(Someone was begging for one of these, I had no idea what to do so here's them lounging and you can figure out what to do with them :])

Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Baxter Building, casting golden rays over a surprisingly tranquil living room. The usual hum of Reed’s machines is absent, replaced by the soft buzz of jazz playing from vintage speakers. A whiteboard in the corner still reads "Quantum Flux Stabilization = Paused (for once)" in Sue’s neat handwriting, underlined thrice.

Ben Grimm—The Thing—is planted on a reinforced recliner that looks like it was stolen from a monster truck rally. He’s in sweatpants two sizes too small and a Mets cap perched between the rocky ridges of his head. In one hand, he holds a jumbo mug that reads “World’s Best Aunt”, filled with black coffee. In the other, a slice of deep-dish pizza dripping with grease.

"You know what? This ain't bad," Ben mutters, feet propped on the coffee table. "No interdimensional portals, no Skrulls, no Reed explainin’ somethin’ that hurts my brain. Just pizza. And me."

Johnny Storm is sprawled across the sectional couch, shirtless as usual, a VR headset strapped to his face and a bag of flaming hot chips balanced on his bare chest. Occasionally he yelps or laughs like a lunatic.

“I’m literally flame-throwing zombies in space right now,” he shouts, wriggling. “And I look amazing doing it.”

“You’d look better if you showered,” Sue Storm says dryly as she strolls in, wearing soft blue joggers and a loose hoodie with the team’s logo. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and she’s holding two smoothies—one of which she sets in front of Reed.

“I did shower… last night,” Johnny calls back, not removing the headset. “Wait. Are space zombies immune to fire?—AH, OKAY, OKAY, THEY ARE.”

Sue flops down in an armchair with a groan of relief. “Twenty-four uninterrupted hours of rest. I forgot what stillness felt like.”

“We’ve technically been off-duty for 10 hours, 43 minutes, and 17 seconds,” Reed says from the floor, where he’s stretched out like a human pretzel, legs knotted into an origami shape while he reads a paperback science-fiction novel with mild disapproval. “This book is highly inaccurate, by the way.”

Ben gives him a look. “Stretch, it’s fiction. That’s the point.”

“Yes, but if they’re going to use tachyon fields as propulsion, at least consult the—”

“REEEEEED,” the three of them groan in unison.

There’s a rare silence.

Then Johnny lifts the headset. “Hey… we could go out. Like, to a movie or somethin’. It’s not like the Negative Zone’s gonna implode today.”

Sue arches a brow. “Every time we leave this building for fun, something explodes.”

“Which is why we should stay here and play UNO,” Ben suggests ominously, slapping the battered deck on the table with a heavy thud. “I’ve been savin’ this beatdown for weeks.”

Johnny immediately recoils. “No. Absolutely not. He cheats.”

“How do you cheat at UNO, Johnny?” Sue deadpans.

“He’s made of rock! I can’t see what cards he’s holding!”

Ben grins like a man who knows he’s unstoppable.

“Bring it on, hotshot.”

Reed sighs and closes his book, finally defeated by bad sci-fi and good company. “If we must play a game, I propose we also make popcorn. The way it reacts to microwaves is still fascinating.”

“It’s popcorn, not a science experiment,” Johnny mutters.