Work Text:
It’d been two weeks since the world lost Johnny Storm. One week since the funeral.
Peter couldn’t bring himself to go to the funeral. He hardly left his apartment since he heard the news. Everything felt off-kilter, as if the world had grown a little colder. The only times Peter left his apartment were to patrol or drop off photos at the Bugle. Even then, he did so quickly and quietly, keeping himself scarce.
The weekends were the hardest. Out of habit, Peter tuned in to the press conferences and race weekend streams. There was a part of him that hoped he’d see Johnny’s face beaming back at him when he did. Instead, he saw Sue and Reed state they’d be stepping back from the team temporarily while also announcing their replacements. Peter was in awe of how Sue’s voice never wavered throughout the ordeal. Even when she announced that Lukas, their reserve driver, would take Johnny’s seat. Lukas had looked up to Johnny for several years and had always wanted to race beside him, not in his place.
That was what really set it in. Johnny really wasn’t coming back.
“I’ll stop racing when I’m dead,” Johnny had laughed when Peter asked if he’d ever give it up.
He couldn’t bring himself to keep watching the rest of the stream. Lying back on his bed, he set his phone down and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again, his gaze landed on one of Johnny’s old racing suits that hung in the messy closet.
They’d been in the process of moving in together. Throughout the cramped apartment were hints of Johnny. Whether it be the race suits in the closet, expensive hair products, or a half-packed suitcase sitting at the foot of the bed.
“Whenever I’m not saving the world, racing, or preparing to race, I’m here with you,” Johnny had mumbled with his face buried in Peter’s shoulder, “I might as well move in.”
Ever weak to Johnny, Peter agreed. Johnny was never able to unpack more than a couple of boxes before…
Dragging a hand down his face, Peter began suiting up with his back to the closet. In a few minutes, he was swinging towards the Baxter Building, intending to properly apologize to Sue, Reed, and Ben for missing the funeral.
-
Another month passed. Johnny had given his spot on the Fantastic Four to him. Now, Peter was tagging along with the entirety of the Future Foundation on their various adventures. With them, there was always something new and exciting. He didn’t feel cut out for the life of constant exploration and space expeditions. Peter developed a newfound appreciation for being able to return to his cramped New York City apartment. However, each time he did, Johnny’s race suit stared back at him. It weighed on him. He thought about moving the coveralls out of sight multiple times. He never could bring himself to do it. Covering up the race suit felt as if he was erasing another piece of Johnny, and he couldn’t do that when it already felt like the rest of the world was doing that every day.
In the end, he’d flop onto his crappy mattress and do his best to ignore the ghost in his closet.
-
Peter’s life alternated between outings with the Future Foundation, Spider-Man duties, and taking photographs.
Ever since Peter joined the team as one of their designated photographers, he’s maintained a steady, relatively comfortable income. He also still took and sold photos of Spider-Man to the Bugle. Only now, the sports department of the Bugle also occasionally bought some of Peter’s race weekend photos.
Following Johnny’s death, Peter continued to attend the race weekends when he could. Through his camera lenses, he witnessed the cold emptiness and tension Johnny’s absence had on everyone, from the pit crew, press conferences, but especially Sue, Reed, Ben, and Wyatt. While Sue, Reed, and Ben stepped back, Wyatt remained with the team.
“It just felt like the right thing to do,” Wyatt had told Peter when he asked the taller man why he didn’t step back from the team. “Besides, aren’t you doing the same?”
Peter didn’t have a response for that.
There were moments where a mechanic would start a joke expecting Johnny to finish it, or a pit crew member would mistakenly greet Lukas as Johnny. Lukas, who was only 20, took it all in stride, but it was clear to everyone that there was a ghost in the garage. Wyatt’s presence and attitude kept the team together. Every time there was a misstep addressing Lukas, or a joke that never quite landed, he’d be quick to bring the mood back up or move the conversation on. The team functioned like a well-oiled machine, just without the same fire as before.
On the track, it was a different story. Johnny had been in contention for the championship. The team had been riding a high of back-to-back wins and podiums. They’d all gone into the summer break with high spirits and a fire in their hearts. The team was still in contention for the constructors’ championship, but it was undeniable that losing the opportunity for their first driver’s championship cut a deep wound. Lukas was undeniably talented, but he was no Johnny.
The team hadn’t scored a podium since before summer break. Peter continued taking photos of the cars on track, and, foolishly, a part of him kept searching for Johnny’s car. In parc ferme, his eyes scanned the drivers for Johnny’s helmet, or horrible helmet hair. He still kept a comb in his pocket every race weekend.
Another aspect Peter found himself dealing with was Johnny’s fans. It wasn’t a secret that the two of them were dating, given the number of times Johnny ran to him after a podium finish. The social media posts were overwhelming. While seeing the outpouring of support from all the fans was heartwarming, there were still a good chunk of hate comments. If he wasn’t careful, Peter would end up scrolling the endless streams of comments or posts about Johnny.
At some point, Peter deleted all his usual social media apps from his phone and asked MJ to help handle posting his photos. He couldn’t thank her enough. On the rare days he had downtime to spend in his apartment, MJ barged her way in and made sure he didn’t get too lost in his own thoughts.
Time marched on, the sun rose each day, even when Peter struggled to do so. He still dragged himself across the globe every few weekends to take pictures. He followed the Future Foundation on their adventures and still beat up criminals on the street. The races went on.
-
The last third of the season went by in a blur for Peter. Although the team lost the driver’s championship, they managed to cinch the constructor’s championship by a handful of points from Stark’s team. The celebration was a bittersweet affair with Reed, Sue, and Ben briefly returning to the motorsports sphere to accept the trophy. Although Peter didn’t partake in the after-party celebration himself, he knew most of the team had gotten hammered enough that Johnny would’ve been proud.
“I think I’m going to quit,” Peter blurted out while sprawled out on the couch next to MJ after another movie binge.
“Quit what?” She replied, sitting up.
“Being a photographer for the team,” he stated while staring at the blank TV screen, “It feels like I’m chasing a ghost every time I’m in the paddock.”
He could feel tears begin welling up towards the end of his sentence, and before he knew it, MJ had wrapped her arms around him as he wept.
-
Following his resignation, Peter threw himself further into his superhero duties. Whether it was out of grief, devotion, or guilt, time marched on, and gradually the sharp pain dulled into an ache. The race suits still lived in his closet alongside the majority of Johnny’s belongings. At some point, Peter had found the strength to pack away the open suitcase that’d been resting at the foot of his bed and even hang up one of Johnny’s helmets.
Just when Peter felt he’d reached some strange acceptance with the void Johnny had left behind, he’d found himself amidst another world-ending disaster. The last thing he’d expect while punching a bunch of bug monsters and trying to prevent Earth’s impending doom was to hear a voice he’d thought he’d never get to hear outside of recordings again.
“Pete… What the heck are you wearing?”