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Being an extra in Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark was so great. Peter wasn’t sure why, with his superhuman flexibility and strength, he’d never thought of trying out for Broadway before (other than his obvious inability to sing), but once he heard about this musical, he’d had to give it a shot. He just had to. And honestly, he hadn’t thought for one moment that he’d get a part, but the producers had been so impressed by his acrobatics that they’d hired him on the spot – with specific instructions not to sing.
Normally, Peter loved this gig. Running around a stage, people cheering him on instead of booing him, J.J.J pondering whether or not BUGLE PHOTOGRAPHER NOW EXTRA IN MUSICAL BROADWAY DISASTER ABOUT WEBBED MENACE was a newsworthy headline, stuff like that. An added bonus of being there eight times a week was the number of disasters that he’d singlehandedly managed to prevent (one time someone’s harness came off and he would have fallen into the orchestra pit if not for Peter), so he was able to convince himself there was an unselfish element to it as well.
Tonight had started like any other night. But when Peter had run out on stage, shouting about Venom, he’d immediately spotted a familiar face in the audience. And any hope that Johnny Storm wouldn’t recognize him died the second they made eye contact. The blond’s mouth dropped, and as a wickedly delighted grin spread across his features, Peter swore Johnny was trying to keep himself from laughing. And of course he had his arm draped around some girl’s shoulders. That wouldn’t be distracting at all.
Peter somehow managed to keep it together through the entire first act, despite the uneasy feeling of being very specifically watched. On an average show night, he was just a background character, there to help the choreography come together. He ran out to bow with ten other people and he didn’t stick around afterwards at the stage door, because nobody would be interested in getting his autograph. When intermission finally came around, he found his heart pounding in his chest and his hands shaking. The chatter of his fellow performers didn’t help – “Did you see Johnny Storm in the audience?”
“His arm around some girl,” the lead of the show said woefully, shaking his head. “Think I could change his mind, guys?”
“Maybe,” the female lead said. A teasing lilt entered her voice. “I hear he’s pretty gay for Spider-Man.”
Peter – who had been against the wall, chugging water like there was no tomorrow – snapped his head up. “What?”
Everyone turned to look at him, which was at any given time the exact opposite of what Peter wanted. He was as much a part of the wallpaper backstage as he was onstage, speaking to his coworkers only during rehearsals, and he was sure most of them didn't even know his name.
“Don't you read the tabloids?” another swing asked him.
“Read them? He writes for them,” the male lead – Reeve, Peter remembered – snorted.
“I take pictures,” Peter mumbled. He wasn't about to argue the Bugle's status as a legitimate newspaper, and he really didn't like the feeling of everyone's eyes on him. It was different when he was Spider-Man, behind a mask and in the company of strangers. These were people he had to work with.
“Pictures of Spider-Man,” Reeve said. “You don't read the articles that go with them?”
Peter shook his head. Reading about how he was a personal menace to society had gotten old fast. Just like this discussion, where he couldn't tell whether he was being attacked or if this was just a normal conversation.
“Hey, lay off him,” the female lead said, much to Peter's relief. “You're just jealous nobody's running around taking pictures of you.”
And just like that, the focus of the conversation was shifted to Reeve's ego, and Peter was left to panic in peace. He quickly changed into his costume for the opening number of the second act, pondering how he was going to get out of the theater without running into Johnny. Also, he had to figure out how he was going to avoid Johnny for the rest of his life.
“You think he'll come backstage after?” someone asked as they took their places, shattering Peter's current idea of changing and running. Celebrities always seemed to make it back there before the cast had even finished bowing, and Peter knew Johnny wasn't about to turn this opportunity down.
“God, I hope so,” Reeve sighed dreamily. The orchestra began to play, and Peter's thoughts shifted to the earlier remark about the tabloids. Did Johnny have some sort of crush on Spider-Man? Was that why he'd come to see the show? It wasn't very likely, since he'd brought a date along, and Peter grimaced as he realized he’d even been entertaining the thought.
The curtain went up, and for the next hour and a half, Peter studiously focused on not meeting Johnny Storm's eyes. It was probably the best performance of his entire career. When it came time to take his bows, he finally let himself look at Johnny, but the blond and his date were already gone.
It was a race to get backstage; everyone wanted to be the first to meet Johnny Storm, but everyone had the good sense to let Reeve and the other stars go first. Peter, for his part, hung back, hoping maybe he could slip out without notice after all.
“Does my hair look okay?” Reeve asked nobody in particular, frantically running his fingers through it. Peter would have found it more pathetic if he weren't doing the same thing – if he was going to be forced to deal with Johnny's mockery, at least he wouldn't look like a total loser.
