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“I’m coming to New York for a few days,” Wyatt said, phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. “I want to see you.”
There was a terse moment of silence, and then Johnny said, “I don’t know, I’m pretty busy…”
“Yeah?” Wyatt said, leaning back against the wall. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re so busy with? I’d love to hear all about it.”
Johnny’s silence was heavy and sullen. He’d never been a good liar.
“Johnny,” Wyatt sighed. “If you don’t want to see me, you can say so.”
“That’s not it!” Johnny said immediately. “It’s not –”
He broke off with a frustrated sound. Wyatt waited him out, while in the adjacent room Wynona made kissy noises, wrapped her arms around herself, and accidentally tripped over a chair. Wyatt silently mouthed ‘serves you right’ at her.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you,” Johnny said at last.
“So what’s the problem, then?” Wyatt asked, voice low, soothing but firm. It was just as likely to make Johnny accuse him of treating him like a startled horse, but Wyatt had to try. “Just lunch, Johnny. That’s all I want. My treat?”
There was another tense moment of silence and then, “Fine.”
It was a surrender, not an acceptance. Johnny was just giving up. Wyatt bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to think about what ached more – his head or his heart.
“Fine,” Wyatt agreed, closing his eyes. He conjured up a memory – Johnny in winter, the snowflakes melting before they touched his hair. He was smiling at Wyatt over the top of the Burberry scarf he didn’t even need, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. “What was that coffee shop you liked? The one by Central Park, where we went for my birthday that time.”
“It closed,” Johnny said, flat.
Wyatt winced.
“Well, you pick then,” he said. Johnny stayed sullenly silent. Wyatt fought not to sigh, knowing it’d only get his hackles up. “Listen, I have to go now, okay? I’ll call you from New York.”
“See you,” Johnny said. He hung up and left Wyatt staring down at the phone, thinking about melting snowflakes and shiny lights glinting off blond hair.
There was a clatter as Wynona leaned into the doorway.
“Johnny always wants to see you,” she said, faintly judgmental. “What did you do?”
“It’s complicated,” Wyatt said. He put his phone back in his pocket. “Come help me with the horses.”
Wyatt honestly thought Johnny might try to dodge him again once he got to New York, but instead he agreed to meet at a restaurant uptown. Wyatt couldn’t help but note that it wasn’t one of Johnny’s old haunts, and it was far from the Baxter Building. Still, he had followed Johnny to the ends of the earth and beyond before – what was a few extra stops on the subway?
Every time Wyatt saw him was like the first moment all over again, like a shot of sunlight. He still remembered that first moment, looking down at Johnny in the halls of Metro U, and the feeling he’d had – like something very important had happened to him, just with that first glance at Johnny’s face. That had been almost twelve years ago; Johnny was no less dazzling at thirty than he’d been at nineteen.
Johnny looked tired this time, though. More than tired; Johnny looked crushed. Wyatt had seen him look like this once before, years ago.
“Hi,” Johnny said, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Hi yourself. This is a new look,” Wyatt said, taking in the black bodysuit with the little flame decal over Johnny’s breastbone, the ribbed yellow patches that drew his eyes to Johnny’s hips and thighs, down his long legs. He tore his gaze back to Johnny’s face. “What inspired it?”
“Can’t exactly be the Fantastic One,” Johnny said, shrugging. “I don’t know, Medusa had it made. Haven’t really had a reason to change it.”
“It’s nice. You look nice,” Wyatt said, though nice wasn’t exactly the word he wanted to use. “Come here already.”
There was something grudging about the way Johnny stepped into the circle of his arms; Wyatt tried not to let it sting. He embraced Johnny the same as he always did, and after a second Johnny leaned up on his toes to return it, his arms wrapped around Wyatt.
“Good to see you, man,” Wyatt murmured. He cupped the back of Johnny’s head just to thread his fingers through his hair. It was, like always, sunlight warm even though the day was overcast.
“Yeah,” Johnny said, pulling away from him. He didn’t meet his eyes when he said, “You, too.”
“Are you hungry?” Wyatt asked, opening the restaurant’s door.
“It’s lunchtime,” Johnny replied, which wasn’t an answer to Wyatt’s question. He let it slide as the waitress gestured for them to take any table. Wyatt picked one by the windows, where the sunlight would glint off Johnny’s hair.
“Well,” he said as he accepted a menu, “I’m starved, so I hope you don’t mind if order enough for five.”
“Please,” Johnny said, wearing the closest thing to a smile Wyatt had seen on his face since they’d met up. He knocked his foot into Wyatt’s ankle under the table, almost playful. “I’ve seen you eat before. Even Ben told you to slow down.”
“How is Ben?” Wyatt asked casually, then regretted it immediately when Johnny’s almost-smile fell. It was like someone had closed the shutters; suddenly Wyatt couldn’t read anything in his expression at all.
He’d never felt that way looking at Johnny before, and immediately he didn’t like it. He fumbled across the table for Johnny’s hand, only for Johnny to snatch it away. He disguised the motion a half a second later as he picked up his own menu, but Wyatt knew him better than that. Johnny hadn’t wanted him to touch him. Wyatt’s chest ached.
“How should I know?” Johnny asked, the menu shielding him from Wyatt’s gaze. “Fine, I guess.”
“You’re still not talking,” Wyatt surmised, frowning. “I don’t understand. You two have always argued, but you’ve never gone this long without making up before.”
“Leave it, Wyatt,” Johnny said, lowering the menu just enough to give him a dirty look. Wyatt opened his mouth and Johnny narrowed his eyes. “I’m serious! Leave. It.”
Wyatt left it. The waitress arrived to take their orders; Johnny didn’t so much as blink when half of what Wyatt ordered were Johnny’s usual favorites. He knew he shouldn’t have brought up the subject of Ben, but he couldn’t help it. He remembered, even back when Ben had discovered Johnny had been secretly seeing the woman they’d all thought at the time was Alicia – when Wyatt had found out that Johnny was seeing her, too, and he’d always tried not to feel a sting over the fact that Johnny had thought he’d had to hide that from him – even then, Johnny and Ben had made up sooner than this.
They talked a little until the food arrived – or Wyatt talked, anyway, filling Johnny in on what he’d been up to since they’d last seen each other. It wasn’t that Johnny didn’t listen. It was just that he was so listless, and no matter how many stories he told, Wyatt couldn’t seem to get a genuine smile out of him.
“What brings you back to New York, anyway?” Johnny finally asked as the waitress put their food down. He looked studiously down at the tabletop while the waitress gave him the onceover – whether because she recognized him or because she was an admirer of a pretty face, Wyatt could never be sure. Johnny tended to draw both in equal measure.
“I’m going monster hunting upstate,” Wyatt said. Johnny looked up, surprised, and Wyatt kept his face carefully neutral. He knew that would get a reaction.
“What kind of monster?” Johnny asked.
“I’m not sure yet. A friend of my father’s from his Olympian days called in a favor. Apparently nobody’s been able to get a good look at the thing. And since everyone knows I’ve traveled with the fearless Fantastic Four…” He pointed at Johnny with a fry. “You know, anyone else would have asked ‘why’ first.”
Johnny snatched the fry out of his hand and popped it into his mouth. “I’m not anyone else. I’m the Human Torch.”
Wyatt watched him chew, just admiring him for the moment, golden and insolent even sitting in a greasy diner. He hadn’t removed his gloves to eat. He never did.
“So?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. Johnny eyed him suspiciously. “You want in or what?”
For the first time since they’d met up, Johnny actually smiled.
