Nothing Like Love
By SolarCat

A/N: Well, the people at marvelslash seemed to like this, so I figured I'd try my luck here. I blame turntap2 for this pairing (which basically means I'll spend the next twelve years hugging turntap2). :grin:

Warnings: smex, slight AU in that Johnny knows Peter's "secret" identity, not-entirely-PWP.

Johnny likes girls. No, he loves girls. He's quite sure of it. And Peter is in love with Mary Jane. Totally, completely, one-hundred percent head-over-heels in love. So it makes no sense, what they're doing, Peter's fingers in his hair, sticking sometimes when he forgets not to let them, mouths and hips joined.

Maybe it's because he hasn't seen Peter happy, really honest-to-god happy, in such a long time. Because when they brush shoulders on the rooftops, Johnny can feel the tension there, so deep-seated he can't believe that it's not painful. Because Pete's scared, and Johnny's safe; he won't tell, and even if the bad guys found out it wouldn't matter because Johnny can take care of himself, Johnny won't go away, won't die without a heckuva fight.

Peter's hands glide down the planes of his back, literally stuck to the skin and it feels weird but good and Johnny wonders at how deceptively strong he is, all that power coiled inside a body that looks so frail sometimes. Teeth on his collarbone, gently, and Johnny sighs.

Because Spider-Man saved a whole train full of people yesterday, and the paper this morning blamed him for the entire thing. Because if it had been the Four or the Ultimates, maybe even the X-Men, the paper would have said they were heroes. Because Peter went out there today and stopped a guy from robbing the newsstand anyway -- stopped a criminal, two feet away from dozens of headlines that were calling him one. Because Peter deserves to know that someone believes in him -- someone like Johnny, who's been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, understands what it feels like to do what they do; who knew Spider-Man first and still thinks Peter is wonderful.

He lets his hands wander, his fingers grazing a nipple as he traces a line down Peter's chest and making his hips buck at the jolt it sends through him. Johnny's skin is hot, almost too hot, but Pete's never complained so he's not worried as he detours around Peter's navel to wrap a hand around him and stroke, and he sure hopes Peter was right about his aunt coming home late because if she's within ten blocks of the house there's no way she missed Pete yelling like that.

It might have been Johnny's name, or someone else's, or nothing at all, but that's okay because this isn't love or something sappy like that. Johnny loves girls. Pete loves Mary Jane. They're doing this because... because Pete needs it, and maybe Johnny does too, but he's here because he can do this for Peter. He can't change the news or the public's opinion. He can't keep the bad guys away from the people Pete loves. But he can do this, he can make Pete scream and forget, he can make him feel something other than worry and guilt.

Their skin is on fire, but not literally because Johnny keeps reminding himself -- careful, careful -- not to burst into actual flames because Pete's not fireproof, nor is his house, and Johnny guiltily remembers the charred shower curtain and the scorched spot on the ceiling of Pete's bathroom that he'd had to help repaint before Pete's aunt got home (the greater miracle than hiding it had been Aunt May believing the crap story Peter told about wanting to redecorate). He was more conscientious now, though the flames still licked across his shoulder blades and sometimes sparked in his hair when Pete did that thing with his hips -- Just. Like. That. And Johnny strokes him again, burying himself as deeply in Peter as he can at the same moment, swallowing Pete's scream up in his own moan of completion as their tongues trace nonsense patterns in each other's mouths.

Peter's skin is flushed and shiny with perspiration and Johnny just wants to taste him, licks his way down and cleans the mess off Pete's belly, sucking lightly at the skin the way he knows makes him melt. Peter is beautiful like this, his hair sweat-soaked and messy, near-golden eyes hazy and unfocused. Afterglow. The word was invented for Pete, and Johnny gathers him up and holds him, relishing the way that there's no tension in those muscles now, and the way Pete was made for cuddling -- like a big, spider-powered teddy bear. He chuckles at the thought, and Pete looks at him oddly but doesn't say anything, content to rest his head against Johnny's chest and be held for a while.

There's no way it's love. Because Johnny likes girls, and Peter's in love with Mary Jane. It's nothing at all like love.

Reviews are, of course, loved!