a folder. 

His face is hardened, a sinking feeling occurring in his stomach at what she could possibly have. It’s then he noticed that the woman is dressed similarly to him, a baseball cap, a trench coat. Her face is pretty but stern. Johnny knows immediately upon seeing her that she’s a reporter.

The folder she handed him is a full fledged investigation into your new and successful company that this woman thought was too good to be true. It’s eye witness accounts from the waitress, the day at the beach where he first wanted to kiss you; a waiter confirming Johnny rented out a restaurant for a date.

It’s a timeline of public partnership data between companies, a comparison of how quickly the Future Foundation jumpstarted her company.

It’s hacked emails between her and Sue in which they’re a mix of casual and friendly, but clearly indicating favoritism.

It’s photos of you and him together. Somehow, she has your photo on the beach. She has photos of Johnny entering and exiting your apartment at all hours. She has photos of the first time that you saw the suits, background photos that have been enlarged to show you two, smiling solely at each other. Someone had caught your kiss in the car when he dropped you at the airport. You and Johnny in the rain at the gala. The park bench where you decided to stay together and take it one day at a time.

Your secret relationship on display, your love photographed and scrutinized and invalidated. It’s everything you begged to not happen.

And in every photograph, Johnny feels immense guilt. It was his fault you were photographed at the beach. It's his thoughtless behavior, wanting to impress you and commence your company by taking the designs to Sue and Reed early. It’s his insistence on asking you to go on a date in public and ignoring you at the Gala and begging you to kiss him before you left the airport that have been captured and displayed. 

He failed you. He chose himself and his feelings for you over your protection. 

A tear fell onto the folder. Johnny slammed it shut and wiped the back of his hand across his face.

“Please don’t publish this,” he said gently.

The reporter looked shocked by his tears. Her sharp gaze softened. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m asking you nicely,” he said gently, pleading with her. “You’re a great investigative reporter, you’ve proved that, if that’s what you need to hear. Don’t ruin our lives by posting this. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

It’s with those words that she understood. “She’s real to you.”

“This will ruin her career,” he begged, ignoring her. “I’ll give you money. How much?” 

“I'm not going to take money,” she scoffed. 

“Fine,” Johnny said. “What do you want?”

The reporter was shocked. “What?”

“What do I do for you to be quiet about this? All of it. What do you want?”

The reporter stuttered. “An exclusive with you—uh, with all four of you. When you get back.”

“Fine,” Johnny said easily.

The reporter was still stunned. “That easily?” 

“I love this woman,” Johnny said with a sniffle. “And because I do, I’ve almost ruined her career.”

The reporter softened. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.” 

 

Present Day 

 

Sue’s hands were over her mouth as she listened. She shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, Johnny, how long did you expect to keep it a secret? Herbie told us day one.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think–that’s the problem,” Johnny snapped. “I didn’t think, I just did. You brought a beautiful woman into my office and I tried to be nice and then I fell in love and this is what happened. I fucked up.”

He felt hot, frustrated. He felt guilty, all over again, retelling the story and how badly he fucked up. None of them were surprised when his hands started to flame. He huffed and stormed off, up to his room, and slammed the door. 

Reed glanced at Ben and Sue, gauging their reactions. “He said he fell in love.”

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Ben admitted. 

Sue sighed, staring after her brother. “He loves her and thinks he can’t have her.” 

Chapter 12

The Mad Thinker planned a targeted attack, on your monorail, but not on you. It was a coincidence, Ben assured you as he called you. You nearly screamed with joy. They had kept you on lockdown at your place for three days. You were going insane. You were about to start knitting as a hobby if nobody called.

"I'm free," you cheered. 

" You are ," he chuckled. " You know, kid, he was really worried about you. " 

Your smile fell. You hummed and scratched at your head, your mouth opening to speak, then closing. "Yeah," you decided to say. "That's nice of him." 

"What would have to happen for you two to talk?" 

"End of the world, probably," you said simply. You fidgeted, wanting the conversation to end. "Let's can it, Ben. Please?" 

" Alright, alright, " he conceded. " Just one more question? "

You rolled your eyes, your hand covering your forehead. "Sure, Ben."

"Are you happy?"

The bluntness of his inquiry froze your entire body and mind. You went quiet, the only audible sound becoming your breathing and his. You weren't sure, and it scared you. No one had asked you that, and you certainly didn't ask yourself that.

You had friends. You had a boyfriend. You were successful. But those were material items, empty titles, because there had been a hole in your heart for the past several years. There was an emptiness in your soul that you were running from, that you hadn't even known was there until someone carved it, and left you bare. 

You sighed, running your hand through your hair. "I'm trying to be," you mumbled. 

Time continued to pass. After that conversation with Ben, you try to hold your personal happiness of high importance. You spend more time alone, partly because you're searching for joy, and partly because Sam broke up with you. 

He asked if you loved him. You couldn't say yes. 

You knew what it felt like to be in love. You knew the deep ache in your bones when you were apart, the constant stream of consciousness surrounding him. It was a feeling you were going to spend the rest of your life searching for. 

You spent time alone. Six months, a year later, a year and a half passed. You pivoted from a leading position in your company to an outreach position, spending your time meeting people, attending conferences and fundraisers.

Given that you're in an adjacent field to the Fantastic Four, you find yourself running into one or two of them at a time, at various events. But never Johnny. You suspected Lynne and Vivian were doing you a favor by ensuring your schedules didn't overlap. 

In fact, your guardian angel is on your side, as your appearances at the Baxter Building increased due to your dual partnership with the team. You made it clear that you will be there at a certain date and for a certain amount of hours, expecting that Johnny will know that and avoid you, and he does.

You’re working around each other, nearly three years later. Sue started to talk about him and you surprised yourself by not having a reaction and even asking polite questions about him. Ben complained about how he eats them out of house and home with cereal, and you were able to laugh.

You haven’t met with Reed much. Beyond Johnny, your relationship with Reed changed the most. You were cordial and more direct to the point of a conversation than you ever had been. You got the feeling, truthfully, that he felt guilty for the way he cornered you and could never quite forget his overstep. Reed didn’t like direct conversation about emotions, though, so you elected to move at his speed, and ignore the emotional tension between you.

He offered an olive branch when he asked you to attend a Reed Tech fundraiser and present an item for auction. He shared the flyer with you; the first thing you noticed is that all four of them will be attending and auctioning their own items. There are other scientists, other items for auction, but it's the first time in a long, long time that you and Johnny will be in a room together. 

“There will be a lot of people there,” he tried to assure you. “You can even go early in the auction, if you’d like.”

You took him up on the offer. You arrived dressed in your best, a dark blue A-line dress with thin pieces of shimmering fabric that drapes across your upper arms. It hugs tightly to your body, your curves, and it’s long enough that you’re able to wear slip-ons, and not heels. You learned your lessons about wearing heels anywhere around the Fantastic Four.

You presented season tickets to the local baseball team. As you took the stage, despite there being a crowd of over five hundred people, the moment you get on stage, your eyes find him.

No wonder you were so intoxicated by him. You find him in a crowd because of the way he looks at you.

The other people are listening intently, being polite. You could feel his eyes on you like a heat seeking missile, and yet again, when you feel them, your eyes finding his, its that same expression on his face. Longing.

Watching him smile at other women for the past years, or on camera, you noticed what a difference he had when he looked at you. He looked at you like there’s nothing else remotely interesting in the world. He always looked at you intently, as if you’re all he sees.

You stuttered through the speech you wrote and put the item up. It’s honestly horrible for you, because it took forever. People really wanted those tickets. You’re on stage for a long time, but you raised a great amount of money for Reed.

Upon Johnny’s turn, of course, he auctioned a night with him. Your blood boiled at the hooting and hollering of the ladies in the crowd, the various I love you, Johnny! , and you stabbed your fork into the food on your plate.

You giggled when an elderly woman won the auction, but Johnny has a joyful reaction, as gracious as ever, and planted a giant, obnoxious kiss on her cheek.

You didn’t bring a plus one, so you mingled in the crowd, talking to old Future Foundation coworker and other people you recognized from similar events.

When the dance floor opened up and the music started to get louder, Ben asked you for a dance. You could never say no to Ben. He made you laugh, giggling until your stomach hurt, as he shook the dance floor with a shake of his shoulders and hips, and you two jump and danced around each other to the music for a while. You were glad you wore flat shoes.

The music slowed, as people started to leave, tired and aching. You and Ben don’t hesitate, and he took your hands to dance, spinning you around and dipping you.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” he said to you softly. He was so earnest, it made your heart break. “I haven’t danced in a long time, kid.”

You rested your head on his chest. You thought of him often and the struggle he kept hidden by not being able to change his physical appearance. You did what you could to offer your ear, anytime he needed, but Ben was someone who put himself last.

You didn’t say anything in return. You squeezed his hands, letting him know, as always, you were there for him.

“Mind if I cut in?”

The serenity in your body and mind, dancing carefree with Ben, left at once. A sinking feeling appeared in your stomach, and you noticed the tension in your neck, the way your fingers gripped tighter to Ben’s hand as you heard his voice and registered his words.

It’s a dangerous proposition for him to ask you dance. It’s bold, and you’re not sure what occurred for him to be so forward, other than the fact that there are absolutely cameras photographing the event and nearby patrons on the dance floor. He asked, to back you into a corner, where you couldn’t exactly say no. 

Ben noticed your body language shift. You noticed him hold you a bit tighter, protectively, like he could save you from the anxiety inching through every part of your being.

“Johnny,” Ben said gently, knowingly.

You don’t look at him. You don’t know if you can, with him that close, closer than he’s been to you in three years, so you kept your eyes elsewhere. Anywhere else than the man beside you, asking you for a dance.

You noticed that people’s heads are turning to you, Ben, and Johnny. Johnny’s appearance on the dance floor turned heads anyway, as you can see ladies lined casually on the edges of the dance floor, waiting to be asked to dance. You can see the disappointment and the sudden interest in you, because he ignored them. He crossed the dance floor and walked right up to you both. He made it clear who he wanted to dance with.

The urge to conform and to be invisible is strong, and before you know it, the words tumble from your mouth: “It’s okay, Ben.”

It shocked you, though you aimed to keep your reaction small, and it shocked Ben, who looked down at you with his brow raised. You patted his arm, offering a small smile. I’ll be okay.

Ben bowed to you, thanking for the dance, before he passed your conjoined hands to Johnny.

You slid your hand into his and he pulled it to his chest, as you placed your other hand gently on his shoulder. You’re breathless at the tender touch of his hand settling politely on your back, his fingers brushing the bare skin momentarily. It sent a jolt up your spine.

You can feel your body pulling towards him. Or maybe it’s the limited space on the dance floor. You can feel the way you’re attracted to him like a magnet, pulling you closer, and he knows. He can feel the way you start to relax and lean into his body, by the way he presses his hand to your back, letting you move closer. The initial rigidity in both of your movements fails, swaying together on the dance floor, as if you had done this a million times before.

You have, though. It may have been years ago. But your bodies knew how to move with each other. 

He waited patiently for you to look up at him and you know it. You still haven’t looked at him since he asked you to dance, you’re avoiding his eye. You both know how electric, how damning it can be, to meet each others’ eyes. You’ve been in situations before where you decided on not interacting, you’ve been at parties and ignored each other. You’ve been to his home and ignored him.

Three years since he left you, he walked across the dance floor, and asked you to dance. All you can think about is why? Why now?

You shouldn’t want to ask. It’s been three years. You have convinced yourself that you don’t need to know and that you don’t care why he left you. It’s a fact, and no amount of knowing why will change the pain he caused. You shouldn’t need to have closure.

But you want it.

You’ve grown in your time apart. You want to say that you’re a go-getter and you’re direct, you’re honest. You want to look at Johnny and be brave, ask him why, because he finally spoke to you, breaking the barrier of no-contact, and you want to fight , in all honesty.

Part of you is still seeking the chance to fight. You wanted a do-over, a big, dramatic fight where you were, at least, honest with each other. He gave you no choice when he left you. He broke your heart and went to space.

The room is loud, between the music, the chattering. You tilted your chin up slightly, your eyes trailing up from his tie and to his neck, his chin. You lowered your eyes back to his chest when he looked down at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed that he caught you.

“No heels for you tonight?”

Because, of course, he noticed. He noticed your lack of heels because your head was barely at his chin. You remembered that he preferred it.

“I like the way you look up at me, ” he used to tell you.

The reminder is painful.

“Yep,” you said casually, glancing around. You pretended not to notice the crowd of single women burning holes into your head. “Your family is usually a target of some evil plan, so figured I’d dress, in some part, functionally.”

“Fair assumption,” he chuckled. “I’m, uh, I’m really glad you came.”

You nodded slowly. You sort of couldn’t believe you were having casual conversation. It felt foreign. Odd. You couldn’t remember ever talking about something mundane with Johnny. From the moment you met, it was space and science and utterly captivating, deep conversations. When had you ever had small talk?

He continued, “I honestly didn’t know if you would since I… I was gonna be here.”

“Well, Reed asked me,” you said easily. “It’s for a good cause, anyway.”

“And you put up a really great item,” Johnny agreed. You could hear the excitement lacing his words; you were responding to him.

You laughed at the reminder of his item. “And you have a lovely upcoming date, huh?”

He laughed, too, and your amusement diminished at similar times, realizing that you laughed together.

You shyly tucked your chin, still free of meeting his eye. It felt better to avoid his face. You could pretend like you were talking to someone you hadn’t once loved.

“I do have a lovely upcoming date,” he confirmed. “I thought about asking her to dance, but thought I’d take a chance with someone else instead.”

His honesty made your resolve shatter. You broke your determined decision to avoid his eyes and your body moves, your mind lost, as you raise your eyes to look at his face. The sincerity in his features could’ve made your knees buckle.

You didn’t notice that you stopped, and he smiled bashfully as he moved you back into motion. Your face tinted pink and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head.

Be strong, you try to remind yourself. You’re supposed to be angry, not charmed.

“You could’ve taken a chance with any of the ladies waiting for you,” you acknowledged, tilting your head to the outskirts of the dance floor.

“Eh, they’re not you.”

It’s sobering. You snapped his name, intentionally, warning him. It’s forward for him to say that. It made your blood run cold and your heart skip a beat at the same time.

You warned, but he didn’t care. “So here are my current thoughts,” he said decidedly. “You came to an event that you knew I’d be at. You accepted a dance with me willingly —“

“Well, I did sort of have to, given that you attract attention,” you muttered, irritated.

“I wasn’t above begging on my knees, so thank you for that,” he continued smoothly. He paused. “Wait a minute—did you only say yes because there’s people watching?”

“Yes,” you said obviously.

“Oh, so you don’t actually want to dance with me.”

“Nope,” you said.

“Ah, understood,” he nodded slowly. “So, quick follow up, would you have said yes if you brought a plus one?”

You couldn’t help yourself and you laughed. You hated yourself for it and hated that you were charmed. Sharing another laugh with him, watching the way that his smile lit up his eyes and hearing the raspy chuckle that was his joy made you sigh.

“You’re not asking if I brought a plus one, because you’d already know,” you said with an eye roll. “So be brave and ask what you really want to know.”

He smirked. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You shook your head at the playful gleam in his eye. “No, Johnny, I’m not.”

“Ah,” he said. “So, you came to a place where I am, you accepted a dance with me because you don’t have a boyfriend—“

“—because we’re in public—“

“Semantics,” he cut you off. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were hitting on me, doll.”

It’s supposed to be a nice compliment. It’s supposed to show sincerity or that he’s been looking at you and thinking of you all night, and it does make your head spin, but it also makes your blood boil.

You laughed incredulously. “You are incredible, Johnny Storm.”

He shrugged. “Some would say fantastic.”

You don’t respond. You took a deep breath, the irritation at his annoying little banter and the way it made you fond of him boiling under your heartache. You hated how you laughed at him and how easily he guided you into a corner, where you had to socially accept a dance, where you were forced to have a conversation.

“You could’ve called,” you decided to say.

You were brave, and stared up at him, disappointed. You spent three years avoiding each other. Was there truly no respect for a direct conversation, after all this time?

“You could’ve called, you could’ve sent a card, you could’ve flown to my balcony,” you offered. “You wait three years to have a conversation with me and you still don’t have the nerve to tell me why you left me, but you can make a pass at me? Is that all I am to you now?”

His face paled. “No,” he said, instantly regretful. “No. I don’t mean—I, I don’t mean anything by it, I just—“

You slipped your hands from him and shook your head, taking a step away from him. “Thanks for the dance, Johnny,” you said dismissively, turning on your heel.

He fell into step beside you and you turned on him, quickly, your hardened eyes enough to make him stop in his place. You don’t care, really, that you’re in the middle of the dance floor, or that people are glancing over at you. You tried not to care at how tragically he looked at you.

“You told me to let you go,” you snapped. You burned holes into his eyes. “Do you not remember that?”

He stared back at you, cowering under your gaze.

“Do you?” you asked again.

“Of course I do,” he said softly.

“Fixing my monorail or flying by my house to keep watch is not going to change anything,” you told him coldly.

His shoulders fell. Yes, you noticed his glowing form pass by your place when they thought the Mad Thinker was targeting you. How could you be conspicuous as a man on fire?

“You hurt me. Do you understand that?”

He lowered his head. “I know.”

“You’re the one who left,” you reminded him. “You’re the one who told me to leave.”

“I know.”

“Then what? Why did you ask me to dance?”

“I just…” he inhaled a sharp breath. He couldn’t even look at you. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You gave him a chance, three years later, after years of avoiding him and stealing glances and wondering if there was ever a chance that he could be honest with you.

But it proved that you can’t have a relationship with him. Not even a friendship. Some part of you will always resent him for hiding the truth.

Saying yes to a dance with him told you that you let the place in your heart for him continue to yearn, because you still want to know why. You thought your souls understood each other. You thought that even if he didn’t love you back, that he could respect you and tell you why he left.

But he can’t, so you make the decision to leave. You don’t give him the luxury again. You left him alone on the dance floor.

*

 

You left New York City shortly after the Reed Tech fundraiser for a long, long stint abroad. You travelled and spread the word about your company, Reed Tech, the Future Foundation. You met a lot of people, one man, who even asked you to stay.

“What’s even keeping you in New York?” He wondered, his arms tight around your waist, as you washed dishes.

“My work,” you said obviously.

“Your work is wherever you are,” he denied. “Move here, relocate, put your work into other parts of the world. Become a world traveller.”

“I am a world traveler,” you said teasingly. You shook your head. “I love New York City. I could never leave.”

“The city’s routinely being torn up by the Fantastic Four,” he said. You sighed, tensing. Even abroad, you couldn’t avoid talk of them. “Do you want to live in a dangerous city?”

“They actually have a great record for crime,” you corrected.

“You know what I mean,” he said with an eye roll. He snuggled into you. “Just doing what I can to get you to stay.”

“I’ll visit,” you agreed.

He sighed, turning you around and putting his hands over your face. “And I’ll call you daily until you return. Just wish I could see your face, too.”

His words make you think of the device that Johnny made you. You know it’s sitting at the bottom of the shoebox you had angrily thrown all reminders of Johnny into.

“Me too,” you said, shaking out of your memory. You smiled. “Guess a phone call will have to do.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about that device for the rest of your trip. You forgot about it, somehow. You hadn’t gone through the box in a long time. You just hadn’t been ready.

Nearly four years later, it’s probably time to throw it away.

When you returned home, you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down on the rug beside your bed, pulling out the box.

Your most recent addition was a small figurine of him that shook out of your cereal box. You have photos together and newspaper cuttings of his old interviews and the first prototype he made with your initials. You have a left over shirt of his that you forgot to throw out. You have the letters he wrote you, the cards. Your holiday and birthday cards from the Fantastic Four are in there, too.

Ben and Sue always write a few sentences about how proud they are of you, wishing you joy and love and happiness. Reed is succinct with a single line. There’s been a progression of Johnny’s signature over the years.

Thinking of you on your birthday. Have a great one.

-J.

 

Enjoy your day.

-Johnny

 

Have a good one.

