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He wakes in darkness, the feeling of his own guts and blood spilling out still fresh in his mind.
For too long of a moment, he fears. He's too afraid to open his eyes, if he opens them and sees nothing but the colorless stone of a prison cell instead of whatever soft, welcoming apartment his brain conjured up to cope with what's happening, he's fully convinced that not even those damn worms will be able to bring him back.
What was it he said, all that time ago? You think I'm afraid of that? A dark chuckle almost claws its way out of his throat. He is afraid. He's terrified.
Something shifts beside him, and it brings him pause. There is never anyone else allowed in his cell. No one has a key except for the guards, and there's no way they would allow anyone to be in here with him and-
A deep voice mumbles something incoherent, and his eyes snap open.
He's not in that cell. He's not in the Negative Zone. He's on Earth. In New York.
Johnny looks over to the sleeping figure beside him and reminds himself that he's in Peter Parker's apartment.
Peter sleeps, dead to the world. An arm is draped over Johnny's chest, and he notes with a faint amusement that Peter is drooling onto his pillows. Johnny chuckles softly, ignoring the shaking of his hands in favor of brushing a strand of hair away from his face.
I love him, he thinks then, I'm home with him and I love him.
But, God, does he need some fresh air.
Very carefully and slowly, Johnny moves Peter's arm and shifts away from him, he can hear Peter mumble protests as he sits up and places his feet on the cold floor of the apartment. As much heat as he produces, he still has to get used to the temperature of New York again. Distantly, he thinks that's rigged. Something to complain about later, he guesses.
“Johnny?”
Johnny sighs, mentally cursing at himself. Peter has always been a light sleeper.
“Hey, Pete,” He replies softly, turning to look at him. Peter is propped up on his elbow, other hand rubbing the sleep out of his eye as he yawns, “Go back to bed, okay?”
“Where you going?” Peter asks instead, looking more and more aware by the second. Johnny scoots closer to him, cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Just gotta get some fresh air,” He responds, voice soft, “I'll be back.”
Before Peter can reply, Johnny is standing up and padding out of the room. He forgoes his slippers or even a shirt, increasing his body temperature just enough to keep him from shivering.
He finds himself on the fire escape, inhaling deeply as he leans on the railing. Resting his chin in his hand, he idly watches below. Even at... whatever time of night this was, New York is bustling with life. He watches car drive by, occasionally honking at whatever injustice they've decided was done unto them, there are few people on the sidewalk, but Johnny watches them all the same. Some are on their phones, listening to music, or simply just... being. Existing.
Living.
He closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of the city. It's grounding, in a way. In the Negative Zone, there were very few sounds. If he wasn't plotting with the Light Brigade, or if they were taking turns falling apart in the cells while all the others could do was watch and listen and offer feeble words of comfort, there was merely... silence. It was only broken by the occasional sounds of distant fighting, cheering, screaming... and the inevitable that came with it.
On the worst days, there was only buzzing.
Whether it had been the Negative Zone inhabitants, Annihilus himself, or the abominations that stitched him back to life, it was all the same: the incessant buzzing, the jeering, not even drowned out by the ringing in his ears.
On the fire escape, though, there is only sounds of the city. Cars driving by, footsteps, honking, the wind blowing through. There is no war. There is no fire. No blood. No death. Only him.
Him, and the visitor he can hear stumbling behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist.
Peter presses his forehead into Johnny's back and mumbles, “Hey.”
“Hey.” He mumbles back, placing a hand over Peter's.
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
Peter hums, pressing a kiss to Johnny's back, moving his hands to his hips.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, rubbing in a soothing motion. Johnny can't help the smile that crosses his lips.
“Not right now.” He answers, leaning back to kiss his temple, “I'll be fine.”
Peter hums.
“I mean it!” Johnny says incredulously, “I'm fine, I promise.”
“If you're fine, then Jonah loves me.” He can hear the smirk in Peter's voice, rolling his eyes. He turns around to face him.
“I'll have you know-” He's stopped mid sentence, “... Is that my shirt?”
From here, Johnny can see how utterly ridiculous and adorable Peter looks. It appears that in his sleepy haze, Peter had grabbed the first shirt he saw and threw it on, which Johnny can say without a shadow of a doubt is one of his, despite it being very inside-out. His eyes trail down and he has to suppress a snicker at the Spider-Man pajama pants and mismatched slippers. One of which he again knows is decidedly his because of the flame decal on it.
Hey, if Spider-Man is anything, it's committed to the brand.
Peter shrugs, “Maybe.”
Johnny again rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around Peter's waist.
“Dork.” He says lovingly. Peter lightly shoves at his chest, not enough to move, just enough to make his point known.
“Dick.”
Johnny laughs at that and doesn't miss the way Peter's eyes light up at the sound. They're kissing then, Johnny's hand coming to rest on Peter's cheek, while the other's hands return to his hips. It's beautiful, soft, and everything Johnny could ever wish for, and for a brief moment, he wishes time could just stop here. If this was all there is, he'd be more than fine with it.
It's a beautiful thing, loving and being loved in return. It was a fleeting memory Johnny clung onto in the Negative Zone. It's a sensation he clings onto now.
Peter pulls away, his smile illuminated by the moonlight.
“Seriously,” He says, “You can talk to me when you want to.”
Johnny nods, “I know.”
“And come back to bed soon.” He's pouting now, “It's cold, and you're the best heater in all of New York.”
Again, Johnny laughs and kisses the pout right off of Peter's face.
“I will.” He whispers sincerely, “Just... gimme a second. I'll be right back in bed with you.”
Peter nods through a yawn, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he steps back into the apartment.
“As long as you make it back before I gotta go to work,” He says, “I love you.”
“I love you too. Good night, Pete.”
“Night.”
With that, Peter turns and walks silently back into the apartment. Johnny turns back to his view of the city, and sighs.
It's a beautiful thing, living. As he looks up to the stars, he can't help the small smile that forms on his face. That's what he is. That's what he's doing.
Living.