Spider-Man laughed so hard he fell off the Statue of Liberty. Johnny craned his neck to look for him, only to nearly get webbed in the face.
“Watch it!” he said, scrambling back.
“Sorry,” Spider-Man gasped out, swinging back up. “Kind of hard to aim through tears of mirth. Seriously? Seriously, seriously?”
“Seriously, what?” Johnny said, rolling his eyes.
“They want to make a musical about me,” Spider-Man said, drawing the words out very slowly like he was talking to a small child. Johnny flicked a spark at his gesturing hands. “They want this musical to star you. They want you to play me.”
01 Jan 2016
"Hey, it's you. The mall Santa."
Peter turned, and the rude reply died on his lips. Johnny Storm was standing on the street behind him, hanging half out of a coffee shop doorway. The tops of his cheeks were pink from the wind, his eyes were too bright. He was wearing a leather jacket and a scarf that even Harry would have called a waste of money was wound tight around his throat.
Peter's lungs felt a little like they had that one time after he'd swung into a billboard.
15 Feb 2016
"Don't kill him," Sue said. "I'm sure there's a rational explanation."
"Really?" Johnny said. "You're sure? You're sure there's a rational explanation for my boyfriend claiming he's dating his own secret identity?"
Sue frowned at him as she pushed a mug of tea across the table. "Don't kill him."
Or, the one where Peter dates himself.
“It’s just that, when whatever happened, happened, it’s like my senses have been dialed to eleven. There’s – there’s way too much input, so they just kind of help me focus.”
Johnny Storm, impossibly, helps Peter focus.
Johnny Storm and Peter Parker, getting married. Really-not-really.