Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New York City’s skyline glittered in the golden haze of the late afternoon sun. Some parts of the streets still bore scars from the recent events, the recent battles. The skyline pocked with glass shards, scorched asphalt, and the faint hum of lingering cosmic energy. Johnny hovered above the city, his flames trailing like a comet’s tail, taking a rare moment to breathe.

After everything that had happened with Galactus—the world had been… you could say recovering. At least everyone was saved. Everyone.

Flying was freedom— and Johnny hadn’t felt this free in weeks. The wind tugged, the city hummed below, and for a moment, he felt like the fire itself. The air smelled faintly of ozone and burnt metal, remnants of cosmic storms long passed. Far below, the people of New York were already rebuilding, horns blaring, life roaring defiantly through the city that refused to sleep. Even from the sky, Johnny could see the streaks of new steel being welded onto old bones, the stubborn pulse of survival that never faded.

Yeah, he thought, that’s New York for you. Indestructible.

However, the peace was interrupted when his earpiece crackled. Reed’s calm, precise voice cut through the wind.

“Johnny, keep the heat output under two thousand degrees! We’re still stabilizing the Quantum Rift Detector. One misstep and—“

“Relax,” Johnny replied, laid back, twisting himself upside down midair. “Just a little sun flare. No dimensional implosions today, I promise.”

Reed sighed through the comm. Johnny smirked and shot a streak of golden fire, traveling through the skies.

Though he was blissfully unaware that another fire—far older, far stranger—was stirring far, far away.

Across space and reality was the molten heart of the Ember Realm. Fire Spirit Cookie pressed his staff into the scorched ground. Around him, the Infernal Ember pulsed like a living heart. This ritual wasn’t for glory.

It was for survival.

The Ember Realm was a storm of molten rivers and burning skies. Mountains of black glass rose like teeth from a sea of lava, and every gust of wind carried sparks instead of dust. Above, constellations blazed in ember patterns, shifting like living runes. Even the shadows shimmered red, alive with heat and the pulse of something ancient — the world itself breathing in fire.

Shadow Milk Cookie, the creeping embodiment of deceit, had grown stronger. If the eternal flame himself could channel the Ember through a dimensional ritual, he might weaken the deceitful beast enough to give them a fighting chance.

Wind Archer Cookie swooped in, arrows of wind sparking as he landed beside him.

“Fire Spirit, stop! This ritual is too unstable! You might destroy more than a portal— you might annihilate entire worlds!”

“I have no choice.” Fire Spirit’s flames flickered with urgency. “This Shadow Milk guy, along with his beastly buddies, are getting stronger. If I don’t act now, Earthbread will fall.”

“There’s always a choice!” Wind Archer shot back, notching a glowing arrow. “We can fight him, together!”

At the mention of that name, a ripple of darkness slithered across the sky. The ground cracked open, leaking oily shadows that hissed when they touched the firelight. Shadow Milk Cookie emerged from the fissure — his eyes, his smug expression glowing like twin voids.

“Still clinging to the light, Fire Spirit?” he sneered, his voice echoing like a whisper through smoke. “Your fire cannot burn what does not live.”

Wind Archer drew his bow, unleashing a gale that sliced through the creeping blackness. The winds coiled around Fire Spirit’s circle, trying to keep the darkness at bay.

“Then I’ll burn what remains!” Fire Spirit roared, thrusting his staff into the heart of the rune circle.

The ground convulsed. A beam of crimson fire shot into the sky, punching through the clouds and into the fabric of reality itself. The heavens split.

Wind Archer stumbled back, shielding his face as sparks of molten energy rained around him.

“You’re tearing it apart! Fire Spirit, stop!”

But it was too late.

The ritual surged past control. The fire expanded, swirling with impossible brilliance. Lightning streaked through the flames—white, red, gold—and within the storm’s heart, a portal formed.

The wind screamed, pulling everything toward it.

“FIRE SPIRIT!” Wind Archer lunged forward, grabbing his friend’s arm. The pull was too strong. Dust and embers whipped around them in a cyclone of light.

Fire Spirit Cookie looked up at him, eyes blazing yet calm.

“Tell the others…” he said, voice steady even as the air bent around him. “Tell them I did it.”

“No—!” Wind Archer’s voice broke. His grip tightened, wings trembling against the pull. “You can’t leave us like this— not again!”

Fire Spirit met his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the raging fire reflected something softer — regret. “If the flame dies, it’s meant to light another world.”

The portal’s pull grew stronger, their hands slipping apart as molten wind roared between them. Fire Spirit slammed his staff into the ground one last time, unleashing the final surge of power.

The flames exploded outward in a wave of blinding light. Shadow Milk staggered back, his form cracking and hissing under the radiant fire. He screamed as his dark aura shattered, retreating into the shadows. The corruption receded — weakened, but not destroyed.

And then, the fire imploded.

