Chapter Text
The night bit through his suit like the city was trying to remind him he wasn’t invincible. The wind carried that specific bite that whispered you’re going to need your scarf from the back of the drawer soon, and Peter figured he’d listen—for once.
He knew he wasn’t alone the second his boots hit the base of Lady Liberty.
Johnny was already there, sitting on the rail like it was a throne he’d claimed hours ago. His arms rested on the cold green metal, his gaze lost in the distance. He didn’t move, not even when Peter’s footsteps landed with their usual soft thud.
Peter’s chest constricted, heart skipping like a bad record. Just the sight of him.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel,” Peter called from below, “let down your hair, so that I may climb thy golden stair.”
Johnny looked down with the slow dramatics of someone who definitely heard him the first time. He rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth as he motioned Peter up.
Peter didn’t hesitate.
He landed beside him with a thump and a little bounce, and for a heartbeat—or maybe two—he just looked. Let his eyes take in the lines of Johnny’s face, the way the moonlight painted soft shadows across his cheekbones. He wanted to run his fingers through those golden curls, wanted to memorize every shift in Johnny’s expression.
Instead, he forced a breath out and managed, “Hey, you.”
“You following me now?” Johnny asked, finally turning.
Peter ignored the lump forming in his throat and tried not to kiss him. Again. Right there. On Lady Liberty’s torch.
“No,” he said, swallowing. “I just needed some air. And you’re kind of predictable.”
Johnny scoffed like that was a compliment. Peter chose to believe it was.
“You also disappeared last night.”
Johnny exhaled, long and slow. “Yeah. I know. I wanted to stay, talk to you... I just didn’t know what to say.”
Peter barked a laugh. Ironic. That made two of them. He hadn’t stopped replaying every second since, hadn’t stopped wondering what he should’ve said. What he could’ve done. For a moment, they were both silent, neither of them knowing how to start that discussion.
Johnny shifted, his eyes on the city. “The team said you got the Zodiac.”
Peter nodded, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah. All of them. It wasn’t easy, but the Unity Squad’s database helped. They’re in Ryker's now.”
“Good.” Johnny’s voice had weight. “Van Lunt’s a creep.”
Peter huffed. “You’re telling me. The Squad gave me a ‘good luck’ and I thought they were exaggerating.”
He didn’t mention the way his fists had shaken remembering Van Lunt touching Johnny. Or how satisfying the punch had been.
“So... at the party,” Johnny started.
Peter’s head snapped up. He could feel it, the tension suddenly sparking between them again. He met Johnny’s eyes and instantly felt that old, terrifying pull.
“Yeah. The party. When we…” Peter trailed.
“And then we…”
Peter’s hand moved before he could think. He rested it gently on Johnny’s thigh. Even through the suit, the warmth burned into his palm. Johnny didn’t pull away.
“Yeah,” Peter said quietly. “We kissed.” His heart tried to leap out of his chest. “Man. What a kiss.”
Johnny smirked. “You weren’t terrible. Honestly thought you'd be worse.”
Peter scoffed. “Wow. Thanks.”
“What? You were overthinking it! I did you a favor.”
“You jumped me.”
“Exactly. Otherwise we’d still be dancing around it like idiots.”
The only reason Peter didn’t just tackle him right there and just got it over with, the way he wanted to, the way he dreamed about it, the way he imagined it and ached for it, came down to the need to get it right this time.
So instead, Peter laughed, the sound breathless. He moved his hand, firmer now on Johnny’s thigh, pulling him just a little closer. “I would’ve gotten there eventually.”
“In, what, a decade?” Johnny teased, elbowing him.
Peter didn’t argue. Not really. He just looked at him, heart full and aching and terrified. “In my defense, I tried. I did. Multiple times.”
Johnny’s smile faded slightly, turning soft. “You mean... back at my place? All those months ago.”
Peter nodded, jaw tight. “When you fell asleep in my arms. Then I woke up alone, and you were just... gone.”
Johnny had the grace to look away, sheepish. “I wasn’t doing great. I thought disappearing would be easier.”
“It wasn’t.”