Johnny Storm.

 

This year, it’s just a signature. No words.

You sighed at the reminder, the physical manifestation of any semblance of truth being ripped away from you in a progression of birthday card signatures. You tossed the card away and dug through the box for the device.

You weren't even really sure if it still worked. You shook it, tapped the back. The screen flickered on. You started to twist the knobs at the back, squinting through the static noise and poorly paired connection. You were thinking if you could rewire it, maybe replicate the device, when you heard him call your name.

You froze, and seconds later, you saw Johnny’s face on your screen, before you shut it off and threw it across the room to your bed. 

Your room was silent as you waited for him to possibly call back. He didn’t, and you didn’t either, and you tucked the device back into its spot in the bottom of the box under your bed.

You finished more than just one glass of wine that night.

 

*

 

On the anniversary of the Fantastic Four, you’ve learned it’s easier to spend the day doing literally anything else except sit in front of the television or be in the heart of the city.

Four years into their new lives, you thought the celebration couldn’t get any different. The city will shoot off fireworks and Johnny will make the ‘4’ in the sky, they’ll be interviewed, the people of the world will say, “Thank you, Fantastic Four,” and you’ll spend the day pretending like you’re okay.

Your heartache is cured when Sue and Reed announced their pregnancy, instead. You’re happy for them.

You remembered a few times throughout the years where Sue would look fondly at a baby, both of you eating at a restaurant or conversing at an event, and you would just grab her hand.

Their bodies had been changed since going to space. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know they were wondering if children were out of the realm of possibility.

The next time you see her, you already have several gift baskets that Herbie has to help you bring to her office. Gift cards, diapers, clothes for a year, and a special baby blanket that you hand knitted.

Sue grabbed the blanket first, holding it to her heart. “This is so kind. How long did this take you to make?”

You waved a hand. Little did she know, in your absence of a boyfriend and, frankly, social events that did not pertain to work, you were taking up the hobbies of an elderly woman. All you did was knit and bake and watch reruns of your favorite show. It was a boring life, in comparison to hers, but it was a life you were dealing with.

“You’re very kind,” she said, hugging you tightly. 

“Are you so excited?” You asked.

She was glowing like you’d never seen. “Yes, unbelievably.” 

You hugged her again. “You are going to be the best Mom.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Someone else said that to me, too.”

You looked at her curiously, before the realization set in. You laughed awkwardly and then nodded. “Well, it’s true. And I’m sure Reed will get there after many books and training classes and once the general panic settles.”

“Right,” Sue agreed, laughing heartily. “Can you help me bring these upstairs?”

You tilted your chin knowingly at her.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s out,” she said. “I promise.”

You agreed and picked up the heaviest bags. You, Herbie, and Sue waddled to the elevator and up to level twenty. You took a deep breath before the doors slid open. You haven’t been up there in four years.

Preparations are underway. You noticed the changes immediately; baby proofing was already well in progress. There is a baby gate between the elevator and door that Sue admonished Herbie for—as the baby is still developing—there are baby locks on the cabinets, locks on drawers, and all the electrical outlets have been plugged accordingly.

“Herbie’s doing great work here,” you complimented sarcastically, laughing at the updates.

Sue smiled. “He’s been ready to be a Nanny for a long time. You should see the pile of books Ben bought. Between the two of them, we’ll never need another babysitter.”

You helped Sue bring the gift baskets to the kitchen table. You stopped for a moment, your hand on the dark wood, remembering your chair, the placemat that used to specially belong to you. You thought it was a brief moment of remembrance, of warm laughter and full bellies, but when you looked up at Sue, she’s staring at you somberly.

“You could stay, you know,” she said softly. “For dinner.”

Your immediate response is to avoid it. You tapped your fingers on the table and then circled it, going in for another hug, when you’re interrupted by the fire alarm going off.

You can see a flash of orange and red coming in through the sliding glass door near the living room; you heard the whoosh of him putting out his flames as he landed on the walkway above your heads. You can hear his footsteps as he thudded across the walkway and into his room.

“Herbert!” he yelled, annoyed.

Sue laughed as Herbie jetted off to turn off the fire alarm. You watch her tenderly, her hand on her belly, her smile radiant and full of love.

“Herbie’s convinced we need fire alarms, but it’s kind of backfiring when Johnny comes home,” she explained.

You envied her for a moment. She’s a successful, smart, beautiful woman who has a doting husband and her family in the same house to help raise their baby. She’s the embodiment of someone who can do it all, who is love, and is loved.

It’s a reminder of how alone you are.

She noticed you staring at her and reached to touch your arm. She held on to your arm, her gentle and soothing gaze directed on you enough to make you want to cry.

Reed had tried, Ben had tried, and Sue usually left the topic of you and Johnny alone, but there were times that she said everything with no words.

You see it all in her eyes as she looks at you. He’s upstairs. You could stay. You could talk to him. 

You don’t have the heart to ever tell her that you and Johnny are just better off as strangers.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

You squeezed her hand and left before he knew you were there. 

Chapter 13

Halloween has never been your favorite holiday, but you do get a special joy out of handing candy to children. They’re sweet. They use their imagination, their costumes are creative, and it gives you a chance to dress up, too.

Vivian started hosting a Halloween party at your office, usually for the staff children, but she’s began to open it up to local schools and invite families to learn about your organization and, more importantly, get candy.

Other years, you’d been out of the state or country, but this year, you’re in New York City, so you attended. Vivian warned you to dress up, threatening you if you didn’t, so you picked up an elegant forest green dress and a flower crown, telling the children you were Mother Earth. Vivian rolled her eyes at your option but handed you a bucket of candy and left you alone.

You sat on a desk, greeting families, introducing yourself, and handing candy to children who held out their buckets. There are a variation of costumes—animals, television characters, and there is an overwhelming amount of children in blue suits. Everyone that isn’t a certain member of the Fantastic Four gets multiple pieces of candy, though they are none the wiser.

It’s quite late when you and Vivian are finished cleaning up the office. You had stayed to help, despite her instance, and all the previous years that she had finished alone.

“I’m sorry you did this alone for all these years,” you said honestly. “I should’ve joined the other ones. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Vivian smiled and patted your back. “You’re here now.”

You nodded, smiling sadly. You took the garbage bags from her hands and elected to take them out back. It doesn’t take you too long to return. When you step back into the office, Vivian’s eyes snap to you, and you recognize the look in her face instantly. You’ve seen it before—there’s something wrong  with Johnny.

The television was on as you both cleaned up, extra noise in the background, and now it’s on full volume as a ‘Breaking News’ banner has interrupted the broadcast. It’s camera footage from a few angles, taking turns, showcasing a silver woman on a sleek board hovering above Times Square. Her body is still, her gaze scanning, and your stomach sinks the longer she stays still.

The Fantastic Four are there within seconds to respond. You know their response was urgent because they’re not in costume. Sue is in a large blue sweater, her pregnant belly on display; Reed and Ben are in a dressed down suits, and Johnny, extinguishing as he drops down beside them, is in khaki pants and a blue jacket.

Your eyes snap between the Silver Woman and the Fantastic Four. You’ve never seen anything like her before, and likely, they haven’t either. Their foes have been Earth-bound thus far. They never returned to space after the initial launch, and no one has ever before come from space.

Suddenly, they seemed small.

But they’re brave, standing together, facing the Silver Woman.

You’re shocked by her voice, when she decides to speak. Her voice is silky smooth and gentle: “Are you the protectors of this world?”

Sue has no hesitation, and there’s no hesitation from the men beside her as she spoke up:. “Yes, we are.”

“Your planet is now marked for death.”

Time seemed to slow. Your stomach twisted. Your eyes find Johnny. 

But the woman continues: “Your planet will be consumed by the Devourer. There is nothing you can do to stop him, for he is a universal force, as essential as the stars. Hold your loved ones close. Speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak. Use this time to rejoice and celebrate, for your time is short.”

You’re speechless. There are panicked murmurs and screams, the world shocked into silence and astonishment at this woman’s warning.

The Fantastic Four are still standing tall, except Reed, who made a gesture to stand closer to Sue.

“I herald his beginning. I herald your end. I herald Galactus.” 

There is a brief pause, a frozen second of time, where her words sink in, then you’re back to reality when she turns on her board and jetted into the sky. Your hand flew out to grab Vivian’s arm, panicked, as Johnny is hot on the Silver Woman’s tail. The camera turned to the sky, but their forms are lost in the darkness of the night. Your head whipped to the window you’re standing beside, like you could see him yourself, with your own eyes, but you can’t.

Silently, you beg Johnny not to leave the atmosphere, knowing that he knows not to leave where there is no oxygen, but also knowing how reckless he can be. How thoughtless, in the face of turmoil.

You turned back to Vivian when she placed her hand on yours. Her eyes are filled with tears.

“We should go home,” she whispered.

You hugged her. She broke, light sobs coming from her, and you hold her a little tighter. You’re in shock by the Herald’s warning—the whole world is, and you can hear it by the screaming outside, the yelling. You two need to leave before the pandaemonium starts.

You pulled away and held her firmly by her shoulders, asking her to breathe. She can’t drive while crying; she needs to calm down.

“You have to get home safe,” you begged her. You pushed her towards the door. “Go home. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Where are you going to go?” she asked, sniffling. She stopped at the doorway. “You can’t stay here. Don’t stay here.”

“I won’t,” you promised. She stayed, because she didn’t believe you. “I won’t, Viv, I’ll go home. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she urged.

You started to retort, about to tell her that you weren’t, but you stopped. You both know it would be a lie. You’re going to home an empty house.

Hold your loved ones close.

Speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.

You imagine that she thought of someone, or many people to hold close. You know she has a loving husband waiting for her at home. You know what Vivian is saying by telling you to not be alone. You know what she’s urging you to do, at the end of the world.

“I…” you tried to start. You look at her hopelessly. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” she encouraged. “It’s the end of the world. Don’t leave with any regrets.”

You don’t know if you can follow through with her ask. But, at the end of it all, it’s human nature to provide comfort, so you nod, agreeing, and she offered you a small smile before she left your sight.

You stay at the office. You pulled a chair up to the windows, your eyes scanning the sky. You’re biting your nails, tapping your feet, blinking quickly when you need to and sparingly, your eyes darting across the sky for his form descending from the skies.

Your head is anything but empty. The Heralds words are repeating in your head.

Speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak.

Hold your loved ones close. 

Your time is short. 

You can hear the television from where you’re sitting by the windows. The news anchors have been rendered speechless. They’re trying to stutter through the rest of the breaking news, they’re trying to calm panic, and give a call of action to the Fantastic Four, who have denied to comment on the Herald at this time.

There’s an eerie fog over the city that is likely spreading across the entire world. Uncertainty. Blind faith being stripped from the fantastic four. They’ve protected New York City. But can they protect the world?

Hold your loved ones close. 

Your time is short. 

You finally see him descend from the clouds. It’s a steady, orange flash that indicates he’s not falling, he’s in control, and he’s headed home to the Baxter Building. He’s heading home to his family, whom, if the end of the world did come, would have each other.

You have no one. You have your business. You’re going home to an empty house.

Sitting by yourself, in the office that you built and maintained, you wished you would’ve fought harder when Johnny left you. You wished you would’ve talked to him at Pan Am, or at the monorail, or gave him a chance when he asked you to dance. You wished you would’ve told him that you love him.

Speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak. 

You don’t know if you can. You don’t really know if you even should. You don’t know if he would even care. The last time you saw him, you yelled at him. You’ve spent four years circling each other and you don’t know if he would even care for a conversation with you.

You turned to the television when the news caster took a deep, shaky breath. She tells the viewers, if they’re still listening, to be with their families. She wishes you all good luck and goodnight. When the screen turns black, you sit in complete and utter silence.

The realization breaks your heart. In the silence, you realize that no one will be looking for you.

You walked home in silence, although the world is not silent. The roads are clogged, the city noisy with honking, with crashes, people panicked and trying to get home to their loved ones. People are running down the street. You tried to make yourself small, protect yourself from being run down.

If you’re honest, being amongst the chaos made you feel a little less lonely. The noise is comforting, in a time where you know you’ll return home to silence.

You put your lock in the door to your apartment and twisted the door open. You kicked off your shoes. You dropped your coat at the door. You’re undressing in a haze, not completely realizing that, despite not leaving any lights on when you left, there is light coming from your bedroom.

You noticed that your apartment is illuminated by an orange glow coming from the crack in your bedroom door.

You’re stunned by the thought. You’re stunned by the even possible, fleeting thought that the light belongs to a person.

You’re out of your own body as you’re carried forward. Your hand pressed against the door, lightly, peeking around it, like you can hide once you see him, or make a decision to turn around. But his orange glow on your balcony is intoxicating to you in your grief and any conscious thought is gone.

When he sees you, his flames extinguish instantly. You squint at his bright aura, your hand coming up to shield your vision, as you watch his eyes turn from orange, glowing orbs to his signature beautiful blue hue.

There’s not much space between you. A few steps, a sliding glass door. His eyes soften as they meet yours, and he stays still, waiting. Inviting you to make a decision.

You crossed the short distance and opened the door. You stepped outside, the concrete cold on your feet, and you must have winced or pulled a slight face, because he noticed, and sets his feet on fire accordingly, gentle flames warming the floor and your feet.

You wiped your fingers under your eyes, clearing any remaining smudged make up on your face. You ran your hands through your hair and ran into the crown on your head, which you swore gently at, and grabbed it from your head. You tucked it under your arm as you crossed your arms over your chest. You weren’t cold, but your body was trembling.

Johnny smiled at you. A small, warm smile, complete with a head tilt and those sleek eyebrows came together with concern.

You don’t have to ask why he’s there. He doesn’t have to ask why you haven’t wondered. You both understand why you’re standing together on your balcony.

At the end of the world, you thought of each other.

“How long have you been here?” you asked softly.

“Not long,” he said quietly. “I was going to check your office, next.”

“I was there,” you nodded. You gestured at your outfit. “Halloween party.”

“Mother Earth,” he guessed, and the certainty with which he said it made your eyes twinkle with admiration.

He was the only person you didn’t need to explain yourself to.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, an eyebrow raising in that flirty way he was so good at. “She has nothing on you.”

You rolled your eyes, a sniffle prefacing your chuckle. “Still trying to swoon me at the end of the world, Storm?”

Johnny shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned his low back on your balcony. “I think I’ll keep trying, if you let me.”

You sighed, a shaky breath, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart and the shake in your body as you stood in front of him.

There’s so much to say, and yet, nothing at all. It’s inevitable for you both to be thinking about the last time you were standing together, an unknown event on the horizon, and knowing that Johnny has to go, while you have to stay.

Johnny cleared his throat. He rubbed at the back of his neck and blew air slowly from his lips. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah, me either.”

It comes from his lips like he’s not supposed to say it: “We leave in less than 24 hours.”

Your stomach sank. “What?”

“We’re going to find Galactus,” he said. He glanced to the skyline, the stars, before he turned back to you. “We’re going to fight him, or ask him to eat another planet, or something. I don’t know. We’re going to do something.”

His rambling indicated to you that he’s not only scared, but that the Fantastic Four have no plan, other than going to meet Galactus. You’re not shocked by the revelation, but your anxiety doesn’t settle. Again, they’re going into space, with the concepts of a plan. This time, the fate of the world is at stake.

You want to do a lot of things—cry, scream, hold him, punch him. There’s no time. He’s leaving in mere hours and he’s come to you, standing in front of you with nothing except the urge to be near you before uncertainty strikes.

It hits you, finally. It feels like a part of your brain unlocks when you realize Johnny’s pattern.

Finally, you understand that after doing this four years ago, and doing this last year at the Reed Tech Fundraiser, that he puts you both in these impossible situations so that he can run. He cornered you before launch because he could run to space and he cornered you at the Fundraiser because he could be in control.

He’s here, now, hours before he leaves, because he’s there to tell you something, and run.

You’re tired of him running. You have no idea what he’ll say to you, and  your brain is telling you to ask him to leave, your heart is asking him to be honest, and your entire soul is begging him to stay near you.

“Say what you came here to say,” you cut through to him. You’re crying already, wiping under your eyes sloppily. “You’re leaving in less than twenty-four hours and you came here to tell me something and run away to space, so tell me. Get it over with.”

Johnny jerked his head with surprise. His left hand came up to point at you, his brow coming together in defense, you’re sure he was going to defend himself, but when his sleeve slid up and you noticed the thin bracelet on his wrist, your eyes were trained on it. He noticed.

“What?” He asked.

You reached for it. He was quick to extinguish the flames from his feet as you stepped into his space and grabbed his wrist, sliding the sleeve of his jacket up, holding his wrist in your hands.

It’s yours. It’s the bracelet you gave him before he went to space, four years ago.

You looked up at him desperately.

“I’ve never taken it off,” he whispered. He doesn’t have to speak loudly. You’re close to him, less than an arms length away, and you’re staring up at him. “It’s never come off. Even survived celestial rays in space.”

You can feel his pulse in your hands. Your fingers are on his wrist, his heartbeat, and it stays steady. It hits you like a truck.

“You were my first thought,” he said. He stares into your eyes, your vision blinded by tears as your knees feel weak at his candor and earnestness. “My only thought. I wanted to find you, and I know what happened the last time I stood in front of you before I went to space, and I know it’s selfish, but I can’t go up there again without seeing you one last time.”

“It’s not your last time seeing me,” you said sternly. “Don’t say that.”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

The way he searched your eyes and scanned your face made you uncomfortable. Not in a way that you wanted to run, but in the way where you knew exactly what he was doing by slowing down time. He was trying to remember you.

“Don’t say that, Johnny, I’m serious. We’re going to see each other again,” you said angrily, pushing against his chest. Your eyes were furious as they stared up at him. “We’ve been pretending to ignore each other for years and I’m not done doing that. You’re going to come back so we can keep avoiding each other and fighting at Fundraisers and so I can keep wearing heels to stupid events that you’ll save the day at.”

“Yeah?” he asked you, amused, despite it all.

You wiped your tears harshly. “Yes.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded. It made you sick with anticipation, but you nodded.

“The night before launch,” he said slowly. He searched your face for any resistance, but when you nodded encouragingly, he continued, “A reporter cornered me. She had photos of us dating all the way back to the beach, a timeline of how fast your business was propelled, compared to other Foundation recipients. Hacked emails between you and Sue. It would’ve proved everything we were trying to hide.”

You blinked.

He continued, “I was looking through those photos and I felt so guilty. It was all because of me. I took you out in public, I asked to kiss you at the airport, I tried to be sweet and propel your work because your boss was my sister. It was all my fault and I couldn’t let you throw your work or reputation away for me—“

You opened your mouth to reject him, but you stopped at his piercing look. Any objection would’ve made you a liar. You and Johnny both remembered the way he used to be irresistible to you.

“You would’ve. You would’ve fought me and told me it didn’t matter, but it did. It mattered to me. I hope, all these years later, that it matters to you now. Your work deserved the attention and the respect and I wanted better for you than what I could give you. I left you because you deserved to be celebrated and loved, loudly, unabashedly, in front of the entire world and I couldn’t do it then. I couldn’t give you peace,” he said. Then, quietly, like he forgot you were there: “I can’t give you peace.”

You don’t comment on it. Your mind is spinning. For the same reason that he convinced you to date in secret, he chose to leave you. He chose your career for you, instead of choosing himself.

In the depths of your mind, you’ve been asking yourself for years why he did it. You thought maybe he wanted you to hate him in case he died in space, like it was easier to grieve if you hated him, or that he couldn’t handle the scrutiny of dating in the public eye, or that he really did want to choose his career over you. But it was all wrong.

He left you because he put you first. He knew that you would’ve fought, or tried to work through the problem together, and he didn’t give you a chance. Four years ago, head over heels for him, you would’ve chosen him over everything, and he knew it.

“And when you told me to leave?” You wondered.

He didn’t need any assistance remembering.

“I was burning through containers on the hour,” he defended. “I couldn’t control it and I was scared and I was so mad at myself for breaking your heart. When you came to see me, the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

There’s a lingering sentence waiting to be said, but you didn’t say it, and neither did he. You both know that he was unsuccessful.

