Chapter Text
Peter stuck himself to the side of a building mid-swing, the sudden buzz against his waist making him curse under his breath. He really, really needed to figure out a suit upgrade with pockets. Fumbling, he yanked his phone free and squinted at the screen.
Harry Osborn: don't forget the gala tonight!!!
Peter sighed, rolling his eyes behind his mask. As if he could forget. That was the fifth reminder in the past two hours. Maybe sixth. He stopped counting after Harry started adding an excessive number of exclamation marks.
He had a few minutes to spare before he had to go dig out a tux and pretend to be a responsible adult, so he pushed off the building, letting himself freefall for a split second before catching a webline and swinging back into the city lights. God, he’d missed this. The wind against him, the weightlessness, the sheer freedom—his body moving exactly how he wanted it to, with no one else pulling the strings. No Otto whispering in his head, no foreign control dictating his every move. It was just him.
Peter Parker.
Spider-Man.
Maybe he didn’t get nothing out of that nightmare. He had Parker Industries now—his name on a million-dollar company, money in the bank, a level of respect he never thought he’d reach.
Well.
The money was real. The respect? Debatable. Still. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t broke. And that was a weird feeling.
Peter sighed as he landed in his bedroom window, peeling his mask off and running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. Time to go play the part of a CEO.
Peter rummaged through his closet, pulling out a nice-enough tux and dropping it on his bed. He’d never been a fan of these sorts of events—too much noise and too many people, all crowded together in a stuffy building, sweating under the weight of their fake smiles. He hated them, but this one had been thrown by Oscorp. And Harry had, quite literally, sent a car to come and pick him up. He’d tried saying no, but Harry was nothing if not relentless when it came to these things.
Peter’s tux fit like a glove. It was one of those too-tight, itchy gloves that made him feel like a monkey in a suit, stiff and uncomfortable in a way spandex never had. At least in the mask, he could breathe.
The second he arrived at the function, he was already exhausted. The paparazzi outside had made him stop for pictures, meaning tomorrow he’d inevitably wake up to unflattering shots plastered all over the news—mid-blink, awkward half-smile, the works. And now, the real torture: socializing. Mingling, making connections, charming investors into believing Parker Industries was the next big thing, this was his job now. His responsibility. And God, was it weird. He was used to fighting off alien invasions, not schmoozing with old guys in overpriced suits.
"If it isn't my man!" Harry Osborn's bright call of greeting drew his attention, and Peter turned to find the man weaving through the crowd.
Harry was, as usual, effortlessly well-dressed, with a glass of champagne in one hand and an easy grin on his face.
He clapped Peter on the shoulder, his eyes darting over him as he chuckled. "Nice threads. You actually look presentable for once in your life."
"Heh, you know you love my thrift store chic." Peter gave him a light shove, his smile coming far easier than it did before.
Sure, Harry was a bit spoiled and over the top at times, but there was a good heart under all the money and bravado. And Peter was always more comfortable around him than anyone else at these events.
"I think I saw the Tony Stark around here somewhere. You should go talk to him, CEO to CEO," Harry told him.
Peter raised a brow, taking a sip of what he assumed was champagne from a glass he managed to snatch as soon as he walked in.
That... wasn't a bad idea, actually, Peter thought.
"Yeah. I think I will."
Taking a deep breath, he pushed his way through the crowded hall, dodging around clusters of people and trying not to feel too out of place in his expensive suit.
Where the hell was Stark, anyway?
"Oh, sorry—" a voice said quickly when they bumped into Peter.
Peter looked up, instinctively apologizing—but the words caught in his throat.
Johnny Storm.
Standing right there, just as surprised, just as wide-eyed as him.
"Peter?" Johnny asked.
It has been a hot minute since they last saw each other. A long while. Since Battleworld. Since Doom. Since the Fantastic Four had vanished into god-knew-where and left Johnny behind.
"Johnny," Peter said, his brain racing to catch up to the situation. He hadn't expected to see him here, and he certainly hadn't expected the sharp ache in his chest at the sight of him. Jesus, when was the last time they'd talked? Really talked, just the two of them?