Johnny ditched the costume the next day in favor of jeans and a soft-looking shirt, sunglasses dangling from the neckline. He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
“You want to take the wheel?” Wyatt asked, but Johnny was already heading around to the passenger’s side door of Wyatt’s rented Jeep.
“No,” he said, climbing in. “I’m good.”
Johnny slept for most of the drive, sunglasses on and askew and head down against the window. Wyatt let him; he looked like he needed the rest. Wyatt had never minded silence, although he was admittedly unused to it in Johnny’s presence.
Johnny frowned in his sleep. Wyatt was unused to that, too. He had to wake him when they got to their destination, a hand gentle on his shoulder, and for one drowsy moment Johnny looked like he didn’t know where he was. Then he blinked and his eyes cleared. He pulled himself upright in his seat, rubbing at his face with a hand.
“We’re there already?” he asked.
“Sort of,” Wyatt said, just watching him. Fondness bloomed in his chest, as bright and familiar as ever, watching as Johnny yawned and stretched, his hair rumpled on one side where his head had met the window. Wyatt made himself look away as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the car. “I rented this place for a few days. My father’s friend’s farm is nearby.”
The house looked just like it had in the photos, pretty as a picture with its whitewashed walls and little stone path, a storybook cabin in the middle of the woods. It was perfect. He’d known the moment he saw the listing that Johnny would love it.
“I’ve got groceries that should last us a couple of days in the trunk, but if it takes longer than that to wrangle this thing, the owners told me there’s this farmer’s market that –” Wyatt turned, prepared to pop the trunk and grab their stuff, when he caught sight of the look on Johnny’s face.
Johnny was staring at the cabin, his mouth just slightly open and his eyebrows furrowed. Wyatt didn’t recognize the look on his face, but it wasn’t a good one.
“Johnny?” Wyatt said, and Johnny’s gaze snapped back to him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Johnny said. He pasted on a smile, as bright as it was forced. It was the smile Wyatt had seen on countless magazine covers, perfected and rehearsed and nothing like Johnny’s too wide, dazzling real smile. “It’s great. Perfect. Geez, buddy, you never heard of a Super 8?”
“You hate motels,” Wyatt said, frowning. “You always complain about the sheets. You don’t like it?”
“I said it’s great,” Johnny said, still with fake cheer in his voice, as if Wyatt didn’t know him better than that. “C’mon, get the stuff already.”
Inside, the cabin was just as pretty. It had dark wooden floors and a high ceiling with exposed beams. The kitchen was small but cozy, with a little dining nook set off to the side, and it made the living room seem spacious by comparison. There was even a stone fireplace with fresh logs already piled inside it and a rug laid down on the floor, just waiting for someone to make a fire and curl up in front of it. The whole thing was picture perfect.
Johnny had stopped in the doorway of the bedroom.
There was only one bed in the cabin. It was a California king, plenty big enough for two. Wyatt simply hadn’t thought about that when he booked it.
“I’ll, ah,” he said guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll take the couch.”
Johnny turned to him with an unreadable look on his face. Johnny had always been something of an open book; when he was happy, he shone, and when he wasn’t, it was like someone had banked his fire. Wyatt wasn’t used to looking at him and not knowing what he was feeling.
“Fine,” Johnny said. “With any luck we’ll catch this monster and be out of here by tomorrow, anyway.” He turned away from Wyatt. “Back to our regular old lives, yeah?”
“Right,” Wyatt said after a beat, more because the silence was suffocating than anything else. He felt suddenly, completely off-kilter, lost with Johnny, and wondered, for the first time, if inviting him along on this trip hadn’t been some sort of terrible mistake.
“Wyatt! About time you made it up here, kid,” Dale said, wrapping him up in a hug as best he could when his silver-haired head only reached the center of Wyatt’s chest. “Big as a house and twice as reliable, that’s what you are. Damn, but you are starting to look as tall as your old man.”
“Only starting?” Wyatt said, laughing as he returned the hug, momentarily lifting Dale off his feet. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t know how much taller I’m going to get.”
“Stranger things, kid, stranger things. Who’s your friend?” Dale asked, gesturing to Johnny, who was loitering a little ways a way by the car, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome to join in on the conversation. “Looks awfully familiar.”
“Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you, old man,” Wyatt snorted. He beckoned towards Johnny. “Come here, let me introduce you! Johnny Storm, this is Dale Rosenbaum, an old friend of my fathers. Dale, this is Johnny.”
“I know who he is,” Dale said cheerfully, reaching forward to take Johnny’s hand. “Seen his picture next to headlines enough times. Say, didn’t you do that one Levi’s ad?”
“That was a long time ago,” Johnny said, but the corner of his mouth twitched as he glanced at Wyatt. Wyatt remembered that ad pretty well, too.
“Dale took silver in the high jump back in 1984,” Wyatt said, clapping Dale on the back.
“What Wyatt here’s neglecting to mention is that it was his daddy who took the gold,” Dale chuckled. “But that was a long time ago. I’m sure it’s not that interesting compared to the kinds of things Johnny here must have seen with the Fantastic Four.”
Instantly, Johnny’s tiny smile disappeared. His face shuttered.
“No,” he said coolly. “I suppose not.”
“Johnny,” Wyatt said, surprised at his tone, but instantly Johnny was smiling again, the same smile he gave on talk shows and red carpets. Practiced and careful and not the least bit real.
“I’m kidding, Wyatt,” he said. “I’d love to hear the story sometime.”
“Well, sure,” Dale said, shooting Wyatt his own look. Wyatt cleared his throat.
“Dale has goats,” he said. He reached for Johnny’s hand and was surprised when Johnny pulled his own back. He tried to cover up the shock, dropping his hand to his side. He cleared his throat. “Want to see?”
“Lead the way,” Johnny said with less than enthusiasm.
“What happened to that big green lawyer you were seeing?” Dale said, passing Wyatt a tall glass of iced tea. “I always liked her.”
“She fleeced you at poker,” Wyatt said. “Of course you liked her.”
“That old Rolex of mine looked better on her anyway.” He paused, taking a sip of his tea, and then he inclined his head Johnny’s way. “You sure you know what you’re doing with him, kid?”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “Never known you to be so closeminded, old man.”
Dale thumped him on the shoulder, shaking his head.
“It’s not like that and you know it. That boy’s walking wounded,” he said. He hesitated, in that kind of way that made Wyatt steal himself for the words that were coming next. “You can see it on people, sometimes. When they don’t much care for living anymore.”
Wyatt’s fingers clenched so hard around the glass that he nearly broke it.
“No,” he said, numb. “That’s not Johnny.”
“Don’t look like that,” Dale said, shaking his head sadly. “Everyone knows what happened to that boy’s family. You’ve seen that life up close. The kinds of things these superheroes do – eventually, it catches up to you.” He took a long swallow of his own ice tea. “Looks it’s caught up to him.”
“That’s not—Johnny wouldn’t,” Wyatt said, setting his glass down. “He’s just – it’s rough for him right now. But he’ll bounce back. I’ve seen it happen before. He’ll be alright.”
“I don’t want to see you get your heart broke, kid,” Dale said, shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter,” Wyatt told him, staring ahead at Johnny, with his bowed head and his slumped shoulders. “I love him. I’ve loved him since the first day I met him.”
“Well,” Dale said, after a beat. “You’re just like your daddy. I’d never have accused either of you of being smart.”
Surprised, Wyatt began to laugh even as he elbowed him.
“You watch it, old man,” he said. “Now leave my love life alone and tell me more about this monster in the woods.”
The monster had first been noticed four months ago. At first it had just been a shape in the woods, a shadow between the trees, an easily dismissed trick of the light. Campers got nervous, all alone in the woods sometimes, and mistook the ordinary sights and sounds of the woods at night for something supernatural.