With a roar that shook the valley, Fire Spirit Cookie was yanked upward into the vortex, his figure swallowed by flame and light.

Wind Archer fell to his knees as the portal collapsed into a shower of dying embers. The valley was silent except for the whisper of wind through the ashes.

“Foolish, flame…” he whispered, staring at the faint scorch mark where his friend had stood. “What have you done?”

Through the cracks of reality, the fire tumbled — not burning, but dreaming. It streaked past stars, through frozen voids, through the thin veil of one universe into another. The flame sought a world still young, still alive — still willing to burn.

Meanwhile, in New York City…

The skies began as a shimmer— a strange heat haze that made the skyscrapers waver like reflections in boiling water. Then, all at once, the clouds ripped apart in a flash of molten gold. A column of fire speared down from the heavens, brighter than lightning, heavier than thunder.

Johnny, still soaring through the city, flinched at the sudden burst. His flames rippled with interference, sparks dancing erratically around him.

“Uh… Reed?” He tapped his comm. “You seeing this?”

Static. Then Reed’s voice came through, tense and clipped. “What did you do?! The sensors just spiked! You’re way over two thousand degrees again!”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “For the record,” his voice dripping with exasperation, “I’m well under two thousand. Maybe your fancy gizmo’s having a meltdown.”

“The readings are consistent,” Reed shot back. “Massive thermal surge— originating near your coordinates. Johnny, are you sure it’s not—“

Looks like something… no, someone shot out of the flaming cloud above Times Square, trailing a spiral of scarlet fire. The being moved fast, cutting across the skyline like a streak of living sunlight.

Johnny froze, staring.

“Uh… okay,” he muttered, “That is definitely not me.”

Below him, windows shattered as the mysterious figure passed— tiny but radiant, leaving molten glass and curling heatwaves in its wake. The air shimmered wherever it flew, and every traffic light flickered out.

Johnny caught a glimpse: a small figure wreathed in fire, its shape humanoid but… not human at all. A cookie-shaped silhouette, eyes burning like twin suns, a staff trailing embers through the air.

“It’s— he’s— tiny?!”

The small figure stopped midair, hovering effortlessly above the city, flames spiraling around him in graceful, deliberate arcs. Fire Spirit Cookie turned, his gaze sharp and ancient, scanning the horizon like a general surveying a battlefield.

“This realm…” he murmured, voice low but resonant, carried by the heat itself. “Why is it so big?” His eyes wandered around.

Johnny’s comm crackled again.

“Johnny, report!” Reed demanded, panicked.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny said, igniting brighter. “We’ve got… some kind of sentient cookie fireball flying through Midtown.”

“A what?”

“You heard me, Stretch!” Johnny grinned, flames flaring in excitement.

Johnny dropped altitude fast, trailing golden embers as he descended into the haze above Times Square. The heat was unreal—steam rose from the asphalt, lights flickered, and car alarms wailed through the chaos.

Tourists screamed and scattered, phones raised as the sky itself seemed to catch fire. A taxi swerved into a lamppost, its driver shouting something in disbelief. News drones hovered shakily, their lenses blurring from the heat. For one terrifying second, everyone thought the world was ending—again.

In the middle of the wreckage stood the being responsible.
Small, radiant, and very much alive.

It wasn’t a meteor.
It wasn’t even human.

The figure straightened, his body glowing like carved amber, his eyes molten gold. Fire streamed from his back like living wings. Sparks flared around his hands, coiling into an ornate staff that pulsed with impossible energy.

Johnny hovered a few feet above the ground, staring in disbelief.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

The little being turned, taking in the chaos of flashing billboards, honking taxis, and towering glass walls. His gaze was pure wonder.

“This dimension…” he said slowly, voice filled with awe. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head and shouted,

“THIS DIMENSION IS—AWEEEEEESOMEEEEE!!!”

Johnny blinked. “It can talk?!”

Fire Spirit Cookie spun around midair, grinning wildly.
“Hey, you!” he called, pointing his staff. “What is this place called?”

“Uh… Times Square?” Johnny replied, still hovering in shock.

“SICK!!! WAHOOOO!!!” Fire Spirit whooped, erupting into a burst of flame as he shot upward, weaving through the towers like a kid on a sugar rush.

People screamed and ducked as his fiery trail spiraled past billboards, melting the edges of giant screens into dripping plastic. The reflection of his light turned every window into a flickering sea of gold.

Johnny groaned. “Reed, you seeing this?!”

Static buzzed in his ear before Reed’s voice thundered through.
“Yes, and you’re not doing anything! Contain it, Johnny, now!”

Johnny huffed, flexing his hands as fire flared around him. “On it, Stretch.”

He shot into the air after the cookie-shaped comet, leaving a blazing streak through the smoke.
“HEY! Stop right there, gingerbread torch!”

Fire Spirit turned midflight, laughing with pure delight.
“You can fly too?! Oh, this is getting fun!”