“And I’m so, so sorry about what I did,” he said. His voice cracked. “You’re right and I’ve been a coward. I did run. I was scared to tell you the truth because I knew you would’ve fought for us, and you would’ve asked, and you would’ve looked at me with those eyes and I would’ve thrown my life away for you.”

You’re breathless. It’s his turn to harshly wipe his tears. His eyes turn red instantly and you reached to hold his hand back, shaking your head.

“I thought of you every moment,” he whispered. “At launch, when the cloud hit us, when I thought I died, when we came back. I wanted you to be there in Huntsville but I also didn’t want you there at all. I wanted to say so many things to you, even after, but I fucked it all up and I kept fucking up every chance I’ve had to explain to you and every time I’ve seen you, you look happy and beautiful and then you had Sam—“

The way he sneered your ex-boyfriend’s name made you laugh and Johnny’s red eyes snapped to you, frustrated.

“It’s not funny!” He said, stern, but then his face broke when you kept giggling. He tried not to smile. “It’s not funny. I was heartbroken.”

“Well, I was heartbroken when the entire nation decided to make you their celebrity boyfriend, so we’re even,” you retorted, pushing his arm teasingly. “My coworkers have photos of you on their desk. Do you even know what I went through trying to get over you?”

“Are you?”

He asks shyly. He asks, completely unsure, like you haven’t been dreaming of him for the last four years, or comparing every tender touch to his, or finding him in a crowd of whatever event you happen to be at just to hide from him.

“I don’t think you’d be on my balcony if either of us were,” you whispered.

“I love you.”

The way the words leave his lips is natural. It’s said like he’s talking about the weather or some inconsequential component of life. He says it assuredly, though, and you can feel in your soul that he’s been waiting to tell you.

“I knew damn near since I met you that I would love you, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. You made me really scared,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I was terrified of the way I felt for you and I knew if I told you then you would be it for me.”

Johnny reached to hold your face. His thumbs wipe your tears, a futile gesture, because they kept coming.

“It’s been a long time since you probably felt strongly about me,” he mumbled. “In a positive way, anyway. So you don’t have to say anything back. I’m not expecting you to. I just needed you to know in case I don’t come back.”

All at once, your utter mixture of shock and pleasure and swelling devotion is gone and replaced with anger.

“You’re going to come back,” you said angrily, your voice cracking. You hit his chest and you stepped closer to him, your vision blurred with your tears. “You’re going to come back here, no matter what, I don’t care about the Herald or Galactus. You have to come back.”

“Okay,” he whispered. 

You kept saying it, a mantra, telling yourself and him, willing it to happen every time you repeated it. You fell into him and he caught you, both of you wrapping yourselves around each other and pressing your bodies close, as close as you could physically get. His arms were around your waist in seconds, his hands sliding up to hold you tighter to him. You held him like you could keep him from going and keeping him tethered to Earth. 

“You have to come back here,” you begged him.

“I will,” he mumbled. His breath is hot on your neck as he buried his face into you. His hand slid up, clutching your hair, your neck. You felt his lips on your neck. “I’ll come back to you.” 

There’s no discussion that he’ll stay the night with you, but you’re glad that he does. You don’t want him to leave and he doesn’t want to go, so you leave the door open behind you when you go inside, and he closed it behind him.

He helped unzip you from your dress. You don’t shy away from it and you let the dress drop. He doesn’t shy away from looking at you. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen and you’re not insecure about it. He knows your body, your habits, you, and you have nothing to hide

You mention that you’re going to shower and, although you don’t necessarily invite him, you left the bathroom door open. You smiled at him when he stepped into the shower with you. You gently scrub shampoo into his hair, teasing him about how you liked it long, and he makes fun of you for using the same soap scent after four years. You stand together so long in the shower, holding each other, that the water runs cold. You’re quick to reach around Johnny, wanting to turn it off, but he doesn’t let you move. He becomes very warm against your skin, steaming, and the water begins to match his body temperature.

You nodded, impressed. “It’s a cool trick.”

He has no clothes to change into, so you find a pair of pajama pants with an old, dying waistband and allow him to stretch them out. The patterned pants hang low on his waist and you pretend not to notice the lines sinking below the pants. You pulled on an oversized shirt and underwear and slipped under the covers. He entered from the other side, pausing for a moment, and you see the outline of his face glance at your cluttered nightstand, which is closest to him, and further from you.

“I don’t have to sleep on this side,” he offered.

You hummed. “I’ll be okay for one night.”

It doesn’t matter, either way, because you end up in the middle of the bed. There’s no words. There’s a beat, where both of you are politely on your sides of the bed, as if there’s an invisible line separating you, and then your foot brushed against his and his arm brushed against yours and then you’re inching towards him until he grabbed your waist and slid you across the bed into his chest. Your lips find each other in the darkness.

It feels like home. What you’ve been searching for, it’s here. It’s Johnny.

You give yourself to him completely, soft moans leaving your lips in between kisses. His hands are all over you. You groan when his hand rides up to your hair, tangling in it, gripping it, and you bite his lip as a warning. It’s not a warning, though, it’s an invitation, and he threw you onto the bed below him, forcing your legs open as he drove his hips between them. One of his hands slides behind him, up your thigh, wrapping your legs around his waist. His fingers dig into your thighs. You can feel him against your entrance, poking, asking for permission, and you’re seconds away from telling him you want him, when he tears his lips from you and dropped his head onto your chest. He’s breathing heavily and you are, too, and your hands rub his back.

“What’s wrong, Johnny?” You whispered. You tried to nudge his head with your nose. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I want you,” he said sincerely, pushing himself from you, and leaning back on his calves. You push yourself up, too. “I want you so bad, you have no idea.”

“I probably have some idea,” you muttered playfully.

He grinned for a second, then shook his head. “I just got you back,” he uttered. He leaned forward to press a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to rush it.”

You bit his lip anyway. “Such a gentleman now, hm?”

“I was always a gentleman,” Johnny defended.

He grabbed you and pulled you down to the bed with him. He fit you into him, your back against his chest, your legs tangling, and you pulled the arm around your waist up to your chest, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. You fit together perfectly. He curved into your body in a way that no one else ever did. You sighed at the feeling, the longing in your heart gone, because he was here. You could feel his content, the way his breathing slowed against your back.

“Johnny?” You whispered.

He squeezed your hand, letting you know he was awake.

“I don’t know if what you did was the right decision,” you whispered. “I don’t really know if there was another decision at that time. But, tomorrow, or when you come back, or whenever, I want you to know that I don’t care anymore. I’ll be with you.”

His voice was soft. “You promise?”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his hand. “I promise, Johnny. I’m yours.”

For the first time in a long time, you fall asleep and you wake up. There’s nothing to dream, because the content of your normal dreams is holding you all night, tightly and securely, like you’ll be gone when he wakes.

He has to leave, though.

The morning comes quicker than you anticipate. It feels like seconds from the time you remember falling asleep to when you’re both startled awake by Johnny’s wristwatch blaring. He nearly fell out of bed to answer it, trying to save grace and give you more time to sleep by running to the balcony, but you’re not going to sleep anymore. The minute he left the bed, you know who is calling and what it’s for.

The Excelsior is ready to go.

Johnny has to leave.

You’re barely awake for five minutes before your first tears start to fall.

Johnny pressed a kiss to your forehead when he returned. He pulled on his clothes and folded the pajama pants neatly, leaving them on your dresser. As he secured his watch to his wrist, he knelt down beside your bed, settling his hands on your knees as you pushed yourself up to meet him.

His eyes are sad, reddened with tears of his own, but there’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said. He’s been honest with you, he told you he loved you, and you promised him that you’ll be his when he comes back. There are no words.

“Good luck,” you manage to say, forcing a smile. “I’ll be waiting for you, okay? Don’t forget.”

He smiled. “How could I?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close. You don’t have long. You know he has to leave. The fate of the world is at stake. You both know that. You hold each other for a few moments, tighter than you ever have, so tight that you think you might not be breathing, and then he forced himself away from you, pressing a kiss to your lips, your forehead, the top of your head, and he has to leave before your tethered hearts can keep him there any longer.

Johnny crossed your room in a few strides and slipped out of the balcony door, your eyes meeting for a brief, lingering moment as he closed it behind him. He jumped onto the ledge of your balcony and dove off— the fleeting, free fall would’ve made your heart stop, if he didn’t reappear a second later on fire, and he was gone with nothing but smoke in the air to note that he’d been there.

It takes time, but you get out of bed eventually. You make it to the living room and turned on your television. There is an upcoming press conference, in mere moments, where the Fantastic Four will address the world before their excursion. Overnight, news had spread like wildfire about the commotion around the Excelsior. The entire world knew, before they could even announce it, that they were returning to space after four years.

It’s Reed who addresses the world. Sue is beside him in a new suit, the top flowing and cascading around her pregnant belly. Ben and Johnny are beside her, hardened, determined features on their faces. They are presenting well for the world, projecting confidence and poise, and it’s subtle, but you notice Johnny fidgeting underneath his left glove. You know now exactly what’s underneath his glove—his bracelet, your bracelet. Your reminder to him as he goes into space.

“We will protect you,” Reed said. He paused, the crinkle between his forehead deepening as he stared into the camera. “We will protect you.”

You’re able to see most of the Excelsiors’ launch from your balcony. Some buildings block a perfect view, but the city streets are packed, loud, counting down with the newscasters from ten, which alerted you to watch the sky. You’re breathless as the Excelsior has a successful take off. The city block cheers, the newscasters breathe a sigh of relief. Your breath doesn’t come back until the Excelsior disappears beyond the clouds and beyond the atmosphere.

Johnny promised you he’ll come back to you.

You’re going to believe him this time.

Chapter 14

When they leave atmosphere and they jet off into space, there is cheering in the street and a sigh of relief and a sense of hope.

But after two weeks, with no word from them, time started to stand still. People begin to lose faith in the Fantastic Four and you can feel it in the air.

You can feel the panic start to set in. Your escalating fear of the first time they went to space begins to spread, the memory unwelcome, and somehow like it never left. You can feel your thoughts start to spiral, you start to have nightmares about them lost to the darkness of space, and you find yourself, in every quiet moment, wondering if your mere hours with Johnny was even real.

You may have not believed it if he hadn’t left a piece of paper on your door. You hadn’t noticed it for days, because you didn’t leave your home. People weren’t working. You certainly weren’t working. You had told your staff to stay home and be with their families. Plus, it gave you an excuse to stay busy, covering for essentially your entire team, when the world started to spin again.

You were required for a meeting, four days later, and had to pull yourself together to be in public. With a deep breath, you went to exit your apartment, and noticed a piece of paper addressed to you stuck to the door.

When I’m back, I promise a day won’t go by where you don’t know that I love you.

 

I’ll see you soon.

 

J

 

You ran your fingers over his writing. You missed it. You missed his handwritten notes and the way he used to sign with his initial. You kept the note there as a reminder, every time you left the house, that your heart was split for the moment, and like all things, the pain would pass.

Johnny’s confession and your rekindled flames didn’t change anything. He left, again, and you found yourself still alone. There was a light, in the darkness, this time. But while the whole world was with their families, you remained alone. The only people you wanted to be with were out of your reach.

It took you nearly two weeks to even consider going to the Baxter Building. But you grew tired of seeing the interior of your apartment and your office was empty, so you showed up to the Baxter Building with a box of coffee and donuts for the crew you knew were monitoring for communications.

You were surprised when your badge didn’t work. It typically let you in through the front doors whenever you had a meeting with Reed or Sue. You thought about hacking the system, but decided against it, given they were world-famous superheroes and targets.

Instead, you tried a last resort—the garage. Just to say you did, you entered in the garage code that Johnny had, four years ago, and you made a mental note to scold him when the doors creaked open.

“Reinforced building but same garage code,” you muttered with an eye roll. “Maybe we get a little more creative than your birthday, Johnny.”

You ducked under the garage door and hummed casually, hurrying through the cars and tucking your belongings closely to your chest to avoid scratching the FantastiCar and other luxurious vehicles you were sure belonged to Johnny.

Your badge worked in the elevator, at least, and you scan it, taking you to the Comms Level. It’s a higher floor of the building, for better satellite reach, and while you’ve previously visited and the floor has been buzzing with technological sounds and the comforting sounds of telecommunication, it’s damn near silent.

You pushed through the swinging doors of the designated Space Communication bay. In the giant hall of rows and rows of desks and computers, only two seats are taken.

Worse, one of the man’s legs are kicked up, and the woman is dozing off in her seat.

“Uh, hello?” You asked.

They screamed, and you screamed, and the box of donuts nearly falls out of your hands, but you’re able to save it.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” asked the man, startled. His feet have left the desk and he’s scrambling to look alive.

The woman has followed in his footsteps. “How did you get in? The building’s on lock down.”

“Johnny has no sense of home security, mostly,” you said. “I wanted to see if there was anything I can do to help, but clearly the line must be dead if you’re sleeping.”

They looked at each other nervously.

You frowned. “Where are they?”

“Too far for us to communicate,” said the man. He projected his screen onto the wall above their computers.

You watched the tracker beep, a yellow flickering light pulsating that indicated where they were in the universe at the moment. All they were, now, was a tiny yellow dot.

“They’re alive, though?” You wondered softly.

“As long as they keep moving,” agreed the man with a nod. “We’ll be able to reach them when they come back to the solar system, but, for now, it’s a waiting game.”

You nodded. You figured as much, given the complete radio silence to the media and press. It was comforting to know that they were alive, at the very least. You kept staring at the yellow dot, watching it move mere centimeters on the screen above you, while you were sure they were moving faster than light.

You shared a coffee with the team watching over the Fantastic Four. You learned their names and the rotating twenty-four hour schedule that the Excelsior Team was on, just because the Fantastic Four could return at any time.

You offered to take a shift and they were unsure, but you threatened to tell Reed and Sue about their nap, and they promptly taught you how to sync to the right frequency to communicate with the team once in orbit. You weren’t sure that you would be there when they returned, but you were desperate to do something to feel useful and to feel close to them, in a time where uncertainty started to infect the world.

The longer there was complete radio silence, the worse the world started to feel. You noticed the removal of Fantastic Four related support in your neighborhood—stickers, window signs, the local movie theater even took down their ‘Godspeed, Fantastic Four’ sign and it felt like a hole carving in your chest.

You had to turn off the television when the news became entranced with the Fantastic Four’s abandonment of Earth.

“They probably ran to another universe,” a News Anchor snapped. “Saved themselves and left the rest of us to die!”

You stopped watching the news after that.

You started to take a few hour shifts at the Baxter Building. It turned into much more than a few hours when you stayed later to chat with the people on shift after you, who started to bring their own plates to share, and then, shift by shift, you and the Team turned a whole row of desks into a rotating potluck.

It was a distraction; a way to forget about the impending doom, with every passing day that there was complete radio silence from the Fantastic Four.

“So,” one of the workers asked, days in. She was one of the staff you saw the most. “Why do you come so often?”

You shrugged. You glanced at the widescreen computer, watching the blinking yellow dot that signaled they were still alive.

You didn’t have to answer. You could change the topic and move on, or say they were your friends and you cared. You weren’t going to lie, certainly, because there was no reason to hide it anymore.

Life was different. Four years into running your company, you were established and not scared of losing your career because of a tabloid or bad press. You lived the life where you chose your career and it was empty.

You had to stop being afraid.

You chose honesty.

“Johnny and I are together,” you said, and you chuckled when she and her coworker whipped to you, expecting anything else except that. You smiled. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “That makes more sense.”

“For how long?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, exactly, but you don’t get a chance to. The three of you turned towards the door when you heard the elevator doors chime, down the hallway. They panic and started to clean up their work spaces, take their feet off the desk, and tidy the space. You don’t move, because you’ve gotten so used to the cadence of her walk that you know it’s Lynne.

You smiled at the sight of her. “Hi, Lynne,” you greeted.

She smiled politely back at you. “Hi, Y/N,” she said sweetly. “I noticed your presence here and no badge activity.”

“About that,” you said, snapping your fingers. “We gotta tell Johnny he needs a new garage code. Hasn’t changed it in four years. Bad for security.”

“So is unmarked entry, so your badge has been updated to full access,” she said coyly. She raised an eyebrow. “Even to level twenty.”

You blinked. You hadn’t thought about it. You stayed in the Comms Level because that was closest you could possibly be to him while he was away. You hadn’t thought even for a second about going up to their home.

But Lynne, who had held you the last time he went away, who personally invited you to see him upon his return, and who had kept your schedules from overlapping for four years, was doing just one more thing to help you.

You smiled at her, warmed and your heart full. You asked with your eyes and a tilt of your head— Are you sure?

She nodded. “A little birdie told me to offer it if you looked particularly sad.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t resist the shy smile that crossed your face.

She turned to the other two, who were pretending to look extremely busy. “I expect to hear from the team the minute they’re in reach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You giggled at the way Lynne could strike the fear of God into people. You bid the team goodbye and pulled your badge from your purse, joining Lynne on the walk to the elevator.

“I have to thank you,” you said. “For a lot of things, honestly, but thank you for looking out for me .”

She glanced at you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You smiled. “Right,” you agreed.

She nudged your shoulder with hers, a genuine smile on her lips. “I take it you two finally talked?”

You inhaled and then nodded. “Yeah.”

She nodded triumphantly. “Finally,” she said, as the elevator doors opened to her requested floor and she stepped out. “You two were giving me a scheduling headache.”

You laughed as the doors closed. You retrieved your badge and scanned it towards the elevator. It flashed a blue ‘4’ at you before taking you up to the twentieth floor. Their home.

You went right to Johnny’s room. His door opened easily and you’re intrigued by the way it’s been updated. You can tell that it has been Fantastic-ified by the concentration of blue, and, as you giggle, the portrait of himself on the wall.

You walked onto the platform, where his record player and collection was, smiling at the view of the water from his window. You could imagine him sitting there, with the record player on, staring at the city line, at the Excelsior, and maybe at the beautiful view of the stars.

His record collection had doubled. You remembered reading, in one of his magazine interviews, that he mentioned liking music and the chapters of the Flaming Hearts Club needed no coordination to rally together and send Johnny thousands of records.

You flicked through his most recently played, being careful of the golden records you knew were deep space recordings from Reed. You found nothing you particularly wanted to listen to, so you let the record play that was already on.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, will you be mine?”

You closed your eyes and smiled. All the doubts that you had about your few hours before he left faded away. He left you a note, he told Lynne to keep an eye on you, and he left his last record be a reminder of the most perfect night of your life.

Johnny Storm loved you. He was going to come back to you.

You let the music play as you returned to looking around his room. You found yourself in front of his bookshelf, peering at the trophies, books, and the scattered photos. He had his own official astronaut photo and the photo of his family in their suits, everyone standing seriously and proudly, while he gave Reed rabbit ears with a smirk.

Then, there was you.

You found yourself on his bookshelf, a grainy, poor quality photo of you and Johnny, the first time he tried on his suit. Your nose is scrunched in concentration and your hands are holding his helmet above his head, frozen in time, trying to put it on, and he’s smiling at you like you’re the center of his universe. It’s a poor quality photo, but it’s both of you, in love, before you ever knew.

You took the photo and fell back on his circular bed, tears welling in your eyes. You missed him. You’ve been missing him for years and depriving yourself of him.

Johnny’s bed smells strongly like him, how you remember, except everything now has a vague smell of char. You fell back on his bed, curled into his blankets, and held the pillow like he’s in your arms and you can protect him from Galactus. 

You ended up staying for a few days. You borrowed Johnny’s clothes and ate whatever leftover food they had. There wasn’t much, so you survived on Johnny’s cereal, after it took you hours to figure out how to open his secret cabinet.

“Silly me,” you muttered, ripping the first box you saw open. “Two claps instead of a voice command. Rookie mistake.”

It’s a different world in the Baxter Building. Their home is on a level so high the only noise is the wind battling against the glass windows. You started to leave the television on for background noise.

