About Last Night.... (spideyslash)
Aug. 4th, 2006 03:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
transemacabreSilly little fic inspired by turntap2's adorable fanart. Friends-locked until I clear it with turntap2.
Assume this takes place in some nebulous period when Johnny and Peter were teens.
The streaming morning light woke him up. Well, the streaming morning light and the fuzzy feeling in his skull. And the warm body next to him.
Peter sat up with a jolt, and instantly regretted it. His head *pounded* and he groaned out loud. "What did I do last night?" he asked, and tentatively cracked open an eyelid. This was not his room, this was not his bed, and yeah, there was definitely someone sleeping beside him.
An eternity passed (actually 15.3 seconds, but who's counting?) where the world. Did not. Compute. Someone was in the bed next to him. Yep. Does not compute.
Peter glanced over really fast, but that told him nothing except that the person next to him had blond hair. So finally he craned his head over for a good look, and brought out in a cold sweat.
Johnny Storm, aka the Human Torch, aka Love Muffin to a few lucky ladies, was curled up, blissfully snoozing away the early morning hours. Peter's eyes felt dry, and he realized he'd forgotten to blink. Blink, damn it, blink.
Uh, okay, this could not be what it looked like. Because, really. He'd know if anything had... happened. Right? Peter's heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It wasn't like he had much (okay, any) experience in the lovemaking department. But he felt fairly sure that he would definitely be able to tell if he and Johnny had... well, y'know, last night.
Last night. Oh boy. He and Johnny had been out on the town when some Z-list loser had shown up, swearing revenge or eternal hatred and whatever else Z-list villains were swearing this week. They'd been having a fine time clobbering the guy when the loser whacked Peter over the head with a tire-iron. Hurt like hell, but he laughed it off and made some dumb quip about how hard-headed he was. Afterwards, they'd tried to eat hot dogs and hang out, but Peter kept having these blackouts where he'd forgot everything for five or ten minutes. It didn't seem like such a big deal, so when Johnny offered to take him back to the Baxter Building to sleep it off, Peter had taken him up on it. Sounded safer than trying to websling home, anyway. But now he'd woken up in what could only be described as a predicament.
He pulled the sheet back and looked down. A rush of relief came over him. He still had underwear on! That was a good sign, right? Surely they wouldn't have stripped off their clothes in a fit of passion, consummated that passion, and then put their underwear back on afterwards. No, no. They were just two teenaged guys who happened to be sleeping next to one another. Heck, when Johnny woke up they'd have a good laugh over it.
Except... Peter wasn't wearing his underwear. They were blue, and there was a '4' design across the front. Lifting the covers, he peered in and noticed that Johnny was completely *naked*. Wow. And then, WOW, as Johnny wiggled closer and pressed his backside against Peter's hip. Okay, this was officially moving into weird territory. Biting his lip, Peter decided he had to *do* something about this. He propped himself up on his right elbow, leaned across, and gently shoke Johnny's shoulder. "Hey, matchstick," he whispered. "You have to wake up."
Johnny mumbled something, grabbed Peter's hand, and pulled it down across his chest until, yeah, they were spooning. And Johnny was so warm, and he smelled pretty good, and this was so much better that sitting around freaking out over whether or not he'd lost his virginity and didn't even remember. Peter rested his head in the curve of Johnny's neck and breathed in, once, twice.
"Hey Pete," Johnny said, and Peter's eyes snapped open again.
"Ah, hey yourself," he finally managed. He raised his head up, and Johnny rolled over so they were face-to-face. "So," Peter said. "About last night...."
Johnny gave him a grin that could only be described as shit-eating. It was so infectious Peter couldn't help grinning back. "Yeah," Johnny sighed. "Last night."
Peter gulped. "Did -- did we -- "
Johnny's beautiful lips fell into a frown. "You don't remember?" he asked.
It was amazing that he didn't spontaneously develop flame powers, as red as Peter was blushing. "I -- I mean, I -- well, no. Not so much."
The frown faded, replaced by a slightly mischievous look. "And you're wondering what happened," Johnny said.
Impossibly, Peter flushed even hotter.
Johnny chuckled. "I knew that bump on the head was worse than you let on. No, webhead, you didn't take advantage of me last night."
Peter exhaled heavily, as though a physical weight had been lifted off of him. Relaxing, he lay his head on the pillow and smiled up at Johnny.
Their foreheads brushed, and then their noses, and then, wow, their lips. "We did do this, though," Johnny told him, and Peter pulled him back down for more kisses, a hundred kisses, a thousand kisses.
"We did that, too," Johnny said, as Peter's hands explored his shoulders and his back. Kissing, and bare skin, and why did he have to forget this part? Oh well, Peter thought, as Johnny snuggled up to him under the covers, there's plenty of time to make more memories.