Except the sightings kept happening. Someone recorded a shaky few minutes of footage and stuck it on the internet. The hits quickly racked up.
“Then some kids came down with a camera,” Dale said, his arms crossed as he rocked moodily back and forth on the porch. “Wanted to make one of those ghost hunting shows. Went into the woods at night even after I told them not to.”
“What happened?” Johnny asked, leaning forward with a frown on his face as he snapped into superhero mode. It was the most engaged Wyatt had seen him since they met up.
“Well, they’re alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dale said, sighing. “One of ‘em got his leg torn up pretty bad. Whatever they saw – they don’t want to talk about it. All shaken up. But…” he reached into his pocket and held up a folded picture. “One of ‘em gave me this before they left.”
Johnny reached out to take it. He unfolded it as Wyatt leaned over his shoulder.
The picture was blurry and dark, something Wyatt would expect out of an amateur monster hunting production. Still, he could clearly see the outline of a shape against the nice sky, hulking and huge. It had four legs, and the front ones were tipped with long, glinting claws.
“What do you think?” Dale asked Johnny, his eyebrows raised. “You ever seen anything like that before?”
“Like it, sure,” Johnny murmured, his eyes tracing over the monster’s form. “But if you’re asking if I know what it is, no. I don’t think I’ve seen whatever this is before.”
Wyatt watched his face carefully. There was a look of genuine curiosity there, Johnny’s eyes glimmering.
“It’s interesting,” Johnny said, looking up at Dale.
“Well, and then you have the strange lights in the sky,” Dale said.
Wyatt raised an eyebrow.
“Like a UFO?” he said.
“Sure,” Dale said. “Or a couple of them. They come and go – I can’t make rhyme or reason of it. But the locals up here have all seen them.”
“You didn’t mention anything about that on the phone,” Wyatt said.
“The kids who got attacked, they thought they might be connected,” Dale said. “But personally I don’t know how much stock I’d put in that. You see strange things sometimes, up here in the woods.”
“Johnny’s no stranger to aliens,” Wyatt said.
“Sure,” Johnny said, too nonchalantly. “I even married one.”
Wyatt winced.
“You think you can handle it?” Dale asked, reaching out to take the photo back. “Others have tried.”
“I’m still the Human Torch,” Johnny said, frowning. “I’ll find your monster.”
“I can handle this alone, you know,” Johnny said, leaning against the railing of their rented house as Wyatt shouldered a backpack full of supplies. “I don’t need a sidekick.”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow. That was unusually cutting, coming from Johnny.
“In case you forgot, I brought you into this,” Wyatt said. “If anyone’s the sidekick here, it’s you.”
“Cute,” Johnny said as they started down the path, heading towards the car. Dale had given them a list of locations the monster had been spotted around. “But I have powers – you don’t. And I can cover a lot more distance than you a lot quicker. Besides, it’s just one stupid little monster.”
“That I’d rather you not get mauled by out there on your own,” Wyatt said, stopping by the car. He looked down at Johnny, who stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. “I’m going and that’s final. You don’t like it, you can stay here. I made Dale a promise and you know I don’t break those.”
“Fine,” Johnny said, though he continued to look unhappy about it. “But I’m driving.”
Wyatt tossed him the keys. Johnny caught them, staring at him with a challenge written all over his face.
Whatever Johnny Storm could dish out, Wyatt could take. Whatever was going on with him, Wyatt could wait him out.
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
They pulled the car over on the edge of the road once they got close to the sight of the last sighting. From where he stood, the woods looked quiet and peaceful, but Wyatt wasn’t one to rely solely on a first glance. He and Johnny glanced at each other; he raised a meaningful eyebrow and Johnny snorted.
Even strange and strained as their relationship currently was, they’d always understood each other.
Johnny went first, walking a few feet ahead of Wyatt. It wasn’t Wyatt’s preference, but he didn’t want to risk another pointless argument. It wasn’t like Johnny to be so prickly.
It was nearly nightfall when they reached the site where the monster had mauled its victims. They’d planned it that way.
“See anything?” Johnny asked, glancing around.
The campers had left in a hurry. There was still an abandoned tent lying half-collapsed in the clearing.
Wyatt shook his head, and then paused.
“What?” Johnny said.
“I thought I heard something,” Wyatt replied. “Could just be an animal.”
But then there, distinctly, was the sound of a snapping branch. It was followed by a low moan, like an animal noise that Wyatt didn’t recognize but that seeped deep into his bones. It sounded, somehow, impossibly sad.
“Stay here, Wyatt,” Johnny said, holding up a hand.
Before Wyatt could protest he’d flamed on and taken off, streaking through the trees.
“Johnny!” he called out after him, but it was too late. Sighing, Wyatt followed him, making quick work of the distance. It wasn’t hard to catch up to Johnny when he was a bright streak of light in an otherwise dark forest.
When he caught up to him, it was abundantly apparent that Johnny had found the monster. Wyatt threw up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright flickering light of Johnny’s flame, trying to get a good look at it. It was large, roughly the size of a moose, although built more like a bear. The claws on its paws were even more impressive up close, and its fur – long and shaggy – was striped a dark green and purple. Wyatt had never seen its exact like before.
The creature roared, flailing forwards, and one shadowy paw caught Johnny square across the chest. He went flying, thrown backwards, and Wyatt raced forward as, helplessly, he watched him fall.
Between chasing a monster and going to Johnny, it was no choice at all. The creature crashed through the underbrush in the other direction. It was fast, and gone in a moment. Wyatt couldn’t bring himself to care when Johnny was on the ground.
“John!” Wyatt shouted, rushing towards him.
Johnny was already struggling to his knees when Wyatt reached him, smoking and winded, but not visibly wounded. The fallen leaves all around him were scorched; he must have flamed off on impact. Wyatt dropped to his knees in front of him.
“I’m alright,” Johnny said shakily, letting Wyatt help him to his feet. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”
“You scared me,” Wyatt said, palming his cheek.
“Yeah, I get that,” Johnny said. “But I’m really –"
Wyatt dipped his head and kissed him, cutting him off. Johnny made a surprised noise, hands flying up to rest at Wyatt’s chest, and for a moment it was just like every other first kiss they’d had, Johnny’s lips soft and his mouth hot, opening easily under Wyatt’s. This was always one of Wyatt’s favorite things; he planted a hand at the small of Johnny’s back, bringing him in closer.
Then Johnny broke the kiss with a quiet noise, turning his head away.
“Wyatt, don’t,” Johnny said, eyes downcast. His fingers curled white knuckled in Wyatt’s shirt.
“Johnny?” he said, frowning.
Johnny stepped away from him.
“I don’t think we should do this right now,” he said. He still wasn’t looking at him. Wyatt felt lost.
Slowly, he stepped back.
“Alright,” he said after a moment, still feeling off-kilter. It had just been a kiss. They’d shared what had to be a hundred before, and in worse situations than this. “If that’s how you feel.”
Johnny nodded tersely. His hands were clenched in lose fists at his side.
“It is,” he said. He shouldered past Wyatt and started walking. “Come on. Monster can’t have gone far.”
But the monster had disappeared. They searched until well after night had properly fallen, mostly in silence. It was as awkward as Wyatt had ever felt around Johnny – every time he tried to talk to him, Johnny shut him down, and he kept himself a careful few feet away from Wyatt, as if there was an invisible wall between them.
Wyatt ached to undo whatever it was he had done. The kiss. The trip. Something else.
He ached to hold Johnny.
