I will never understand you, Peter Parker.

Quality Time

Peter had never claimed to possess much common sense.

Spider-sense, sure. Maybe some intuition, if you squint. But common sense? Not even he was dumb enough to pretend that his decision-making was anything other than subpar. Not even Johnny Storm was dumb enough to pretend his decision-making was anything but subpar.

So, inviting Johnny Storm into his apartment was a bad idea. He knew that before the words had popped out of his mouth.

It was a lapse in judgment, obviously. And if he'd let Johnny stay, snooping through his kitchenette and poking at the pictures on the walls? It was another, longer lapse in judgment.

"Who's the girl?" He asks, pointing at a picture of Mary Jane hanging above the couch.

"She's my best friend."

"Huh." Johnny looks him up and down, squinting. "I didn't know you knew how to make friends."

Peter shoves his shoulder. "I have plenty of friends, thanks."

"Could've fooled me," Johnny responds, shoving at Peter's outstretched arm.

"What do you call this, then?" Peter gestures at Johnny's elbow, propped against the back of his couch like he's been here his whole life.

Johnny grins. "I'm making myself comfortable."

"You do that."

He takes that as a cue to walk around to the front of the couch, sprawling across the cushions with a smug look.

Rolling his eyes, Peter shovels another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "You are an awful houseguest."

Johnny holds a hand to his chest with a coo. "You always make me feel so special."

"That's what I'm here for." Peter deadpans. "Stroking your ego."

Johnny groans. "I honestly cannot tell whether you like me or not."

"I'm still thinking about it."

"You've been thinking for, like, three weeks."

Peter swings a leg over the armrest on the side of the couch opposite Johnny. "It's a hard decision."

"Would more ice cream help?"

Peter hums.

"That's extortion. You know that, right?" Johnny asks.

"It's working out pretty well for me so far."

Johnny rolls his eyes. "What kind of ice cream would you like, Your Majesty?"

Peter bites his lip.

This could be a very dangerous game. Both of him being friends with Johnny is like walking a tightrope. Made out of dental floss. Over a pit of acid.

It could be fun, though.

And it seems like Johnny might like him, without the mask. He told Spider-Man that he would know if he was being made fun of.

Between taking that leap of faith and walking the gloss tightrope, Peter would take the tightrope.

Unfortunately, he ran out of floss last week.

"I don't know. Maybe you'll have to take me to get ice cream next time, so I can look at the flavors."

Johnny's face lights up, and he beams. "It's a date!"

Peter blinks at him. Once. Twice.

Red begins to creep toward Johnny's ears. "Well, not a date-date. A friend date." He gives Peter a cheeky smile. "Unless..."

"A friend date." Peter nods. "Sounds good to me."

"Does that mean we're friends?" Johnny cocks his head. "Officially?" 

Tossing the styrofoam bowl into the trash can, Peter taps his chin. "Let me think about this."

"Oh, come on!"

<><><><>

He gives Johnny his number. He knows it's a terrible idea when he does it, but he can't seem to shake the grin as he types the numbers into Johnny's phone.

By the time Johnny is following him out of his apartment, promising to schedule their 'friend date', his whole face aches from the pressure being put on his cheeks.

It's not unpleasant, though he'd rather die than admit that aloud, especially when that runs the risk of it getting back to Johnny.

But, when he walks into the bullpen at the Bugle, Betty tells him he seems like he's in a good mood.

He doesn't admit it.

<><><><>

"We should go back to having movie nights," Johnny suggests flippantly, shoving his hand into the last of Peter's fries.

"Why?" He, generously, smacks Johnny's hand away from the basket. No one touches his food. "You hated them. You complained that I talked the whole time."

"I was just messing with you. Mostly. You do have to shut up sometimes though. Some of us want to hear the dialogue."

Peter crosses his arms. "Just turn on subtitles. It's easier to understand that way anyway."

"I don't want to read the movie," Johnny complains. "I want to watch it. You wouldn't tell people at the movie theatre to put subtitles over the projection, would you?"

Peter stares at him blankly.

"You would, wouldn't you?" Johnny holds a hand to his chest like he's clutching imaginary pearls. "Spidey, have you told people at the movie theatre to—"

"I've never been to a movie theater."

Johnny gapes at him. "Were you raised under a rock?"

He waves a hand in Peter's face before he can respond. "Doesn't matter. We'll have one of our movie nights at the theatre."

Peter tilts his head. "I don't remember agreeing to a reinstated movie night."

"I agreed for you."

"Oh, okay then."

"Is that a yes?" Johnny places his chin in his hands, leaning toward Peter with a grin.

Peter holds a hand to his forehead dramatically. "If I must."

"Still Fridays?"

"Yeah, sure," Peter responds, chewing on a french fry. Johnny gives him a dirty look that he's sure has nothing to do with the now-empty basket.

"I call dibs on picking the first movie."

"No way!"

<><><><>

Johnny picks the first movie. And the second.  Peter, as well as he can manage, keeps his mouth shut and his comments to himself for at least the first half of the first movie.

Compared to their last set of movie nights, that's a great improvement. Johnny absolutely does not see it that way.

"Dude! You're missing the best part," He complains.

"I've seen this movie before."

"Who cares!" Johnny smacks a hand over Peter's mouth before he can protest. "It's a good movie."

Peter smacks Johnny's hand away, snorting, and settles into the arm of the couch to watch the movie.

And, if he falls asleep halfway into the second movie?

Well, it's a lapse in judgment, obviously.