Peter’s grip tightened, just a little. Like his body was trying to tell Johnny what his mouth couldn’t. Stay. He couldn’t make out much of Johnny’s expression in the New York night, but he could tell that Johnny’s features were more subdued than usual.
“I should’ve tried harder to keep you, then.”
“Peter,” Johnny said, his voice barely above a whisper, and he covered Peter’s hand with his own. “You’ve always got me.”
Peter blinked. Something in him shattered, quietly. “You’ve got me too. Always. Look at me.”
Johnny did.
God, those eyes.
“I love you,” Peter said, voice thick. Words falling out with incredible ease. “I’ve always loved you. It’s... it’s unbearable sometimes. Like I don’t know where to put all of it.”
Johnny gave a wet chuckle and leaned in, pressing his face against Peter’s neck. “I’m sorry I made it so hard.”
Peter’s fingers threaded into Johnny’s hair, holding him like he’d float away if he didn’t. “You’re worth it. Every second.”
Johnny pulled back, nose brushing Peter’s cheek. “It feels right. This. Us.”
“It does,” Peter said, eyes shining. “I’m so gonna ask you out properly. Like, wining and dining. I got a plan.”
“Or,” Johnny grinned, “we could go get those weird hotdogs from that stand on 9th. You know, the one where the water’s definitely older than both of us combined.”
Peter laughed, genuinely. “That cart’s survived alien invasions. It’s basically a landmark.”
“A national treasure.”
Peter’s smile softened. He reached up, cupping Johnny’s cheek. “Can I kiss you again?”
Johnny’s grin melted into something tender. “Peter. I’m head over heels in love with you. You never have to ask—unless you’re being really annoying.”
“Mm. Boyfriend privileges,” Peter whispered, leaning in. Johnny didn’t correct him.
Their lips met. Warm, familiar, safe. Not rushed, not desperate. Just right. When they parted, Peter leaned their foreheads together.
“I’m not letting you disappear on me again,” he said.
“I’m staying,” Johnny promised, taking Peter’s hand and pressing it over his heart. “Right here.”
Peter could feel it—steady and strong beneath his palm.
He smiled.
And kissed him again.
Like they had all the time in the world.
“So, you’re still living with your sexy roommate?” Johnny asked hours later, sprawled across the bed like he owned the place—because he did, fair.
Peter was just coming back from the bathroom, a damp cloth in hand. His hair was damp too, clinging a little to his temple, and he was shirtless, with only a low-hung towel around his waist. They’d made a mess of the sheets. And the kitchen. And the desk near the window that now looked like it had been through a mild hurricane. But they’d ended here, in Johnny’s bed, tangled up and bare beneath moonlight.
Peter shot him a look, lips already twitching.
“Didn’t know SHIELD had such gorgeous spies,” Johnny added, his smirk lazy, teasing.
Peter shook his head, grinning now. He rolled his eyes and smacked Johnny on the stomach with the damp towel. The hit made Johnny flinch and laugh, all muscles flexing under golden skin, and Peter had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from launching himself right back on top of him.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed him—soft, short, still electric—and sat on the edge of the bed. He started working the cloth gently over Johnny’s chest, cleaning him up with something like reverence. Johnny just lay there, completely unconcerned with modesty, stretched out and golden and entirely too perfect for Peter to handle without his thoughts skidding sideways.
God. The sight of him like this... it did things to him. He was a weak weak man.
Peter laughed under his breath, quietly overwhelmed. “That spy’s a good friend now,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “We actually had a long talk about your virtue.”
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “I bet you did. SHIELD trains ‘em like that. Superhearing and everything.” He batted at the towel like it was a personal offense.
“It’s a skill, I suppose,” Peter muttered, trying to focus on the task at hand. But Johnny’s skin was warm beneath his fingers, and he could still feel the ghost of Johnny’s mouth on his own body—those teeth, those hands. Every place he’d been touched still buzzed like a live wire under his skin.
His mind was a mess. It was a beautiful, lovesick mess.
“You know,” Peter said, still gently running the cloth down Johnny’s ribs, “she said some helpful things. About... you. And us.”