Given that you couldn’t handle the bad mouthing of the news, you turned on the children’s station, and find yourself completely in love with the Fantastic Four cartoon. You made a mental note to ask Johnny to say his cartoon counterparts catchphrase sometime.

When you become bored, you venture down to the Comms Level to bother them. They’re just as bored as you are, waiting for even just a signal from the Fantastic Four, so you end up starting a golfing contest with a random golf club you found in Johnny’s closet. You’re shockingly good and it took a week for someone to beat your record.

Every day, you wake up and check the landing pad outside of Johnny’s window, like you wouldn’t immediately be woken up if the Excelsior returned by the noise alone.

You keep busying yourself as days pass and the world stops believing in the Fantastic Four a little bit more every day. 

Then, one day, a month later, it’s pandemonium and breaking news  in the morning when the Excelsior has been not only heard from, but spotted in the solar system. 

You have the same feeling you did four years ago – it’s the ship; you don’t know who’s on it. 

It’ll take a few hours for them to reach Earth, but you can feel the breath back in people’s lungs. You can feel the collective sigh of the people on Earth when their beloved heroes are confirmed to be returning.

You can feel the relief in your bones when you were assured by the team that all four were accounted for, and before you can interrupt, one of them confirmed Herbie was okay, too.

You’re standing out while you wait for them because you’re not in the typical blue uniform of their staff, but you’re instead in one of Johnny’s white T-shirts with the ‘4’ on it and a pair of blue jeans.

Lynne invited the press, because they were expected to hold a press conference upon arrival, but she also invited you. You fought with her, wanting to wait in a more private area, but she looked at you with those eyes, that saw right through you, and knew how badly you wanted to see him.

She invited you to the landing pad, too, but you declined.

In spite of it all, some deep part of your psyche remembered the last time he returned from space, and declining her invitation was your way of protecting yourself. You believed he wanted to see you before he left, at least, but it wasn’t like you ironed out the specifics of your relationship before he went to space.

Standing with the reporters, you could still save face, and be there for all four of them. At this point in your career, it was normal to be seen with the Fantastic Four; you were cemented as affiliated with them.

Reed was the first through the door after Lynne. The room erupted, with screams, cheers, and a million people shouting “Question!” at him.

You stood just before the press, and you took a step away when they started to push past the rope barrier. The various security guards took a stride closer to the crowd as a protective measure.

When Sue stepped into the room with a bundle in her arms, the room went ballistic. In the push against security and towards the newborn, everyone wanting a first look, an exclusive, hands are extended, bodies are pushed, and the crowd gains traction on you.

You’re nearly swallowed in the sea of people. You made a noise of shock as a microphone hit you in the back of your head, but before you can turn and yell, your hand is grabbed by a familiar and welcoming warm hand.

You met Johnny’s eyes as he pulled your hand, your arm, and the dull pain at the back of your head is gone as you’re entranced by him being back in your vicinity. You looked at him, your hand gripping his tightly, forcing yourself to recognize that he was here . He was back. You could feel heart unclench and beat freely again with him near you.

A goofy, bright smile spread across your face as you saw him there in front of you, and he shyly smiled back at you before he pulled you from the crowd and placed you securely in front of him. His hands fell to your waist and he nudged you forward, falling in line behind Sue and with Ben behind the two of you.

The hall continued to thunder with noise as you all move towards the podium. Lynne continued to shout at reporters to calm down. With a look to the group, a desperate plea for someone to step up, it’s Reed who found himself at the podium, as Sue dropped back a step, her hands clutching the bundle in her arms.

Johnny leaned into you. His breath on your ear electrified your whole body. He said two words: “You’re here .”

He picked you from the crowd. His hands were on you, obviously, and wholly. You were standing too close together to be anything else.

He loved you, and when he returned, he made sure you had no doubt about it.

You leaned back into him. You turned your head slightly, catching his eye. “I promised,” you said.

You felt his lips on the back of your head. He squeezed your hand and then nudged you away from the podium, as he and Ben stepped up to stand beside Reed.

Sue placed a hand on your back, turning your attention to her. “Come with me?”

You would follow her anywhere. You put your hand on her back and stayed close, your other hand hovering protectively over her, her baby. You both move away from the podium and the crowd, placing yourselves closer to the elevator.

Your backs to the crowd, you let the small and controlled scream exit your lips as you beamed at her and the baby.

“Sue!” you said excitedly.

“Hi,” she giggled. She’s bouncing, her hands wrapped around the bundle on her chest. Her face has been stern, protective, but when she turned her back to the crowd, her eyes shine when they meet yours

“Hi,” you said, a smile lighting up your face. You took her by the arms briefly, barely able to see from your squinted eyes. “You’re amazing, Sue.”

She scoffed. “Not at all what I had in our birth plan.”

You rolled your eyes and she leaned towards you, lifting the blanket from over her baby’s head. He was beautiful. You stared at him in awe as he slept soundly, his little face relaxed and full of peace.

“Franklin, meet your Aunt,” Sue whispered.

You smiled warmly down at his sleeping form. You expected nothing less than a perfect baby from Sue Storm—of course he was born in space and of course he could be sound asleep while people shouted and cameras flashed mere feet away.

“Welcome to Earth, little guy,” you whispered.

Reed tapped the microphone. Johnny glanced behind him, at you and Sue, with his nephew, and he didn’t realize he was staring hopelessly at you until Ben nudged his arm and made him face the crowd.

“ I-I’m sorry, we don’t have a prepared statement,” Reed said.

The room erupted.

“Quiet, please, one at a time,” Lynne shouted. She pointed at the first reporter who went silent. “Connor.”

“Welcome back. Can you take us through how you defeated Galactus?” he wondered.

It’s the first time the room is silent, waiting, eagerly to hear the fantastical tale of another victory for the Fantastic Four.

“How we… How we—“ Reed struggled. He looked to Johnny and Ben beside him.

Your heart sank. You glanced at Sue for confirmation. Her blank stare said everything.

“We didn’t,” Ben spoke up.

“Not yet,” Johnny was quick to follow. “Not yet, we didn’t.”

“Follow up!” Connor cried. He huffed. “What do you mean you didn’t?”

“We attempted to negotiate, but Galactus asked too high a price.”

“Well, what does he want?” Another person cried.

“What did he ask?” Someone else called.

Reed glanced again to his family beside him. There’s a small shake of Johnny’s head and a similar notion for Ben, indicating for Reed to lie or to withhold the truth, to keep it brief, as Lynne had warned.

He didn’t. “He asked for our  child. He said give us your child and I will spare the Earth. We said no, obviously, we said no.”

You stepped closer to Sue as the room went ballistic. People were screaming, shouting at them— what do you mean? How could you? Would giving up your child save us?

Lynne rushed to the podium to conclude the speech.

Ben placed a hand on Reed’s back, a warning, and an indication to leave. Reed needed nothing else and bid the reporters farewell, following closely behind Johnny and Ben as they hurried to you and Sue. Ben put himself behind Sue and Franklin, his large frame concealing them from view. Johnny’s hand rested on your back.

“Just answer this, answer this!”

Reed turned.

“Are we safe?”

It’s desperate. The crowd, at once raucous and eager to feel some semblance of relief, is fearful.

Johnny’s hands are on you protectively. He can feel it, too, the shift in the crowd and the fear of the unknown.

Reed doesn’t know any different. He chose honesty, above all else: “I don’t know.”

You’re pushed into the elevator quickly. The Fantastic Four filter in with Franklin, you are basically attached to Johnny by your interlocked hands and though there is space in the elevator, the way he kept you pressed to him says differently.

You get the feeling that he won’t stop touching you now that he’s in close proximity to you. It reminded you of the way he used to be with you, but it mostly reminded you that although you got your wish, there may not be any time.

The elevator ride is silent. It might be the first time in years of working underneath Sue and Reed that Lynne is rendered speechless. That almost scared you more than their admission.

They went to space and came back with nothing of substance for saving the planet. They returned with a baby and simultaneously more of a stake for Galactus to take the Earth.

For the first time in four years, the Fantastic Four were at a loss of words and direction.

“At least you kept it brief,” Lynne said, finally, when the elevator doors open. She held the door for you all to exit, while she remained inside.

“I’ll give you all time to adjust,” she encouraged. “I will… Handle the rest.”

Johnny’s hand slipped to your low back and he guided you to his room, while Reed and Sue stayed behind for a word with Lynne. Ben took the baby from Sue, more than happy to do so, and took the important task of rocking to keep him asleep.

“Reed’s going to ruin that poor woman,” you whispered to Johnny, checking over your shoulder to make sure there was distance between you. “That press release has to be good.”

He agreed. “He is a PR nightmare. Never should’ve let him get up there.”

“As if you were any better? ‘Not yet’” you mocked, smacking his shoulder. “‘Not yet’? I bet that’s comforting to the entire world!”

Johnny smacked his lips. His hands fell to his hips as he looked down at you with a brow raised. “Well, there’s a reason they don’t let me talk, I’m supposed to be the mysterious one.”

“Yeah you’re real mysterious, Mr. Cover of Every Magazine,” you challenged. “I saw your Golf Digest cover. You’ve never golfed a day in your life.”

“I have golfed, actually , one day in my life and I have photographic evidence, so eat your words.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

You paused, staring at each other. He’s smirking and you’re smiling and you’re both whole again. You’re both realizing that it’s real.

“Come here, baby,” he said softly.

You needed no further than that to jump into his arms. It’s awkward with the space suit, but he managed to hug you tightly, picking you up and spinning you around.

For a moment, both of you forget about the oncoming doom.

“You took your sweet time coming back to me, Storm,” you said sternly. “I was getting worried.”

“And I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he said sweetly. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You reveled in the feeling. You tugged at his suit, pulling it gently.

He fumbled with it and told you it usually took a team, and you became impatient, then he did, but you helped him to take it off. You wanted to throw it across the room, but the delicate touch he had while setting it down on his desk made you pause.

You remembered how badly he talked about wanting to go back to space. You didn’t know many things about Johnny in the time you were apart, but he talked about it so frequently that the news reached you.

“You got your wish,” you said.

“You?” he said cheekily.

You grinned. “You went to space.”

“It was beautiful,” he said. He held his helmet gently in his hand and raised it towards you. “I recorded some of it to show you.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “Really?”

“I wanted you to see. I know you’re Earth-bound, but maybe it’ll convince you to come see for yourself one day,” he said.

You shook your head, your finger hitting his chest sternly. “My feet are staying on the ground. No chance.”

“I’ll get you up there,” he said. The corner of his lip rose. “When have you ever been able to resist my charm?”

You grinned at him. “You’re still trouble, Johnny.”

“I’ve been told it’s my middle name,” he agreed. He glanced at his records and his brow came together. He glanced at you. “Did you go through my record collection?”

“Maybe a little,” you said with a shrug. “I was here for a while, I got bored.”

He grinned and took long, dramatic strides towards you. “I think it’s cute you slept in my bed.”

You blushed. “I—“

“You missed me?”

You wanted to say no, now that he was teasing you. You sighed and looked at your wrist, like you were wearing a watch. “Nice to see you, glad you’re back from space, but it’s getting late. I should head home.”

Johnny became serious. “I actually don’t think you should go,” he said honestly. “I mean, Reed just told the world we’re not giving Franklin up . Pretty sure there’s people with pitchforks outside right now.”

“It’s not like you can’t just fly me home,” you tried to argue.

He sighed dramatically. “Wish I could, but I risk burning anyone I fly with.”

“You literally save children all the time. You just light up your feet,” you argued.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said with a twist of his neck. “Since when can I fly? Never tried that before.”

You sighed. He was nothing if not frustrating, but you knew it was coming from a place of concern. Admittedly, you thought about a lot of things while he was gone but, regrettably, putting yourself into danger was not one of them. You certainly didn’t expect for them to flip the entire world against them in mere seconds upon arrival, however.

“Just until it dies down,” you submitted begrudgingly.

“I don’t mind,” he agreed. He tilted his head. “So, you think we’ll get taken out by angry mob or Galactus first?”

You were going to answer, when a knock on the door startled both of you. You both froze, suddenly years lost, staring at each other wide eyed like you were being caught as teenagers sneaking around in his room. You had the urge to hide and he panicked, the juvenile fear of being found out a clear and present danger.

“Johnny,” Sue snapped, just outside the door. “So help me God if you don’t open this door—“

Johnny ripped it open and grinned at his sister. He pushed it open further, revealing you, and Sue’s eyes went from cold, hard slits to a relaxed calm when she saw both of you together.

“Figured I’d find you in here,” she said with a wink. She held up the baby in her arms. “Care to watch him for a few?”

Johnny pretty much ripped the baby from Sue’s arms. He cradled Franklin, the adjustment natural and meant to be, and you couldn’t help the smile that rose your lips. You felt something in your chest stir.

“Say hi to my love,” Johnny cooed, grabbing Franklin’s hand and waving at you.

You ducked, your hands clutched over your heart. “Hi Franklin,” you said in a soft voice, smiling at him so big that the baby couldn’t help but smile, too.

You and Johnny don’t realize that Sue has left. Johnny moved carefully to the bed and laid Franklin on his back. You sit on opposite sides of him, cooing and giggling.

Johnny froze. “Fuck, is he supposed to be on his tummy? Tummy time? Isn’t that a thing?”

“He just came out, Johnny, he’s not ready for that,” you laughed.

He blushed. “Well, I don’t know, I’m a brand new Uncle.”

“You haven’t read any books?” you asked.

“Ben summarized them for me,” he said with a shrug.

You turned back to Franklin when his tiny fingers grasped onto your hair, which you hadn’t noticed was down and brushing against his outstretched hands. You tucked your hair behind your ears and kept it from him, instead letting him clutch your finger, and you sighed as you watched him. Those piercing blue Storm eyes passed to him, too.

Your hair fell again, and you don’t have to reach to put it aside because Johnny is there, pushing it behind your ear. His fingers fell onto your face and you leaned your cheek into your his hand, looking up at him.

The earnestness in his gaze made you feel naked. It made you feel like he was looking right through you.

“You’re here,” he said, again, like you hadn’t been real.

You put your hand on his, taking a breath. Your fingers danced around each other. “Part of me thought this was a dream.”

“I know,” he said. “When I saw you standing there, I… I couldn’t believe it. I was desperate when I came to you on the night before I left and I thought maybe—“

“It was real. It is real, Johnny,” you interrupted him, calming him. “You told me a lot of things before you left, and I want to tell you that I was going to tell you I loved you the first time you launched.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry—“

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “Stop. No more apologies. No more regrets. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You didn’t know how much time was left. Galactus was not only still coming to devour your planet, he was coming for Franklin, too. The Fantastic Four failed, for the first time, and you just wanted to spend your last breath with Johnny.

His head hung low. “Everything’s changed,” he whispered. You felt his guilt, finally, while you two were alone. He kept a cool facade, always, even in front of his family. He only let himself fully feel when he was alone, or, sometimes with you.

You turned to Franklin. He was still preoccupied with your fingers, squeezing them and catching them as you held your hand at his belly. You smiled fondly down at him. He was barely a month old and already at the center of a cosmic threat. 

“Everything has changed,” you agreed. You turned to Johnny. “But you’re still you, and I’m still me, yeah?” 

He nodded. “Maybe we just start there.”

You leaned towards him and he pressed a kiss to your lips. You kissed him again before he pulled away and it made him smile. Your heart was tender.

Sue knocked on the doorframe to announce her arrival. She returned for Franklin and scooped him from the bed, before her eyes bounced between you two with a silently fierce demand to see both of you in the living room.

Johnny and you shared a scared look before you shuffled behind her, single-file, and well mannered.

Ben and Reed were in the living room, standing, and while Reed looked extremely irritated to be standing there instead of being in his lab, Ben looked thrilled to see you two. Ben ushered you and Johnny to sit together on the couch. You felt very much like this was an intervention and for what, you didn’t know.

You decided to jump in, first. “Franklin, he’s perfect. Congratulations.”

Reed flashed a smile. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get to it–” Sue cut you both off, pleasantries over. She stayed standing, too, bouncing Franklin on her hip. “I’m physically exhausted, I’m sleep deprived, and we just fought a Silver Woman for my baby.” 

“‘Just’?” you repeated. “You were all just gone for a month.”

Johnny turned to you in surprise and the others exchanged stunned looks, except Reed, who rambled briefly about how that made sense according to his calculations.

She nodded, comprehending and thinking, before she continued: “We need to figure out how we’re going to defeat Galactus.”

“Well, we’re not off to a great start since Reed told the whole world he wants your baby,” Johnny muttered.

Sue snapped his name, Johnny held his hands up in surrender, and Herbie joined, a string of beeps indicating that he confirmed increased security measures around the Baxter Building.

“We will figure it out,” Sue said with a deep breath. “Right now, we need to figure out what’s going on here. With you two.”

You and Johnny glanced at each other. “What?”

Ben gestured between both of you before crossing his arms. “Personally, I can’t handle another four years of this.”

“Dish this out, now, or we’re doing it with you,” Sue confirmed.

“And, perhaps, let’s do this quickly because we need a plan,” Reed interjected.

You blinked heavily. You stared at them, at Herbie, who even floated with his hands on his metaphorical hips, awaiting an answer.

“Are we together, are we pretending like you’re not madly in love with each other, or, what’s going on?” Ben asked. “I’m getting tired of the will-they-won’t-they and it may be looking like it’s now or never, folks.” 

“Do we have to do this now?” Johnny asked, scratching the back of his neck. He laughed awkwardly as he glanced at you and you mirrored him. “I mean, Galactus could come down at any moment, and–”

“We have about a month,” Reed said. He sighed. “According to my rough estimations, not that anyone cares about that right now.”

“I care, babe,” Sue nodded to him. She was back on you both instantly. “Spill.” 

Johnny glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You did the same.

“Um,” he said, clearing his throat. “Would you want to be my girlfriend again until the end of the world?”

You tossed your hands up in exasperation and nodded. Cheers erupted from Ben and Sue; Reed clapped once and then was gone in an instant.

Johnny turned to you, erratically. “Really?” 

“Did you really think I was going to say no?” you asked in disbelief. 

“I don’t know, I mean, you sent me off to space without telling me you loved me back–”

You scoffed. “Ok, sorry, you just landed on my doorstep after four years–”

“--Well, I thought the world was going to end so i thought I’d come by and let you know, but so-rry–”

Ben sighed at your banter. “It’s like no time has passed,” he said, a hand over his heart. “We’ve done it, folks.”

“Am I dismissed?” Reed wondered.

Sue nodded. To the rest of you, she asked for a good nights rest, because the clock was ticking until Galactus came for Franklin and to devour your world, and defeating him would require all of the brain effort you could gather.

Johnny took you back to his room. He showered and moaned the entire time, thankful for a “gravity shower” and ice cold water. He was hot constantly, he explained, and liked to shower as cold as possible.

You knew what he was doing when he exited the bathroom with just a towel hanging from his hips. You were sitting on the bed, reading a book  from his shelf that you were almost finished with, and your eyes peered over the pages to watch him walk across the room to his dresser. You didn’t pretend like you weren’t watching and he didn’t pretend like he didn’t know.

Water droplets cascaded over every inch of his skin. You could see the steam from his glowing skin. He must’ve been doing it to dry faster, and you wondered why he even brought a towel, other than decency. You didn’t even really know why he wanted to be decent in front of you.

His arm raised to his hair, shaking a towel over the top of his blonde head, and you were sure you started drooling at the curve of his bicep. Your eyes followed down his bicep, his broad shoulders, down to his back as he turned, and walked across the room to his bathroom.

He disappeared behind the door and your book was quickly forgotten.

His voice echoed as he spoke to you from beyond the door: “So, which side of my bed have you been sleeping on?”

You sat deliberately in the middle to give him a chance to choose. He usually liked the left side, but you did, too. Before, it used to be a battle to see who would get the left side. Now, you didn’t care. You just wanted to share a bed.

“Even distribution,” you admitted.

Johnny laughed as he exited the bathroom. He wore a pair of blue boxers and a white t-shirt. Your frown must have been noticeable because he blushed when you looked up and down at him, and he shook his head as he blew air from his nose.

