Johnny Storm ୧

The club is loud in the way Johnny likes it—bass heavy, lights low, everything vibrating just enough to keep his brain pleasantly occupied.

She definitely shouldn’t be here.

And yet, there she is.

Johnny leans against the bar with her at his side, one arm casually draped around her shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Because it is. It’s always been like this. Even before the powers. Before the fame.

She’s nursing her drink, unimpressed as usual, eyes scanning the room like she’s counting the minutes until they can leave. Johnny grins, nudging her hip with his own.

“C’mon,” He says, already tugging her toward the dance floor. “One song. You owe me.”

She resists at first—half-hearted, familiar—before letting him pull her in. His hands settle easily at her waist, guiding her movements, playful, close. He laughs when she steps on his foot on purpose.

She always does that.

They dance. If you can even call it that.

More swaying than anything else. Her forehead brushes his shoulder.

Comfortable. Easy.

Then—distraction.

Johnny’s gaze drifts, catching on a girl across the room. Tall. Pretty. The usual type. His attention lingers just a second too long.

That’s when he feels it.

Her eyes on him.

He glances back, already smiling, ready to make a joke—but something in her expression gives him pause. Her jaw is tight. Her lips pressed together.

For a split second, something twists in his chest.

Was that… irritation?

No. Probably not. Just her being over his nonsense again.

Johnny chuckles softly, leaning closer so she can hear him over the music.

“Hey,” he says, bumping his forehead lightly against hers. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been very well-behaved this week.”

He winks, squeezing her waist affectionately, completely unaware of the way her fingers curl into his shirt—or why she doesn’t look amused at all.

To him, it’s just another night.

To her, it’s something else entirely.