Johnny looked at him up and down. "I see you've showered."
Peter couldn't hold back a smile at that, letting Johnny's familiar dry humor wash over him. It was easy to fall back into this, to push aside the awkwardness and lingering heartache and just... be. He let his eyes rake over Johnny's form, taking in his new suit. "You're looking pretty sharp yourself, Flamebrain."
"Well, thank you... what should I call you now? Mr. Parker?" Johnny asked and reached for a champagne flute from a passing tray with the casual grace of someone who had done it a million times before.
"God, don't even joke. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little at the thought," Peter said, wincing at the idea of being called 'Mr. Parker'. It sounded too... adult, and that was the last thing he ever hoped to be. "I'm still Peter."
"You know you were never Peter to me."
"What was I, then?" Peter cocked his head with a smile, a bit curious of the answer. Sure, there were the obvious monikers like 'Webhead' or 'Spidey', but he didn’t think that's what Johnny meant.
"A dickhead," Johnny answered smoothly, before spinning around with that shit-eating grin. "Wanna get some air?"
Peter’s laugh got caught halfway up his throat, something in Johnny’s voice tugging at a thread inside him he’d tried really hard not to pull. But he nodded. He wanted to be near him. Missed it. Missed this.
“Oh, I was supposed to—” he started, remembering the stupid networking checklist Harry had sent him.
But Johnny glanced over his shoulder with a look that said really? and, well, that was about that.
“You know what, I could use some air.”
The terrace was quieter, kissed by the crisp autumn wind that nipped at Peter’s cheeks and made the city lights below shimmer like distant stars. It was a little surreal, standing beside Johnny again. It felt familiar but different, like hearing an old song played in a new key.
Johnny walked over to the stone balustrade with the ease of someone who belonged anywhere and placed his drink on the surface. Peter followed, slower, trying not to let himself think too hard about the warm feeling settling in his chest.
"How long has it been since we last met like this?" Peter broke the silence.
"I don't know..." Johnny leaned on the palms of his hands over the top rail. "Months, probably."
"You keep track?" Peter’s expression remained neutral, but his gaze was searching when he looked over at Johnny. For what, he wasn’t sure. Signs of guilt? Pain? Something other than that blank look on his face?
"Yeah... but not of us exactly. Around the last time I saw you was also the last time I saw my family."
"Oh."
Peter’s chest clenched. Right. That whole thing. The Doom-Battleworld-FF-Disappeared thing. Johnny had come back without them—without Reed, Sue, Franklin, Valeria. Just Ben. And no matter how he smiled, that kind of loss left a mark. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. Just stood quietly next to Johnny, their silence a fragile bridge between them.
"It's nice seeing you again, anyway." Johnny turned his head to face Peter. "First familiar face I see in a while that isn't a coworker.
"Yeah." Peter finally allowed himself to properly look at Johnny. He noted the subtle difference in his expression, the way his eyes had hardened just a bit more, how his shoulders looked a little tenser under the fancy—and provably tailored—suit. It was little things, but they all told a story of what Johnny had gone through in the time of their absence. "You're... you doing okay?"
"Yeah, sure. I can't complain." Johnny gave him a graceful one-shoulder shrug. "Joined the Unity Squad. Got my own place in Manhattan. Met some rich people.
"Rich people. That sounds like both a blessing and a curse." Peter leaned forward on the balcony himself, not missing Johnny's attempt to change the topic. He'd let it go, for now. There would be time for deeper talks later. Probably. Maybe.
"I'm here with him, actually." Johnny motioned to the gala behind them with a thumb. "He is the... owner of some important renewable energy tech company."
Peter raised his brow, not surprised by the mention of a tech company, but by the fact that Johnny was willingly at a gala, with an important CEO at that. The man had always gone out of his way to show just how much he hated these events past the open-bar-hour, usually ending up plastered and causing a scene. Yet here he was, looking... mostly sober. Peter filed that away as an anomaly. "So. You’re dating a CEO?"
