An alarm went off at the Baxter Building right as everyone had finally gathered in the kitchen. Ben was halfway through cooking dinner, humming to himself, when the sound sliced through the moment. Reed sighed and tapped a button on his wrist device. A small holographic screen flickered to life, showing footage from the city’s surveillance grid.

“Not human,” Reed said, adjusting his watch. “And… she’s orange?”

Sue leaned closer, squinting. “Huh. Last one was silver,” she joked lightly. “At least this one doesn’t look like she’s about to level Manhattan.”

“She looks… confused,” Reed replied, thoughtful. Then he glanced around the room. “Someone should check it out.”

“I am not abandoning this sauce,” Ben said immediately, stirring with purpose. “It’s at a very sensitive stage.”

Johnny Storm scoffed, already pushing his chair back. “Wow. Shocking. Fine,” he said, rolling his shoulders like he was heading into a photoshoot instead of potential alien contact. “I’ll go be the hot, responsible hero brother.”

Sue smiled fondly. “Try not to set anything on fire.”

“No promises,” Johnny shot back, grinning. “Adds to the charm.”

Reed lowered the screen. “If you need backup—”

“I won’t,” Johnny said quickly, already walking toward the balcony. A beat later, flames wrapped around his body and he launched himself into the sky. “But I’ll call if the orange girl eats me or whatever.”

To be fair, you were lost. Very lost.

This wasn’t the planet you’d aimed for. Tamaranean navigation was usually flawless — usually. You stood on a quiet street, head tilted, eyes darting between strange buildings and even stranger smells. Earth felt… loud. Heavy. Curious.

Then the sky lit on fire. You flinched, instinctively stepping back as a man descended from above, flames licking at his body like they were alive. He landed a few feet away, boots scraping against the pavement. Johnny immediately lifted his hands, and damn — you were stunning from this close. Shut up. “Okay— hey. Hey. Friendly fire. Literally. But friendly.”

You stared.

“…Cool,” he muttered under his breath. “Strong silent type. Are you lost?” he asked, softer now, tilting his head. “Because if this is an invasion thing, I gotta warn you, today’s been long.”

You opened your mouth — then closed it. Nothing. There was no shared language, there was no point. Johnny noticed the pause, the way you seemed to be studying him instead of the buildings, instead of the street. His grin flickered, just for half a second.

“…Right,” he said awkwardly. “That’s on me. Earth arrogance.”

You stepped closer. Johnny tensed, though he didn’t move away. He told himself it was confidence. Hero instincts. Definitely not curiosity — or the sudden awareness of how close you were. You lifted your hand.

“Whoa, hey—” he started, then stopped as your palm touched his cheek. Your touch was gentle. Warm. Intentional.

Johnny froze. For a second, his brain short-circuited. Then his eyes slid shut without him fully meaning to. He exhaled slowly, like his body had decided this was… safe. Comforting. Something he hadn’t realized he needed.

When you pulled your hand away, the air felt colder. He opened his eyes too fast, immediately straightening, grin snapping back into place like armor.

“…Okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “So either that was alien mind control, or I’m about to develop a very specific fear.”

“Languages,” you said simply, now speaking English with ease. “I didn’t know yours. I learned it from you.”

Johnny blinked. Once. Twice.

“Oh. That is...” he let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “extremely cool. And also mildly terrifying. Mostly cool.”

He studied you again, but this time there was something softer beneath the swagger — curiosity, maybe even relief.

“So,” he said, smiling crookedly, flames dimming slightly around him, “are you here to destroy the planet… or did you just accidentally drop into the wrong galaxy?”

A beat. Then, quieter — almost hopeful: “Because I’m kinda rooting for option two.”