Johnny was waiting for them outside the dressing rooms, his date nowhere to be found. He shook hands, took pictures, and flashed his charming smile. Peter, who wasn't important enough to have his own dressing room, ducked his head as he changed into his street clothes.
“I'm so glad you came to see us,” Reeve said in the most shamelessly flirtatious way Peter had ever heard. He hadn't bothered to take off the Spider-Man suit, maybe buying into those tabloid rumors after all. “I'm a really big fan of yours.”
“Thanks, man,” Johnny said, clasping his arm. “Loved the show.”
Peter decided to skip washing the stage makeup off his face. He grabbed the backpack that held the real Spidey costume and tried to slide past the crowd of people surrounding Johnny.
“Pete!” Johnny yelled, and Peter froze. Why couldn't he be lucky for once in his life?
Everyone was looking at him again, and he wanted to run, but he didn't want to explain it in the morning, so he mumbled, “Hey, Johnny.”
Like magic, the crowd parted to let Johnny through, and the whispers of the crew told Peter he was going to have a lot to explain tomorrow regardless.
“You on your way out?” Johnny asked, looking him up and down. “I'll walk with you.”
“Oh, that's really not necessary,” Peter said. “Really.”
“So it's a yes, then?” Johnny said cheerfully, swinging his arm around Peter's shoulder. “I can’t let you walk all the way to Queens alone at this time of night after being reminded of all the dangers in this city. You need a hero to make sure you get home safely.”
“I hate you,” Peter hissed as he had no choice but to allow himself to be led away, feeling Reeve's death glare boring into his back.
“I can't believe you didn't tell me about this,” Johnny hissed back. “This is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.”
“I didn't tell anybody about this,” Peter said, shoving Johnny's arm away as soon as they were out of the view of the rest of the cast. “It pays well, okay? I need the money.”
“I can’t believe it,” Johnny said again. “At first I thought, no, Peter Parker wouldn’t be in a play about himself. And then I thought, of course Peter Parker would be in a play about himself!”
“Keep it down,” Peter said, looking around for any rogue stagehands that might overhear. “Why don’t you go back to your date? I’m sure she’s more entertaining than mocking me.”
“Debatable,” Johnny said. “Although I do have the rest of our lives to remind you of it.”
“Great,” Peter said. He wanted nothing more than for this conversation to be over. “I need to change so I can get home, okay?”
Johnny looked wounded. “I thought I was going to escort you home.” He put on a falsetto voice. “We need a hero around here—”
“Enough,” Peter told him. “Seriously, go back to your date. I have to be back here at 10 AM tomorrow, and I’d like to get some sleep.” They both knew that was a lie. Show or no show, Peter often patrolled the city far into the wee hours of the morning.
“She’s not my date,” Johnny said. “I mean, I paid for her ticket, but I’m sure she knows it was just a friends thing – oh god, do you think she thinks it was a date?”
He looked positively stricken, and Peter rolled his eyes as he headed for the exit. “Goodbye, Johnny.”
“I came here tonight for you!” Johnny called after him. Peter, already at the door, paused. Turned.
“Are you saying you knew I was in this?” he asked.
Johnny shook his head. “No. ‘Course not. I was going to see if it was any good, and then I was going to invite you to go with me.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground in a way Peter would almost call shy. “I thought it would be fun to go with you, but I didn’t want to take you to something that made you – uh, Spider-Man – look like a bad guy.”
“How sweet,” Peter said, dramatically placing his hand against his chest. “I’m almost touched.”
“I’m serious,” Johnny said. “You were good, by the way.”
For Peter, this was almost as uncomfortable as being in the spotlight. They were standing alone in an empty theater, except that it probably wasn’t empty so long as the crew thought they still had a chance at a Johnny Storm selfie, and Peter didn’t know whether to shoot off some sarcastic quips or to actually take this seriously.
He settled on a compromise: “Why would you want to see this with me?”
“What, you mean other than the obvious?” Johnny asked. Peter made a pointed coughing noise, and Johnny amended, “That Spidey is your favorite superhero? I just thought…it might be nice to go out together. As. You know. Bros?”
“As bros?” Peter repeated. He sucked in his lips, which were dry all of a sudden.
Johnny moved toward him in an unusually tentative fashion. When he was close enough, he leaned down and murmured, “You know, I thought your love interest in this was a little stale. Not that the acting was bad. But the chemistry was really lacking.”
“And who would you cast?” Peter whispered back, trying to hide the anxiety and anticipation that pounded in his chest. “Yourself?”
In response, Johnny kissed him, and Peter could have sworn he heard a gasp come from somewhere up in the balconies.
He was definitely going to have a lot to explain tomorrow morning.