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Johnny opened his eyes slowly, cringing against the morning light. He didn’t know exactly what time it was, though he could guess it was probably around nine or ten o’clock, possibly a bit later. It had been a late night, so he was almost surprised that he woken up while it was still morning at all.
The man next to Johnny was still asleep, mouth open slightly and face pressed so hard into the pillow that his features were being smushed to one side. The image made Johnny smile, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he wanted to stare for hours, studying every detail and mentally storing it all in a little box for safekeeping.
Johnny loved Peter. And man , he wanted Peter to love him back.
He rolled out of bed and stretched, wincing slightly at the soreness in his back. After locating his underwear and grabbing it from where it lay discarded on the floor, he exited the room to go use the bathroom. He washed his hands and rinsed his face, then grabbed his toothbrush from the cup by the sink. He had put it there months ago without asking, and Peter hadn’t said a word about it. Finally, after a quick brush and a mostly-successful attempt to smooth out his hair in the mirror, he made his way out to the kitchen.
Though he didn’t do it every time, Johnny often liked to make breakfast when he stayed over at Peter’s, and it seemed like a good move this morning. So he put on a pot of coffee and threw open the cupboards, searching for ingredients. Flour, check. Baking powder, check. Salt and sugar, check, check. He lined it all up on the counter before moving on to the fridge. Eggs, milk, butter. Check, check, and check. Blueberries? Nice.
Peter’s kitchen was more stocked than usual. No sausage or bacon, but that was okay. Johnny could go buy some later for next time. It wasn’t as if Peter would cook it up himself.
It didn’t take long for Peter to appear after Johnny started cooking. Without saying anything, Peter wrapped his arms around Johnny from behind, placed a soft kiss on the nape of Johnny’s neck, then rested his chin on Johnny’s shoulder. His chest was warm against the back of Johnny’s body, and Johnny couldn’t help but smile as he pictured Peter kicking off his blankets and following the smell of food like a dog.
“Mornin, Pete,” Johnny greeted.
“G’morning,” Peter yawned back. “You’re getting awfully comfortable ransacking my kitchen like this. What if I was gonna use this all to cook later? Now I have to go buy groceries.”
“You? Cook? Good one. Just make sure you call me before you do. You’ll probably need me here to save your apartment when you accidentally set it on fire.”
“Hey, just because I haven’t cooked for you doesn’t mean I can’t cook at all.”
“Mhmm. I’ll believe it when I see it.” Johnny turned his head briefly to kiss the side of Peter’s head. “Did you know you drool in your sleep?”
“Only sometimes. I rarely sleep that hard,” Peter said, answering the kiss with a quick peck to Johnny’s cheek. “Did you know you snore like a freight train?”
“You just said you slept hard.”
“I’m talking about last weekend. I almost got up at two A.M. to go stuff cotton in my ears.”
“And instead, because you’re such a sweet guy, you plugged my nose until I woke up because I couldn’t breathe.” Johnny shook his head in dismay. “What’s wrong with you, by the way? Were you trying to kill me?”
“In the moment? Maybe,” Peter joked. “But I already apologized and promised you I won’t do it again. You don’t actually snore like that most of the time anyway.”
Johnny slid the last pancake off the frying pan. Peter let go of him and began pouring coffee for the both of them while Johnny plated the food, then they both moved to the table and sat down together. When Johnny took a sip of his coffee, it was, unsurprisingly, exactly how he liked it.
Johnny loved Peter.
They chatted through breakfast, catching up and regaling each other with tales of the villains they had fought over the past week. The two spoke of more mundane things as well, like how Peter had run into an old friend on the street and that Johnny’s favorite limited-time Halloween cereal was back. It was nice, Johnny thought, to have conversations like that with the man he loved.
When they finished eating, they moved over to sit down on Peter’s couch, which always sunk a little too low but wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable. They fell into a relaxed silence as Johnny turned on the TV and Peter picked up a book from where he had left it the night before, the arm of the couch acting as a bookmark in a way that would surely bend the book’s spine. As Peter settled against Johnny’s side with his book, Johnny put an arm around Peter’s shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb in a circle against Peter’s skin.
When the TV screen lit up, Johnny’s eyes traced the familiar line of dead pixels that ran down the left side. Peter put one foot up on the couch and rested his book against his knee, paying no attention to Johnny flipping through the channels. Johnny always kept the volume low enough to not bother him.
During a commercial break, Johnny looked over at Peter. Peter was focused on his book, his thick eyebrows furrowed slightly as he flipped the page. As Johnny quietly watched, he was once again struck by just how much he cared about this man. Finally, Peter seemed to notice Johnny’s gaze, and turned to look back at him.
“You’re staring,” Peter said.
“I’m thinking,” Johnny replied.
“Gee, Torchie, I’m proud of you for finally learning how,” Peter smirked. “What are you thinking about?”
Johnny ignored the jest, his heart pounding as he forced the words out before he could stop himself. “I’m thinking about how I love you.”
“Oh,” Peter said, then leaned in to give Johnny a peck on the lips. “I love you too.”
He said it so calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, then turned back to his book without further ado. As if they had said it a million times before, rather than this being the first time either of them had spoken the words out loud to one another. As if Johnny’s heart wasn’t beating so hard that he almost thought Peter should be able to hear it.
Johnny loved Peter, and Peter loved Johnny.
After a moment, Johnny looked back at the TV, at the cartoon characters on the screen, at the line of dead pixels that he had stared at so many times before. What a wonderful thing it was, he thought, to be sinking into that cheap couch together, saying those words and letting them float in the air around them. Simply existing in each other’s space without feeling the need to say anything more.
Johnny knew, of course, that he would eventually have to get up and return to his own home in the Baxter Building, and that it could be days or even weeks until they got to do this again. But that didn’t matter yet. All that mattered right then was the two of them together, sharing that moment.
He smiled to himself and leaned his head against Peter’s, savoring every second of how their bodies felt beside each other. What a wonderful thing it was, indeed, to love a man who loved him back.