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Johnny was still asleep when Ben stirred awake. The blonde had his arm locked around Ben’s, his face buried against the stone surface of his chest, breathing slow and even.
Ben looked down at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up. For all his fire and attitude, Johnny looked peaceful…boyish, even.
“Hey, Matchstick…” he whispered. “You’ll need to let me get up.”
Johnny only groaned in protest, nuzzling closer. His warmth seeped through Ben’s pyjamas like sunlight through morning mist.
“You’re unbelievable…” Ben murmured, shaking his head. A low chuckle rolled through him, a quiet rumble that made Johnny shift and mumble incoherently.
Outside, rain whispered against the windows, a soft, steady rhythm that made the whole world feel smaller, gentler.
“C’mon, Johnny,” Ben said softly. “I’ll be right back.”
The blonde frowned, his brows furrowing, but finally loosened his hold.
“Be quick, stoneface,” he mumbled.
Ben smiled, brushing a few stray strands of hair from Johnny’s forehead before standing. The gesture lingered longer than he meant it to.
Downstairs, the building was quiet. No Susan, no Reed, no Franklin. Just H.E.R.B.I.E. gliding through the kitchen with cheerful beeps.
“Morning, Herbie. Already on duty,huh?,” Ben said.
A happy beep. The robot waved its duster as if greeting an old friend.
Ben smiled and started pulling things together two mugs, milk, and a bar of chocolate. The smell of cocoa filled the room as the milk began to steam. He crumbled the chocolate into the pot by hand, watching it melt and swirl into deep brown silk.
For a moment, he just stood there, stirring slowly. The rain, the warmth, the smell, it all felt like a secret he was making just for them.
He poured the drinks, topped them with whipped cream, and carried them upstairs.
When he nudged the door open, Johnny was sitting up amid a fortress of pillows, hair a mess, eyes half-lidded and lazy with sleep.
“Took you long enough, stoneface,” he yawned.
Ben grinned. “Perfection takes time, Matchstick.”
Johnny blinked, noticing the mugs. His face lit up.
“You made hot chocolate?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, handing one over. “Figured we could use something warm.”
Johnny inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering closed for a second. “This is the good stuff,” he said, voice soft. “Thanks, Ben.”
“No problem,” Ben said, sitting down beside him.
Johnny immediately tugged the blanket over Ben’s shoulders again, his arm brushing against Ben’s side. He leaned in, head resting lightly against the stony curve of Ben’s shoulder.
They drank in silence for a while. The sound of rain filled the space between them steady, quiet, alive.
Ben could feel Johnny’s warmth through his clothes, feel the gentle rhythm of his breathing. Every small movement was unguarded, unpretending.
“You think it’ll rain long?” Johnny asked after a while, his voice low.
“Couple days, maybe. Guess we’re stuck inside,” Ben said.
Johnny hummed, content.
Ben glanced down at him. “No hot date to get to?” he teased.
Johnny smiled faintly without opening his eyes. “Nope. I’d put this before any date.”
That made Ben pause. Johnny must have felt it, because he turned his head, looking up at him. Their eyes met ocean blue meeting sky blue and neither of them looked away.
“I mean it,” Johnny said. His voice was steady, but there was a tremor under it. “I like spending time with you.”
Something in Ben’s chest tightened.
“Me too,” he said softly. “Didn’t think you’d choose this over all the attention.”
“I would,” Johnny said simply. “You’re the only one who sees me for me. Not Johnny Storm, not the showoff, not the hero — just me.”
Ben stared at him for a moment. Then he set his mug down and reached out, his large, rough hand cupping the back of Johnny’s neck as he pulled him closer.
The embrace was slow, unsure for half a heartbeat then Johnny melted into it, his forehead resting against Ben’s collarbone, his arms sliding around the solid, uneven surface of his back.
“I like spending time with you too, Matchstick,” Ben murmured against his hair.
Johnny laughed softly, the sound muffled. “You better,” he whispered.
Ben laughed too, and the sound rumbled through him like distant thunder. Johnny felt it against his skin warm, steady, real.
They stayed like that, wrapped around each other as the rain traced silver lines down the glass. Ben’s hand moved in slow circles against Johnny’s back, and Johnny’s fingers tightened just slightly against the hard stone beneath his shirt.
Outside, the city lights flickered in the mist. Inside, time felt suspended two heroes, two hearts, caught in a quiet moment neither dared to break.