Chapter Text
Johnny was in trouble.
Not Dr. Doom level trouble. No, this was arguably worse. Two of his Exes were at the Oscorp fundraising Gala. One of whom he’d ghosted very recently. And Marcella wasn’t the kind of lady to let that go without a good explanation… an explanation which Johnny didn’t have .
He was a notorious playboy. Love-em and leave-em kind of guy. Some of his hookups, like Marcella, didn’t want to get that memo.
He’d been managing to dodge them for a few hours, until of course the call of nature had… well called him away.
She’d been waiting for a moment to corner him and now here he was, about to be cornered.
Johnny needed a patsy.
There. A brunette, short curls, athletic build, camera around his neck. Paparazzi probably, and probably willing to do a favor for an exclusive.
“Quick! Kiss me!” Johnny grabbed the shoulder of the photographer and spun him around. He was struck slightly stupid at just how brown the guy’s eyes were.
“What?” The guy scrunched up his nose and shoved him back with strength Johnny wouldn’t have suspected he possessed. “Dude, no!” (Straight? He could still work with that-)
“Johnny?”
“C’mon man, my ex is coming this way-”
“So your plan was a fake-out make-out?” Cute Photographer looked annoyed now. “With a complete stranger?”
“Johnny!”
“Please.” Johnny didn’t whine. He didn’t. He was a superhero and a mature, tax paying, adult besides. “I don’t know if you know this but, I’m Johnny-”
“So she’s said. A few times now.” He snarked back.
“Storm, Johnny Storm-” Cute Photographer looked unimpressed. This had never happened to him before he had to admit. “You know, the Human Torch?”
“And?”
“And my sister will kill me if I end up on the front page for something like this again.” Johnny was desperate… well more desperate than he’d been at the start of this disastrous encounter. “Look I’ll give you an exclusive if you just help me-”
“Your plan sucks.” The guy cut him off. “She’ll just be even more pissed at you, cause a bigger scene.” He rolled his eyes as Johnny peeked over his shoulder at the enraged brunette storming through the hallway towards them. “Follow me.”
Warm callused fingers twined with his and he was tugged into the nearby men’s room, the journalist quickly and quietly shut the door behind them. “Woah-” Johnny’s hands landed on the smaller man’s waist, a grin tipping the corners of his lips upwards, “Thought you said my plan sucked? Or was that just a clever way of getting me alone?”
He was hushed. Those brown eyes glared up at him, a frown and wrinkled nose accompanying it. A jerked thumb towards the door made Johnny refocus on the sound of heels clacking angrily past the door.
“Johnny?!”
Johnny sucked in a breath and clutched tighter to his companion. The little jerk had the nerve to laugh quietly at his fear. Johnny glowered and slapped a hand over his mouth. The sounds of Marcella faded into the background. He relaxed, hand still clamped over the guys-
“Gross! Did you just lick my hand?”
“Thought you wanted me to drool over you?” The little gremlin grinned up at him and Johnny pushed him away in disgust.
“Nasty.” He muttered, ignoring his companion’s snickering and turning on the tap to scrub at his hands. “Well now what genius? She’ll be staking out the hallway all night.”
“We’re not going to use the hallway.” Cute Photographer strode across the tile, flinging the French casement windows open.
“What?” Johnny hissed, dabbing at his hands with a ridiculously soft hand towel. “No, uh uh. This is Bespoke-” not to mention if he was caught climbing out a window to get away from an Ex, Ben would never let him hear the end of it.
“So?” Cute Photographer raised his dark eyebrows and sat on the sill.
“No. We are not climbing out a fifth story window-” Cute Photographer rolled his eyes and his head, and then he tumbled backwards out of the window. “HOLY SHIT-”
Johnny had a foot on the window sill (halfway to burning through his suit, consequences be damned) before he realized he wasn’t staring down at a journalist sized smear on the pavement, but at a very much alive punk on the balcony a floor below the bathroom window. “The hell, man?”
“You coming?” The guy smiled up at him, fingers tapping at a lattice that ran all the way up to the window before he slipped in through the doors and back into the Gala.
“What the actual fuck?” Johnny was starting to think he should have avoided those sketchy looking cocktail shrimp, his stomach was starting to feel funny.
