The instant Ben opened his eyes, he knew what he was seeing wasn't real. The ceiling was unfamiliar, as was the room itself: a large bedroom with all the furnishings. The walls and floor were reddish-brown wood, and the exposed beam ceiling matched. Light streamed in through the many tall windows, and the simple and sleek decorations throughout were almost entirely white, including a white carpet over the hardwood floor.
But the true indication Ben was experiencing fantasy rather than reality were his hands. Rather than being enormous and rocky, as he'd grown accustomed to, they were completely human. Calloused and a tad scarred, but human. Normal. They were his, from a time in his life when he was normal and human. A time to which he'd been desperate to return.
His (normal and human) hands clenched into fists on the white duvet of the large bed he was lying in, but Ben wasn't angry—or at least, not as much as he wanted to be.
Honestly, he just felt damn tired . Sure, he was pissed that someone was obviously trying to screw with him, someone who could get inside his head enough to know what he longed for and try to use it against him. But after he'd spent so much time relentlessly wishing he could have his old life back on his own, having someone else tauntingly dangle it in front of him for a ruse was just damn exhausting.
For a moment, he just laid there, listening to the silence and wondering what it meant for him, what he would have to face to return to a reality he didn't actually want and leave behind the life he did.
But whatever he wanted, he couldn't let whoever was trying to fool him get away with it.
"It's clobberin' time," Ben muttered to himself, with neither the determination or vigor he would have liked to have possessed. But he threw back the covers and rose from bed, taking a moment to observe his surroundings in greater detail.
The room was neat and well-lit but an odd starkness permeated the atmosphere. Beyond the clothes visible in the open closet, Ben couldn't spot any personal effects. With the matching decor, lack of keepsakes, and absence of any signs anyone truly lived there, the room was too tidy and clean. It was as if it were a display piece for a magazine photo shoot rather than an actual dwelling.
On his way out the door, Ben caught sight of himself in the gilded full-length mirror on the wall, and confirmed that he was indeed entirely human again. The human who had been engaged to Debbie. The human who was actually recognizable as astronaut Ben Grimm rather than just the Thing. The sight awakened a flood of emotions that rushed through him—joy, despair, and anger all at once—but he forced them all away, refusing to allow himself to be distracted.
Opening the door cautiously, Ben readied himself for a fight, but there was none to be found. The hallway was completely empty, and there was only quiet as far as he could hear. From all appearances, he was in a regular house, albeit a well-kept but oddly impersonal one.
The decor in the hallway and then the rest of the home was the same as the bedroom, with reddish brown hardwood for the interior of the house and white furniture. As Ben followed the hall to a wide, winding staircase that took him down to another hallway, he passed by the various rooms typical to a home, each one decorated the same way. Along the way, he couldn't help but begin to feel slightly unnerved by the constant repetition that was empty of any signs of actual life. There were no photos on any of the walls, no paintings or other artwork, no belongings scattered about. Every room was just picture-perfect, one after the other—yet more signs that this place was engineered, a thin veneer rather than anything genuine.
As he neared the end of this hall, he could hear movement, the lone sign that there was anyone else in the house with him. His muscles tensed, ready for a fight, Ben strode through the last doorway, set to meet whatever force was screwing with him.
But he wasn't prepared for what was awaiting him. In this room, which was an open, airy kitchen that looked just as perfect and untouched as the rest of the house, Johnny Storm stood at the stove, using a spatula to flip pancakes cooking in a pan. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose pajama pants, and his slim, toned body was on full display.
The air whooshed out of Ben's lungs as if he'd just been suckerpunched in the gut, and for several moments, he just stood still in surprise, staring at Johnny, unable to tear his gaze away.
He wasn't entirely sure what Johnny's presence meant, but he had a suspicion and a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to find out soon.
Noticing Ben's arrival, Johnny turned to greet him with a smile. "Hey, big guy. I was wondering when you were going to wake up."
He set the spatula down and moved forward. As he crossed through a patch of light from one of the many windows, the sunbeams brought his blond hair to gleam like gold.
"Seems like if the kids are away at camp, we should make use of every spare second we have." His blue eyes gleaming mischievously, Johnny laid a hand on Ben's shoulder and leaned in to give him a kiss.
A stab of regret pierced Ben's heart even as he moved to push Johnny away. Because even if this scenario was an illusion, a trick, it was difficult to cast aside something he desperately wanted, something he wanted everyday but knew he could not have.
A life with Johnny. A normal life, where Ben was just Ben and not the Thing. A life where Johnny wanted him and loved him. A life where they had a family together.
But Johnny didn't want Ben, nor did he love him or desire a life with him. And laboring within a lie wouldn't make a single bit of it actually true.
This person wasn't Johnny. Ben refused to pretend that he was.
Suppressing a sigh, Ben outstretched a hand and prevented the Johnny imposter from coming any closer. "That's enough."
The fake Johnny only smiled. "Oh, playing hard to get, are we? Just like back at flight school." A sly smirk came across his lips. "Do you want to go back to being my CO?"