He accelerated, twisting through the air with effortless grace, leaving loops of flame that shimmered like fireworks. Johnny followed close behind, weaving between skyscrapers, the two of them streaking across Manhattan like twin comets locked in a race.

Below, people stopped to stare— jaws dropped—as waves of heat rolled through the streets. Sirens blared, sprinklers erupted, and a helicopter veered off-course from the turbulence.

Johnny called out, “You’re causing a major heat hazard, cookie! You can’t just light up the whole city!”

“Why not?!” Fire Spirit laughed, flipping upside down as a ring of flame spun around him. “The people here seem to love fire! Look at all those bright lights!”

Johnny groaned again, diving lower. “They’re LEDs!”

Fire Spirit twirled his staff, sending a wave of shimmering heat rippling through the air. “Then I’ll make them burn brighter!”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me—”

Johnny lunged forward, tackling Fire Spirit midair. The two of them spun in a spiral of golden and crimson light, crashing through the reflection of a skyscraper window and out the other side in a storm of sparks and glass.

Reed’s voice crackled desperately in Johnny’s ear.
“Johnny! Contain it! You’re melting—half—of—Midtown—!”

Johnny gritted his teeth, wrestling the smaller figure in midair. “Working on it!”

Fire Spirit flared with power, his flames momentarily engulfing them both in a blinding blaze. The shockwave rippled across the skyline, setting off car alarms for miles.

When the light dimmed, both were floating, facing each other—breathing hard, the night glowing around them in shimmering waves of heat. For a moment, they hovered there—two living flames, reflections dancing off glass towers, smoke curling beneath them.

Then, far away, the clouds pulsed black, a flicker of oily shadow seeping into the sky.

Fire Spirit flared with power, streaking upward in a spiral of golden flame, staff trailing like a comet’s tail. His cape whipped behind him, catching the light in brilliant, fiery arcs.

But then—snap!

The edge of the cape snagged on a neon billboard frame. Fire Spirit yelped, spinning out of control, flames flaring wildly. The backlash of his own energy nearly threw him into a nearby skyscraper.

Johnny reacted instantly. Diving, he caught the little figure mid-fall, flames enveloping them both in a protective cocoon. Sparks bounced off the pavement below, reflecting in the jagged glass of Times Square.

“Got you!” Johnny shouted into his comm, trying to keep both himself and Fire Spirit steady.
“Reed! I’ve got him!!”

Fire Spirit hung in Johnny’s grip, chest glowing unevenly from the backlash, molten light flickering along his staff and cape.

Chapter Text

In the headquarters of the fantastic four…

”Let me out!” 

The fiery cookie fists up against the containment glass, flames licking the reinforced surface but leaving only the faint scorch marks. Fire Spirit Cookie’s molten eyes flared with pure irritation as he tried again

… and again

BAM….!!

…. And again

BAM!!… BAM!…

”Hey! This isn’t funny!!” his cape flickering like a burning banner. “I said let me out!” 

Heat sensors along the chamber walls blared, red lights flash in a rhythm with the rising temperature. In the observation room beyond, Reed  glanced up from his monitor, his face lit by blue holographic readouts. “Temperature’s at 1,850 degrees and rising.” He muttered, his arm going toward the console to make quick adjustments “Containment holding steady— for now.”

Johnny appeared behind the glass, watching Fire Spirit in the containment chamber as he floated lazily. Fire Spirit’s flames linger at the air restlessly, his energy radiating through the walls like heat shimmering off metal. 

“Relax there, hotshot.” Johnny’s hands tucked behind his head, wearing his smugly smirk. “It isn’t that bad, you know? Been there and done that.” 

He continued, hovering a few inches above the floor, fire faintly glowing around his shoulders “They just wanna make sure you don’t… uh… potentially burn the city down.”

The cookie frooze… his molten eyes snapped to the voice. The source. So when he saw that familiar face, that familiar figure, that cocky grin… Fire spirit’s flames roared higher. 

“You…” Fire Spirit's voice trembling between shock and fury. His body flared up, golden embers crackling around him like a storm. “YOU!! IT’S YOU AGAIN!!” 

“And..?” Johnny was grinning, completely oblivious to the fact he had captured Fire Spirit just hours earlier 

“You were the one who captured me!” Fire Spirit hissed, molten flames started to flare higher with every word. Sparks spiraled into the air as he seethed. “Nobody… and I say nobody ever captures the Eternal Flame!”

 The cookie’s eyes blazed, his staff glowing brighter as he slammed his fists against the containment walls. 

“You’re going to regret this” 

Suddenly, the reinforced walls of the chamber hummed our blue energy barriers slithered along the glass, emitting a harsh, crackling sound. Jets of cooling vapor hissed, beginning to extinguish the cookie’s flames. He screamed, heat surging, sputtering. Smoke curled around him as his flames, his body, faltered. Sparks scattered like glowing fireflies, and the energy readings in the lab spiked violently. 

