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To be perfectly honest, Peter is freaking out. He readily admits that. The main reason is that there is something seriously wrong with Johnny: he is cold. They both are, clothes soaked to the bone in the middle of a snowstorm. At least Peter managed to carry Johnny inside a shallow cave in the mountain to shield them from the worse of it.
Vacations in Aspen had looked great on paper. The F4 had insisted on paying for Peter's expenses, too, saying he had more than earned some downtime. There had been skiing and skating. The half fun-half torture of sharing a hot tub with Johnny (Peter would pay for that right now, God). Frankly, it had been good times all around.
But the F4 attract trouble everywhere they go and villains decided to battle up on vacation time. It started above the crowded ski slopes, and to avoid casualties they'd slowly moved the fight North. Peter and Johnny's biggest tactical mistake had been to be lured far into the wilderness (and split from the others).
Shit had officially hit the fan when Johnny got hit by a spell and fell straight into a river. Seeing the flames snuff out and his free-fall had been heart stopping. Thank God it wasn't from high altitude, and the river wasn't frozen over. Peter had had no choice but to follow Johnny to fish him out, while the bad guys escaped.
"I had forgotten about this," Johnny says, shivering hard. His teeth are shattering. "Freezing sucks."
"Tell me about it. You'll be alright in a minute," Peter says, faux confident.
He thought that twenty minutes ago. He keeps expecting Johnny to find his bearings and flame on, but it's not happening.
"I'm sorry," Johnny says. He's got his arms tight around his torso, rubbing his shoulders.
"Nothing to be sorry about," Peter says. "I had no idea they had a magic user either."
"No." Johnny shakes his head. "I mean... I should be able to warm up, dry our clothes. I just can't-" He pauses. "I can't seem to find it." His voice is small. Scared, even.
Could it be that the sorcerer reverted Johnny to a regular human?
"It was magic," Peter says, shaking the idea off. "It can't rewrite your DNA. He might have blocked your powers for a little bit, but they will come back."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Just rest up a little bit," Peter says.
Meanwhile, though, he hopes they won't freeze to death.
Peter has a better resistance to cold than most people. Nonetheless he can sense his own body temperature dropping dangerously low. The cave protects them from the wind and snow, but that's about it. There are branches and dry leaves, but since they don't have anything to start a fire...
"I'm all out of ideas, here," Peter admits.
"Go get some help," Johnny says.
He shakes his head. "No, I'm not leaving you alone."
"Don't be stupid," Johnny says. "If you stay, you're going to freeze too."
"No." He can't imagine leaving Johnny in this place, cold and helpless. "And that's final."
Peter goes to sit by Johnny, who has stopped rubbing his arms. He makes the mistake to look at his face and Johnny's lips are blue.
"No, no, no," he says, babbling. He's close to a panic attack. "Blue is for your uniform and your eyes, that's it. No need for more blue."
Johnny snort-laughs, but he looks less alert. He stopped shivering, too, and Peter knows it's a bad sign.
"S'okay, Pete."
"No, it's very not okay!"
He needs a fire. Peter's cell phone died in the river; he can't use it to call for help, but maybe he can gut it and use the battery somehow. He gently leans Johnny against the cave's wall and hurries to gather sticks and leaves. Peter's own hands are shaking and without real tools and only rocks, the cell phone is a bitch to open. He manages, though, even if he sacrifices a nail to the cause. The phone's insides unfortunately leave him very little to work with.
"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he mutters under his breath.
He can't seem to generate a short that would give him a spark, even tiny. After a couple of minutes it's clear that it will never work.
"FuckfuckfuckFUCK!" he shouts. "Come ON!"
"Hey."
Peter turns and Johnny is white as a ghost, his skin almost translucent. It makes Peter want to puke, he cannot lose him this way, it's so stupid.
"Bring it. Let me try," he says.
"Bring this?" Peter says, holding up the battery of his gutted cell phone.
"No, the branch. C'mere," Johnny says, tapping the ground beside him.
Peter is not sure he can bear to witness Johnny fail to light up a little branch, when only an hour ago he could have gone nova in the sky.
"Look, Johnny, it's alright. You don't need-"
"I said get your ass over here," Johnny says.
When Peter sits next to him, Johnny grabs his hand instead of the branch. He's so cold, it makes Peter flinch.
"Look, I don't have anything," Johnny says. "But I can try- can I try?"
"Anything you want." He has no idea what he agreed to, but it's trivial.
"I'm sorry," Johnny says. "I wouldn't do this if there was any other way. I can't think-"
"Do it," Peter says.
Johnny closes his fingers around Peter's, and shuts his eyes. Peter cannot feel anything at first, and wonders if he passed out. Then, Peter's hand starts to tingle and he realizes that Johnny is sucking up his body temperature, whatever is left anyway.
"Holy shit!" he exclaims. When the drain wavers, Peter urges him on. "No, no, no, don't stop, it's alright. Come on, you can do this."
He'll gladly give every iota of warmth in his body to Johnny. It hurts like a bitch, though. The tingling sensation morphs to numbness and then to an acute burning sensation. Peter's breath is getting labored, the cold spreading through his body. But he is fascinated by the way Johnny is pinking up as he soaks the energy like a sponge.
Then, Johnny takes the dry branch from Peter and a bright flame erupts from his fingers, brilliant but so fragile. Peter holds Johnny's hand and so delicately blows on it. His spirit soars as the flame gets bigger and the branch finally catches on fire.
"Woo!" he cries out. "You did it! See? I told you the powers weren't gone! Way to go, you are awesome!"
