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It was really fucking cold.
That’s all Peter had to say about that evening. It was too cold to be swinging through the city on patrol. He was on winter break of his senior year, spending most of his free time in the streets of New York, protecting civilians and stopping petty crimes.
And he wasn’t one to complain about his nightly activities, absolutely not. He knew it was a privilege to do what he could, with the support of multiple hero teams and other local vigilantes. He loved feeling like he was flying through the sky, getting a taste of freedom so few managed to achieve.
But it was still freezing, and the heaters in his suit weren't working, and he just wanted to go home and wrap himself up in the blanket that Aunt May knitted him, and sleep for the next twenty four hours.
So when it hit two in the morning, after a very quiet patrol, Spider-Man ducked onto the fire escape of an unassuming building, and fell into Peter Parker’s room. In pure darkness, he buried the suit off of his body, throwing it in the laundry basket in his closet. He quietly reached onto his desk, looking for the sweatpants and hoodie he had purposely left there before he went out.
They weren’t there.
Peter was sure he had left them out, but with how the shivers were taking over his entire body, he pushed it to the back of his mind and felt around in his closet for some more. He made a mental note to find them in the morning, as that hoodie was one that he had stolen from Mr Stark during their last lab time, and really should give back.
Once he was in warm clothes, he peeled the web shooters from his wrist and threw them into the drawer of his bedside table. Without a second care for the world, he threw himself onto his bed, desperate to warm up in the layers of sheets waiting for him.
Taking him completely by surprise, what he landed on was not the soft, plush pillows and freshly washed blankets. No, he instead landed on something rock solid.
And it scared the hell out of him.
He bounced back, fumbling to turn on his bedside lamp. His heart was racing, confusion clouding his already exhausted senses. The figure rolled over, running a hand down their face.
They were wearing the hoodie that Peter had been looking for, hood up and drawstrings pulled out far. A single tuft of blonde hair peaked out from the fabric, and the barely awake face of one Johnathan Lowell Spencer Storm.
“Pete?” he murmured, pushing himself up so he was sitting against the headboard.
“Johnny!” Peter hissed. “What are you doing?”
“May let me in.” he said, head dropping onto his own shoulder. “Didn’t know you were gonna be out so late. Would’ve joined you.”
“Johnny.” Peter said calmly, making his way to his bed and sliding under the covers. “Why aren’t you at home?”
“Can’t a guy just drop in on his boyfriend?” Johnny replied, moving slightly closer to him.
“I’m not complaining that I found you in my bed, but I wasn’t expecting it. I thought we were gonna grab lunch tomorrow before I go and study with MJ and Ned at the library.”
That had been the plan, Peter was sure of it. He had it marked on his calendar on his phone, and the one on the fridge. He knew that he and Johnny hadn’t made many plans together for the break because the Fantastic 4 were busy with fundraisers and meetings and all the glamorous parts of being a superhero. That planned lunch was the first time Johnny knew he would definitely have time to put aside for the two of them.
“I missed you.” he said simply.
“I missed you too, Jay.”
And that was it.
That’s all it needed to be, really. They hadn’t had much time together recently. And it wasn’t like Peter wasn’t internally ecstatic at the fact that they were going to have this extra time together. He wasn’t crazy, no matter what people liked to say.
When another shiver wracked through Peter’s body, Johnny pulled him down onto the bed and threw his arms over him. Tucked into Johnny’s chest, leg between Johnny’s own, head tucked under Johnny’s chin, Peter felt warmer than he had all day and began to drift off.
Hours later, he was woken by the feeling of Johnny’s nail scratching delicately over his back, drawing the same flame drawing he always did. He, at some point in the night, had managed to sprawl out on top of the other boy entirely, with one arm wrapped under his back holding him close.
He blinked awake, burrowing his head into Johnny’s (his (Mr Stark’s)) sweater. It was soft and warm, and Peter really didn’t want to wake up yet. He heard Johnny laugh softly, in that way he kept only for Peter. It was like liquid gold, and it made his heart speed up just a notch whenever he heard it.
“May went to work, by the way.” Johnny said softly, not stopping the way his featherlight touches on Peter’s back. “She said she has a double shift. But you’re going to the tower tonight anyway, right?”
Peter just grunted, not really giving an answer. But he was, and that was something that was a constant, every Friday evening. Johnny just laughed again before pushing Peter gently onto the mattress next to him.
“Honestly, Webs. I’ve known you for what feels like forever, and your hatred for mornings still manages to take me by surprise.”
Peter grunted again, pushing himself against Johnny’s side. They basked in the early hours of the morning for a while, until Johnny’s restlessness became too much and he dragged the other boy into the kitchen.
“Not that I don’t want you here, Torchie, but what was with the sudden appearance?” Peter said after thanking his boyfriend for the fresh mug of coffee placed in front of him.
“I told you. I missed you.”
“That all?”
“That’s all.” Johnny nodded, kissing the top of his curls before he plonked himself into the seat beside him with his own coffee and a bowl of cereal that Peter knew May had stocked only for when Johnny would happen to stop by.
Somehow, somewhere, at some point in time, this had become Peter’s ideal morning. His reality, too. Waking up beside Johnny, sitting in the kitchen for breakfast with Johnny, making plans with Johnny. It made him feel safe and loved, and so very warm.