"I was never your CO," Ben snapped at him. Though he was fighting down his emotions, trying to keep a clear head to handle whatever type of trap this illusion was, he couldn't deny the sheer agony of witnessing everything he dreamed of being handed to him when he knew he would have to refuse.
The fake Johnny frowned slightly, opening his mouth, but before he could respond, there was a whirl of light and color, and then space seemed to shatter, with a figure bursting through thin air into the kitchen. At the arrival of the newcomer, not-Johnny froze in the middle of movement.
It was Johnny Storm. The actual Johnny Storm, in his team uniform, with flames alight at his fingertips, a portal of white energy swirling behind him.
"There you are," he said with a familiar devilish grin, one that Ben usually loved to see. He cast a glance at his own imposter before aiming a streak of flames his way, causing the imposter to flicker and fade as it were merely a hologram. "Trust a like rockhead like you to be slacking off while you leave the heavy lifting to me."
"As if, Matchstick," Ben retorted, struggling to cover his discomfort and embarrassment. "Just take me back to reality."
"Your wish is my command," Johnny replied, grabbing Ben's arm and pulling him into the portal. For an instant, Ben was submerged in an ocean of light and sound, but then he was back on a rubble-strewn street of New York City, facing off against the Wizard beside Johnny. It was where he had been originally, Ben realized, before the Wizard had tried to trap him in an illusion. With Reed and Sue away on their honeymoon, it was up to the two them to handle any threats.
His massive stone hands curling into fists, Ben clenched his jaw, his eyes fixed on the Wizard. "It's clobberin' time!" This time, the words were filled with the rage pulsing from the core of his being.
"Flame on!" Johnny enthused, and together they charged toward the Wizard.
Even in the heat of battle, Ben could not ignore the pang in his chest, recognizing that fighting supervillains together was closest he would ever get to Johnny.
While most of the Baxter Building was soundproofed, when Ben wanted to enjoy the quiet, he went up to the roof. It was soothing to look out at the city skyline and see all the lights ablaze in the dark, know that even with millions of people living in the city, he had this moment to himself. Of course, whenever he did, he was reminded of just how seperate he was from regular people, but then, when wasn't he reminded of that?
The familiar whir of the elevator interrupted his solitude, and Ben groaned at the intrusion. He wanted to be alone to brood over the reveal of his secret, not be forced to talk to the person who was not only its subject but its inadvertent discoverer.
But when Johnny walked out to join him, standing beside him at the railing, he didn't offer any quips or antagonism. When Ben cast him a wary glance, he was surprised to find that Johnny's expression was unusually serious.
Johnny was the one to break the silence. "Did we have kids?"
Ben frowned at the question, not comprehending. "What?"
"You and me. In your fantasy world, or whatever it was. Did we have kids together?"
"What difference does it make?" Ben all but snarled at him, furious at the idea of Johnny mining his personal fantasy for potential ammunition to rattle him.
Johnny was quiet for several minutes before speaking again.
"In the dream the Wizard gave me, we had a little girl. Penny. She was four."
Ben was too drained and upset to give much of a damn, and his impatience showed in his tone. " 'We' as in . . .?"
"As in you and me," Johnny replied bluntly. "Her real name was Petunia. We named her after your aunt."
Several moments passed in silence as Ben processed what Johnny had said, at first unsure he'd heard correctly. "Us?" he asked, barely daring to believe it. "You and me, together ? With a daughter?"
For the first time since he'd walked out onto the roof, Johnny smiled. It was only a small smile, and slightly sad, but it was genuine. "Yeah. Ours."
Ben stared at him, gaping.
"When?" The word grated harshly out of his mouth when he finally regained his ability to speak, but he couldn't help his shock. Roguish charmer Johnny Storm wanted him? It was unbelievable.
"Since flight school," Johnny told him with an uncommon gentleness. He gave a shrug, looking unusually self-conscious. "But I didn't think you'd take me seriously, so I just kept pushing your buttons, back then and now. I mean, I know my reputation. Most people think I only want to screw around, either one way or the other."
Barely daring to believe the unexpected reciprocation, Ben couldn't suppress another question. "Why me, Matchstick? You could have your pick of anybody."
"Back in flight school, you never gave up on me," Johnny replied simply. "Sure, you were a hardass, but you never stopped trying to make me better than I was." He let out a deep exhale. "And that . . . that meant a lot to me."
Ben shook his head; after resigning himself to living without ever telling Johnny of his feelings, it was surreal to learn that Johnny felt the same way and had for a while, even. "The dream the Wizard gave you . . . is that what you really want? I mean, marrying me? Raising kids with me?" He couldn't help but be thrilled at the idea; he had wanted a family since he was old enough to consider the notion, but after the cosmic incident, he had thought that dream would go unfulfilled.
Johnny grinned. "Well, you're going to have to buy me dinner first," he teased. "We'll see how it goes from there."
Ben turned toward the elevator, elation pumping through him as the numerous possibilities for them together stretched out before them like an open road. "Well, the night's still young, isn't it? Why don't the two of us go out for the night?"
His expression victorious, Johnny reached out and took Ben's hand, deftly maneuvering the both of them so that he was tucked under Ben's arm as they walked toward the elevator together. "Ben, I thought you would never ask."