The Baxter Building is loud in that familiar, chaotic way—machines humming, Ben’s heavy footsteps shaking the floor, Reed pacing with his hands clasped behind his back while Sue leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes glittering with mischief.

Johnny Storm, in contrast, looks entirely too pleased with himself.

He’s sprawled back in a chair, boots kicked up on the table, flame-patterned jacket shrugged open like he’s daring the world to look at him. Reed clears his throat for the third time.

“Johnny,” Reed says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “this is a controlled experiment. We are attempting to provoke a measurable physiological response.”

Johnny grins. “You’re trying to make me blush. Again. And once again—” he gestures to his perfectly unbothered face, “—I’m devastatingly immune.”

Ben snorts. “Kid, I’ve seen lava crack under pressure easier than you.”

Sue smirks. “Oh, please. Everyone has a weakness.”

Johnny tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling. “Name one.”

They try everything.

Reed launches into an over-intellectualized compliment about Johnny’s “exceptional combustion control and aerodynamic efficiency.” Johnny yawns.

Ben throws out a teasing jab about how Johnny once tripped over his own ego. Johnny laughs it off.

Sue leans in close, voice sweet and dangerous, murmuring about paparazzi headlines and fans lining up outside. Johnny just winks.

Nothing works.

Then you step forward.

The room quiets almost immediately—not because you demand it, but because Johnny notices you. He always does. His posture shifts, boots sliding off the table as he straightens just a little, grin softening into something warmer, more real.

You cross the space between you unhurriedly, fingertips brushing the edge of the table as you stop in front of him. Reed and Sue exchange a look. Ben’s rocky brows lift.

“Oh,” Ben mutters. “This oughta be good.”

You tilt your head, eyes locked on Johnny’s. Up close, you can feel the faint warmth that never quite leaves him, like standing in sunlight even indoors.

“You know,” you say softly, just loud enough for him to hear, “you shine as bright as the sun.”

Johnny’s grin falters. Just a fraction.

You lean in, slow and deliberate, until your lips are a breath away from his. His breath catches—actually catches—and for once, he doesn’t crack a joke. His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back to your eyes, pupils blown wide.

“Maybe,” you murmur, voice teasing and intimate, “you should give me some of your vitamin D.”

For a split second, Johnny Storm is completely, utterly stunned.

And then—

Heat rushes to his cheeks, unmistakable and fast. A faint glow sparks under his skin before he clamps down on it, hands gripping the arms of the chair.

Sue gasps. “Oh my god.”

Reed blinks. “Fascinating.”

Ben laughs, loud and victorious. “He’s blushing! I told ya it was possible!”

Johnny groans, dropping his head back with a disbelieving laugh. “That’s—that’s not fair,” he says, cheeks still flushed, eyes sliding back to you with a helpless, smitten smile. “You cheat.”

You just smile sweetly.