“Reed!” Johnny’s eyes widened at the scene “What are you doing?!” 

“He’s overheating!” Reed’s voice was tense throughout the comms 

 Johnny’s flames erupted across his shoulders like a living inferno. In one blinding burst, he shot forward—heat shimmering around him in waves—and slammed into the outside of the containment chamber.

The reinforced glass cracked like thunder. Shards flew in all directions, glowing orange from the heat before melting midair. The chamber’s alloy walls began to sag and ripple under the sheer temperature, alarms screaming as sirens bathed the lab in flashing red light.

Johnny didn’t stop. He thrust his hands outward, summoning a swirling ring of flame that spiraled around the fading figure inside. The fire moved like a living barrier, gold and crimson flames entwining into a radiant cocoon. The chamber’s blue energy barriers sparked violently, spitting bursts of electricity before hissing and retreating beneath the intensity of Johnny’s blaze. Inside, Fire Spirit cookie gasped. The sudden warmth from Johnny’s fire overpowered the freezing suppressants, reigniting his own dying flame. He shuddered, flickers of light racing across his cracked, ember-like body. Slowly, the flames around him steadied—curling upward like a phoenix rising from ash.Weakened but recovering, Fire Spirit looked up. Through the smoke and haze, his molten eyes met Johnny’s. The human stood there, one arm extended, fire coursing around his body like armor, his other hand braced against the fractured wall. For a brief moment, the world went silent except for the low roar of their combined heat.

There was a glint of something unfamiliar in Fire Spirit’s expression—wariness, disbelief, and a reluctant spark of gratitude.Then, pride reasserted itself. He pulled away from Johnny’s reach, flames flaring briefly in protest. His gaze hardened, refusing to acknowledge the human who had just saved his life.But the exhaustion caught up fast. His knees wobbled, his light dimming as the last of his strength flickered out. The cookie stumbled backward, cape dragging across the scorched floor. He turned and slowly limped to a corner of the containment chamber, his movements sluggish.Finally, he sank down against the wall, his fiery body casting faint, trembling reflections on the cracked glass around him. His glow softened to an ember’s pulse—steady, but subdued.Johnny watched quietly through the haze of smoke, the firelight painting both their faces in the same hue. He hesitated, the roar of the alarms fading into a low hum. The acrid scent of melted glass hung in the air. Fire Spirit sat slumped in the corner, his flames flickering weakly against the cracked floor.

Johnny stepped closer, the heat between them trembling like static.

“Hey… you still need… um—”

Before he could finish, Fire Spirit’s head snapped up. His molten eyes burned with stubborn defiance.

“Don’t touch me.”

The words came out low and sharp, edged with pride and pain. His flames flared once, warningly, before dimming again.

Johnny froze mid-step, his expression faltering. The fire around him softened to a faint glow. For a moment, neither of them spoke—the air now heavy with heat. Smoke. Unspoken gratitude. 

Something  hit Johnny like a punch to the chest. Without thinking, he then turned sharply toward the observation room. Walking. Each step. Quick and deliberate. Driven by anger and something deeper that he couldn’t even name. Sure, that cookie was wild, reckless—an overheater in every sense of the word. But the way he had almost died—no, extinguished—played over and over in Johnny’s mind.This wasn’t just some out-of-control fire hazard. This was someone being punished for something that cookie couldn’t control—for what he was. A being made of flame, condemned by the very thing that gave him life.He burst into the observation room, the door slamming open hard enough to rattle the glass panels. The sharp scent of smoke still clung to him, his flames flickering faintly with leftover adrenaline.

Reed stood at the control station, his long fingers darting across the holographic console, data streams and temperature graphs still glowing across the screen.

“What the hell, Reed?!” Johnny’s voice cracked through the hum of machines. “That cookie almost died!”

Reed didn’t look up immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the readings, voice clipped and logical.

“Containment was necessary. His energy levels were destabilizing the lab’s systems—if I hadn’t intervened, he could have taken down the entire block.”

Johnny stepped closer, jaw tight, his flame flaring brighter for a second.

“He wasn’t attacking, Reed. He was suffocating. You were putting him out like he was some kind of experiment gone wrong!”

Reed finally glanced up, eyes sharp, analytical as always.

“Johnny, I don’t think you realize what kind of energy he’s carrying. That creature is more fire than matter. If we don’t understand it, we can’t control it—and if we can’t control it, it could kill thousands.”

Johnny’s hands curled into fists. His flames flickered, then dimmed, but his voice stayed fierce.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we treat him like he’s not alive.”

The room fell silent. 

For a moment, the hum of the machines were the only sounds.

Reed finally broke the silence, his tone calm but edged with calculation.

“We do not know what this sentient is made of—or what it’s capable of doing.”

He straightened, the glow from the monitors reflecting off his glasses. Lines of data streamed behind him like cold fire.

