angel_gidget (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angel_gidget) wrote2009-11-17 01:50 am
angel_gidget) wrote2009-11-17 01:50 am
Entry tags:
Fic [Ultimate Spider-man]: Hazards and Storms - Jessica/Johnny
Title: Hazards and Storms
Rating: PG
Word Count: 550
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: For commentfic @ LJ: "Jessica Drew... patrolling the rain has it's hazards."
The rain never seemed so bad when you were indoors doing homework with Aunt May a mere kitchen away baking cookies and throwing you a kind word every ten minutes. But now, it's beyond cruel. You are wet and alone with nowhere to go and the pelting just. Won't. Stop.
You're too proud to go back to... to you. The real you who reminds you constantly that you're just a miscalculated copy no matter how many hugs and sympathetic words he offers.
So, to fill the time till dryness becomes a reality again, you swing. Swing and search for criminal activity. In the rain. At 7 am. Yeah. Lots of criminals out. Definite superheroing needed. Uhuh.
It's then that you feel a sudden surge of warmth. Your body feels the heat before you eyes catch sight of the fire. Your ears are the next thing to get clued when John yells his loud little hello from five feet above your head.
You're slightly started and just freeze in place for a moment... throwing your swinging calculations off by juuuust a hair. Johnny backs off and looks at you for a moment, worry on his face. It's then that you smell a really ....nasty... burning smell.
Your hair is on fire. It must be a girl thing that it gets so long so quickly now. But your hair is not your friend today because it's on fire, in the rain, with Johnny trying to use a piece of cloth he just grabbed from a dumpster to try to stamp it out.
He's saying sorry with million different variations of "uh"s and "um"s, telling you that he just wanted to see if you were okay--though obviously, you're not--and if you wanted to come with him to the Baxter Building to chill and dry off--though obviously, you have reason to say no.
You just want to be inside. You're cold, drenched, and have been living off the dollar menu for two weeks. And he's being so gosh-darned nice and sorry while he examines your hair that who freakin' cares if he was maybe checking you out a little earlier or tried asking you out on a date last month. He's Johnny and he can be trusted and that damn dishrag that's patting down your scalp is the first human contact you've had in a millennia.
To your later embarrassment, you let your new hormones do the talking. You don't bother with yes or no, you just start crying. And it's a really awkward sort of crying, because he can't even see it through your mask. He just kind of makes out what's happening what with the sobbing and the shaking going on in the midst of the thunder crashing and the wind blowing.
And then he rescues you. Stops fumbling with words, pick you up, and carries you away to a warm, messy teenage boy's room in the midst of a 10-story mansion containing the stuff of which techno-geek dreams are made.
He offers you a been bag to sit on and hands you a dry towel. The crowning glory is that 100-wat smile he gives you once he realizes you're not sniffling anymore.
It's then that you think you're about to tell him everything.
It's then that you do.
f.i.n.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 550
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: For commentfic @ LJ: "Jessica Drew... patrolling the rain has it's hazards."
The rain never seemed so bad when you were indoors doing homework with Aunt May a mere kitchen away baking cookies and throwing you a kind word every ten minutes. But now, it's beyond cruel. You are wet and alone with nowhere to go and the pelting just. Won't. Stop.
You're too proud to go back to... to you. The real you who reminds you constantly that you're just a miscalculated copy no matter how many hugs and sympathetic words he offers.
So, to fill the time till dryness becomes a reality again, you swing. Swing and search for criminal activity. In the rain. At 7 am. Yeah. Lots of criminals out. Definite superheroing needed. Uhuh.
It's then that you feel a sudden surge of warmth. Your body feels the heat before you eyes catch sight of the fire. Your ears are the next thing to get clued when John yells his loud little hello from five feet above your head.
You're slightly started and just freeze in place for a moment... throwing your swinging calculations off by juuuust a hair. Johnny backs off and looks at you for a moment, worry on his face. It's then that you smell a really ....nasty... burning smell.
Your hair is on fire. It must be a girl thing that it gets so long so quickly now. But your hair is not your friend today because it's on fire, in the rain, with Johnny trying to use a piece of cloth he just grabbed from a dumpster to try to stamp it out.
He's saying sorry with million different variations of "uh"s and "um"s, telling you that he just wanted to see if you were okay--though obviously, you're not--and if you wanted to come with him to the Baxter Building to chill and dry off--though obviously, you have reason to say no.
You just want to be inside. You're cold, drenched, and have been living off the dollar menu for two weeks. And he's being so gosh-darned nice and sorry while he examines your hair that who freakin' cares if he was maybe checking you out a little earlier or tried asking you out on a date last month. He's Johnny and he can be trusted and that damn dishrag that's patting down your scalp is the first human contact you've had in a millennia.
To your later embarrassment, you let your new hormones do the talking. You don't bother with yes or no, you just start crying. And it's a really awkward sort of crying, because he can't even see it through your mask. He just kind of makes out what's happening what with the sobbing and the shaking going on in the midst of the thunder crashing and the wind blowing.
And then he rescues you. Stops fumbling with words, pick you up, and carries you away to a warm, messy teenage boy's room in the midst of a 10-story mansion containing the stuff of which techno-geek dreams are made.
He offers you a been bag to sit on and hands you a dry towel. The crowning glory is that 100-wat smile he gives you once he realizes you're not sniffling anymore.
It's then that you think you're about to tell him everything.
It's then that you do.
f.i.n.