Walking wounded, Dale had said. Watching Johnny move through the trees, he could believe it.
The drive back to the cabin was tense. Johnny drove again, and he kept his eyes resolutely on the path in front of them, barely answering Wyatt’s attempts to talk to him – about the monster, about the woods, finally, desperate to get more than two words out of Johnny, about whether he wanted to listen to the radio. His hands were whiteknuckled around the wheel.
By the time they arrived back at the cabin, Wyatt had had enough. He slammed the car door, following hot on Johnny’s heels up the path.
“John,” he said, taking his shoulder and turning him around. He pushed Johnny back against the door and Johnny finally looked at him, his eyes wide. Wyatt softened his grip, sliding his hand to Johnny’s bicep instead. “Johnny. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to – just don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not,” Johnny lied.
“I’m sorry,” Wyatt repeated. “About the kiss – I’m sorry.”
Johnny swallowed hard as he said, “Nothing to be sorry for.”
“If you’re seeing someone, you can just tell me,” Wyatt said. “You know I’ve never pushed while you were involved.”
And vice versa, he didn’t need to add. That had always been the deal. That didn’t mean Wyatt had always liked it. He remembered sitting in the pews at Johnny’s wedding, thinking he should object. He remember much later, standing with Johnny, pale and worn and tired, in the desert and wishing he had. In the middle of the night, sometimes, Wyatt let himself believe that he’d let that happen to him – beautiful, bright, trusting Johnny. And all he’d had to do that day was tell him how he really felt before the wedding march started.
Johnny laughed, but not like anything was funny. He shook his head.
“I’m not seeing anyone, Wyatt,” he said. “Didn’t you get the memo? I’m out of style.”
“That’s not true,” Wyatt said.
Johnny snorted, turning away from him.
“Did something happen?” Wyatt asked. “Are you angry with me?”
“No!” Johnny said, shaking his head. “No, it’s not – I’m not angry at you.”
Then he took a shaky breath and looked away, fixing his gaze on the fireflies that were just starting to congregate in the front yard. He was so tense under Wyatt’s hand he felt like a statue, and trembling ever so slightly, and, frowning, Wyatt suddenly got it.
“Are you angry at yourself?” Wyatt asked.
Johnny didn’t reply. He didn’t shift so much as a muscle, not until Wyatt slid his hand back up to his shoulder and tried to take the other one, too. He flinched so violently that Wyatt dropped his hands to his sides. The weight of his helplessness was crushing.
“John,” he said. “Please. I want to help.”
Johnny turned to look at him, his eyes blazing. “How are you supposed to help, Wyatt?”
“I don’t know,” Wyatt told him. He planted one hand on the wall behind Johnny’s head and leaned in close. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t know!” Johnny exploded, literally. Flames spewed from his lips and flashed in his eyes, his hair lighting itself up like a candle. “Everything’s a fucking mess! Reed and Sue are gone! The kids are gone! Ben is gone – why are you here, Wyatt? Everyone else has left!”
“Johnny,” Wyatt said, his heart breaking for him, but Johnny wasn’t done.
“Even Medusa,” he said, gesturing to himself. “I have nothing like this – and no one cares. It was the anniversary of the rocket crash the other day, and you know what happened? No one talked about it. It’s like they never even existed! And without them, I don’t exist! I’m nothing!”
He looked at Wyatt, his eyes blazing.
“Why, Wyatt?” he demanded, his voice breaking. “Why would you want me like this?”
Sparks jumped from his lips and his skin, clinging to his hair and his eyelashes like his own fire couldn’t bear to leave him. Even in his fury, Wyatt was struck all over again by how beautiful he was. He raised a hand to cup Johnny’s face and the fire died, leaving Johnny’s shine dulled and his eyes wet and still, still, always the most the most beautiful boy Wyatt had ever seen. His fingertips traced the high crest of Johnny’s cheekbone as he cradled his face.
“Johnny,” Wyatt said, forehead down against his. “Can I?”
“Okay,” Johnny said, barely a whisper. He turned his head away, though. “If you want to.”
“I always want to,” Wyatt promised him. Johnny’s gaze flicked up to meet his, and Wyatt’s heart broke a little. He traced the line of Johnny’s jaw with a finger, tilting Johnny’s face towards his own. There was hesitance in the way Johnny moved with him, but he moved just the same.
The first kiss was slow and gentle, just enjoying Johnny’s lips pressed against his own again after so long without. They were warm and maybe not as soft as usual, but they felt perfect, just like always. Wyatt could spend days doing nothing but this.
The second kiss was a lot more.
“You’re everything,” Wyatt murmured to him, thumb softly stroking the skin just under Johnny’s ear.
“Wyatt,” Johnny mumbled against his lips, straining on the tips of his toes. His hot breath mingled with Wyatt’s. “Let’s go inside now.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Wyatt said, reaching for the keys. Then he bent down and quickly swept Johnny up into his arms, one arm behind his back and one hand hooked behind his knees. He hefted him up higher, smiling down at Johnny’s shocked expression.
Then Johnny started to laugh – a real laugh, the first of its kind Wyatt had heard from him since he’d come to New York. Still snickering, Johnny let himself fall backwards into Wyatt’s arms with a sigh, one hand flung over his forehead.
“Oh, Mr. Wingfoot!” he said dramatically. “Are you going to have your way with me?”
“That’s the plan,” Wyatt confirmed.
They toppled down onto the rug in the living room, both laughing, Johnny’s arms twined around his neck as he tried to kiss him and missed, his lips landing on Wyatt’s chin.
“So stupid,” Johnny murmured, kissing his cheek, “how you get handsomer every year.”
“Look who’s talking,” Wyatt said. He took Johnny’s hand, pulling it towards him.
Wyatt kissed his knuckles, first, and then the back of his hand. He turned Johnny’s hand over in his own, pressing his lips the soft skin of his wrist, just over his pulse, planting light kisses up to his elbow until Johnny was laughing helplessly, smiling at Wyatt and shaking his head. His eyes were still damp.
“It’s gloomy in here,” Wyatt said, keeping his voice low. He felt Johnny shiver. “You don’t belong in gloomy.”
“You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that, Wyatt?” Johnny said, sighing like that was such a terrible thing.
He snapped his fingers and the fireplace burst into roaring flame. Wyatt threw his head back laughing.
“And you accuse me of being the hopeless romantic?” he said.
“It’s atmospheric,” Johnny said, grinning. “And nostalgic, a little bit. You remember the time in front of the fire?”
“I do remember,” Wyatt said, tilting Johnny’s head up for a kiss. “It was very nice.”
“Nice?” Johnny mumbled, faintly accusing. “Was that all it was?”
“Incredible,” Wyatt corrected. “Life changing.”
Johnny’s cheeks went pick even as he preened, running a hand through his hair to mess up his curls in a winning fashion. The fire lit him up beautifully, casting shadows that made the angles of him look even sharper, his eyes even brighter.
“And me?” Wyatt asked, raising his eyebrows. “How was I?”
Johnny’s smile went a little soft and funny, his eyes warm and bright, as he said the one word that meant more to him than any other.
“Fantastic,” he murmured.
There were so many things Wyatt wanted to say to him.
“Here, Wyatt,” Johnny said, a little breathlessly, beating him to the punch. He tugged at Wyatt’s shirt, trying to draw him down. “Let’s do it here, in front of the fire, like before.”
Wyatt’s hand found his hip, squeezing. “Don’t you think we’re getting a little too old for this?”
“Bite your tongue!” Johnny said, gasping.
“I’d rather bite yours,” Wyatt said, grinning. He laughed when Johnny stuck it out at him, stroking a hand down Johnny’s thigh, then setting it down against the thick plush rug. He stroked over the shag of it in consideration.