“This creature appeared out of nowhere, radiating an energy signature unlike anything we’ve ever recorded. For all we know, it could be volatile—maybe even a planetary threat.”

Johnny’s expression hardened. The words creature and threat stung more than Reed realized. He took a step closer, voice low but burning with defiance.

“You keep calling him a creature, Reed. But he talks. He feels. He panicked from what you have done to him!”

Reed’s jaw tightened, but his focus didn’t waver.

“And panic can lead to destruction, Johnny. I’m not condemning him—I’m keeping everyone safe.”

Johnny shook his head, exhaling a frustrated breath that shimmered faintly with heat, curling like smoke in the air between them. But as Reed’s words echoed in his mind, doubt began to creep in.

Slow.

Unwelcome.

 Maybe Reed was right. 

The cookie had crashed through a rip in the sky. It wielded fire like a god, tore through containment protocols like they were nothing. Maybe it wasn’t just lost or scared. Maybe it was a threat. Maybe it could burn this entire city—or the world—without even meaning to. The thoughts made his chest tighten, his right hand flickering uncertainly.

Conflicting thoughts have creeped in too as Fire Spirit sat in silence inside of the containment room. The once–golden flames that crowned his body dimmed to a soft ember glow, flickering weakly against the glass walls. Conflicting thoughts burned through his mind hotter than his own fire.

He thought it was fun at first—this strange new world of lights, noise, and towering buildings scraping the sky. But now the thrill had cooled into unease. His heart—if cookies even had one—ached with worry. What of Earthbread? Of Wind Archer? Were they still fighting Shadow Milk? Has the ritual even worked?

The silence pressed heavier. Heavier around him. Here, in this world, his fire felt out of place. 

To adapt. 

To stay. 

To survive in a realm that didn’t understand what he was.

Every shadow in the room is perceived to be so dark, every flicker of the fluorescent lights too harsh. The air smelled of metal, ozone, not of woodsmoke and spice like home. The floor under him was cold, unyielding. He had always been a flame that moved freely, rising and falling with the wind—here, he felt pinned, caged, a fire smothered.His flames flickered and sputtered, a mirror of the doubt curling in his chest. Was this adventure or punishment? Could he trust these humans who claimed to study him? Could he trust himself to hold the fire that now felt heavier than ever?

And yet, somewhere deep inside, the ember of hope still burned. That hope that Earthbread and Wind Archer were out there somewhere, fighting. That hope that the ritual he had risked everything for had a purpose. That hope that he could still find his place, even in a world that had no idea who—or what—he really was.

Later that night, Johnny slouched in the plushing couch in the Fantastic Four’s living area, one leg draped over the armrest. Franklin, his one and only adorable nephew, sat beside him, chubby little hands grabbing at the edge of Johnny’s flame-patterned hoodie.

“Okay, kiddo,” Johnny muttered, making exaggerated eye contact with the wiggling bundle. “You and I are going to have a little bonding time. Got it?”

Franklin gurgled happily, reaching out for a floating spark that Johnny had conjured just above his head. Johnny rolled his eyes, swatting it away gently before it could singe the baby’s hair.

“No, no, no! That’s my special effect! Not yours!”

He sighed dramatically, leaning back as Franklin leaned forward, trying to crawl into his lap. “Man… how do people do this all the time? You’ve got to keep your hands in three places at once, watch out for drool, and somehow stop yourself from setting the carpet on fire.”

The baby lets out a squeal of laughter, waving a tiny fist at Johnny’s face. Johnny leaned in, making funny faces and noises to get him to giggle harder.

“You think I’m hilarious? Yes I am.”

A soft honk of a toy rattle echoed across the room. Johnny glanced down, pretending to be startled. “Whoa, careful! That’s a nuclear-level hazard right there!”

He smirked, lifting Franklin gently into his arms. “See? We make a great team already. Just us…  Promise me you don’t tell your mom…she might kill me.”

Johnny’s eyes flicked toward the lab door, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Man, I swear, the things I do for babysitting duty.”

The baby cooed again, reaching up to tug at Johnny’s hair. Johnny groaned, letting him settle in his lap.

 “Yep, yep… totally worth it.”

Chapter Text

The sun had just risen. Windows glimmering like watchful eyes against the skyline. Inside, only the low hum of machines and the occasional hiss of cooling systems filled the air. Johnny woke before the others, the morning light spilling through the blinds. After brushing his teeth, he drifted into the kitchen, determined to make himself something edible—emphasis on try.

H.E.R.B.I.E. floated in behind him, its little thrusters whirring softly, scanning the kitchen.

“Good morning, Johnny. Shall I assist?”

Johnny grinned over his shoulder, grabbing a frying pan.

“You know it, buddy. Could use an extra pair of… well, whatever you call those things.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. extended a small mechanical arm, precisely measuring out ingredients while Johnny cracked eggs into the bowl, whisking them expertly. The robot adjusted the stove’s heat, tilted the pan, and even helped flip a pancake with perfect timing.