“Go left,” he encouraged.

You grinned and climbed underneath the comforter. He joined you. He clapped twice to turn all of the lights off and you rolled your eyes at the gesture. There’s a silver lighting falling over the room from his bare windows; the moonlight offered a small glimpse of each others figures in the darkness. Though you can’t see each other very well, you’re both staring at each other. 

Johnny raised an arm over the sheet. He snapped and held a flame over his finger. You giggled and couldn’t help but to blow it out, but you’re unsuccessful as he focused harder and kept it flowing strongly.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he toted.

You laughed. “Show off.”

He gave you both a light by his flame because he wanted to look at you. You can tell by the way his eyes center on you, observe every inch of your face, and the fervent look in his eye. He looked at you, sometimes, and you wondered how you ever could’ve believed he didn’t love you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered. He shook his head in disbelief. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I missed you,” you finally admit. You reached slowly across the sheets to hold his other hand. His fingers are soft, still, as you run your own along his hand. You took his hand and held it to your chest. 

“Do you hate me for what I did?”

You frowned. “No, Johnny.”

“You can be honest.”

“I am,” you agreed. “I regret not fighting more. Maybe if I would’ve fought more or stayed with you at Huntsville we wouldn’t have danced around each other for four years.”

“I hurt you,” he said softly. “I saw the scar on your leg.”

The burn scar from when his flames touched you, in Huntsville. It was small but noticeable, if you were looking, and he had.

You sighed. “You didn’t mean to. I knew that then and I still know that now.”

He would continue to feel guilty about it. No amount of reassurance would help him forgive himself for the outburst and inability to control his powers.

“I broke your heart and burned you,” he recalled. “You were right to stay away from me.” 

You hummed. “Yeah, and I might’ve been able to save myself a few bad boyfriends if I’d just not let you break up with me.”

He chuckled, then became serious. “A few?”

“Please,” you scoffed. “You’re telling me you didn’t hook up with anyone in the four years we weren’t together?”

His silence said everything. He even turned off the flame in his hand to hide his facial reaction, the guilty smile across his face.

“Exactly,” you teased.

It came as a fleeting thought. You remembered he exhibited control before he left, because he just got you back , and it hadn’t felt different to kiss him or to feel the stir in your lower stomach as you wanted him. You didn’t think about how different it might be for him to have superpowers and how that might affect him in the bedroom.

You suddenly felt very jealous for the women who got to experience Johnny in bed since he came back from space, with increased stamina and strength.

“No,” he said, because he knew where your silence had taken you.

“I have to ask,” you said. 

“No, you dont,” he said, taking his hand back from your grasp and turning over. “Goodnight, Ms. L/N. Stay on your side of the bed, please.”

“Please,” you said dramatically, sliding out of the covers and pulling his shoulders over, leaning over him now. “I have to know. What’s it like?”

His voice is sultry. “You want to find out?”

Four years later, the suggestive tone brought a thrill and a worry to your system. You thought about the way your bodies had changed, how your preferences may have changed. Some part of it felt like starting over and some part of you felt like nothing had changed at all.

You reached to hold his face with one hand, your fingers dragging from his browline to his nose, his chin. It still didn’t feel real to be there with him, in his bed, four years older and wiser, like nothing had ever happened, like nothing was going to ever happen.

For tonight, it was you and Johnny in his room, no Fantastic Four, no incoming Earth-Eater, and just two people rekindling their love.

You thought about him every night he was away. You understood and held his sentiment about waiting, about not rushing into being together again. You comprehended it.

But you ignored it.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

Johnny’s lips are on yours swiftly. He turned his shoulders to you, his arms circling you, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips and your lips press hard and sloppy against his. His hands are on your thighs, your hips, gripping into your skin. You feel him start to rise against you and your hand fell to the rim of his boxers, gripping them, letting him know that you feel him.

You ripped your lips from him to sit back. He moaned, frustrated at the absence of your lips, and you chuckled as you pulled your shirt off. You took your bra off before entering the bed, so your chest is bare in front of him, and Johnny pushed himself up to meet you, his hands spread flat across your back as he brought you to his mouth. You can’t help the way your head rolled back when you feel his tongue circle around your nipple, and you gasped as he dragged his teeth along your nipple, pulling and tugging, and you can feel your pulse throbbing between your legs with each scrape of his teeth.

You moaned his name and his next bite is ferocious and you can’t help the grind of your hips on his lap. You can feel his length growing and hardening with the slow and deliberate movement of your hips on him.

His lips left your chest momentarily. “Tell me,” he begged.

You took his head in your hands and lifted it to your lips. “I need you,” you whispered back.

Johnny lifted you onto your knees and tugged on your pants until they were off. You do the same to him, a fleeting pause of struggle and chuckles until you’re both free of clothing. You wait for his hands to grip your hips again before you reached between your legs to hold him, stroke him, and guide him into you.

Johnny swore like you’d never heard. It took a few grinds of your hips for him to start to join you, bucking his own hips, guiding you, and you grabbed the headboard above him for help.

“I fucking missed you,” he cried.

You barely heard him. You rocked your hips, your face twisted in bliss at the feeling of him filling you entirely, and the steady motion of you matching each other’s movements made your entire body clench with satisfaction. He echoed your wordless sentiment.

“You’re so perfect,” he groaned. “You were made for me.”

It made you nostalgic to hear him talk to you. Johnny was a talker, a praiser. He liked to tell you how perfect you were for him, how your body was made for him, how no one else in the world could make him crumble like you.

You wanted to hear more. “Yeah?” you urged.

Johnny lifted his hips and dug into your skin, raising you off of him. The sleek exit was harsh and frustrating, but he was quick to respond to your impatience. He pushed you down onto the bed and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

“Let me take care of you,” he asked.

You obliged. You gripped his arms as he leaned back, his hands on your thighs to push your legs apart. His eyes fell down your body as he moved his hips to you and entered you, and when he looked at your entrance, he made you wait. He pulled out slowly and entered back in just as slowly and you squirmed, your head thrown back onto the pillow.

“Johnny,” you whined. You wanted him harder, faster.

His hands trapped your wrist. He pressed a kiss to your lips while he entered you fully and wholly, before leaving you again and leaning away from you. He teased you. He gave you his all and he took it all away, again and again, accelerating your drive and your need and your desperation for him to put you through the mattress.

“Fuck me,” you begged him. You fought against his hold on your wrists. “Fuck me hard, Johnny, please.”

Johnny grinned. “I thought you’d never ask, baby.”

He pulled from you quickly. You whimpered at the loss of him. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder blades, your back, small apologies for leaving you, and he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and backing you into him.

Your body clenched with pleasure, your walls tightly enclosing him into you as if you could hold him there forever and live in the feeling of the way he curved into you.

“Fuck,” Johnny moaned and it sent chills up your entire being. “I missed you.”

He slammed into you. You grabbed the sheets in your hands, until it wasn’t enough, and you have one hand on the headboard like a lifeline to Earth. Johnny slammed his hips forward into you, he slammed your hips back into him, both of you rocking together and separately, harshly, filthily.

You’re close and you can feel it with every slam. Johnny pulled at one of your arms that he held and brought your back to his chest. You move together, his lips sliding across your shoulder blades and your neck, one of his hands moving to hold your throat, to grip your hair.

“I’ve missed every inch of you, I want to feel every inch of you,” he whispered.

You can feel him everywhere. Your toes curl as he pushed into you and pulled you down to him, and he kept you on him while he nudged your hips. You count it as a cue and push your weight into him, making him lay down, while you adjust yourself and bounce on him.

Johnny let out a laugh of disbelief. His hands are rigid, his neck raised to watch you move up and down slowly then quickly and then you sink down as far as you can and squeeze him so tightly as you raise off of him. He doesn’t know if he should touch you or pray to the Gods that he can make it through Galactus to see more of you.

“I love you.”

Your movement slowed. He said it, again, and you turned your head to glance at him.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered.

He had said a lot of things over your course of sex. He called you beautiful and pretty, perfect, shaped for him.

Hearing him tell you he loves you while he’s inside of you is a different level of sex. It’s love. It’s no longer about pleasure; it’s about connection.

You pushed your hips off of him and turned to face him, sinking down onto him and pulling him over you, finding a rhythm that made you feel deep strokes.

You know it’ll get him there by the whites of his eyes that you’re suddenly staring at, or the way his teeth are biting down hard on his lips.

“Tell me,” you encouraged.

“I love you, baby,” he moaned. “I fucking love you. I love you. I love—“

With Johnny’s finish, he pushed you away from him as he exited your body. His hands fell to his leaking crotch, but he neglected to mention the burst of flames that erupted from his back and the orange glow that flashed over his eyes as he came.

Your legs come together to finish the remnants of the shake in your own body. You sprawled out on the bed and grinned at him, impressed by his performance, and the finishing touch of a controlled explosion while he came.

“It’s a show, isn’t it?” he said shyly.

You grinned. “You can’t turn that off?”

“I’ve tried,” he sighed. “Occupational hazard.”

“We are going to be burning a lot of sheets, then,” you teased with a kiss to his chest.

Johnny came down with a few deep breaths and the subtle, small flames coming from his back are next to follow. You liked the modification of his eyes when he used his powers. You had seen him manually adopt the full cast of orange eyes, the flame over his eye, and when the combination occurred with his finish, you grinned ecstatically.

You could make him lose control with how you loved him.

It scared some part of you, but there was also a deep thrill at the prospect. You could be honest about that, at least, knowing that Johnny is still yours, but he’s still dangerous because of his powers. He's not physically the same that he was before. Y ou’re not going to pretend he is, when he can set himself on fire and fly, and passionate sex set his body on fire. It made him see red.

”I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

You must’ve looked frightened. He tried to move away from you and you shook your head, reaching to hold him, but your face said it all when you touched him--he was hot. You tried to hide your wince but he sighed, pushing himself away from you and off the bed while he tried to cool down. 

”I’m okay,” you promised, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I'm okay, Johnny. You didn’t hurt me. Are you okay?” 

He nodded. He was on fire, the flames low and simmering. He paced before you, his eyes clenched close, his chest rising and falling. He dug his hands into his eyes, ran his hands over his face. "I don't usually do this, uh, this is new."

You smiled. “Oh, that was just for me?” 

He smirked at you, shaking his head, equally as cautious at your words as intrigued. He continued to pace and mutter words of relaxation to himself. You sat patiently on the bed, wondering if you should grab a pail of water, when Johnny's room is overtaken by a flashing white light and an aggressive warning system. He couldn't cool down, and the fire alarm had been triggered. 

Your jaw dropped as your head snapped to Johnny. His flames intensified for a brief moment. 

“Herbert !”

Chapter 15

You barely want to leave the room, but you have to. You can feel yourself sweating as Johnny nudged you from the safety of his room and down the stairs, across the living room, and to the kitchen where his entire family sat at the breakfast table waiting for both of you.

You groaned as you heard Herbie ring the bell from the kitchen. Not only are you embarrassed from the events of last night, but you’re late, too.

“Sorry, sorry,” Johnny apologized, waving his hands at their disapproving looks. “Have to teach our guest that on time is late.”

Your eyes snapped to him angrily and he winked at you, giggling. His hand left the small of your back and it rested on the back of your chair as he pulled it out for you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to them, a sheepish smile on your lips. You sat down. “Good morning, everyone.”

Sue waved your tardiness away. She flashed a smile. “Good morning. Everyone sleep ok?”

“Clearly some of us better than others,” said Ben sneakily.

You let out a singular, shocked laugh in response, your eyes nearly falling from your head. Johnny was just as surprised—he choked, mid-sip, on his orange juice. You patted his back as he coughed into his napkin, shaking his head.

Sue whistled under her breath. “You both certainly rekindled the flame quickly.”

“I-I’m sorry—“ you managed to get out, stuttering.

“Can you call HR on your family? I think we need to call HR,” Johnny said, glancing to you. He threw his hands up. “Two of members of our team had a baby. What about that? Breaking any rules or laws or something there?”

Reed said your name pointedly and you blushed, bracing for impact, but he took pity on the teasing of you and Johnny.

“I need your help today,” he said.

Your eyes stayed widened. “Me?”

“Herbie collected samples from Galactus’ ship,” Reed explained. He pushed the eggs around his plate, clearly uninterested in the concept of nutrition, but present, having been asked to be at the table. “Can you help me analyze them?”

You sat up straighter. “Oh, yes,” you agreed, your mind racing, calculating. “Yes, I’m going into the office today, so can you send some with me? We’ll get results faster with two batches running at the same time.”

“My thoughts exactly—“ Reed began to say.

Johnny cut both of you off with a clattering sound of his fork dropping. He caught your eye, his face hardened. “What do you mean you’re going into the office today? You’re leaving?”

You glanced at the others, who were looking between you and Johnny with varying reactions. You could not stop sweating, the nerves of your actions last night, family breakfast, a planet-devourer on the way, and now a skirmish in front of his family. Your nervous system was on high alert.

“Is this about the chemical spill on the river?” Ben wondered.

You glanced at him, thankful for the interjection. You nodded. You received word from Herbie while Johnny was getting ready; your company was asked to help assess the soil, clean up, and return the water levels back to normal as soon as possible. It was an all hands on deck ask, and with you previously telling your staff to avoid work and be with their families, it was only your hands.

“I have to help,” you said with an encouraging smile.

He wasn’t convinced. Johnny glanced at the others, his lips trying to form words. “Uh, does no one else feel like we shouldn’t be leaving the building here? Just me?”

Sue and Reed shared a glance. A telltale sign of a long marriage, you thought, being able to communicate without words and through a series of eye movements and eyebrow raises.

Ben shrugged. “Bad press is just bad press,” he tried to comfort Johnny. “It’s not like they can hurt us.”

“Well, she’s not us,” Johnny snapped.

You put your hand on his. “Earthly problems,” you assured. “It’s an oil spill. Nothing else. I’ll come back later tonight.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t know about you leaving.”

“I will be fine,” you tried again. “And if I’m not, I have my own personal superhero on speed dial. My whole personal team,” you supplied, gesturing to the team.

Johnny wasn’t convinced. “Listen to them outside. Do you hear that? Do any of you?”

Cutlery froze. Clinking glasses paused. The table quieted.

“ No more Fantastic Four, no more Fantastic Four!”

Johnny waited smugly for your ears to pick up the booing, the jeering.

You shrugged. “Sounds like it’s directed at you.”

He said your name sternly, catching your eye, and his eyes narrowed at you in a way that got under your skin.

“In case you forgot,” he said slowly, so you would comprehend. “You’re affiliated with me. Remember? When I came back from space and the whole world was watching and saw you with me?”

“Yep, I was there, thanks,” you snapped.

Sue cleared her throat. While Ben watched with great entertainment and Reed’s tapping leg added to your anxiety, Sue sighed, and the audible pause made both you and Johnny recollect. You tore away from each other’s piercing gaze, back to your plates. You pushed your pancakes around your plate, suddenly not hungry anymore.

Reed cleared his throat. “I’ll have Herbie prepare samples for you,” he said.

You nodded. “Thanks. I’ll meet with you later?”

Reed nodded and excused himself. Sue left, hearing Franklin cry, awakening from his nap. She nudged Ben, who clearly wanted to watch you and Johnny argue, but bumbled an excuse to leave, too.

“We’ll clean up,” Johnny muttered. When they left, his voice was small. He stayed staring at his plate. “I just don’t want you to go alone. I don’t want something to happen to you.”

You took a deep breath. “You can’t possibly think I’ll spend the rest of my life in this building because you’re afraid.”

“Why are you not?”

“Because I have you!” you breathed, dropping your utensils and turning to face him. You shook your head in disbelief as you stared at him. “What do I have to be afraid of? I have you. I have the one thing I want.”

He didn’t respond. You understood why he argued—he wanted to protect you. But you were not a damsel.

“You went to space, Johnny, I’m going fifteen minutes away,” you begged. “I will be fine.”

He sighed. He extended his hand on the table for you and you placed your hand in his. He secured his watch onto your wrist. He looked at you strictly to silence your protests.

“It’ll make me feel better,” he mumbled. “If anything looks weird or is weird, or if anyone is mean to you—“

“—you’ll know about it,” you finished, rolling your eyes. “Okay, Mother Hen. Understood.”

Johnny squeezed your hand. He was begging you to understand. “I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you,” he said quietly. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but if I can do something to secure your safety, there’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do.”

You softened.

You started to understand why he feared love. Why he wasn’t sure, four years ago, if he wanted to tell you and make it real. He followed in the footsteps of his father; he loved a woman so deeply that it scared him. The thought of harming you or losing you would tear him apart. 

You conceded. You couldn’t fight anymore. He loved you. You couldn’t fight that.

“I’ll clean up,” he said. He leaned his elbow on the table and set his head on his palm, forcing a smile to let you think he was okay. “I know you need to go.”

It hurt your heart to watch him pretend. He was right, though, and you need to attend to pressing matters.

“I love you,” you said, reaching to press a kiss to his forehead. You pressed a hand to the back of his head, your fingers running through his short hair. “I’ll see you later.”

Your normal exit through the front door is blocked by protestors. You have to sneak out using a utility truck to not only hide your exit, but transport the vials Reed sent with you for testing. You make Herbie drive the truck, unwilling to drive a massive vehicle, or be susceptible to crashing it on the chaotic, unforgiving streets of New York.

You grabbed a box as you left the van. Herbie is convinced he can carry two at a time, so you challenged him, walking ahead of him to hold open the door. You’re shocked to enter your office space and see not only the lights on, but half of your staff.

“Oh, uh, h-hi, everyone,” you awkwardly greeted.

You set down the box on the desk beside you and glance behind you, where you know Herbie will be arriving soon. You patted down your hair and adjusted your shirt, that was, unquestionably, not yours, by the custom ‘4’ on the chest and the clear ‘Storm’ on the sleeve. You had half a mind to pretend it was Sue’s.

“Hi. Good morning,” you tried again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be here. It’s, uh, it’s been a crazy few days.”

“You’re telling us,” said one of your coworkers, as another let out a low, suggestive whistle.

You blushed. “I-“ you stuttered, seconds away from making an excuse, when Herbie rounded the corner and set three boxes down beside yours.

You would’ve praised his strength if there wasn’t a small crowd watching you. He started to tease you about owing him a new processor when he noticed you were not alone, and became shy, floating behind you to avoid the stares.

Subtly had gone out of the window. You were not only now seen on global television waiting Johnny’s return, but were now seen wearing his shirt, and with his family’s robot.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose. “Okay,” you started, sighing. “I know how this looks—“

“It looks like you’re dating the Human Torch,” said a voice, Dee, your extremely smart and irritatingly nosy scientist. “Did my eyes deceive me or were you waiting for him when they came back to Earth?”

You couldn’t help your spunk. “You do wear glasses, Dee.”

“You are so full of shit.”

You turned to the doorway. It’s Vivian, her arms crossed over her chest, and her eyes staring right through you, like they always did. Your relief to see her face left, a weight gone from your shoulders. You would let her talk to you in any way, if it meant she helped you complete a task.

She addressed Herbie with a wink and then stood beside you, addressing the team. “None of you have to be here, you know that, right?”

There were murmurs of agreement. Some people spoke up—they were bored waiting to die at home, some needed a break from their spouses and children, some just wanted to be busy. You welcomed their help.

No one expected to see you. While you had been working in the interim, answering questions from partners and maintaining general operations, you certainly hadn’t run things smoothly or perfectly.

“I didn’t expect any of you here today and I still won’t, going forward,” you promised. “I owe it to all of you to be honest and say that I need help. The oil spill on the coast, yes, I need a team on that stat—“ you said, glancing to Vivian, who nodded expectantly. “But I also need help analyzing samples from Galactus’ ship.”

You could hear a pin drop. They hang on your every word, even Vivian, who was clearly not expecting those words to leave your mouth.

“I’m sure you’re all scared,” you acknowledged. “They came back with no good news, except Franklin, and please know that they’re doing everything in their power to find a way to save this Earth. If you still believe in them, you can help. If we can analyze and identify these samples and find a way to to infiltrate or destroy the material, we have a chance to save Franklin and the Earth,” you pleaded, catching each of their eyes, sincere and honest. “I have to believe saving both is the only option.”