Johnny shifted, propping a pillow under his head, one hand idly tracing lines along Peter’s upper arm. The touch was light but anchoring. “What’d she say about us?”
Peter paused, cloth in hand, breath catching for a second. He didn’t know if the shiver that rolled down his spine was from the touch or the question. Maybe both. He didn’t answer right away. Just kept working, dragging out the motion like it might buy him more time. Then finally, he dropped the cloth on the floor next to the bed.
“I told her about how you fell asleep in my arms that night,” Peter said softly. “And how I woke up alone. How you just... vanished for months.” He looked down at his hands, at the mark Johnny’s presence had left on him even in silence. “She said that’s when I should’ve known.”
Johnny let out a short, wry chuckle. “That I’m bad news?”
“No,” Peter said quickly, almost a little too sharply. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then braced himself on the bed, leaning over Johnny. “She said I should’ve known that I’d have to spell things out for you. Actually say something. You weren’t gonna just figure it out.”
Johnny’s eyes softened with something that looked suspiciously like fondness. “And then I kissed you. Solved your problem.”
Peter gave him a flat look that was already betraying a smile. “I told you. You jumped me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re impossible,” Peter said, voice low as his fingers trailed down Johnny’s abs again. His touch was idle, but reverent. “Just as good at pushing all my worst buttons as you are at pushing the best ones.”
Johnny caught his hand, held it gently in both of his, then brought Peter’s palm to his lips. He kissed it once, then again, each finger like a promise. Peter’s breath caught in his throat.
“We’re good for each other,” Johnny said, quiet now. Vulnerable in that way that made Peter want to hold him forever.
Peter had to close his eyes for a second to steady himself. His heart felt too big for his chest. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Baby, I love you.”
Johnny’s smile, slow and real, was the kind that made Peter ache. “I love you too.”
They kissed. It wasn’t hot, wasn’t frantic. Just soft. Sweet. Like sealing something between them with lips and breath.
Peter pulled back just enough to breathe, then rolled onto his side next to Johnny. He let his hand rest on Johnny’s stomach, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. The rhythm calmed him. Grounded him.
Johnny smiled and reached out, pulling Peter closer until his head was tucked against his chest. Peter went easily, like he’d been waiting all night to do just that. He exhaled against Johnny’s skin, a small, almost dreamy sigh escaping him.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
Johnny’s arm around him tightened just a little. “I know. I missed you too. Like crazy.”
Peter didn’t say anything, just listened.
“I was out there,” Johnny murmured, “in all these other worlds. And every one of them had its own Spider-Man. And I just... couldn’t stop thinking about mine.”
Peter’s heart clenched, aching with how much he felt in that one word. Mine.
“I’m glad you did,” he said, quiet. His fingers absently traced circles on Johnny’s chest. “Just… try not to disappear again. Please.”
Johnny didn’t answer right away. He pulled Peter even closer, both hands warm on his back. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I promise I won’t. I was just... I couldn’t cope. Not with them gone. Not with staying.”
Peter lifted his head at that, gently brushing the hair back from Johnny’s forehead. He looked at him for a long moment, eyes scanning every line of his face, like he could somehow take the weight of that pain away just by seeing it.
“You’re not alone,” Peter said, brushing his fingers down Johnny’s cheek, then over his throat, soft kisses trailing behind his touch. “You never were.”
“I know,” Johnny whispered, voice raw. “I know.”
This time, it was Johnny who needed to be held. He turned his face into Peter’s neck, clinging to him like the world might disappear otherwise. Peter held him tightly, one hand stroking his back, the other cradling his head.
They fit together like puzzle pieces—two bruised hearts trying to heal in the same space.
Peter closed his eyes and let himself breathe him in. The heat of Johnny’s body. The rhythm of his heart. The smell of sweat, skin, and cologne.
Every sense was full of him. And it still wasn’t enough.
God, he loved him so much. And there was no way in hell he wasn't gonna keep him this time around.
Johnny stumbled again, his foot catching on nothing, and Peter couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter.
“Stop that!” Peter said between chuckles. “You look like Bambi on ice.”