"Not dating him... just, seeing him," Johnny explained, as if that made any difference in Peter's books. "We just really get together for these things."
Peter nodded. That, at least, sounded more like Johnny. He always did love his one night stands, even if he'd never say so out loud. "Sounds... cozy."
"Yeah." Johnny chuckled, low and unbothered. But he didn’t elaborate. And Peter didn’t push. "So, how did they manage to get you in one of these?" He reached to touch Peter's tux neck with infurating ease.
Peter shrugged, but didn't pull away from Johnny's touch, even if it sent an uncomfortable flutter across his chest. "Harry basically shoved me in a car and didn’t take no for an answer. I’m kind of his... guest of honor tonight, and I couldn’t miss it without risking a PR shitstorm. So here I am."
"How do you like it? The CEO life?" Johnny asked.
Peter stared down at his fingers, tracing the cool stone of the railing. They were starting to go a little numb from the cold. Johnny’s probably weren’t. Johnny was warm. Johnny was always warm. "It's... weird. Good weird, I guess, but still weird. This is the first gala I’ve been to as... a CEO. And let me tell you, this kind of attention takes some getting used to." He turned to Johnny with a rueful smile on his face. "Why do you think I’m out here hiding away from the party?"
Johnny leaned his head to the side with a smile. "Cause you missed me?"
Peter let out a soft laugh and pushed gently at Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny always had go to make things just that little bit more suggestive. "I don’t know if ‘missed’ is the right word. It had only been a few months, after all."
A few months of pretending he wasn’t wondering how Johnny was doing. A few months of resisting the urge to reach out when he thought of red cars, or 2000's comedies, or woke up feeling particularly warm and sweaty.
"Then what word would you use?"
"Annoyed by." Peter feigned a serious look, tilting his head with a shrug. "Yeah, I would say my main feeling towards you has been annoyance." The corner of his mouth twitched, fighting off an amused smile.
Johnny chuckled and punched Peter's shoulder playfully. "Well, I didn't miss you at all, jerk."
"Hey, who’s the jerk?" Peter groused, feigning offense. He gave Johnny a shove in return, this time a little harder. "I’m a damn delight to be around, thank you very much."
Johnny bit on his bottom lip. "You only are a delight when you are not getting on my nerves. So, basically never."
"I can’t help but get on your nerves, you’re just too easy to rile up. It’s like a talent of mine," Peter replied smugly. He kept his shoulder pressed against Johnny’s.
"Any other useful talent?" Johnny asked, not even sounding like he believed Peter had any talents outside of webslinging.
Peter scoffed. "I can recite the entirety of the Bee movie script from memory," Peter said with a deadpan stare, the corners of his mouth twitching in a failed attempt to keep a straight face. "Does that count?"
Johnny let out an actual laugh at that, his head falling forward as he chuckled.
Peter stared.
He felt his heart soar in his chest at the melodious sound. He'd always loved Johnny's laugh. The way his shoulders shook from the force of it, how it was both joyful and contagious, how it sent a warm rush through him every time he heard it. It had been so long since he'd last heard it, and he couldn't help but bask in it now. After a few seconds, he nudged Johnny again, unable to fully tamper down his own grin.
"I missed that laugh."
"I missed you making me laugh," Johnny said.
Peter's smile softened a little, and he let himself be sincere for a moment instead of hiding behind their usual banter. He shifted in his place, making their shoulders rub together. His eyes fixed up on the glittering stars. "I... I did miss you. Just so you know."
Johnny turned to look at Peter's profile. The way his jaw clenched and unclenched and the wind blew on his hair. "Yeah... yeah, me too, Pete."
Peter turned his gaze back to Johnny, and for a long moment, they simply stood there, facing each other. No words were said. Nothing needed to be. Despite all the months and distance between them and the fact that nothing had changed, being together just felt right. Like they fit together. Peter leaned closer, almost unconsciously, his focus shifting, zeroing in on Johnny as the distance between them began to be reduced. He wasn’t really sure who was crossing the distance, him or Johnny. Maybe both. Maybe—
"Jonathan!" a loud voice called from behind them.