“Almost done,” Johnny said, tasting a batter drop with a grin. “Smells amazing already.”

H.E.R.B.I.E. beeped softly, a series of lights pulsing like a smile.

“Teamwork yields optimal flavor.”

Just then, the kitchen door swung open with a cheerful crash. Ben entered, holding baby Franklin in one massive arm, the little one gurgling happily.

“Morning, firestarter,” Ben rumbled, his deep voice echoing against the countertops. “Thought I’d join the breakfast chaos.”

Franklin wriggled in Ben’s arms, reaching out for the warm, fragrant pancakes, and let out a delighted squeal. Johnny’s grin widened.

“Hey there, little buddy! Look who decided to join our team.” He held up a tiny piece of pancake, letting Franklin grab it with chubby fingers.

H.E.R.B.I.E. hovered closer, gently adjusting the plate so the baby could reach safely.

“Optimal breakfast distribution achieved,” it announced in its cheerful tone.

Johnny chuckled, ruffling Franklin’s hair as the baby giggled again.

“Yep. This? This is life. Pancakes, robots, and babies. Couldn’t ask for more.”

Ben laughed, leaning against the counter, watching the little scene unfold. The kitchen was warm with sunlight, laughter, and the smell of breakfast — a quiet, perfect moment of family and friendship before the chaos of the day crept in.

Johnny laughed too, flipping the pancake high. H.E.R.B.I.E. caught it midair and set it perfectly on a plate.

“See? Nothing can go wrong when we cook together,” Johnny said warmly.

Meanwhile, 

Deep below, in the lab’s containment chamber, a single flicker of light stirred.

Fire Spirit Cookie sat motionless in the dark, a faint ember pulsing at the center of his chest. His cracked form reflected faintly on the blackened glass — a ghost of his former flame. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The air was sterile and still, far too cold for something born of fire.

He pressed a molten palm to the wall.
Cold. Unyielding.
He whispered under his breath — a voice like embers scraping stone.

“A flame never stays caged.”

A pulse. Then another. The faint ember inside him beat like a heart.

The shadows trembled.

Crimson light began to ripple along the walls, veins of gold threading through the cracks in the glass. Sparks hissed at his fingertips, and the containment sensors spiked in protest.

Then, above it all, the faint hum of machines were drowned out by the laughter of life. 

Back now, upstairs…

The dining room was bathed once more in the soft morning light. Golden. Peaceful. The smell of pancakes drifted through the air as Johnny placed another stack onto the table. H.E.R.B.I.E. hovered nearby, pouring syrup with precision that would make a chef proud.

Ben sat at the table beside Franklin, who was strapped snugly into his highchair, a tiny bib dotted with syrup stains. The baby giggled between spoonfuls, his chubby hands slapping the tray with sticky joy. Ben leaned in with exaggerated stealth, pretending to steal a bite of mashed fruit, earning another round of happy squeals.

“Hey! That one’s mine!” Johnny called from the stove, pointing his spatula like a sword, his voice half-playful, half-serious.

“Too slow, Johnny,” Ben shot back with a grin, flicking a crumb toward him.

The morning light streamed through the tall windows, golden and soft, catching in the faint steam rising from the pancakes stacked high on the table. The kitchen smelled of butter and sugar and laughter — warmth made tangible.

Footsteps echoed softly from the hall. Sue entered, her hair still damp and glinting like silver in the sunlight, wrapped loosely in a pale blue robe. Reed followed behind, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other stretched absently to straighten a chair from across the room, the fabric of his freshly pressed shirt stretching slightly at the elbows.

Sue paused in the doorway, taking in the sight — Johnny’s bright grin, Ben’s booming laughter, and little Franklin’s delighted kicks.

“Well,” she said, sliding gracefully into her seat, “looks like you two didn’t burn the kitchen down this time.”

“Yet,” Reed murmured, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he reached for the coffee pot, the steam curling upward in lazy wisps.

Johnny rolled his eyes dramatically, flipping a pancake with a practiced flick. “Typical.”

Sue chuckled softly, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

“It’s always nice… all of us together like this.”

For a moment, time seemed to still — sunlight filtering across the table, the scent of breakfast thick in the air, Franklin’s laughter blending with the soft clink of dishes. The room glowed with a rare, simple peace. No villains. No alarms. Just family.

But as Johnny finally sat down with his own plate — golden pancakes stacked high and glistening with syrup — that peace began to feel a little too quiet. He twirled his fork absently, the syrup dripping in slow amber trails, his smile faltering just slightly.

His mind drifted — down.

Down through the walls and floors of the Baxter Building.
Down past the humming pipes and reinforced steel.
Down into the containment lab, where shadows met cold glass and silence.

He could almost see it again — the dim blue glow of the chamber, the hiss of cooling vapor, the way Fire Spirit Cookie’s flames had sputtered out like a dying star. The sound of his voice still echoed somewhere in Johnny’s head: “Don’t touch me.”