“You stop laughing!” Johnny huffed, arms slightly flailing to keep his balance. “I'm never letting you guide me blind again.”
Peter was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “I’m not guiding you blind, drama queen. It’s called a trust walk. A totally romantic, non-hazardous trust walk.”
Johnny groaned. “You said ‘just a couple more steps’ five minutes ago. I swear, if this ends in one of your dumb jokes—”
Peter squeezed Johnny’s hand where their fingers were still laced together. “I swear on Aunt May’s wheatcakes, no jokes. We’re really close now. Just two more steps, cross my heart.”
Johnny muttered something under his breath, but he moved forward with Peter, the tiniest smile pulling at his lips despite himself. Peter felt that little spark of joy bloom in his chest again—God, he was so gone for him.
They stopped.
“Okay,” Peter said, voice suddenly softer. He took a breath. “Open your eyes.”
Johnny blinked as he pulled the blindfold off.
And then he just… froze.
Right in front of them stood the sculpture Alicia Masters had made of the Fantastic Four, back when Peter still owned the Baxter Building. It looked almost untouched by time—majestic and larger than life. Familiar. Sacred.
Peter watched Johnny, the way the surprise reshaped his face. Wonder softened his expression, made him look younger, and Peter felt his heart twist, in the best way. He couldn’t look away.
Johnny took a slow step forward, eyes glued to the base of the sculpture. His gaze landed on the engraved words—memorial words for the original team—and he blinked rapidly. “How did you even—?”
“I called in a few favors,” Peter said, still smiling. “Okay, Bobbi called in a few favors. It had been sitting in a storage unit after they cleared out the building. I just… I didn’t want it to disappear. I wanted you to see it again.”
Johnny looked back at him, stunned. “Wait. Is it yours again?”
Peter shook his head. “No,” he said, lifting their still-intertwined hands and pressing a kiss to Johnny’s knuckles. “It’s yours, Johnny.”
Johnny made a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. He reached for Peter without hesitation, pulling him into a tight embrace that knocked the breath out of him. Peter let out a surprised exhale and wrapped his arms around him, holding him just as tightly.
He buried his face in Johnny’s shoulder and kissed the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of sun and smoke and something so uniquely him. “Baby,” he murmured, voice raw. “You like it?”
Johnny clung to him as a response, fingers curling in the back of Peter’s shirt like he was afraid letting go would break the moment. “You did this for me,” he whispered, voice rough. Not a question.
Peter nodded against him. “Yeah. Of course I did.”
You have no idea what I'd do for you, he thought.
Johnny pulled back just enough to swipe a hand under his eyes, laughing breathlessly. “Okay but… where are we even gonna put this thing?”
Peter grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, I thought maybe the rooftop garden at your place. You know, the one you never actually garden in?”
“Oh my God,” Johnny muttered, shaking his head, still laughing through the last of his tears. “I hate how much I love you.”
Peter just held him closer. “Nah, you just love me."
The breeze shifted, ruffling Johnny’s hair, and Peter combed his fingers through it without thinking. Johnny closed his eyes like a cat soaking in the sun.
“I miss them,” Johnny murmured. “Sue. Reed. The kids... Ben. I miss them every day.”
“I know,” Peter said, his voice low. “So do I. But you're still here. And you carry all of them with you. In your heart, in the way you burn brighter just to keep everyone warm.”
Johnny looked at him like he was trying not to fall apart. “That was way too poetic.”
Peter smirked. “Yeah, well. Sometimes I like to surprise you.”
Johnny leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Peter’s. “You do. Every damn time.”
They stood there like that for a while, arms around each other, the statue casting a long shadow beside them. Eventually, Johnny spoke again, his voice smaller, more vulnerable.
“You really think I can be that guy again? The one I used to be, when they were still around?”
Peter tilted his head and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think you ever stopped being him. You just needed a reminder. You needed this. And maybe… me too.”
Johnny closed his eyes and breathed deep, like he was trying to take all of it in and hold it there. Then he smiled, slow and genuine.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Then let’s go home.”
Peter nodded, lacing their fingers again. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”