By the time Johnny slipped through the doors himself, the brunette was leaning against the bar, a glass of something clear in his hand and a glass of white wine by his elbow. “Glad you could make it.” He snarked around the rim of his tumbler.
“Shut up.” Johnny muttered snagging the wine and leaning against the bar next to the photographer. “So what’s your name anyways?”
Cute Photographer opened his mouth, something witty on his tongue no doubt -
“Peter!” Johnny blinked and the guy went from self assured to blank slate alarmingly fast.
Johnny cocked an eyebrow at the Osborn heir. “You know Harry Osborn?”
“God, I wish I didn’t.”
“Ex?” Johnny inquired, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Peter grimaced, “Unfortunately.” Not straight then, score -
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Harry smirked. The expression made Johnny’s skin crawl.
“I tried very hard not to be.” Peter muttered from behind his glass.
“Missing me already?” Osborn heckled, not having heard Peter. Peter’s shoulders squared.
Johnny threw caution to the wind and draped an arm around him. “Hey babe, why don’t you introduce us?” Harry’s face contorted with rage for a split second, Johnny’s grip on Peter tightened reassuringly.
“Sure-” He could feel Peter’s muscles relax as the man leaned into his side slightly. “Johnny, this is Harold Osborn. Harry, this is-”
“Johnny Storm!” Harry’s cheer sounded plastic as he surged forward to shake Johnny’s hand. Johnny shook it with just as much forced cheer, and maybe a little heat slipped into his grip. “How in the heck did you two meet?”
“It’s a funny story actually-”
“It’s really not-” Peter interjected.
“You remember the last super science weirdo who tried to Gas Time’s Square?” Johnny pretended to not remember the villain’s moniker. It had been a rough fight with Sue tending to the twins, but they’d managed to send him limping off anyways.
“Oh god- Johnny-”
“The green guy on the hover glider?” Harry inquired, fully invested.
“That’s the one!” Johnny snapped his fingers. “Well this guy-” He tugged Peter in further against his side playfully. “Was trying to get a good shot of the action.”
“I was fine-”
“Nearly got crushed by some rubble-” He continued on, shooting Peter a soft smile. “I got to him just in time.”
Harry stared at Peter, body tense. “You were in the square?”
“Yeah-” Peter frowned at him, tensing again. “It’s not a big deal-”
“Almost was.” Johnny jabbed him in the side. “I do wish you’d be more careful, babe-”
Peter rolled his eyes, turning so he was facing Johnny. “Why would I need to be more careful when I have you to pull me to safety?”
“I may not always be around-” Johnny’s breath hitched minutely as Peter’s fingers straightened his tie. “when you're in trouble.”
“That’s too bad.” His grin widened. “I love it when you pull me in close.”
Johnny’s eyes flickered down to Peter’s lips-
Harry cleared his throat.
“Would you look at the time!” Johnny pretended to glance at his wrist watch. “We should-” He grinned at Osborn, pleased to see the tense set of his jaw and the plastic smile. “We should head out.”
“It was nice seeing you, Harry.” Peter squeezed Johnny’s bicep, “Pay the tab and I’ll meet you out front?”
“Sure thing.” He smiled. Peter smiled back, and stretched up to plant a quick chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.
He watched the photographer saunter off into the crowd.
“You’ll eventually get tired of him.” Osborn’s voice once again broke through Johnny’s reverie.
“Excuse me?” Johnny turned to glare at the Osborn heir.
“I know how you operate.” The man was no longer trying to mask his distaste for Johnny. “Everyone knows how you operate.”
“They know how I used to operate.” Johnny scoffed, tossing some big bills on the bar top. He wasn’t wrong, but the guy rubbed Johnny the wrong way. If he could help keep him away from Peter- “Peter’s, special. I’d be a fool to let him go.”
“Well,” Osborn smiled indulgently, mask back in place. “Can’t argue with that.”
Peter was leaning against the front of the building when Johnny caught up to him. “Thought you weren’t a fan of the fake-out make-out?”
Peter scoffed, “Shut up.”
“I’d say we were even, but-” Johnny let his hand teeter from side to side. “You know my full name.”
Peter barked out a laugh. “I knew it before you said it.”
“So you agree.” Johnny huffed, rubbing a hand through his hair.
“So you want to know my last name?”
“Or your phone number.” Johnny grinned at the other man.
“Parker.” Peter shook his head. “Peter Parker.”