Johnny’s chest tightened. The pancake on his fork suddenly didn’t look as appetizing. He set it down gently, staring at the golden sheen melting across the plate like liquid sunlight.

Across the table, Sue was feeding Franklin tiny spoonfuls of oatmeal, Ben was making airplane noises that sent the baby into fits of laughter, and Reed was scrolling through data on his tablet, half-listening, half-smiling.

Everything looked perfect.
Everything should’ve been perfect.

And yet — beneath all the warmth and laughter — a flicker of unease gnawed at Johnny’s thoughts.
Was the cookie still okay? Was he even conscious? Did Reed tighten the containment again last night?
He wanted to ask — the words pressed against his throat like heat trapped behind glass — but one glance around the table stopped him.

Sue and Reed laughing together.
Ben’s rumbling voice.
Franklin’s bright, unbothered giggles.

Johnny exhaled softly, leaning back in his chair, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The fork scraped faintly against the plate, the sound barely audible beneath the hum of morning peace.

He’d bring it up later, maybe.
When things felt less bright.
When the fire in his chest didn’t feel like guilt trying to burn its way out.

For now, he just watched the syrup pool on his plate — amber and slow, like molten light — and tried not to think about the fire still caged deep below.

Deep below, the cold hum of the containment chamber filled the silence.

Fire Spirit Cookie sat slumped against the wall, his dim light barely holding against the dark. His flames had dulled to faint embers, flickering weakly across the blackened glass. The glow from the energy barriers pulsed slow and blue — too cold, too steady — a rhythm that didn’t belong to fire.

He lifted his head, eyes faintly molten under the heavy shadows. His cracked palm met the glass again. It didn’t burn this time.

“Why…”

The word barely left his lips — soft, fragile. It hung in the air like smoke before fading into the hum of the machines.
He shut his eyes. The ember in his chest flickered once, twice — and then went still, leaving only the faint whisper of heat in the sterile dark.

“Why…”

The same word — softer now — echoed faintly, but not from the chamber.

It came from Ben, his gravelly voice quiet, almost tender.

They sat together in the dining room, long after breakfast had ended. Reed and Sue were by the counter, tending to Franklin — Sue humming under her breath while Reed handed her a towel, his usual calm returning in domestic rhythm. The morning light had softened to a warm amber, slanting through the windows and painting golden lines across the table.

Johnny sat across from Ben, chin resting on his hand, absently stirring the last of his coffee with a spoon. The silence between them wasn’t heavy — just thoughtful, almost peaceful.

Johnny broke it first.

“You ever wonder why we… I don’t know… care so much about things we shouldn’t?”

Ben raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“What do ya mean, ‘shouldn’t’?”

Johnny shrugged, eyes tracing the swirling reflection in his cup.

“Like that cookie down there. Fire Spirit. I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s dangerous, sure… maybe even unstable. But when I saw him like that—trapped, scared—I just…”

He trailed off, his voice catching.

Ben watched him quietly. His rough orange hands were clasped on the table, the sunlight glinting faintly across the stone ridges of his skin. His expression softened, the corners of his mouth pulling into something almost gentle.

“Why,” Ben said softly, echoing the question more to himself than to Johnny. “Why do ya care so much?”

Johnny looked up, caught off guard by the simplicity of it — by how heavy the word suddenly felt.

He swallowed. The fire in his chest flickered, low and restless.

“Because he’s like me.”

Ben didn’t answer right away. The two sat in the hush of the room — the sound of Franklin’s quiet giggle in the background, the faint clink of dishes, the hum of life carrying on above the fire still caged below.

Ben finally nodded, his voice low but steady.

“Yeah… I get that.”

He gave Johnny a small, understanding smile — one that spoke of battles fought, walls broken, and the strange ache of being seen as something other.

Johnny exhaled, his gaze falling again to his cup.
The coffee had gone cold, but his chest felt a little warmer.

Ben didn’t say anything else — just gave Johnny that quiet, knowing nod. The kind that said I get it without needing to spell it out.

The room had gone calm again. Franklin was babbling softly in Sue’s arms while Reed adjusted the baby’s bottle, the soft hum of their conversation filling the space like background music. The sunlight had mellowed, glinting warmly against Reed’s glasses as he turned toward the table.

“Careful, Reed, you’re holding that bottle like you’re about to run a physics experiment,” Ben teased lightly.

Reed smirked faintly but didn’t look away from Franklin.

“In a way, I am. The rate of cooling affects—”

“—the baby’s patience,” Sue interrupted, smiling. “Just feed him before he declares war.”

Reed chuckled, but his attention soon shifted. His gaze flicked to Johnny, who sat hunched over the table, absently tapping his spoon against his empty cup. The soft rhythm — clink… clink… clink… — echoed faintly under the hum of the morning.

