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Once Johnny learned Spider-Man’s identity he pretty much expected the Christmas Morning meet-ups at the usual place to stop. Or at least be pre-planned, seeing as they no longer had to wonder whether one of them would get there and the other might not show up. And sure, he’s had Peter’s burner number even before he knew he was Peter — thanks to that one Christmas morning — but Johnny still never used it prior to their annual meet-ups to confirm he would be there.
Maybe there was something a little thrilling about getting there and already seeing Spidey waiting for him. About it all just being implied. This was their thing and neither of them would forget or miss it unless there was a damn good reason.
That first Christmas after he learned Peter’s identity they still did their ritual, unspoken, but then Peter asked if Johnny wanted to come back to his and Mary Jane’s place. So Johnny did.
Aunt May made cookies, Mary Jane wore a Santa Suit. Gag gifts were had all around. It was nice; it felt warm and comfortable in the same way it did with the rest of the Four. If Johnny’s heart panged a bit when he watched Peter and Mary Jane kiss under the mistletoe she’d hung — well, whatever. Johnny was getting pretty used to disappointment, and falling for a married guy was definitely not a prelude to a happy ending.
But then things had changed. Peter took his face away from Johnny. Johnny got it back. Peter and Mary Jane were no longer together. Johnny — died.
Yeah. A lot has changed.
++++++++++++++
It’s the first Christmas after the negative zone and Johnny still feels out of sorts. He lost two years that he’ll never get back. It didn’t matter if it was only a few months for the others, for Johnny he felt every day, every death, every terrifying rebirth.
Specifically it’s Christmas Eve. Sue, Reed and the kids are ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Johnny is sacked out on the couch with Ben in their newly rebuilt common area watching Shop Around the Corner — because Ben is a big old softy. About an hour in he gets a text.
Still on for tomorrow? his phone glows. Johnny immediately freezes.
Never once in all the years they’ve done this did Peter check in if Johnny would be at the usual place for their annual tradition. Not even when he easily could once they had one another’s numbers. Not even before that, when they’d see each other two days before Christmas and still only parted with a “Alright, see you around,” as if ‘around’ wouldn’t be on Lady Liberty’s torch in less than 48 hours.
His body temperature is higher than the average person all the time, but right now Johnny feels chilled down to his bones.
“Ya alright there, Matchstick?” Ben nudges Johnny’s shoulder. Of course he noticed.
“Yeah. Peachy.”
Ben snorts. “Peachy, eh? Sometimes you remind me of a 60s teen.”
“Ha.”
Johnny frowns down at his phone, fingers hovering over the buttons, and feels Ben’s rocky shoulder press in a little closer.
“What’s the bug want, then?”
Johnny startles, thinking Ben’s a mind reader, but of course he only saw the ‘Pete’ at the top of contact in Johnny’s phone.
“Same old,” Johnny deflects, and pockets his phone without replying to the text.
The problem is it isn’t ‘same old.’ This is Pete — treating him differently. That one seemingly innocent sentence has knocked Johnny for a loop. Like something has changed. Like Johnny wouldn’t have been at the usual place by dawn, thermos of hot cocoa and gift in hand.
He hates it, hates this. It’s been months and Pete is still — weird around him. Looked at Johnny maybe a little too long while they were living together, grilled him about the Daken stuff, touched him a little more.
Johnny doesn’t really mind that last part. Wouldn’t even mind the first part if it didn’t come hand in hand with Pete’s anxious mother hen brand of worrying.
Johnny’s — fine. He’s fucking fine. Maybe the Daken stuff messed him up a bit, but whatever, it’s ancient history.
Real people stay dead when they die, Johnny.
So maybe he still had nightmares about the zone. He’s human, right?
You standing here is simply…an insult.
“I’m gonna…” Johnny waves vaguely in the direction of his room and leaves Ben to his romcom, ignoring his calls of “Yer sure yer alright?”
Johnny flops down on his bed and pulls out his phone again. He’s being ridiculous. It’s one fucking question. So what if it’s out of the norm for them. Pete was just — checking in.
He rubs a hand over his face and opens the thread again, taking in the last messages before it.
{embedded image text:
Johnny: Movie night?
Peter: Yeah but I still don’t think Batman Returns counts as a Christmas movie
Johnny: sucks to be so wrong swing by (heh) at 8
Peter: Still on for tomorrow? 🗽}
Johnny’s aware he shouldn’t be treating this any differently than himself asking Pete about movie night, but it still feels off.
He finally replies.
Of course we’re still on, web head, why wouldn’t we be
Pete’s reply is instantaneous and Johnny tries not to envision a scenario in which Peter was repeatedly checking his phone, waiting for his reply.
Just making sure
And that does nothing to calm the storm inside Johnny.
He’s not doing this over text. He doesn’t even know if he’s doing this at all. Instead he tries to sleep, tosses and turns most of the night, and then drags his feet in the morning as he heads out, everyone else still sleeping.
It really was funny to him that they never changed things once Johnny knew who Spidey was. He could’ve just flown over to Pete’s to pick him up. Instead Johnny still never truly knows half the time how Peter gets out there. Web rafts, hitching rides on the backs of vessels, helicopter dangle. They’ve all come into play, according to Pete.