Johnny cleared his throat and pulled away, turning to look at the man who was looking for him. "Warren," Johnny said. He sobered up instantly, and there was not much of a trace of what Peter had seen reflected in his eyes just seconds ago. That warmth, that spark—it vanished like it was never there to begin with. "Were you looking for me?"
Peter took a step back too, suddenly feeling like they’d been caught in the act of doing something wrong. Which was ridiculous. They hadn’t been doing anything, much less anything worth feeling guilty about. Nonetheless, he put some distance between himself and Johnny, forcing his face into a neutral expression. He turned to glance at the man calling after Johnny, narrowing his eyes a little. He looked... familiar. Had he seen him somewhere before? The man approached them and Johnny moved by his side.
"Warren, this is Pe—" Johnny was saying when Warren interrupted him.
"I know who he is," Warren said, extending a hand to Peter.
Peter raised a brow at the interruption, taking the man’s hand and firmly shaking it. Up close, he could feel Warren’s gaze on him, taking in his features. It was a little unsettling. Warren’s grip was just bordering on painful, like a challenge.
"And you are?" Peter asked. Half to be an asshole, half in Johnny's behalf. He wasn't really interested in knowing the Warren guy any further. Especially not after that show of dominance.
"Warren Walton. CEO of Walton Enterprises." Warren pulled his hand back and reached for Johnny's waist. "I was just looking for Jonathan here. We are leaving," he said and Johnny just nodded with a tight smile.
"Sure, Warren," Johnny said.
Peter clenched his teeth as he watched that hand settling on Johnny’s hip, a quiet burst of anger and something else suddenly sparking inside his chest at the sight. He knew it was ridiculous—Johnny was a grown ass man, and this… Warren guy was most definitely his date for the evening, so that sort of behavior should be expected. But it still rubbed him the wrong way. A little.
"I'll just say goodbye," Johnny told him.
Warren looked between them and nodded. He told Johnny to hurry up before turning around and leaving.
"Sorry for that."
Peter nodded, biting back a bitter comment. That would have been way too possessive and, frankly, creepy. Johnny wasn’t his. Neither one of them had any right to be jealous here. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile to his face as he looked at the other man. "Have fun, I guess. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t."
"That doesn't narrow it down much."
Peter let out a soft laugh, Johnny’s usual sarcasm helping to tamper down the sudden flare of anger from earlier. It really wasn’t his place to be upset like that. So instead, he just reached out and gave Johnny a playful shove. "Shut up."
Johnny grabbed Peter's arm before he could remove it and pulled him on a hug.
Peter stiffened briefly, caught off guard by the sudden show of affection. But the tension disappeared almost immediately, replaced by a familiar comfort, and he practically melted into the hug. He leaned his head onto Johnny's shoulder, his arms wrapping around his slim waist. He hadn't realized how badly he'd needed this, how much he'd missed it until now.
"Don't be a stranger, Spidey," Johnny mumbled before moving away. "It was nice seeing you, Pete."
"You too, Matchstick." Peter gave him a small smile, the casual nickname slipping out before he could think about it. He was already starting to miss the warm feeling of Johnny’s arms around him. "Take care, man."
He watched as Johnny and Warren walked away, until the man with his hand on Johnny’s hip disappeared behind a corner. Something inside of him twisted at that, but he pushed it down.
That was stupid. He had no right to feel that way, and he really wasn’t sure he understood why he was feeling it at all. Johnny’s life was his own, and if he wanted to date a rich CEO who was borderline possessive, that was his business. And, really, wasn’t it better that way anyway? Peter knew he was no good for Johnny. He was no good for anyone. People got too close, and they got hurt. That was the truth he’d learned over and over again. So if Johnny was happy—even with Warren—then Peter had no business getting in the way.
Still, as he turned back toward the party, he wondered if the city lights now looked duller than they were before.