Reed’s voice cut through it. Calm, but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

“Johnny, something tells me you’ve been… thinking about the entity again.”

Johnny froze mid-tap. His shoulders tensed.

“The entity?” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “You mean Fire Spirit Cookie.”

Reed adjusted his glasses, analytical as ever.

“Yes. Him. You seem… preoccupied. You understand he isn’t human, right? We still don’t know what he’s capable of. Empathy is admirable, but it can cloud judgment.”

Ben’s brows furrowed slightly, glancing at Reed.

“Stretch…”

But Johnny was already sitting up, his flames flickering faintly at the edges of his sleeves.

“Cloud judgment?” he echoed, voice low. “You think caring about someone makes me wrong?”

Reed didn’t flinch — his tone stayed maddeningly even.

“I think it can make you reckless. Especially when someone nearly melted through containment.”

Johnny’s chair scraped back, the sound sharp against the quiet.
The air between them grew hot — literally — as faint ripples of heat shimmered around his shoulders. His voice cracked like a spark about to catch.

“You talk about him like he’s a thing. But he’s not! He’s alive, Reed. He feels! He was scared, and you were—”

“Containing a volatile energy source,” Reed interrupted, his tone clipped, clinical.

“A person!” Johnny shot back, standing now, his flame igniting fully in a brief, heated flare that made the air shimmer gold.

Sue looked up sharply. “Johnny—”

But the fire died down almost instantly, leaving only the faint scent of smoke. Johnny ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard through his nose. His voice was softer now, but it trembled with that mix of frustration and hurt.

“You don’t get it, Reed. You can’t put everything in a containment box and call it safe. Sometimes things don’t fit your equations.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Franklin gurgled quietly, breaking the tension with a small, innocent laugh. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

Reed’s expression softened just slightly.

“Johnny… I’m not your enemy.”

Johnny looked at him, eyes dimming like cooling embers.

“Yeah. Tell that to the guy locked in your lab.”

He turned, walking out before Reed could respond — the door sliding shut with a muted boom.

In the silence that followed, Reed stared at the table, his reflection caught in the faint ripples left by Johnny’s heat.
Ben exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know, Stretch… sometimes he ain’t wrong.”

Reed didn’t answer. He just looked toward the floor.

Johnny stormed out of the dining room, the door sliding shut behind him with a muffled thunk. The warmth of the morning, the laughter, even Franklin’s soft giggles, all felt distant now — replaced by the heavy weight of guilt and frustration pressing down on his shoulders.

The hallway was quiet, sun slanting through the high windows and casting long, golden streaks across the polished floor. Johnny’s footsteps echoed softly, hollow in the sudden stillness. He didn’t glance back. He didn’t want to.

From behind, Sue’s voice broke the silence, calm but firm.

“Johnny?”

He paused but didn’t turn.

“Go away, Sue,” he muttered, voice rough, muffled with emotion.

She stepped closer, the sunlight catching the damp strands of her hair, making them glint like spun silver.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” she said gently. “Not when I know what’s on your mind.”

Johnny exhaled sharply, letting the heat from his frustration curl faintly around him. Finally, he turned, eyes flickering like dim embers.

“I just… I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about him… Fire Spirit Cookie. I saved him yesterday, but now he’s just… stuck. Trapped. And every time I think about it…”

He let the words trail off, shoulders slumping, hands gripping the edges of the hallway railing.

Sue stepped closer, her presence soft but grounding. She reached out, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know it’s hard. You care about him because you understand him. You’ve felt what it’s like to be… out of control, to be something everyone else sees as dangerous.”

Johnny looked at her, eyes wide and vulnerable for just a moment, before he turned away toward his room.

“But he doesn’t get it. He just sees him as a risk, a variable to control. And maybe they’re right…”

Sue followed him into the room, letting the door close softly behind them. The sunlight spilling through the blinds painted stripes across the floor, warm and gentle, contrasting the turmoil in Johnny’s chest. She perched lightly on the edge of his bed.

“You know,” she said, voice soft but steady, “you don’t have to explain it to them. You just… feel it. And that’s enough. For now, anyway. Fire Spirit can sense that. Maybe more than you think.”

Johnny sank onto the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. His flame shimmered faintly along his shoulders, though he didn’t notice.

“I just… I don't want him to feel alone. Not here, not in that cage, not anywhere,” he admitted, voice breaking slightly.

Sue smiled gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Then you’ll find a way. You always do, Johnny. You just… have to trust yourself. And him.”

He let out a long breath, the tension easing slightly. The quiet of the room wrapped around him like a warm blanket, grounding him for the first time since breakfast.

“Thanks, Sue,” he murmured, a small, grateful smile breaking through the storm in his chest.

The room was calm, golden light falling across the bedspread. Outside, the world moved on — but deep below, in the cold, dark lab, something faint flickered again. And somewhere in that glow, the ember of a connection between flame and human pulsed quietly… waiting.