Peter protects the beautiful little flame with his hand and brings it to the kindle he set up earlier. He's as careful as he can, and can't stop grinning. The dry leaves start curling and catch on fire, too, and it spreads to twigs and bigger branches.
Only then does he turn back to Johnny and realizes that he's unmoving, back to porcelain white. Peter's heart sinks and he throws himself to Johnny's side, fingers to his throat. He better not have sacrificed the last of his energy for this, or Peter will revive him just to kill him all over again. Thankfully there is a pulse, light but regular, and Peter sags with relief.
"Jesus," Peter says. "Don't do this to me, man!"
He doesn't quite know what to do. What is for sure is that Johnny still has his powers: he just lacks the energy to fuel them. Peter carefully pulls Johnny towards the fire, the branches now burning bright and lively. He positions Johnny's body as close as he dares to the flames. He needs the heat.
Their soaked clothes are not helping matters any. Maybe, if they were skin to skin, Johnny could absorb energy from him easier. Peter strips out of his sweater – the coat stayed in the river since it was dragging him down - and he unzips Johnny's uniform to tug the top off of him. He's uncomfortable undressing his unresponsive friend, but he should be forgiven in the name of survival.
"Frankly, Matchstick, when I thought about getting you out of your clothes, it wasn't quite like this."
He lies down behind Johnny, chest to back, and hugs him close. Peter is cold too, miserable, and so very worried. He keeps hoping for a sign that Johnny is getting better, but he's still scarily cold and unmoving. Peter's never seen anything so unnatural.
The fire, at least, is going strong. It's too bad Peter cannot feel a lot of its heat with the barrier of Johnny's body.
"Come on, Johnny. Can't you feel the fire? Please, take what you need," he begs.
After what feels like hours but must have been only minutes, Johnny moves. He lists forward, towards the flames. He's breathing more deeply, too, which is encouraging.
"Yes, that's it!" Peter says. "Heat, right there. Use it. Or drain from me again, I don't care. Come on Johnny."
When Johnny stretches a hand towards the flames, Peter's gut reaction is to worry he's going to burn himself. It's stupid, he knows, and he tamps down the desire to pull him back. Johnny puts his hand in the middle of the fire and the flames lower dangerously.
"Whoa, easy," Peter whispers. "Let it burn, pace yourself. Just like taking little sips, okay?"
Johnny nods, which means he's alert again. A second later, the fire stabilizes.
"That's it, you're doing great," Peter praises.
"I just need-" he croaks.
"Don't talk, do your thing. You'll be all good in no time." He has to be, because Peter doesn't know what else to do.
Slowly, but noticeably, Johnny does warm up. It's such a relief that Peter slumps behind him, and rests his forehead against Johnny's nape.
"Thank God."
"It's coming back," Johnny says, grabbing Peter's hand with his free one. "The spell, it's wearing off."
"I knew it would," Peter says, squeezing Johnny's fingers.
Once kick-started, Johnny's metabolism takes over. He goes from lukewarm to pleasantly toasty in minutes. Peter shamelessly snuggles, soaking it up too.
"Oh yeah. That's better," he says.
"I'm fine now." Johnny takes his hand out of the fire and taps Peter's shoulder. "What about you?"
"Getting there," Peter says. Now that worry and stress aren't holding him together, he's feeling the cold and the fatigue.
"Come on, let's switch," Johnny says.
Peter doesn't understand. "Huh?"
"Told you, I'm fine. Let me be the big spoon for a bit. You'll warm up faster between me and the fire."
It's an offer hard to refuse. A moment later Peter has to admit: it's a lot better with Johnny at his back and the flames right in front of him.
"Thanks," Peter says, fighting the last of the chills raking his body.
"No, thank you," Johnny says. He's running a warm hand up and down Peter's arm. "I'm pretty sure I was done for if it wasn't for you."
"Are you kidding me?" Peter says. "You might have been a bit out of it, but if it wasn't for that flame-"
He doesn't like to think about what would have happened.
"Yeah. I missed the fun parts."
"The fun parts? What fun parts!"
"The undressing part," Johnny says. He starts laughing when Peter makes an outraged sound.
"That was extremely unfunny, okay?" Peter says. He is getting worked up, but at the same time he feels as if the world is righting itself. A joking Johnny means he's definitely better. "You were so cold and still, I was worried sick."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Johnny says, barely contrite.
He hugs Peter close, and… kisses his neck? Peter would pass it as a mindless gesture of comfort but Johnny stops moving. He even ceases breathing. It would be easy to pretend it didn't happen, but Peter cannot do that. He brings Johnny's hand, already tangled with his own, to his mouth to kiss it. It's light, barely there, but unmistakable.
"Yeah?" Johnny asks, very quietly. He sounds just as careful as Peter.
Taking an executive decision, Peter turns around. He ends up facing Johnny, cradled in his arms. The cave is darker now, night having set outside, and only their fire lights it up. Nonetheless Peter can clearly see how intent Johnny's blue eyes are, scanning his face.
"I've liked you for a while," Peter says. "So yeah."
"Awesome," Johnny whispers. "Me too."
They both lean in slowly and their first kiss is tentative, a lot sweeter than Peter fantasized about. But then Johnny tangles his fingers in Peter's hair, angles his head as he wishes, and the second kiss turns passionate.
Everything about Johnny is back to blazing hot, as it should be. It's unsurprising that his kisses are scorching too.
Peter is suddenly certain that he'll never know cold again.