SpideyTorch Oneshot Collection

clandestine meetings

Summary: It starts on the Statue of Liberty. Peter would like to call it the most romantic beginning to the story.
Word Count: 5836
By @hotsinks on archive of our own

It starts on the Statue of Liberty. Peter would like to call it the most romantic beginning to the story.

Peter's face is cold in Johnny's hands. His eyes are lidded, both of them exhausted from the day. Peter makes a simple New Year's resolution to fight less crime, but it will never be checked off because it's never that simple and he's never been able to let anything go. Johnny's hands heat up impossibly so, warming Peter's cheeks. Peter lets out this little content sigh and he watches Johnny's throat bob as he swallows—then his eyes flicker to a bruise forming at the corner of Johnny's eye, right where eye socket and cheekbone meet.

He kisses Johnny before he really knows what he's doing.

Johnny's mouth is hot against Peter's, his hands flaring with heat in surprise. He kisses Peter back, hands cooling into a bearable heat on Peter's cheeks. Peter doesn't know if the heat in his cheeks is from Johnny or from being flushed. When they pull apart, Johnny's eyes are closed. His lashes are so long, Peter thinks to himself. Johnny's thumb wipes across his cheeks, and Peter can't help but lean into the touch.

"Hey," Peter says, ever so soft. Johnny's face melts into a giddy grin.

"Hey yourself," he says. He bumps his nose against Peter's, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips. Peter smiles into the kiss, stomach fluttering. "What was that for?"

Peter hums. "Mmm, I just like you. A lot."

"That's fantastic," Johnny says. "Because me too."

Peter's chest swells, a garden of dahlias growing between his ribs.

**************************

"So," Johnny starts. They're sitting in Peter's kitchen, Johnny popping candied cherries into his mouth. "What are we, exactly?"

Peter thinks, chin in hand with his index finger tapping mindlessly. "Boyfriends."

Johnny whistles. "I like that, only one catch."

"What is it?" Peter asks. He scrutinizes Johnny, watching him fidget like he's going to burst into flame right then and there. He huffs.

"My sister doesn't know—none of them do—about me," Johnny says. He chews a cherry slowly, swallowing like it might kill him. Peter watches him carefully, watches him as he slowly puts another candied cherry into his mouth and averts his eyes from Peter's.

"Okay," Peter says. "That's okay."

Johnny eats another candied cherry. He puts the lid on the jar, storing them away in a cabinet. "Are you sure?"

Peter nods. "I've never been more sure about something."

*************************

Often, it starts on top of Lady Liberty. Lazy kisses and hands in suits, bouts of hysteria infused exhaustion. There are moments where they still have to see if one another is real, if they're holding the real Peter or the real Johnny, and then it feels a little too sad to do anything other than sit there.

Peter threads his fingers through Johnny's hair, pulling. Johnny's hands are on Peter's knees, breaths shaking out of his frame. Peter tugs at his hair again and Johnny makes a strangled noise. His hands grip Peter's knees harder, knuckles going white. It's sure to bruise. Bruises in the shapes of Johnny's hands. He thinks he'd like it if it were another scenario, but this one isn't so fun.

"Johnny?" Peter asks. Johnny lets go of him, heaving into the river in response. Nothing comes out. He heaves again, one hand back on Peter's knee. Johnny falls back once he's done and Peter is there to catch him. Johnny holds his face.