“Come on,” Johnny urged, using that tone of voice that meant he already knew he was getting his way.
“The rug is soft,” Wyatt allowed, “but I don’t want to hear any whining tomorrow, alright?”
“When do I ever whine?” Johnny said.
“Do you want me to go over it with you or do you want me to fuck you in front of the fire?” Wyatt asked, watching Johnny’s cheeks go pink, the smile on his face widen.
“Fuck me,” he said. “But I don’t whine.”
Wyatt wasn’t going to argue with him. At least, not right now.
“I missed you,” Wyatt said, pushing Johnny’s shirt up to touch skin, breathing in the extinguished matchstick smell of him. “I missed this.”
“How long has it been?” Johnny asked, running appreciative hands up Wyatt’s chest.
“We were on the moon,” Wyatt said, grinning. All the places he’d never expected to go, all the incredible things he’d never expected to see, all given to him because the impossible man in his arms had decided to room with him on the first day of college. “You’d just decided to become a rock star…”
Johnny groaned out loud. “Don’t remind me.”
“I liked the album,” Wyatt said, laughing when Johnny rolled his eyes. “How many of the songs were about me?”
“You think they let me write any of them?” Johnny asked, words slightly muffled when Wyatt chose that exact moment to drag his shirt over his head. He tossed it unceremoniously off to the side of the room.
“So, all of them, right?” Wyatt said, pushing Johnny down so he could kiss his way down his chest. Johnny gasped a little, hand twisting in Wyatt’s hair when Wyatt tongued at his navel, where he knew Johnny was ticklish, and reached down to pop the button of his jeans.
“Love your legs,” he confessed, dragging the tight denim down. “Always have.”
“Sure,” Johnny said, laughing helplessly. “But they look better wrapped around your waist, right?”
“You said it,” Wyatt said, tossing Johnny’s jeans aside. “Not me.”
He held his hips down firmly, knowing that this was what Johnny liked. The surrender of control. Sure enough, Johnny folded like a puppet whose strings had been cut, sagging back against the rug and staring up at Wyatt from underneath his eyelashes. His breathing picked up in anticipation as Wyatt squeezed and then slid his hands to the backs of his thighs.
“Wyatt,” he murmured, threading a hand through Wyatt’s hair as he took his time kissing the flat plane of his stomach, lips drifting to the jut of his hipbone. Wyatt looked up at him, at the glimmer in his eyes and the flush on his face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He could have kept him like this all night.
But Wyatt knew what Johnny really wanted. He grabbed the abandoned backpack and reached into a hidden pocket, pulling out the lube and condoms he’d packed, thinking, maybe, and held them up with a raised eyebrow.
Johnny’s eyes lit up, even as he bit his lip to disguise his smile.
“What’ve you got there, Mr. Wingfoot?” he asked with faux suspicion as Wyatt gripped the back of his knee, drawing his leg up.
“Save the acting for Hollywood, John,” Wyatt murmured, kissing his shoulder.
“Horndog,” Johnny accused, fond, sighing a little at the first slick touch of Wyatt’s finger. Johnny was tight around him, and the muscles of his thighs were tense. It had obviously been a while. Wyatt could work with that. He’d been the first person to ever be inside Johnny, after all.
“Boy scout,” Wyatt corrected, finger sinking up to the knuckle into Johnny’s tight heat. “Always prepared and all that. Maybe I thought I’d meet some other stunning blond superhero.”
“More stunning than me?”
“No one,” Wyatt said, “is more stunning than you.”
Johnny hummed. “Nobody? Not even a tall green amazon?”
“Oh no.” Wyatt pinched the inside of his thigh; Johnny jumped a little. “We’re not playing this game again. Not that it isn’t cute how jealous you get.”
“I’m always cute,” Johnny said, chin tipped up defiantly. “And you were mine first.”
“I never denied that,” Wyatt said. “I was your first. Remember that time? You’d just ticked off the entire State College football team…”
“I could’ve taken them,” Johnny said, eyes closed.
“Uh-huh. Sure you could’ve,” Wyatt said, grinning. “Remember that tiny dorm bed? We had to stop…”
Johnny groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “You always do this!”
“Do what?” Wyatt asked, focused on the slide of his finger, in and out of Johnny’s body.
“You always make it like this!” Johnny said, arching a little as Wyatt added a second finger. He adopted a mockingly sympathetic tone. “Poor Johnny Storm, couldn’t handle my giant dick.”
Wyatt snickered, crooking his fingers, and Johnny bit off a moan. “Giant, huh? Is that what you’d call it?”
“Don’t be a jerk,” Johnny said. “A-ah, Wyatt…”
“Easy, babe,” Wyatt said, kissing his chest. “Not like I really knew what I was doing that time either. We worked it out, didn’t we? I sucked you off and then came all over you. You were so pretty like that.” Teasingly, he slipped his fingers almost all the way out, playing with the rim of Johnny’s hole. “How about a nostalgia trip?”
“Don’t you dare –” Johnny started, his voice hot, only to cut off with a guttural moan as Wyatt slid back in with a third finger. “Wyatt.”
“Yeah?” Wyatt asked, laughing softly against Johnny’s breastbone.
“I want you inside me,” Johnny said. He tangled his fingers in Wyatt’s hair, tugging soft but insistent until Wyatt raised his head. Their lips met, the kiss feverish. “Please, Wyatt, I need you.”
“I’m right here, Johnny,” Wyatt promised.
“Don’t leave,” Johnny said, gripping the back of Wyatt’s neck. The tone of his voice brought Wyatt up short, the sheer desperation of it.
“I won’t,” he promised, holding Johnny close. “I promise.”
Johnny was pure heat inside, just like always. He gasped against Wyatt’s neck, his breath hot, like in this moment he couldn’t contain all his fire. He could, of course – Wyatt knew Johnny’s control better than almost anyone else – but it was still a little thrilling, the thought that Wyatt could make Johnny come undone like this.
“You good?” Wyatt asked.
Johnny nodded rapidly.
“It’s been a long time,” he laughed breathlessly. He tightened his legs around Wyatt’s waist. “I missed this.”
He was hiding his face in Wyatt’s neck, so Wyatt could only kiss the side of his head, his curls fluffy, tickling his cheek.
“John,” he murmured. There were three little words trapped in his chest that he badly wanted to say.
“Wyatt,” Johnny said, his lips moving against Wyatt’s skin. “Please. Just fuck me.”
Wyatt swallowed hard and nodded.
They ended up fucking with Johnny on his back, Wyatt’s hands spanning his hips, the fire roaring besides them. Johnny’s eyes were closed, his mouth open, little moans escaping him with every thrust from Wyatt.
Normally, Wyatt liked it slow, liked to make it last as long as he could, sometimes liked pushing Johnny to edge and keeping him there. He always felt like he had to get as much of Johnny as he could, for the time he had together, before inevitably, something happened – Wyatt’s responsibilities pulled him away, or Johnny was off on another adventure, or dating some supermodel or pop star Wyatt would reserve his comments on.
(He liked Darla as a person and as a friend, but he wasn’t going to pretend that Johnny dating her had anything to do with attraction. Johnny had admitted as much himself on the moon.)
This time was different. They were both still wound up, from the search for the creature in the woods, from the argument, from the separation, and from whatever it was Johnny wasn’t talking about, whatever it was that was eating away at him inside. Wyatt could see it, when he looked at him, but he couldn’t make Johnny tell him. So he fucked him instead, long steady thrusts that made Johnny keen, his back arching, hot and tight and perfect around Wyatt, like they’d never been apart. It felt, at once, like it went on forever, and like it was over too soon.