Ronald, one of your lead scientists, lowered his glasses on his nose. “Outer space samples, you said?”

You nodded. “I expect full confidentiality from all of you. I’m trusting you, here, but I need— the world— needs all the help we can get. The clock is ticking.”

There were scattered mumbles, pleas of support, surprise.

“If it’s the end of the world,” said Dee, her brow raised. “Can we ask about your boyfriend?”

You threw your hands up. “Be serious!”

“C’mon!” a few people exploded.

Ronald agreed. “Our boss is dating one of the most famous men on Earth and we can’t ask any questions ?”

“Correct!” you said.

“No wonder she hated our Chapter,” said another, Judy, who held up her official plaque for the Flaming Hearts Club. “I bet you stole one of my 8x12s!”

“I did not !”

Dee was on you again. “Well, how long have you been together?” 

“Oh my, God!” You said, your hands over your ears. “Stop it. I’m not going into it. Yes, Johnny and I are together, that’s the last of it. My goodness. Does anyone want to work ?”

Judy hummed. “Question — is it weird to still keep our Chapter?”

You sighed and ran your hands over your face. “Eat your hearts out.”

Vivian put the team to work. She gathered volunteers for the oil spill and you directed your tenured scientists with you to the lab. You encouraged her to use the Future Foundation van parked outside, assuring that Herbie, who was still hiding behind you, can drive the team there.

Herbie beeped. “Nuh-uh,” he chimed. He told you that he was meant to keep an eye on you, “per the Fantastic Four.”

You growled. “Per the Fantastic Four or per Johnny?”

Herbie giggled shyly. You batted him away from you, growing under your breath.

Vivian touched your arm. Her face was sincere, in awe. “You look content, boss.”

Among the chaos of people packing and loading into their cars, of taking samples from Galactus’ ship and running excitedly into the lab, you found a moment to breathe.

She chose ‘content’ to describe you. Not happy or in love or any old adjective. You noticed.

“I’m glad you took my advice,” she continued. She patted your back. “I hope he deserves you.” 

You smiled. You held her hand for a few moments, grateful for her words, before you both left to lead your respective teams.

For a few hours, it feels normal. You think that’s what people came to work for; whether it’s ignorance or blind faith, whatever reason, while you’re in the office, with the absence of the news, a mundane task like analyzing samples turns all of your brains off.

You can barely get a glimpse in. Your team is excited at the prospect of space samples and you caught one microscopic look before you were hip checked out of the way.

You let them work and report any findings to you. You remained nearby, sorting through stacks of mail and voicemails, responding to immediate concerns and creating a long, long to-do list.

Herbie was asked to return to the Baxter Building by Reed, a few hours in. You’re thankful for the privacy and send him on his way, though he felt conflicted about leaving, given his dual directives. You assured him that Reed outranked Johnny, and you would personally see to it that Johnny would not take any action against the sweet robot. He seemed content with that and agreed to leave.

Your team has some conclusions, but ultimately need more time. Some elected to stay longer and you allowed it, barring they promised to fax any findings over to the Baxter Building first thing in the morning.

When you arrived, you brought nothing except samples, and when you go to leave, you have a tote bag full of notes, from your own observations and your team, and mail to sort through. Your work can’t end at 5pm, it seemed, and you know the sentiment will be shared at the Baxter Building.

You elected to walk to your apartment, wanting to feel the sun on your face and the wind in your air. After being cooped up in the lab all day, you welcomed the chilly weather.

Your eyes scanned the street as you walked, cautiously, as Johnny would want you to. Luckily, you’re not noticed, as your fall outfit of a long coat, hat, and a scarf protected most of your identifying features.

Like he knew the moment you stepped into your apartment, your shared device rang as soon as you closed the door behind you. You hurried to answer.

You laughed at his concerned face, the camera held up to only the scrunch in his eyebrow, before you answered, and he pulled the camera back, satisfied.

“You answered!” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, dear. I live to see another day.”

He hummed happily. “Just wanted to check in.”

You checked the watch on your wrist, his watch. “Yes, it’s been about six hours.”

“I just think that’s been too long,” he shrugged.

You chuckled and asked how his meeting with the team went, or if he made any progress today.

You held the device in one hand while you tidied up your room, pulled some new clothes to bring with you to the Baxter Building. As comfortable as Johnny’s clothes were, you needed to have a few pieces of your own.

“Nope,” he said with a groan. “We don’t have anything. Bunch of bad news. In search of levers, currently.”

You scoffed. “What, like Archimedes?”

Johnny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

“Science major, my darling,” you said sweetly.

“Nerd,” he said, then brushed past your offended look. “Well, I have an idea of what my lever might be. You know those discs by my record player? The gold ones. They’re deep space recordings we picked up. Trying to work through twenty-three of them currently.”

It was your turn to squint at him. “They can’t possibly be in English.”

“They’re not,” he agreed. “But some of them, the language sounds familiar, I’ve heard it somewhere, just trying to find out where. Care to help me sort through them?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I’m pretty busy,” you teased.

He frowned. “Doing what?”

You had paused cleaning your room, having almost tripped over the ‘Johnny’ box under your bed. Though the memories were not exactly welcoming, they weren’t painful, and you started to sort through the box.

“Going through old memories,” you admitted, turning the camera to flash him a view of the box.

“It’s unbelievably cliche of you to have thrown memories of me into a box under your bed, by the way,” he said.

“Oh, should I have kept a framed photo of us on my bookshelf?”

His silence was enough. You won that, at least.

You giggled. “You put me through a lot of trouble for only dating you for a year, Storm.” 

He sighed. “Guess I’ll just have to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

You glanced at his face to gauge his reaction, to look for the lip bite he did when he was teasing or the raised brow of his mocking, but it was absent. He said it purposefully and his face, though his brow was clenched in focus, remained calm. Content.

You blushed. You tried to tilt the camera away from the shy smile on your face while you felt heat creeping up your back, your neck. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

He wouldn’t say that lightly.

“Um, I mean, the rest of our lives might just be a month or so,” you tried to say, changing the subject or challenging it, you didn’t know.

Johnny moved swiftly. “What do you want to do before you die, then?”

“Jeez,” you said, blinking. “You could pretend like you have faith in the world not being eaten.”

“I do have faith, I’m just bored, and need to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around the world ending,” he said begrudgingly. “Humor me?”

You obliged. He rattled off ideas—scuba diving, sky diving, deep sea diving, and when you banned ‘diving’, he listed places in the world that you had visited, in the four years you were apart.

Looking for something you wanted to do before the world ended made you realize how much you had gotten to do already. It made you feel lucky. You spent four years traveling and living, away from Johnny, and lamely, your list of goals became classic.

What you had left now was life expectations. You wanted to be married and have children and grow old. It sounded mundane.

“You’re thinking,” he noticed. “Any chance you’re thinking about what it would be like to fly?”

You instantly know what he’s suggesting. You pretended not to know and shrugged, noting, “I don’t mind airplanes. Don’t think I want to pilot one, though.”

He smirked. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, can you fly now?” you wondered, gasping. “Is this a new power for you?”

“Yep, just been testing it out. You’re welcome to ask for a flight,” he offered coolly, shrugging like the cool guy he was. “Unless you’re scared.”

You were, if you were being honest. You didn’t particularly like flying, much less flying with no protective hardshell or helmet or goggles. But Johnny got under your skin in a way that tempted you. Or maybe it was his charm that made you want to exist with him, no matter what you were doing.

You would say yes to him in any situation, as long as he was with you, you felt invincible.

“What are you waiting for, flyboy?” you challenged.

Impatient as ever and desperate to be near you again, Johnny was at your apartment in minutes. You encouraged him to wait until nighttime, the cover of darkness, perhaps, but he wanted you, and you couldn’t say no.

You waited patiently on your balcony for him. He was fast, it was true. What would take you almost an hour in a car with traffic took Johnny minutes by flight, and he took the shortcut, too, not bothering to land and walk through the front door, but instead land directly on your balcony.

It was stupid. If people were tracking him, they’d know he went straight to your apartment, and they would see the way he scooped you up in his arms and pressed a long, passionate kiss to your lips. He acted like you’d been gone for days, and not mere hours.

You loved it, even if you had to tease him.

You could tell in the way that he kissed you that he came with a mission. Your hands crawled to his chest and you tugged at his shirt, pulling him towards you as you stepped backwards through your balcony door. His lips didn’t leave your skin, leaving kisses and bites on your jaw, your neck, until you closed the balcony door behind you and his hands found your ass in the privacy.

He lifted you underneath your thighs and you hooked your legs around his waist. He was hot from being on fire, but it added to the steaming sensation electrifying the air between your bodies, your skin touching.

“Johnny,” you breathed, as he kissed your neck, your chest, his hand moving to your breast. You didn’t want to give up or fight what he wanted, but you both had work to do. “Fate of the world in the balance? Remember?”

“Galactus is twenty-eight days away,” Johnny whined, his lips dragging over where your neck met your shoulder, eliciting a moan from your lips. “We can spare twenty minutes.”

You grinned, a provocative proposition. “Twenty minutes is generous.”

Johnny’s lips fell from your neck. He pulled back, his already low lidded eyes maneuvering to assess you and your claim. You missed teasing him, testing him. There was no place he wanted to prove himself more to you than in the bedroom.

“Is that a challenge?” he wondered

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. You leaned forward to steal a kiss, dragging his lip between your teeth. “Think you can handle it?”

He snickered, accepting your challenge, and grabbed you tighter, throwing you down onto the bed. The maroon shirt clinging to his biceps was off in seconds, discarded to a corner of your room you didn’t care about.

His hands on your thighs, he made sure to sweetly pout his lips at you. “Sorry for your sheets in advance.” 

He was right to apologize. He owed you new bedsheets from catching them on fire, a new bed from his new super strength, and your unit would need a new fire alarm, after yours was punched to pieces. Long story short, your apartment was not ready to handle cosmically changed Johnny’s libido.

You packed all you needed into a zipped backpack, at Johnny’s suggestion, and he wore it proudly on his back for safe keeping as you both prepared to take flight. You tied your hair into a tight ponytail, unwilling to let your hair fly and potentially blind your ‘pilot’.

You started to get nervous as you stood together on the balcony. You viewed the sky, the setting sun, and noticed a flock of birds coasting the wind.

“I don’t know, do I need like goggles or…” You wondered, scratching your head. “What if I get bugs in my teeth or—“

Johnny scooped you into his arms before you could continue to spiral.

“You’ll still look beautiful with bugs all over your face,” he assured.

You gripped him so tightly that he laughed, holding you closer to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Please don’t drop me,” you begged.

“If I do, I’m pretty fast,” he assured.

You growled at him, not feeling very assured at all, but you softened at his joyous laugh, the excitement in his features as he had the chance to show you his world.

You could be brave, for him.

You sucked in a lot of air, just in case you needed it, then nodded, tucking your head into his chest and holding him tightly. He held you tight to his chest and you felt an ignition of heat from his legs as he rose smoothie into the air, ducking under your balcony, and shot you both into the air faster than he ever told you he was going to. 

You screamed and he laughed, your limbs shaking and trembling from the adrenaline of being shot into the sky.. You were sure the whole neighborhood heard you scream his name.

When he slowed, you did not, your entire being trembling, the adrenaline stimulating every part of your body.

You could feel the height in the way your stomach dropped, mainly, but the descending volume of New York City was a sure sign of how high he flew you. There was gradually much less to hear, except your own breath, the wind whipping past your hair, and his voice in your ear, calming you, telling you he’s got you, he won’t let anything happen to you, and to open your eyes.

You turned your head away from his chest. You squinted through the light wind gliding past your face, blinking rapidly to adjust.

He took you to the clouds. You’re flying above a thick layer of white clouds, the city completely hidden and gone.

You lifted one hand from his back and he glanced at you worriedly, before he lowered you both, helping you drag your hand through a cloud. Though it felt like nothing, your hand passing through air, the condensation coating your fingers was proof that you touched a cloud. 

Hues of orange and blue dance with each other above the clouds, an age-old battle for ones dominance over the sky. The sun is disappearing and it will be gone for the night, soon, but while she remains, Johnny makes sure you see it.

You’ll see the stars, too, he promised.

You’re speechless. You can feel tears come to your eyes at the sight before you, the way your bodies are indented through the clouds as Johnny flies you through them, and the gradual loss of light.

You’re not crying because you’re afraid or you’re worried. You cry because it’s a reminder of why you fell in love with science and its beauty. You want nothing more than to protect this sight. 

You felt Johnny press another kiss to your forehead. You wanted to explain, assure him that you’re not feeling any type of negative emotion, but he spoke before you’re able to explain. He spoke quietly, because it’s only you two in the sky.

“I came up here a lot when I first learned to fly,” he told you. “I did practice a lot, but I came to the clouds more than I needed to, because I liked it. I found it comforting to be away from all the noise.”

You nodded. You sought noise out, feeling the exact opposite, and hating the idea of a silent home. It gave you too much time in your head.

“I don’t think it’s the noise, though, I think it’s you. I feel you, up here,” he admitted. “I look out and I see the clouds, I can hear you explaining to me that it’s a cumulus cloud or a stratus cloud or that clouds are cooler than I think because they’re all three types of matter—“

“—it is cool—“ You interrupted.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “I thought about you a lot up here, and what it would be like to show the girl that loves this planet so much one of its most beautiful assurances from the best viewpoint possible.”

There was little more comforting to you than the assuredness of the sun. The sun is a multifaceted essence; it marks time, it provides heat and light and energy; it maintains stability for the solar system and makes whole planets move around it. It’s something everyone can count on.

For you and for your soul, Johnny is your sun.

“I guess… I always thought we might be the same. Maybe it would take some time, but I’d find my way back to you. As sure as the sun rising and falling.”

Chapter 16

Johnny took you across the water on the way home, flying you low and close to the water, that you were able to extend a hand and touch the waves below. You were giggling and grinning, your clothes damp and your hair windswept, but none of it mattered to you. He showed you the inside of his heart. You were warm with love and affection.

Since you were wearing his watch, you had to press the button on it, and raise the window pane for you two to enter the Baxter Building. His hands slid out from under your legs as your trembling feet touched the ground again, you felt a wave of relief. Your legs wobbly, he still held on tightly to your waist, steadying you and checking that you were alright.

You both paused, waiting for a fire alarm or blinding light, but nothing came.

“Thank you, Herbie!” You cheered.

Johnny scoffed. “Finally.”

Sue’s voice came from below the landing. “Johnny, is that you?”

“And Y/N,” Johnny called down, leaning over the balcony.

You smiled, unable to see each other, but you called out anyway: “Hi, Sue.”

“Hi, dear,” she called back. “Glad you made it back safely.”

Johnny pressed a kiss to your forehead. He nudged you towards his room, pulling off the backpack secured around his broad shoulders.

You were happy for the opportunity to change clothes and fix your hair. You understood why he kept his hair short, now, the wind was unforgiving. You made yourself comfortable on his bed and started to rummage through the various notes you’d taken through the day. He joined you, plopping down beside you with a stack of papers of his own to show you.

“Came in from downstairs from your office,” he said. “Addressed to Johnny Storm’s girlfriend, whatever that means.”

You huffed as he smirked at you and took the papers, flipping through them. “That’s one way to get my attention,” you admitted.

Johnny sighed dramatically. You ignored him, entranced in the preliminary findings, until he sighed again and sprawled out across the bed. You glanced at him over your papers, pretending not to notice his puppy dog eyes begging for your attention.

“World in the balance,” you sang as a reminder.

“I need help,” he whined.

You rolled the papers in your hand and smacked his stomach, his back, as he retreated from you and rolled off the bed to his feet.

“You do not need help!” You argued, pointing your papers to the record player. “Go over there and put your brain to it.”

“You’re mean,” he muttered, trudging to his chair and sliding his headphones on.

You winked and he stuck his tongue out at you, and you let your eyes scan over the measures sent to you. It didn’t take long for you to take up all of the space on his bed with a spread of papers, sticky notes, and you were glad he wore headphones because you were muttering to yourself.

You had to bother him for a pen when yours ran out of ink and you were unable to move due to the way you boxed yourself in, so you crinkled a piece of paper and tossed it at his head. He jumped, his neck twisting to turn on you, and he threw his hands up in confusion.

“Pen, please?” You wondered, frowning. “Pretty please?”

Johnny grinned and lifted the headphones from his head. He found a pen on his bookshelf and handed it to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. You made sure to give him a good kiss, thankful for his help. He put a hand on the back of your neck, in your hair, and you hummed in warning, pulling your lips away from his to tilt your head at him.

“No,” you warned.

He groaned. “Don’t tell me you actually needed a pen.”

“Of course I do,” you said, laughing. “I’m doing important work here. Pens are essential.”

He sighed melodramatically and dragged himself back to his record player. “Silly Johnny, just thinking his girlfriend wanted to love him and be on top of him,” he muttered, shaking his head. He plopped back down in his chair and slid his headphones on, turning the chair away from you and toward the window in protest.

“You’re so sexy when you focus, baby,” you encouraged.

He flipped you off.

Both of you became entranced in your work. You continued to try to make sense of your teams findings, cross referencing and checking with Reed’s findings, and you found yourself letting out small screams every few minutes, unable to comprehend the sheer gridlock you were in.

You didn’t realize how much time passed. By the time your eyes got tired of reading and your heart crushed by the realization of your findings, you looked up to break the news to Johnny, who was asleep in his chair.

You frowned, checking the watch on your wrist. It was past midnight.

You carefully gathered your papers into clusters, sorting them horizontally and vertically into a neat stack and moved them to your beside table. You cleared off the bed and pulled back the covers, dimmed the lights in the room, and crouched in front of him to remove the headphones carefully from his slouched form.

“Johnny,” you called softly, shaking his hands, his arm. “Wake up.”

He slowly opened his eyes. He yawned, squeezing his eyes shut, and brought his head up. You pulled on his arms to help him stand and guided him towards the bed. With every step, another article of clothing comes off, leaving him in just a pair of boxers by the time he hit the bed.

He hit the bed with a thud. “I wanted you to watch my helmet footage,” he mumbled against the pillow.

You smiled, running a hand over the back of his head, his hair. “I’ll watch tomorrow. I want you to sleep.”

You weren’t sure if he heard you. The way his breathing slowed, he may have already been sleeping. But you curled up beside him and pulled a stray arm into your chest, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You tried to enjoy the peace of holding him for one night, before you had another piece of poor news to share with the team. You couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned. You laid on his chest, snuggled under his arm, only let your feet touch, and then you settled for just facing him.

In the darkness, he nudged your nose with his. You frowned, not realizing that you had woken him up.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He nudged your nose again. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you mumbled.

You tucked your head under his chin. He pulled you into his arms. You laid together in silence. There were reasons for being awake that neither of you needed to voice, too obvious to speak, and somehow over spoken about at the same time.

He held you a little tighter.

“There’s still time,” you mumbled.

“There’s time until there’s not,” he sighed. “I have to do something.”

You closed your eyes. “You’re going to figure it out, Johnny.”

He didn’t respond.

The next morning, he watched you as you both brushed your teeth. You shared the sink space and he blatantly watched you with those somber blue eyes, the way he did when he was holding the moment in his mind.

You tilted your head, meeting his eye, smiling past the toothbrush in your mouth. You loved him a little harder when he looked at you with those somber blue eyes.

You were both up early. You were the first ones to the kitchen, so you started to cook, deciding on pancakes. You hoped in the delicious syrup that they would forgive you for the bad news.

Johnny bumped into you as he stole the top pancake off the stack and took a sloppy bite from it. He giggled as he ran from your swatting hands. He ran to the other side of the counter, leaning on it.

“You’re thinking hard, baby,” he noticed, mocking the wrinkle between your eyes. “What’s going on?”

You groaned and flipped another pancake. “I have absolutely no good news about the samples.”

“What do you mean?” Sue asked.