Assume this takes place in some nebulous period when Johnny and Peter were teens.
The streaming morning light woke him up. Well, the streaming morning light and the fuzzy feeling in his skull. And the warm body next to him.
Peter sat up with a jolt, and instantly regretted it. His head *pounded* and he groaned out loud. "What did I do last night?" he asked, and tentatively cracked open an eyelid. This was not his room, this was not his bed, and yeah, there was definitely someone sleeping beside him.
An eternity passed (actually 15.3 seconds, but who's counting?) where the world. Did not. Compute. Someone was in the bed next to him. Yep. Does not compute.
Peter glanced over really fast, but that told him nothing except that the person next to him had blond hair. So finally he craned his head over for a good look, and brought out in a cold sweat.
Johnny Storm, aka the Human Torch, aka Love Muffin to a few lucky ladies, was curled up, blissfully snoozing away the early morning hours. Peter's eyes felt dry, and he realized he'd forgotten to blink. Blink, damn it, blink.
Uh, okay, this could not be what it looked like. Because, really. He'd know if anything had... happened. Right? Peter's heart was pounding like a jackhammer. It wasn't like he had much (okay, any) experience in the lovemaking department. But he felt fairly sure that he would definitely be able to tell if he and Johnny had... well, y'know, last night.
Last night. Oh boy. He and Johnny had been out on the town when some Z-list loser had shown up, swearing revenge or eternal hatred and whatever else Z-list villains were swearing this week. They'd been having a fine time clobbering the guy when the loser whacked Peter over the head with a tire-iron. Hurt like hell, but he laughed it off and made some dumb quip about how hard-headed he was. Afterwards, they'd tried to eat hot dogs and hang out, but Peter kept having these blackouts where he'd forgot everything for five or ten minutes. It didn't seem like such a big deal, so when Johnny offered to take him back to the Baxter Building to sleep it off, Peter had taken him up on it. Sounded safer than trying to websling home, anyway. But now he'd woken up in what could only be described as a predicament.
He pulled the sheet back and looked down. A rush of relief came over him. He still had underwear on! That was a good sign, right? Surely they wouldn't have stripped off their clothes in a fit of passion, consummated that passion, and then put their underwear back on afterwards. No, no. They were just two teenaged guys who happened to be sleeping next to one another. Heck, when Johnny woke up they'd have a good laugh over it.
Except... Peter wasn't wearing his underwear. They were blue, and there was a '4' design across the front. Lifting the covers, he peered in and noticed that Johnny was completely *naked*. Wow. And then, WOW, as Johnny wiggled closer and pressed his backside against Peter's hip. Okay, this was officially moving into weird territory. Biting his lip, Peter decided he had to *do* something about this. He propped himself up on his right elbow, leaned across, and gently shoke Johnny's shoulder. "Hey, matchstick," he whispered. "You have to wake up."
Johnny mumbled something, grabbed Peter's hand, and pulled it down across his chest until, yeah, they were spooning. And Johnny was so warm, and he smelled pretty good, and this was so much better that sitting around freaking out over whether or not he'd lost his virginity and didn't even remember. Peter rested his head in the curve of Johnny's neck and breathed in, once, twice.
"Hey Pete," Johnny said, and Peter's eyes snapped open again.
"Ah, hey yourself," he finally managed. He raised his head up, and Johnny rolled over so they were face-to-face. "So," Peter said. "About last night...."
Johnny gave him a grin that could only be described as shit-eating. It was so infectious Peter couldn't help grinning back. "Yeah," Johnny sighed. "Last night."
Peter gulped. "Did -- did we -- "
Johnny's beautiful lips fell into a frown. "You don't remember?" he asked.
It was amazing that he didn't spontaneously develop flame powers, as red as Peter was blushing. "I -- I mean, I -- well, no. Not so much."
The frown faded, replaced by a slightly mischievous look. "And you're wondering what happened," Johnny said.
Impossibly, Peter flushed even hotter.
Johnny chuckled. "I knew that bump on the head was worse than you let on. No, webhead, you didn't take advantage of me last night."
Peter exhaled heavily, as though a physical weight had been lifted off of him. Relaxing, he lay his head on the pillow and smiled up at Johnny.
Their foreheads brushed, and then their noses, and then, wow, their lips. "We did do this, though," Johnny told him, and Peter pulled him back down for more kisses, a hundred kisses, a thousand kisses.
"We did that, too," Johnny said, as Peter's hands explored his shoulders and his back. Kissing, and bare skin, and why did he have to forget this part? Oh well, Peter thought, as Johnny snuggled up to him under the covers, there's plenty of time to make more memories.