Wyatt groaned as he rolled over, him on his back and Johnny on top of him, held securely to his chest. Johnny liked being held in the afterglow, and Wyatt had never objected to being the one doing the holding. Johnny sighed as he settled against him.
His hair was dark gold with sweat, which surprised Wyatt. Johnny’s particular powers rarely left him sweaty. But before he could say anything, Johnny reached up, cupping a hand to Wyatt’s cheek.
“I needed that,” he admitted quietly.
“Me too,” Wyatt said, raising a hand to stroke Johnny’s hair. His curls were rumpled and warm as always, like he’d just been out in the sun.
For a long moment, they were both quiet. Wyatt liked it when Johnny was quiet with him, because Johnny was rarely quiet with anyone, always feeling the need to be the wise-cracking, fun-loving celebrity, the Human Torch, the Johnny Storm, to be those things for other people. With Wyatt, Johnny could let himself just be.
“Did you really like the album?” Johnny finally asked, tracing patterns on Wyatt’s chest.
Wyatt hummed, palming Johnny’s back, feeling possessive in the afterglow the way he rarely let himself get with Johnny. “I like your voice.”
“Wyatt,” Johnny said, smirking. “Nobody liked my album.”
Wyatt laughed, rolling them over so Johnny was underneath him again, flushed and gorgeous with his eyes sparking and the light of the fire shining on him. “Well, Mr. Storm, I was worried if I said otherwise you wouldn’t let me sleep with you.”
Johnny’s arms came up and around his shoulders. He spread his legs and said, “You should have more faith in your charms, Mr. Wingfoot.”
Wyatt woke up alone, which was unusual. The handful of times Johnny had stayed the night they’d always ended up wrapped up in each other, Johnny tucked against his chest. Johnny was beautiful when he first woke up. Wyatt missed his muzzy smile, the way he stretched, the graceful lines of him. How he protested when Wyatt tried to kiss him first thing, only to melt into it. How he’d let Wyatt roll him over and pin him to the mattress and start things up all over again, slow and languid, taking Johnny back apart.
The sheets were still warm. Wyatt’s jeans and underwear were on the floor, but his shirt was missing.
He pulled on his boxers, but left his jeans where they lay.
Johnny was in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his underwear and Wyatt’s shirt. The shirt hung off one shoulder, haphazardly buttoned, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. His hair was still a mess. Wyatt couldn’t help but smile, just looking at him.
“Morning,” Johnny called without glancing up from the stove.
“How did you know I was there?” Wyatt asked, coming up behind him. He fit his hands to Johnny’s waist and bent to kiss his neck.
“Thermal radiance,” Johnny hummed, tilting his head to give Wyatt better access. “I can usually switch it off, but it’s a little, um,” he broke off with a little laugh. “It’s kind of automatic, if I’m around someone a lot, or if we’ve been together all night…”
“Got it,” Wyatt said, squeezing him. “You’re very talented. Are you making me breakfast?”
“Who said you get any?” Johnny asked, but he was switching the stove off and turning in the circle of Wyatt’s arms, stretching up on his toes for a kiss. Wyatt made it easy on them and lifted him up onto the countertop, meeting Johnny’s mouth eagerly. He tasted so sweet, and the cavern of his mouth was so hot. Wyatt could have spent days just kissing him.
“The food’s going to get cold,” Johnny said, but the way he was running his hands down Wyatt’s chest made the protest sound hollow.
“We can warm it up later,” Wyatt told him.
“Not what you’re hungry for, huh?” Johnny asked, snickering.
“That was bad,” Wyatt said, moving to unbutton Johnny’s stolen shirt, one button at a time until the fabric slipped off of Johnny’s shoulders. Wyatt tugged it off him, then ran a finger across the sharp jut of Johnny’s collarbone. “It’s true, though. I haven’t had my fill of you yet.”
“Now who’s bad?” Johnny asked, tangling his fingers in Wyatt’s hair as Wyatt started on his throat, kissing and sucking. “Ah, Wyatt…”
“Mmhmm?” Wyatt hummed, tracing a finger feather light down Johnny’s chest, barely touching him at all. He kissed the spot just beneath Johnny’s ear, the one that always made him shiver.
“More,” Johnny said, pulling on his hair.
“More what?” he asked, fingertip circling Johnny’s nipple, ever so gentle, watching it harden under his attentions. He pinched it and Johnny’s sigh was a stuttered thing.
“Wyatt,” he said.
“It’s still early,” Wyatt said, nosing at his neck, breathing in his scent. “Let me take you back to bed.”
Johnny nodded hard, eyes closed and head tipped back. He wound his arms around Wyatt’s neck and let Wyatt lift him easily from the countertop.
“You know we have to go back out monster hunting, don’t you?” Johnny said, sighing a little fondly as Wyatt slipped back into bed with their now cold breakfast. He held out his hands to reheat the plate. “We can’t just stay here forever.”
“I disagree,” Wyatt said, tilting his chin up with two fingers to kiss him. “I think this is exactly where we should stay: here, in this bed, naked.”
“Wyatt,” Johnny said, rolling his eyes. He picked up a fork but only toyed with the eggs and bacon, frowning a little to himself.
“I’m completely serious,” Wyatt said, arm stretched over Johnny’s shoulders, trailing his fingers up and down his arm. Johnny leaned into him a little, head down against his shoulder, his hair tickling Wyatt’s bare skin. Wyatt laughed. “Okay, okay. After breakfast, monster hunting. And then…” He knew he shouldn’t say it, but the words slipped out anyway. “And then come back to Oklahoma with me.”
Instantly, Johnny went stiff. Wyatt bit the inside of his cheek.
“Don’t,” Johnny mumbled, but he didn’t pull away. Not yet. “Wyatt, please.”
“You don’t have to live like this. You don’t --,” Wyatt cut himself off, shaking his head. His grip tightened on Johnny. “I’d take care of you. I want to take care of you. I want…”
To be with you. As your lover. Your partner. Your husband. They’d had this conversation before. He’d never managed to actually say it. It didn’t matter – he knew Johnny knew. Johnny knew that he knew he knew. They always just went in circles.
Johnny was silent. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet of last night. He was watching Wyatt with wounded eyes, as if Wyatt wanting to take care of him was somehow hurting him.
“Just come to Oklahoma with me for a few weeks,” Wyatt said, reaching over to brush an errant curl from Johnny’s forehead. “See how you feel after that.”
“I can’t,” Johnny said. “Wyatt, I…”
He trailed off, shaking his head.
“John,” Wyatt said, desperation seeping into his voice. “Explain it to me. Please.”
He’d been in love with Johnny Storm since he was eighteen years old. One look and that was all it had taken to know he’d follow Johnny anywhere – but it was Johnny’s boundless, bright optimism, his compassion, his sense of adventure that had kept Wyatt in love all of these years, no matter who else either of them had been with. It hurt, to see the light that lived inside of Johnny dwindled so low.
“I can’t,” Johnny said, his voice pained.
Wyatt had been doing this dance for a decade now. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the steps.
“We both know I could make you happy,” Wyatt said as he climbed out of bed and pulled on his jeans. “What I can’t figure out is why you won’t let me.”
He fished up his undershirt from the floor and tugged it on. When he looked back at Johnny, Johnny was looking away, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He looked small and unglamorous, his shine faded away.
Wyatt’s fingers clenched around the door.
“I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, turning away. “Come find me when you’re ready.”
The trip back to the woods was tenser than the day before. Wyatt should have let it go, he knew that. But it hurt him, seeing Johnny so hurt, and it hurt him more that Johnny was shutting him out.