Peter’s already there when Johnny arrives, and he’s pacing. Fresh anger rolls over him as he touches down.
Pete looks up, relief in his eyes like he thought Johnny would flake out.
“Heya, hot stuff. Merry Christmas.”
He sizzles for a different reason at the nickname. Pete’s smile is crooked and Johnny wants to kiss it off him like always.
“Hey.” He holds out the thermos and Pete gratefully takes it, pours himself and then Johnny a drink in the little attached cups.
“Listen, I’m glad you’re here because I—”
Johnny snaps. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be here, Spidey? If I recall correctly you’re the one with the track record of not showing up.”
Maybe that was a low blow, but whatever.
Pete’s eyes go wide and Johnny immediately thinks about two years, he hasn’t been here for two years. No wait, only two months for everyone else, he didn’t — didn’t miss one, not here. He was here last year. At least, in Peter’s mind. Good. That’s good.
“Johnny,” Pete approaches him as he would a feral cat. “What the hell was that about?”
Johnny shakes himself out of his unsteady thoughts, focuses on the anger still burning in his belly.
“You! Asking me if we were still on for today. You’ve never once asked that, and we’ve been through some shit, Pete. Why now?”
What’s changed? Why am I different? What am I doing wrong? Why am I even here…
“Whoa, firefly, simmer down.” Peter puts his hand on Johnny’s shoulder and it burns like a brand. His other hand drags through his own hair, the mask already off when Johnny arrived. “I was just confirming because, well, I was nervous. About today.”
Johnny frowns. “Why on earth would you be nervous about the usual place, Pe—”
And then Johnny isn’t talking any longer because he’s being kissed. Peter’s lips are soft, full, cold. Johnny memorizes them immediately in case this is a dream. He kisses back in case it isn’t, mouth moving slow against Pete’s own.
He gasps when Peter’s tongue presses against his bottom lip before slipping inside. Johnny groans, hands coming up around Peter’s back. Pete moves his own hand from Johnny’s shoulder to his neck, while his other strokes across Johnny’s cheek. Johnny shivers into it as the kiss deepens.
Pete pulls away all too soon, but Johnny’s still breathing hard.
Peter brushes their noses together, gentle, sweet. Johnny might scream or cry, he hasn’t decided.
“That’s why, you hothead. Thanks for ruining my plans.”
Johnny pulls back to Pete’s smiling, affectionate face. “Oh you had plans, huh?”
“Sure did. Little speech and everything.” He pulls out a gift from seemingly nowhere. “And this.”
Johnny opens it with shaking fingers. It’s a photo album, filled with shots Pete has taken over the years. Johnny, Sue, Reed, Ben, the kids. Shots from their adventures. From…
His hand freezes at the photos of the white suits. A moment he doesn’t remember because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t…
“Hey.” Pete’s hand on his shoulder again. Johnny looks up, and this time he does have tears.
“I died.”
Peter hand squeezes, firm, grounding. “I know,” he whispers.
“I thought…” he shakes his head, looks down at the photo again. “Thought you’d been treating me differently lately, because of it. Like I’m… damaged. Your text might’ve sent me over the edge there.”
Peter hums. “Yeah, figured that out myself, what with all the yelling.” He raises Johnny’s head with a finger to his jaw, then brushes away one of his tears. “And no. If I was — well, it’s basically because I didn’t exactly handle the negative zone stuff well, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you how I feel about you since.”
Johnny laughs, watery. “Wow. Definitely didn’t see this one coming, Spidey.”
Peter laughs too, but it sounds as hesitant as his next words. “Good surprise, though?”
Johnny inhales shakily, thinks about the tornado of emotions he’s been through since last night, since before that if he’s being honest. How hard he tried to plaster on a smile and a laugh and act normal.
He wraps his arms around Pete’s neck and leans in, resting their foreheads together. “You gotta know I’ve wanted this forever. But—”
“Knew there was a but,” Peter says, dryly.
“Shut up. I’m just. Look, I’m kind of a mess right now, Pete. I need you to know that, going in. If we do this.”
“And I’m the most well-adjusted guy in any room, is that it?”
Johnny laughs, more genuinely this time. He pulls back to look Peter in the eye. “Good point. You serious about this, though? You really want—”
He waves between them.
“I really want,” Peter replies, moving in to kiss him again, slow and deep.
“Okay,” Johnny says when he pulls back, body brimming with excitement for the first time in far too long. “If anyone can deal with my moods it’s you, right?” He takes a deep breath. “Okay, yeah, let’s give it a whirl.”
“A whirl huh? Sounds good to me.” Peter smiles, thumbs at Johnny’s lips. “And you know you can talk to me, hot stuff. About anything.”
Johnny swallows, nods. “I know. I will.”
“Now do I get my gift or what?”
Johnny laughs, tugging the package out of his coat pocket.
It’s a Polaroid, one of the original models. It’s possible he might already be thinking about the way they could make use of it, horizontally.
After all, Johnny’s alive, has a family who loves him, and is finally getting the guy he never thought he could have.
It’s time to make some new memories.
The End