You hadn’t heard them come down. You blushed and waved good morning to baby Franklin on her hip. You sheepishly held up a baby sized pancake for Franklin, another peace offering.

“My team started with analyzing Galactus ship,” you said shyly. “It’s, uh, well. It’s likely impenetrable. And if it is, it’ll take years to correctly determine the materials, much less how to destroy it.“

Johnny groaned and slid down into his seat. “You’re telling me we can’t blow it up?”

You frowned. “Sorry.”

Been peered over your shoulder as he passed behind you. “Did you—“

“Add in a splash of vanilla? Yes,” you grinned. You leaned your head against his shoulder. “Learned from the best, Ben.”

When everything else was otherworldly, eating together at the table was a time to feel mundane. You asked Sue how Franklin was sleeping and she said terribly. Ben talked about what he read in his parenting books. Johnny teased him for reading, and Ben bit back, “Can you even read?”

You were all collectively sort of ignoring Reed, who was there in body, but not in mind. You, Johnny, and Ben pretended not to notice when Sue tapped him and nodded towards the elevator, effectively dismissing him. Reed moved quickly.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Reed said politely, nodding at you. “Excuse me.”

The days went by agonizing slow and yet, fast. It started to feel puzzling. Every day you woke up was another day closer to Galactus’ arrival and another day living a dream, spending nearly every waking moment with the love of your life.

You liked to work during the daylight. You were forced to work out of your old lab, because it was becoming harder to leave the building without a security escort to get through the crowd of people, and Johnny’s physical reaction each time you mentioned leaving brought a strain to your heart.

Johnny spent all day in his room, repeating the recordings, trying to translate the one sentence he knew from the Silver Herald. He became a linguist in his spare time, but he increasingly became exhausted listening to people beg for their lives, and needed breaks.

When he did, he found you in the building and made you pause, too, taking you to the sky, or sitting you on the top of a tall building and drew your names in the sky.

You asked Herbie to bring him sandwiches when he stayed up all night working. He was quiet and used a flame on his hand to see, careful not to disturb you. Though you hated falling asleep by yourself, he was always there beside you in the morning.

Sometimes, his quiet nature didn’t matter. You started to wake up at the jeering outside of the Baxter Building. The protestors outside of the building grew with every passing day. The world became frustrated waiting on the Fantastic Four to save them, and Franklin became more of a public enemy.

If it wasn’t the protestors, it was the nightmares, and the growing realization that if it was time for the end, you wouldn’t be together. He would be fighting for you, for Franklin, his family, the world—until his last breath. He wouldn’t be holding you.

You tried to curb the nightmares by busying yourself and your mind. You worked incessantly in your lab. You believed in your teams conclusions, but you continued to analyze the samples, hoping that you could catch something different.

You were also taking on more work. As the days passed, more of your team rescinded their offers to continue working. You never fought them. You couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend whatever time was left with their families. You were trying to do the same, to some degree.

Johnny started to bring you a small plate of leftovers when you stayed too long in the lab. He did this way too many times for his liking and he let you know, each time.

“You missed the dinner bell,” he would say. Though attendance was mandatory on Sundays, you and Reed seemed to be the faces who were continuously absent on other days of the week.

“You’re starting to act like Reed,” he said, and it was not meant kindly.

You took a breath. “Lots to do,” you said.

Johnny took your hands. He turned you to face him and lifted the goggles from your eyes, pushing them back on your hairline. He took your face into his hands. The warmth on your face calmed your erratic mind. He inhaled through his nose and you mirrored him.

“You need to slow down,” he whispered.

You didn’t feel like you could. Time was running out and none of you were nowhere closer to any answers to help Reed find a way to save Franklin and the Earth.

“Anything?” You wondered.

Johnny shook his head. “You?”

You shook your head. You let your head fall on his chest and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“You still haven’t watched the footage from my helmet,” he muttered. “I’ve been very patient.”

“You have,” you agreed. You rubbed your hands up and down his back as you pulled yourself from him. “Let me clean up here and I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Johnny tilted his chin up and squinted down at you.

“I promise,” you said. You pushed him away from you with a smile. “Ten minutes, max.”

Unfortunately, you lied to him. You spent another hour in the lab, struck by a stray blip in your data that you thought may mean something. It was yet another dead end.

You trudged upstairs. Every step seemed insignificant. You didn’t notice your tears until you suddenly couldn’t see, water filling your eyes. You let out a quiet sob and rubbed your eyes on the sleeve of your lab coat. You continued to let the team down and you let Johnny down. Your inability to help was letting the world down.

There was no time to lose, and still, you were losing it.

Johnny was asleep. He tried to wait for you, you can tell, because his bedside lamp was on. You felt worse seeing it.

You shrugged off your coat, your clothes. You changed into a bigger t-shirt, pajama pants, and a pair of long socks. You tucked him underneath the cover and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He stirred under your lips, but didn’t wake up.

You were grateful to watch him sleep. It seemed to be the only time his face was settled, calm, saved from the distress that lingered every time your eyes met.

You were grateful to watch him sleep for a moment, because his disappointment in you couldn’t be felt.

Although you were tired, you took his helmet from his bedside table and curled up in his seat. You put it over your head. The least you could do was watch the footage he so desperately wanted you to see.

He showed you snippets of his experience. He recorded the launch for you, showing you the atmosphere and the stars, the sun peaking over the Earth. You watched them attach to the FTL and fly through warp holes and solar systems. He was right— it was a breathtaking view, even from a grainy camera.

Then, his voice:

“This is Johnny Storm, reporting live from the Excelsior,” he whispered. “This recording is for you, for your eyes only. I-I…I can’t believe you know now, that I love you. That I have loved you…It was so hard to leave you this morning, but we both know that I have to go.”

He paused, his hand reaching onto the window. You noticed his gloves were gone, and the bracelet sparkled on his wrist.

“I think you’ve seen a lot of the world, so I’ll show you space and the stars,” he mumbled. “I’ll see you again, Angel. I hope you believe that. I do.”

He kept signing in, formally, like you weren’t the only person watching the feed. It made you smile every time and your heart swelled every time he whispered sweet nothings to you or taught you something about space, being able to show you in real time.

You enjoyed it, until you watched a planet explode. Despite knowing they made it home safely and Johnny was asleep mere feet from you, your heart rate rose watching them dodge debris and land on Galactus’ ship, interact with the Herald, and walk to meet Galactus.

He said your name softly as he stepped away from walking behind his group. “Fair warning,” he muttered. “I am gonna charm her, but know that this is a professional risk, not a personal one. Love you,” he said, then fell from the bridge and towards the lava.

You heard the whoosh of his flames igniting and carrying him forward. 

“...what did you say?”

She spoke in her language. “Die with yours. It’s a blessing.” 

It’s the last clip. He previously warned you that the feed cut out abruptly, partly due to the lack of power in his suit, but the lens was later completely shattered when they fought the Herald in their mad dash to escape.

You took the helmet off and placed it down carefully. Your tired eyes browsed through Johnny’s scribbled notes briefly but your eyes were blinking heavily, drooping, and you decided you would be better off helping him tomorrow instead.

You were almost to the bed when you heard the unmistakable cry of a baby and your head dropped with a sigh. Recently, you, Johnny, and Ben had been taking turns taking the night shift, given that Reed was preoccupied single-handedly saving the world, and Sue was left to tend to Franklin.

Your ears deceived you, however, and when you went to Franklin, he wasn’t in his room. He was in the living room, in his mother’s arms, as she paced the floor and sobbed. That, you couldn’t ignore.

It broke your heart to see her exhaustion. She looked tired and lonely, and clearly had tried all usual methods to calm Franklin.

“Hi,” you whispered as you approached her.

She glanced over her shoulder and blinked, tears rolling down her face. “I-I’m so sorry, darling, I didn’t want to wake anyone, I just—“

You shook your head at her, silencing her, and held your hands out for Franklin. She placed him in your arms without a word. Though he didn’t stop crying, the absence of his mother confused him enough to quiet down for a moment. The relief in her face was palpable and you smiled softly at her.

“Go sleep, Sue,” you begged. “I’ve got him.”

She sobbed again, putting her face into her hands. “I can’t.”

You didn’t ask why. An alien was coming to take her baby and destroy the planet, that was likely why. Or maybe it was the world outside that hated her and Franklin. Either one would’ve been a good guess.

“Rest, then,” you encouraged. “He might be the most powerful being on Earth one day, but right now, he’s still a baby, right? He ate, you changed his diaper, yeah?”

She nodded, wiping her hands across her face. It was devastating to see her beautiful blue eyes so deeply sad.

“Then, he’s just being a baby,” you shrugged. You looked at him and his matching, fat tears and wiggled your nose at him. “Right, Franklin? You just being a cry baby?”

At his blank stare, Sue chuckled, and you took it as a sign to shoo her upstairs. She nodded begrudgingly and pressed a kiss to Franklin’s hair, before kissing your head, too.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said softly.

You raised an eyebrow. “I will not. Goodnight, Sue.”

You made sure she walked upstairs and closed the door to her bedroom behind her. You waited a few more moments before you ensured that you and Franklin were alone. You looked to the fussy baby in your arms.

“Care to take a walk?” you wondered.

Franklin didn’t protest, so you jumped into the elevator and picked a random floor. You needed to keep moving if you were going to stay awake, so with him on your hip, you walked the halls of the Baxter Building, pointing out anything bright and shiny to Franklin, who didn’t care at all. In fact, he became more and more awake, the more you walked, and at a loss of what else to do to tire him, you took him to Reed’s lab.

“I really don’t think a baby should be in here—“ Reed already started when the elevator doors opened and you both exited.

Y“Well, I’ve heard he’s a space god so there’s likely nothing mortal that’ll kill him,” you said sarcastically, glancing to Franklin, who looked fine. “Or is that your excuse to not spend time with your son?”

Reed’s fingers paused on his chalkboard before they continued. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to work.”

“We’re all trying to work,” you snapped. “The world is not just on your shoulders, Reed. I wish you could see that. I wish you could see your family.”

“They don’t want to see me, they want me to fix it,” he muttered.

You stepped closer to him. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, continuing to scribble with the short piece of chalk. You noticed it, and you could stay until he ran out, if you wanted. In your older age, you were becoming quite stubborn.

But that was also you and Reed. You always waited for him to use his words. He always wanted you to make better choices than he had. In a way, you had both always been trying to help each other, in your own, strong-willed ways.

The longer you waited and stared at the back of his head, the more uncomfortable he got. You resisted the urge to say anything at all, which really got under his skin, until the pressure in his hand broke the chalk under him. He set it down roughly.

“I’ve brought Galactus here because I was wrong,” he said. He continued to face the board, unwilling to look at you, and Franklin. “I was wrong to say I could fix anyone after the incident. I was wrong about Franklin being normal—“

“Okay,” you cut him off. “You don’t think any of us have made mistakes?”

“Not like I have.”

You sighed. Franklin fussed in your arms and you looked at Reed expectantly. Finally, he turned to look at you. The bags under his eyes softened when he saw Franklin and Franklin cried with glee to see his father. You raised an eyebrow, challenging him, begging him to cross the room and hold his son.

He picked up Franklin smoothly from your arms.

“Whatever choices we’ve made in the past, we have to keep moving forward,” you said, reaching to fix Franklin’s socks over his feet. “There’s no time to look back, Reed.”

Franklin rested his head on Reed’s chest after mere moments. The hours Sue spent trying to calm him and the laps that you took with him were meaningless. He just wanted to sleep on his father’s chest.

“Don’t miss out on time with him, with your family, because you’re working off guilt that people have already forgiven you for,” you tried to explain. Your hand fell from Franklin’s socks to Reed’s arm, begging him to meet your eyes. “Don’t ever let him think you don’t love him.”

His fatigue showed as he dragged his eyes to you. The delicate skin under his eyes fell and the worry wrinkles on his forehead were on full display. “How can I possibly protect him if I’ve been wrong before?”

“I think you forget that it’s not just you,” you whispered with a teasing wink. “Have you forgotten about Ben? Johnny? Your loving, amazing, beautiful wife? Do you think any of them would let anything happen to him?”

Reed sighed. He hugged Franklin closer to him, and you both knew his answer.

You watched him with a smile.

Reed cleared his throat awkwardly, in the way that he usually did, when he wanted to be delicate and truthful. You wanted to argue immediately and tell him to keep whatever he was going to say, but he raised his hand in protest.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. He said it quickly and succinctly. “About Johnny. I never should’ve tried to intervene. I just…I think I see a lot of myself in you, and I wanted to help you avoid the mistakes I did. And I’m sorry.”

How could you forget? You only thought of his words nearly every day for years in the dark corners of your mind, when you missed Johnny six drinks in, or after a break up — “I wasted a lot of time putting science before her, and maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“If it’s any consolation, you were right about that,” you said cheekily. He scoffed and you laughed. “You can’t save people from themselves, Reed. Everyone’s on their own path.”

Your words made him look to his son. Being around Reed, you knew how his mind worked and raced and even just looking at the chalkboard with absolutely no inch of space on it stressed you out. But as you watched him look at his son, for once, you understood exactly what he was thinking. It was simple: he would do anything to save his child.

And with that realization, a piece of your brain, at four a.m. clicked into place.

All those years ago, and even since then, Reed tried to warn you about his mistakes so that you didn’t follow in his footsteps.

And so did the Herald, when she warned your planet of its oncoming doom. She didn’t need to give warning, but she did. She warned the entire planet to say the words you’ve never spoken, to be brave, to die with their own and their loved ones. It was sympathetic for someone who chose to put people to death; it was filled with anguish and the words were carefully chosen, explicitly stated, because she wanted you to not make the same mistakes she did.

There’s a single recording that comes to your mind. You can hear it in your head, like you can hear all of them, having been on a loop for the last countless hours. There’s one recording, that Johnny parsed over more than the others, because it’s minutely different. The tone of the woman crying is mournful and she’s begging, but not for her life, for someone.

You must have glitched and frozen, because Reed had to kick your shoe to get your ears working again. That, or, you’re very, very tired.

“I need your help right now,” you said quickly, your eyes wide and darting around the room.

Reed looked scared. “Okay?”   

You asked for his help to print coordinates. You needed the location of all possible planets they were able to track the Herald to and you needed all locations where the deep space transmissions were located.

Reed printed them promptly, handing them to you, and you thanked him and ran before he could also hand Franklin back to you. On the way out, you stole a roll of tape. You were back at the elevator in a record amount of time, jamming your finger into the button, and punching the button to close the door once you were in.

Annoyingly, you could not light yourself on fire, so you lit a candle by Johnny’s window and laid out the documents Reed printed. Parsing through Johnny’s notes, you reviewed yours as well, and taped a somewhat chronological map in order. He would have to review your work, having spent much more time in this than you, but if there was one thing you knew about Johnny, it was his inability to work within his head.

Before you knew it, the sun is rising, rendering your candle useless. You went to blow out your candle, but you noticed the sun had also woken Johnny, who was stretching across the bed, patting it for you.

“Hi,” you called across the room, and he jumped, up, flinching, pushing himself up. You giggled at his hair, the few pieces sticking up at the back of his head.

“What the fuck?” he said groggily, his voice deep and riddled with fatigue. “Why are you awake?”

You were aware you likely looked insane. You threw your arms out in front of the window and how most of it was covered in paper.

“You’re a visual learner, Johnny,” you said. “You’ve been listening to the same records over and over and not looking at anything."

Johnny blinked. “What?”

“Overlap the maps,” you encouraged. “Where the transmissions were picked up, where the Herald went.”

His eyes widened. “We can find the earliest one. Her first,” he understood. "And I bet it's the one I keep telling you is different."

He pushed himself up to his knees as you approached the bed and he pressed kisses to your head, your lips, your nose thankfully. He kissed your forehead and your eyes closed instinctively, and refused to open. You climbed into bed beside him, with a quick, “I gotta sleep,” and you were asleep likely before you hit the bed.

Whatever work he did, he did near silently, and let you sleep for several hours before you awoke to a knock on the door. He cursed and sprinted across the room to yell at his sister, but you waved your hand, pushing yourself up in the bed.

“It’s fine,” you yawned, brushing your hair out of your face and rubbing your hands into your eyes. “Come in, Sue.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to let you sleep,” Johnny frowned.

You waved a hand. Sue, as dear as ever, entered with a steaming cup of hot coffee for you and you almost kissed her. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, so quietly that Johnny didn’t hear, and you squeezed her hand as she handed you the coffee mug.

You remained curled up in bed as Johnny impatiently pulled Sue to the window, tugging on her arm and her cardigan. For a moment, you saw them as children, Johnny’s childlike excitement and insistence clashing against Sue’s poise. The thought made you smile.

“Come on, come on, I want to show you something—“

“—Johnny, I barely slept last night—“

“Oh, I’m sorry, not like you chose this whole thing, you know, being a mother,” he teased and he flinched as she went to hit him, before allowing him to sit her down.

“I told you one of these was not like the others,” he reminded her, holding up a gold disc, playing it for both of you. “It’s got a different time stamp, it’s from a further reach of space. It sounds different. These people aren’t scared. Not only that, but—“

He paused to scurry to the window, pointing to a few pages taped onto each other.

“I overlapped it with where it came from, the trajectory of planets, and it’s the furthest planet we know about, it’s the earliest one we found, and it shares linguistic qualities with her sentence,” he continued. He looked at both of you with wide eyes and an open mouth, eager for one of you to finish his thoughts. He deflated when you both stared back at him. “It’s her planet, Zenn-La. It’s her people. Her language. And her name, I think, which is…”

He continued the recording. It’s clear as day, now: “Shalla-Bal.”

“Now we have a sentence translated and we can use that to figure out what all this means,” he said, gesturing to his entire work station, littered with maps, scribbled notes, and, regrettably, too many empty cereal boxes.

Sue’s eyes lit up. “Reed could put together an algorithm—“

Johnny groaned. “Yeah, yeah,” he cut her off. “His big brain is busy. I am all over this—The Rosetta Stone to finding him an Archimedes Lever.”

Sue smiled and reached to hold his chin. “My beautiful brother,” she hummed lovingly.

Johnny blushed and swatted her hands away. “Okay, get out now.”

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her body as she turned to you. “I was thinking—“

“Oh, God,” Johnny teased.

“—I think you two should leave today. Get out. I think we’ve all been cooped up and you two should take the day off.”

You and Sue waited for Johnny’s instant protest, your eyes meeting in a humorous and adoring way at his protective nature. When he stopped, noticing that neither of you were speaking and instead having an entirely silent conversation, he growled, pointing between both of you accusingly.

“This is not what I wanted to happen,” he whined, frowning at you. “We’re supposed to have mental conversations and understand each other, you’re not supposed to do that with my sister!”

You wiggled your eyebrows at Johnny as you took a sip of your coffee. "What do you say, Storm?"

Sue giggled as she went to leave. “Humor me,” she encouraged. “Go be kids in love for one night.”

 

Chapter 17

Johnny slammed the door behind Sue when she left. Ignoring her grumbling from the opposite side, he spun on his heels and put you in his sights, his eyes low and stimulated.

You felt your stomach twitch. You remained calm and secure, continuing to sip your coffee as you watched him kick off his shoes, and freed himself from the shirt clinging to his body. You deliberately ran your eyes down his neck, his shoulders, watching him walk closer to you and stand beside the bed, standing with his hands on his hips. His brow wiggled at you.

You hummed warmly, reaching to run your hand down his chiseled stomach. You tilted your chin to meet his eyes.

“What’s first on our day-off agenda, then?” You wondered.

He pretended to think. He tilted his head curiously. “Make you beg for me?”

Oh.

You were stunned as he smirked. He took your coffee from your hands and placed it carefully on the bedside table. You crossed your hands over your lap, your voice suddenly caught in your throat and your heart pounding.

Johnny fell to his knees at your side. He pulled his fingers to his hands impatiently, beckoning you, and you were under his spell as he pulled your legs to the edge of the bed. He lifted himself to kiss you first, a deep and long kiss, that had you pushing into him, trapping him between your knees. His hands ran up and down your thighs, your waist, until he tore his lips away from you. You frowned and pushed against him to kiss his neck, his lips, again, but he chucked and shook his head.