They were deep in the trees, Wyatt taking the lead this time, when Johnny reached out and caught him by the arm.
“Wyatt,” he said, and then abruptly stopped when Wyatt turned to face him.
Wyatt just waited him out.
“I thought you might have left,” Johnny admitted, looking down. “Earlier, when we had the argument. I thought I was going to go outside and you’d be gone.”
“I said I would be just outside,” Wyatt said, heaving a long sigh. “I wouldn’t run out on you like that, Johnny.”
“Even though I can’t give you what you want,” Johnny mumbled, glancing away. “You’re really too good, Wyatt. For me, I mean.”
“Johnny…” Wyatt said, trailing off. He didn’t know how to say it so Johnny would believe it, that he was better than knew, and so much better than he felt. He tried before, countless times. But when it came to how Johnny Storm viewed himself, it was Wyatt versus the rest of the world, and Wyatt was only one man.
“I know,” Johnny cut him off, smiling wryly. “I know what you’re gonna say. We’ve done this before, remember?”
“I know,” Wyatt said. “But last time… before everything that happened, happened... I thought we were both on the same page.”
Johnny’s smile dimmed a little bit.
“After that night, after you got your powers back, we talked all night,” Wyatt said. These were painful memories to recall, how hopeful everything had seemed in that moment and then almost how immediately it had all been dashed. “And I know things are different now. I know everything changed when Reed and Sue – when they disappeared. But Johnny, I’m still here.”
“Right,” Johnny said, sounding doubtful. “For now.”
“Johnny, whatever it is, you can tell me –”
“I’m losing my powers, Wyatt!”
The forest seemed to fall silent.
“What?” Wyatt said, a beat too late and he knew it. Johnny cringed, his arms crossed defensively over his chest, a physical barrier between himself and Wyatt.
“I’m losing my powers,” Johnny repeated. “Just like before, except slower. I noticed it starting a few months ago – my flame is getting weaker. Slowly, but steadily, day by day, I’m losing a little more of it. I don’t know if it’s happening to Ben, too, but I think – I think it has something to do with Sue and Reed being gone.”
Johnny and the rest of the Fantastic Four had been so connected, cosmically and otherwise, for so long, that it made sense to Wyatt that with Sue and Reed gone wherever they’d gone, there would be ramifications for Johnny beyond the psychological and the emotional.
“In a few months, I won’t have any flame left,” Johnny said. “I won’t be the Human Torch anymore. What am I supposed to do then?” His voice broke as he looked away. “You won’t – what are you gonna do with me then?”
“We can figure this out,” Wyatt said. “We worked it out last time. We can do it again.”
“And if we can’t?” Johnny asked, his eyes searching Wyatt’s face. “I’ve lost my powers before, and it’s always seemed like a miracle that I ever go them back. Maybe this time I’ve run out of miracles, Wyatt.”
“You don’t really believe that,” Wyatt said.
“The last time I lost my flame, I lost myself,” Johnny said. “This time I don’t feel like I even have that left to lose. What if there’s just… nothing?” His breath hitched. “If this is just it from now on? If this is all I’m ever gonna be. What are you gonna do then?”
Love him. Wyatt would love him, the same as he always had.
“I didn’t know who you were that first day,” Wyatt announced to Johnny’s back.
Slowly, Johnny turned around.
“What?” he croaked.
“That first day at Metro U, when we met,” Wyatt said. “I didn’t know who you were at first. I just knew that you were beautiful and kind.”
Johnny’s mouth fell open.
“Bullshit,” he said after a second. “Everyone knew who I was.”
“I knew who the Human Torch was,” Wyatt said. “But that first moment, running into you, I didn’t know. It was never the Torch who caught my eye, Johnny – it was always you.”
For a second, Johnny just looked stunned. Quietly, he said, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”
“Johnny Storm,” Wyatt said. “Jonathan Spencer Lowell Storm.”
“Don’t full name me,” Johnny said.
“Don’t interrupt,” Wyatt countered. “I don’t want your money, and I don’t care about your fame. I have never once loved you solely for your powers. I love your powers because they’re a part of you. It’s always been you, Johnny.”
Johnny swallowed hard, his throat working. He looked a little like he wanted to cut and run. Wyatt would chase him, if it came down to it. He’d followed Johnny to the ends of the earth and outer space besides before. He’d do it again without a second thought.
“What if I don’t know who I am without any of that?” Johnny asked, his voice small.
“Then we’ll find out together,” Wyatt promised him. “If you want to.”
“It’s not about whether I want to,” Johnny said, looking honestly like he might cry. “Wyatt, of course I want to! But you know how every other relationship in my life has gone. I don’t think I could take it, if it happened with you.”
“I’m not abandoning you, Johnny,” Wyatt said. “Not for this. Not for anything. It’s never been your flame I love.”
Johnny raised one hand to swipe at his eyes, but Wyatt beat him to the punch. He cupped a hand to Johnny’s cheek, softly running a thumb underneath his eye, wiping away the tears there.
“I’m with you, John,” he said.
Johnny rocked up on his toes, his hands fisted in Wyatt’s jacket, and pressed their lips together. Wyatt threaded one hand through his hair and with the other palmed the small of his back, leaning down so Johnny wouldn’t have to strain so much.
“I love you,” Johnny said when he broke the kiss, rocking back on his heels. His eyes were fierce and bright.
Wyatt smiled.
It was nightfall when they found the creature again. Or rather, when it found them.
It started with the lights. They hadn’t seen them on the previous day, but tonight, as the sun began to sink behind the trees, they appeared just over the horizon. There were several of them – Wyatt couldn’t determine how many because they seemed to be able to divide themselves, one splitting into three before recombining, seemingly at random.
“Well, I don’t know about you, Wyatt,” Johnny said, looking up at the sky. “But I definitely think that’s a UFO.”
“You would know,” Wyatt agreed. “What do you think they’re doing up there?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny murmured, squinting into the distance. “But if I had to guess… I think that’s a search party.”
“What makes you say that?” Wyatt said. He could see it, though, in the swooping patterns of the lights in the sky, the way they swept back and forth as if in distress.
“It’s a feeling,” Johnny murmured.
He stepped forward, and a tree branch snapped. Somewhere deep in the woods, they heard the creature roar.
Wyatt shoved Johnny out of the way just in time. The creature came barreling through the trees, straight at them. Wyatt met it head on, prepared this time. It was strong, but so was Wyatt, and he’d been thinking about it since the other night, remembering the shape of it.
Up close it was even stranger than just the neon colored fur. Its eyes glowed luminescent in the dark, a shiny sort of neon yellow not completely unlike a cat. It had a long tail, whipping around wildly as Wyatt got an arm around its neck.
“Whoa there,” he said as the creature hissed at him.
“Wyatt!” Johnny called, scrambling after them. “Do you have her?”
“I have to admit,” Wyatt said, clamping his hands down on the creature’s snarling jaws. It had teeth as long as steak knives, gleaming in the light. “This is a little nostalgic.”
“Lockjaw is cuter,” Johnny said. He crouched down besides them, holding one flaming hand aloft to examine the creature. “Hey there, buddy. We’re not gonna hurt you, so stop trying to eat my friend’s face, will you?”
The lights swooped across the sky again, painting Johnny’s face in an unearthly glow. Wyatt loved watching Johnny like this, when he was trying to put the pieces of something together. He wasn’t Reed, but he was sharp in his own way, and uniquely compassionate. One day Wyatt was going to convince him of that.
Not while the creature snapped at his throat, though.
The creature suddenly raised her head, nearly breaking out of Wyatt’s grip, and howled, a deep, mournful sound. Her eyes were lifted, raised towards the sky, and the spinning lights above them. She repeated her cry, louder, and Wyatt had never heard anything or anyone sound so desperate before.
Johnny heard it, too.
“She’s not attacking people on purpose,” Johnny whispered, almost to himself. “She’s lost.”
“What?” Wyatt said, fending off one huge paw. “Johnny, a little help, please?”
“I think I know what’s going on here!” Johnny said. “Don’t hurt her, Wyatt – I think she’s just a kid!”
“You think this is a kid?” Wyatt asked, holding the creature back.
“I’ve seen stuff like this before,” Johnny said. “Some alien kids are real big. We probably don’t want to see what the grownups look like.”
“My concern is how do we get her back to them,” Wyatt grunted.
“Hold on a second,” Johnny said. He took a deep breath, glancing at Wyatt. “I have no idea if this will work, but I’m gonna try something.”
Wyatt met his gaze. The monster was straining against him, almost strong enough to break his grip, but he didn’t let himself waver or blink.
“I trust you, John,” he said. “Always.”
Johnny sucked in a harsh breath and nodded.
The jet of flame shot straight up into the sky, like a beacon. After a moment, it formed an arrow, pointing down.
“Come on,” Johnny whispered, his eyes sparking. “Come on, come on.”
The strange lights in the sky had stopped their sweeping. They hovered in place for a moment, spinning in starburst patterns, and then they zoomed closer. The creature made a desperate noise, straining against Wyatt’s grip.
“Let her go, Wyatt,” Johnny said. “I think I figured it out!”
Reluctantly, Wyatt loosened his grip on the creature. Instead of charging, she stayed perfectly still, her gaze fixed on the sky where the lights had gathered. They’d paused there, hovering for a moment, and then fast as the blink of an eye they were directly overhead.
Like something of The X-Files, a beam of light descended from the gathered ships. It shone directly onto the creature.
Wyatt shielded his eyes against the light. It was so bright it seemed to sear into his very being, and it was hard to make out the creature through it, just a vague outline being lifted up, towards the sky. Then, like a flash, the light was gone, and the creature with it. But Wyatt couldn’t shake a very specific feeling.
“I think she was smiling,” Wyatt murmured.
“She was just looking for her family,” Johnny said, his voice wistful. “I know how that feels.”
Slowly, he reached out, his hand nudging Wyatt’s.
Wyatt flipped his own hand over, threading his fingers through Johnny’s. He squeezed, looking down at him. Johnny’s answering look was hesitant, almost shy.
“Oklahoma, huh?” he said.
“Just for a few weeks,” Wyatt said. “Longer, if you feel like it.”
Johnny heaved a long sigh, shrugging one shoulder. There was a hint of something like a smile playing on his lips, just barely visible in the setting sunlight.
“Better be careful, Wyatt,” Johnny said. “People will say we’re in love.”
“You know what they say – New York is fer lovers!”
Alicia and Johnny cheered as Ben popped the cork off the champagne, sending foam everywhere.
“I always tell you, don’t shake it!” Johnny accused through his laughter, one hand cupped over his mouth.
“What’s the big deal, Torch?” Ben asked, grinning. “We got more.”
It had been two months since that night in the woods. For Wyatt, anyway. For Johnny, it had been a little longer. He’d gone back to Oklahoma with Wyatt after all, and it had been amazing. But Johnny was an explorer, and it wasn’t like him to stay grounded in one place for too long. Wyatt understood that. So when Johnny had gone back to New York, Wyatt had followed him.
He’d wanted to follow him universe hopping with Ben looking for Reed and Sue, too, especially with Johnny’s powers failing more and more by the day. But he understood that this was something Ben and Johnny had to do on their own, and so, reluctantly, he’d let them go.
They’d gone back battered and bruised but whole, with Johnny talking about how he’d seen Sue in some fever dream in the desert. If it had been anyone else, Wyatt would’ve blamed dehydration. But it was Johnny – and what was more, Johnny’s powers were restored.
It was the hope seeing Sue, however briefly, had filled him with that lit Johnny up more beautifully than his flame ever could. They’re out there, Wyatt, Johnny had said, lying on top of Wyatt in bed the first night they’d returned, after they’d finished nearly breaking Wyatt’s bed, desperate just to touch each other again. They’re really out there.
So now here they were, sitting on the roof of Ben’s Yancy Street brownstone, celebrating together. Ben had finally, after years and years, gotten up the nerve to pop the question. Alicia had said yes. Johnny had fawned an appropriate amount over her ring, a rock big enough to rival Ben himself.
Ben hadn’t noticed the rings Wyatt and Johnny wore yet.
It hadn’t been a big affair. They’d gone to the courthouse the morning before Johnny left on his multiverse trip with Ben, a blustery cold morning that had Wyatt palming Johnny’s back and hurrying him up the steps, concerned because after years of experience as the Human Torch, Johnny wasn’t very good at dressing for cold weather.
“You might regret this,” Johnny had said, right before they entered the building.
“Somehow I doubt it,” Wyatt returned. “You?”
Johnny had looked at him like he was out of his mind.
“As if anyone could regret you,” he said.
He knew he couldn’t echo the exact same sentiment back at Johnny -- who could ever regret you? -- because people had told Johnny they regretted him, often to his face. Sometimes on talk shows with audiences of millions. Occasionally to entire alien planets. But in Wyatt’s opinion, that made them all idiots.
“I know love hasn’t always been kind to you,” he’d told Johnny, out underneath the Oklahoma stars, a ring burning a hole in his pocket. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be.”
Johnny had smiled, ducking his head, the tops of his cheeks pink not just from the cold.
They would have to tell Ben and Alicia – and Jennifer – before the paparazzi got wind of the marriage, but for now there was time. For now, there was only the rooftop, Ben’s offkey crooning, and Johnny’s delighted laughter over Alicia’s tipsy refusal to join in the song.
Wyatt felt at home.
“All right,” Ben said, his singing sufficiently booed. He opened his arms wide. “Bring it in, all three of you.”
Laughing, Wyatt stepped into his arms, Johnny crushed between Ben and himself and Alicia wedged underneath Ben’s other arm. She ran her hand over Johnny’s, and raised her eyebrow when she encountered the thin silver band on his ring finger.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“What’s what?” Ben asked, the question rumbling through all of them.
“Is that a new ring?” Alicia asked. “I don’t think it’s one you’ve worn before.”
This close to Ben, Wyatt could see the wheels turning, especially as he raised one rocky brow in Wyatt’s direction, suspicion written all over his face.
“Wait a flamin’ second here,” he said.
Johnny tipped his head up, and then he froze.
“Wait,” he said. “Do you guys see that?”
“Oh no, Torchy, you ain’t getting’ out of this one that easily!”
“No, Ben, I’m serious,” Johnny said. He raised one hand up, pointing towards the sky. His hand was trembling. “Look up there.”
Wyatt looked up a split second before the world became bathed in a wash of shimmering blue. The light reminded Wyatt of those spaceships in the woods, but when he looked up, it was something completely different.
The four was gigantic and sparkling, seeming to take up all the sky, more beautiful than the best fireworks display. Wyatt instantly knew what it meant. They all did.
“Oh yeah,” Wyatt said, a grin spreading over his face.
“It’s about damn time,” Johnny whispered. He reached out, taking Wyatt’s hand in his own, his thumb running over the matching ring on Wyatt’s finger. He curled the fingers of his other hand around Ben’s rocky thumb. “Come on, Wyatt. Let’s go tell the whole family.”