His voice was stern, but somehow soft: “Lay down.”

You continued to look at him, blinking, your heart racing in anticipation. You and Johnny were used to fast, hard sex in these past few weeks—desperate to touch each other after your time apart, maybe desperate to find comfort in each other with the looming threat.

He understood you. He kissed your cheek and nodded, encouraging you down. You trusted him. You laid back on your forearms, your stomach clenching, and your lungs breathless as his fingers looped around your pants, your underwear, and pulled them down. Your legs closed with their absence.

Johnny’s hands splayed across your thighs. “No” he mumbled, pushing against your closed legs. His eyes were curious and warm, patient. His breath hitched. “Let me see you.”

You wanted to, and you did, but you couldn’t escape the trembling of your body as you let him open your legs. He murmured at the sight and your eyebrows came together, worried, before his eyes rolled back, his teeth pulling between his teeth, and your nerves subsided. He wanted you. He wanted to just look at you.

You flinched as his eyes snapped to you. You waited, your heart pounding against your chest, your legs wide open, and Johnny kneeling in front of you.

“Pretty,” he whispered.

You blushed. The corner of his lip twitched with a smirk before he reached for you. You tensed with the anticipation and he held off from touching your sensitive areas, his fingers first tracing down your thighs, your inner thighs, and he looked pleased every time he came close to touching your center and you inhaled in suspense.

He dug his fingers into your thighs and leaned forward, his tongue exposed and flicking at your nipple. Your chin bumped into his head as he licked circles around your nipple, pulled it between his teeth, and left a love bite on your inner breast.

His eyes flickered up to you. “You’re mine.”

You stuttered. “I-I know.”

It made him grin. He fell back onto his knees and leaned on one of your thighs, the pressure of his elbow on your skin distracting you momentarily as he used his other hand, dragging a single finger down your middle, quickly past your clit and between your folds. You made a small noise and reflexively closed your legs. He pushed them open again.

“I need you to keep them open,” he said, kissing your knee. He frowned. “Can you do that?”

You would try. He didn’t wait for you to reply and slid a finger in, then two, and you let your head fall back at the sensation of him stretching you.

He pulled a leg over his shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Just relax.”

You wanted to scream when his hot breath fell over your center and you wanted to squeeze his head between your legs when his tongue attacked you. He anticipated the closing of your legs and he held you apart, held your shaking legs, as he licked your wetness, spit on you, sucked on your clit. He moaned into your center. 

He developed a rhythm, licking between your folds, circling your clit, sucking your clit into his mouth, sticking his tongue into your hole. You relaxed into it, knowing what was coming, trying to stop the shaking of your legs, but it was useless. You were melting.

He ate you like you were his last meal. He moaned into you, the vibration of his pleasure accentuating yours, and you became desperate for him.

“Johnny,” you begged.

He didn’t move. He opened his eyes, big and desperate to please, watching your face twist and your head loll. You felt his smile.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please?” you asked.

You reached down with one hand and grabbed his hair, tugging it, and he chuckled, raising his mouth from you. His lips and his chin were covered in your slick, and the sight of him licking his lips made your eyes roll back into your head.

His half of his lip raised. “I don’t know, babe, that’s not enough for me.”

You growled. You wiggled your way from his grasp, but not before he kept you in place and gave you one lick up your middle, and you laid on your stomach, your legs twisted in the air, and your mouth open.

His eyes widened. He was quick to undo his belt and push off his pants and his boxers, his dick flinging out of his clothes. You barely waited for them to leave his ankles before you grabbed his shirt and pulled him to your mouth, licking up and down the base of his dick to wet it.

You licked the fold at the tip of his dick, swallowing the bead of precum that was waiting for you, and pulled him flush against you. He moaned as he hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and you gagged, but you bobbed your head, taking less of him and then more, and Johnny went completely silent.

You pulled yourself away, not entirely, but enough to look up at him. He was staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped together on the collar of his shirt. His lips were moving and yet nothing was coming out. You let his dick leave your mouth, which made his head snap down to you.

His face twisted with pleasure and you wondered, briefly, if he was in pain. “I’m praying for the strength to make it inside of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You placed a hand at the base of his dick and used your other to take one of his hands, placing it on your head, in your hair.

He moved your head accordingly. You were a vessel for what he wanted, your mouth open, and he gripped the hair at the back of your head as he moved your mouth further down his dick. He moaned your name, whimpered it, and you twisted your hands up and down his shaft while your tongue circled his tip and your cheeks went hallow trying to suck him in.

When his legs started to shake, you pulled yourself away, pushing his hands from your head. You sat back into bed, making sure your eyes were connected as you mirrored him, licking your lips and wiping your spit on the back of your hand.

His eyes were dangerous. He met you quickly, tackling you to the bed and dragging his tongue along your neck and shoulders as he lined himself up to you.

“I thought I was supposed to be begging you,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he groaned, and you matched him as he slid himself into you. “Oh, baby,” he whimpered. “You’re so wet for me.”

You tucked your legs around his waist and kept him inside of you, your pussy clenching and throbbing, tightening around him. You thought you may come just having him sit inside of you, but when he started to slide his hips against you, you bit his shoulder. Your hands clawed up his back, your nails digging into him.

He went agonizingly slow and you loved it and hated it. He pressed kisses to your neck with every pump, his hand raised to cup your breast, taking your nipple between his index and thumb, pinching it and flicking it. You tilted your pelvis as much as possible, giving him as much access to drive himself deeper into you.

“You take me so well, baby,” he mumbled, his lips dragging across your chest.

You wanted him deeper. You pushed against him and his chest, getting him away from you, and flipped yourself over, pulling one leg up. You wiggled your ass when he took too long, not entering you immediately, and you looked back at him when he still didn’t enter you.

“Johnny,” you said pointedly.

He was leaning back on his calves, his eyes dragging down your back, your hips, and his hands shook as he reached to hold your thighs. He took his time to meet your eye.

“I can’t admire the view?”

You whined. He smirked and his hands dragged to your hips, pulling you back to him and pushing inside of you. You pushed yourself onto your forearms instantly, throwing yourself back onto him. His hands went from your hips to your arms, until he reached and grabbed your hair again, helping your momentum as you rocked yourself back onto him.

Johnny grunted, he moaned, and when he finally had enough of you, he pulled your arms until you were upright. He left you quickly to turn you around and pull you back as he fell onto his back, begging you to ride him.

“I wanna look at you when you come,” he whispered, taking your lips, taking your neck in his hand.

You thought about making him wait, watching his dick twitch in anticipation of you, but you wanted it, too, and you sank onto him quickly. You clenched your walls tightly around him, both of you whimpering, and your hands slapped his chest as you fell onto him, grinding your hips back and forth. His hands fell to your thighs, digging into your flesh, helping you rock. You moved fast. You rocked and clenched him inside of you, your hands digging into his chest. He lifted his hands from you to push through his hair, moving the sweaty hair dripping down his forehead, and the curve of his biceps as he did so was enough to get you there.

You snapped your hips forward and froze, moans escaping your lips, and you pulled your elbows tight to your chest as your body spasmed with pleasure. Johnny sat up, taking advantage of your perky breasts in this position, and his mouth was hot on your chest instantly as your walls twitched and clenched, as your breath evened.

“You were made for me,” he told you, his hands flush on your back, bringing your chest to him.

You fell back onto the bed when Johnny took a breather, the few moments he leaned back to catch air, and you were once again gasping when he surprised you with his mouth on your pussy, gently, licking you clean.

“My favorite fucking meal,” he breathed, kissing your thighs, up your low stomach, back to your lips. “You okay?”

You let out a soft noise. You were alive, but barely. Johnny chuckled as he leaned above you.

“We don’t have to keep—“

“Shut up,” you said, pulling at his shirt again. “Fuck me ‘til you catch on fire.”

The brim of his eyes flashed a pale orange in anticipation.

You laughed and he took the chance to surprise you, sliding in between your legs. He fucked you hard and fast and you clenched the bedsheets under your fists until he was panting and groaning and you were slightly worried he would cramp— and then he pulled out of you quickly and let his cum spill on your thighs as his eyes disappeared, then his head caught on fire, and he moved quickly from you and the bed as he raised his shoulders, twisted his head, shook out his body.

You watched him with a tired, pleasured smile. He blew you a kiss and scurried to the bathroom, turning on the coldest water possible and you saw the steam leave the door as he cooled himself down. Left with his cum on your stomach, you waited a few minutes until he was chilled, and you padded carefully across the floor, following his warmed foot steps on the floor before you knocked on the door.

He turned, an eyebrow raised. “Care to join me?”

You weren’t sure how he had more left in him, but he did. You had sex in the shower, he bent you over the bathroom counter, and you finally finished again in the bed, this time, with only a flash of his eyes catching on fire and not a full force fire.

“Okay, okay,” you said, your face smushed into the pillow. “I need a nap.”

“I love you,” he said gently.

You opened your eyes and watched him as he laid down beside you, his hand on his chin. It’s impossible not to be touching each other, these last few days. There were a handful of days until Galactus’ arrival, according to Reed’s calculation and tracker, and you found it harder to stop looking at him. You wanted to memorize the lines in his face, the curve of his hands.

He noticed the water well in your eyes and he reached for you, tucking your head into his chest. “I know, baby.”

When you finally rose for the day, you spent the day using the bed as a desk, parsing through more letters, faxes, and continued testing on the materials from Galactus’ ship. Johnny continued translating the records, piecing together phrases alongside his recordings from the Herald.

You both agree that you don’t want to be outside of the Baxter Building during daylight hours. With merely a few days left until Galactus’ arrival, the world was on edge. A massive crowd of people gathered around the clock outside of your windows, chanting with signs, begging the Fantastic Four to do something—anything.

It broke your heart to know that, after a month of sleepless nights and crying with Sue, Johnny, and Ben, there was still no plan other than fight for Franklin’s life until their last breath.

You tried to push the thought from your mind. This night with Johnny, that Sue begged you both to take, might be your last happy moments with him. It may be the last time you’re together and alive. You have to enjoy it.

You wanted to head home for a change of clothes, a dress, but Johnny convinced you to borrow one from Sue, instead.

He was anxious to keep you nearby. You overheard, weeks ago, that your apartment had been vandalized. Ben went by to check on it, and subsequently spent the night cleaning up the bricks through your window, the spray paint on your door. Johnny had asked him not to tell you, not wanting you to worry.

In all honesty, you didn’t want to be far from him, either. You didn’t have superpowers, you were just you. You weren’t prepared to face the wrath of an angry crowd. You certainly hoped no harm would come to you, but you weren’t going to be ignorant, either.

So, there you were, in Sue’s closet. Franklin, bouncing on your lap, was preoccupied with a figurine of Johnny that you’d found in one of the thousands of cereal boxes he bought. Ignoring the ever so often, “Flame on!” from Johnny’s figurine, you gave a thumbs up or thumbs down to  dresses that she pulled.

After five thumbs down, she growled at you. “Do you even know where he’s taking you?”

“Likely a rooftop,” you said with a shrug. “Whole world kinda hates us right now so we have to be conspicuous.”

Her face fell, her eyes flickering to Franklin. For a moment, a mundane task like picking dresses for a date made her feel like the world didn’t hate her and her baby. You felt like an asshole immediately for reminding her of reality and your lips opened to apologize, but she waved a hand. She held the dress to her chest.

“What are we going to do?” she muttered, rubbing her hand against her forehead.

“Fight,” you said simply.

There was nothing else to do. If there was nothing else to be sure of, it was that. You were small and not very mighty, but you would continue doing everything in your power to keep Franklin safe.

“Until the end,” you finished.

Sue crossed the room to sit on the ottoman with you. She leaned her shoulder to touch yours. “Thank you.”

You shrugged. “No need to thank me, Sue,” you promised. “I’m lucky to be here, among friends. I don’t take it for granted.”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately,” she mumbled, reaching to offer her finger for Franklin to hold. She smiled when he took it. “Things I’ve taken for granted…My time with Johnny,” she chuckled, humorless. “He was my first baby.  I’m sure he’s told you about our Mom,” she said, and you nodded solemnly. “I never let him out of my sight. And, sometimes, I wonder…”

You shook your head. “He loves you, Sue. Hell, he would do anything you would say. You’ve never steered him wrong, he says it all the time.”

“I guess not,” she sighed. She rested her head on your shoulder. “I led him to you.”

Eventually, you found an outfit that you liked. You chose a checkered skirt that went to your mid-thigh and a sleeveless, white tank top. Sue cheered when you pulled it together and even found a pair of knee-high white boots from under her bed that she begged you to wear.

For peace of mind, you let her do your hair, too. She sat you down at her vanity and you continued to keep Franklin busy while she combed your hair, teased it, and set it with hair spray. It wasn’t an act that would take more than a few minutes, really, but Sue got lost in brushing your hair, her mind clearly wandering, and you ignored the tears she shed as she played with your hair. Franklin fell asleep in your arms.

You and Sue must have been together for longer than you thought. A knock on the door, obnoxious, and so clearly Johnny, hit your ears and you were both sent back to reality.

“Right,” you said, looking at her in the mirror with a wide smile. “I have a date.”

Johnny had picked up dinner while you were getting ready. You held it on your lap as he picked you up and flew you across the city.

You were right—he picked a rooftop. At least, he chose an abandoned rooftop bar. You hot-wired the string lights to turn on and he set up your food on a table, lighting a candle with his finger, and offering you a glass of wine when you returned to sit down. You kissed his cheek as he pushed in your chair.

You enjoyed a nice Italian dinner. He ordered Chicken Parmesan and you had Spaghetti and Meatballs, and you  shared your meals. You shared silly stories about your youth; Johnny told you about his time as a Boy Scout and you told him about some of your wild college stories. You asked about what it was like for him in Huntsville, learning his powers, and he asked you about your world travels.

He pushed his food to the side of his mouth, waving his fork at you. “How come you never left the city?” He wondered. “I mean, it must’ve been hard to look at me all the time.” You laughed, and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean!”

“I went to a lot of cities, kind of hoping for a reason to stay,” you said after a minute, truly spending time thinking about it. “But I love this city. It’s never quiet. Other cities go quiet at night, but not here.”

“You do not like the quiet,” he noticed, a little surprised.

You shrugged. “I’ve lived alone for a long time.”

“Sounds lonely,” he said, reaching to hold your hand.

“It can be,” you agreed. You chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ears. “It has been.”

He hummed. “Is it crazy to say I’ve been feeling like that for a while?”

You tilted your head, asking him to say more.

“We’re famous, we’re heroes, I live with my family in a big giant happy building,” he said, waving his hands in extravagance. “I think I present like I’m happy, and I guess I have been, but…The people I met in between,” he said, scratching his head. “They wanted me because I’m the Human Torch. Not Johnny.”

You frowned. Underneath the table, you pressed your ankle against his. He smiled at you.

“You’re the only person who’s ever stuck around that isn’t related to me,” he said honestly.

You shook your head, tilting your wine glass to him. “It’s easy, Johnny. You’re not a hard person to love.”

“I know,” he said cockily. He kissed the back of your hand. “But I’m grateful, still.”

“I don’t think it’ll be a breeze,” you acknowledged.

You had already been caught looking at negative newspaper articles about you and Johnny, which got you a stern talking to from Sue and Johnny.

“But people have loved each other for thousands of years and made it work,” you said. “Unfortunately we don’t really have a blueprint for how to date when one half of you has been infected by cosmic rays—“

“—Well, don’t say it like that, I’m not infected—“

“—Well, you sound like you’re infected—“

He rolled his eyes. “Reed’s done a bunch of tests and we’re somewhat normal still. All systems online or whatever. I can just fly and set myself on fire now.”

“All systems, huh?” you wondered cheekily. “Good thing Baby Franklin came out normal.” 

“I mean, he might very well be a Space God, so not sure how normal he is,” Johnny muttered.

You sighed. “Guess we’ll cross that road when we get there.”

He perked up, shyly looking over his glass at you. “‘When’?”  He repeated cautiously.

You flushed, not realizing your words. “W-Well—“ you stuttered, your brow coming together.

Johnny waited expectedly. He looked at you with a cock of his head, a curious smile stretching across his face.

“I mean, I sort of remember you saying something about choosing me for the rest of your life, so…. But I mean, you also said you wanted to take it slow—“

“You really want to be with me?”

The sincerity of his words caught you off guard. You continued to stutter through a response, your head shaking in disbelief and utter confusion. How could he ever think you didn’t want to be with him? It broke your heart to think he ever doubted you.

“It’s not you,” he confirmed, like he’d read your thoughts. “I guess… Just… Part of me still thinks it’s a dream and a nightmare that you’re here.”

You understood instantly. You had been feeling the same way, lately, caught between living your hearts dream and a horrible nightmare.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “I’m still here because I couldn’t get over how you saw right through me when we met,” you admitted. “You saw a headstrong, confrontational girl argue with your brother in law and you didn’t berate me or talk down. You took me seriously. You saw my dream and you helped me make it happen. You believed in me.”

“Of course I did,” he muttered, frowning.

“I’m saying that because it’s been hard for me to find someone who did,” you told him. “You know what happened with my family and I’ve made it work, I’ve been able to cope, but when we broke up, that emptiness made itself known. There’s been a part of me missing this whole time. A part of me that needs a family and needs to be loved and that has love to give.”

He said your name gently.

“I love my work, I’ve loved to see the world and I’m glad I had that experience, but you’re my biggest regret. I should’ve chose both. You and my career, and fuck the rest of it. I’ve spent the last four years searching for a feeling and a hole in my heart that was filled with you, with your family. A warm house and laughter over a meal, or plotting with Herbie to prank Reed, or just the love I feel when you hold my hand.” 

He pressed a kiss to your hand. He held your conjoined hand against his cheek, lovingly and sympathetically.

“And,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “I kinda like that the world hates you right now. I get you all to myself.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, and you grinned.

“You’re awful,” he said, jokingly releasing your hand.

You shrugged. “I just don’t know what I’m gonna do if I have to go back to sharing you with teen girls across the globe.”

You were joking, but the thought saddened Johnny. You were quick to let him know you were kidding.

“I just wish we could do this in private,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He leaned back in his chair, his legs spreading. “My entire life is on display. The world hates you right now, by association. What if a villain comes to get you? What if you’re in constant trouble, or people treat you differently, or—“

“We will deal with it,” you interrupted his thought spiral. You stood and stepped across the table, putting his head in your hands.

He held onto your hips like a lifeline, his eyes searching your face, begging: “I got a second chance with the love of my life. I’ll do any thing I can not to fuck this up.”

You’re sure he couldn’t do a single thing to lose you again. You had him back and you had everything you were missing in your life.

It’s then, holding each other, that you both recognize the song playing from the radio.

“….My darling dear, love you all the time…”

Johnny tilted his head at you knowingly, a silent conversation brewing— Well, come on.

“Relax,” you warned, stepping back as he stood up. “Do you remember the last time we danced together?”

“Ah,” he scoffed. He took your hand and pulled you into him. “You wanted me.”

“‘I wanted you’?!” you laughed. “When you stormed onto the dance floor and—“ He shut you up with a kiss.

“You’ve always wanted me, it’s part of my charm,” he whispered against your lips.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

You danced together to his song, your song. You put your head on his chest and he held you closely, singing into your ear gently. Johnny relaxed into you. He led as you swayed with him.

You felt the clench of his muscles as soon as it happened. His back straightened, his interest piqued, and you pulled away from him. You followed his turned head.

There’s smoke in the air.

“That’s in the neighborhood,” you said quickly, rushing to the ledge. You can’t see well in the darkness, but you tried to peer through the dim glow of the city lights. “House fire?”

When you turned to him, a thousand thoughts are passing through his head. His eyes are searching you and the smoke in the air, looking for an answer to a question you understand immediately.

“We stay together,” you said sternly, practically daring him to leave you behind.

You couldn’t separate, not now. Not ever.

“Okay,” he said quietly. He held out his arms for you to jump into. “Together.”