“I know, but…” Peter looked to the ground, stuffing gloved palms further into deep pockets. “But I wasn’t expecting it to be this cold.” His nose red and face shiny, the boy sniffled and watched his step, passing by a rather large plate of ice.
“Really? I thought that much was obvious, did the snow not give it away?” Tony huffed, his hot breath creating a cloud in the cold air. He blew aside a couple of rampant flakes, and Peter hesitated in his step, orbs just as cold as the atmosphere surrounding them. “Ha, ha. Funny,” he joked.
With the snow continuing to fall in light sheets, flakes blanketing the ground of the park and freezing quite literally everything, including Peter, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Winter wasn’t going anywhere, and really, it wasn’t
“We didn’t have to agree to go for a walk,” Tony entertained.
“I know..” Peter repeated, “but I asked nicely.” He snuggled beyond the hem of his winter jacket, the one thing keeping him warm in such frigid weather, his cheeky smugness hidden behind a muffled voice.
“So?”
“So you agreed because you can’t say no to me. I wanted this, even if I can’t feel my toes.” Smiling, he kicked up a mound of snow with his boot, majority of which only dusted Tony in the process, and the older of the two flinched, shaking himself of as many flakes as possible, all the while a grin curled past his lips. Peter had a point.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or disappointed.”
Dimples showing through, Peter chuckled, “You’ll figure it out.”
He waited for Tony to join him in their walk once more, and when he did, Peter took pride in intertwining their hands, tangling their fingers at the knuckle for comfort. Instantly, Peter felt nothing but relief, fuzz kindness, everything but the bleak, stinging cold of the air. None of that mattered when he was with Tony.
An icebox as Peter was, Tony made that all go away, just with the touch of his hand. Peter melted.
“Thanks for the apology, by the way.” Tony added, and Peter hummed in confusion. “For driving me into the snow, I forgive you.” He placed a gentle kiss on Peter’s cheek, causing him to squeeze, strengthening his grip for a moment, just a tiny bit harder, feeling the way in which his mind, how his heart, was beginning to thaw, “I apologize.”
Brushing the ice that littered his coat, eyebrows raised, he carried on, settling into the hand hold of the only person he loved more than anything, “And I don’t give you everything you want,” Tony started back up again, a hint of defense in his voice. Defeated, Peter bumped and shook the two of their palms between their sides.
“Sure thing.”
“Pardon me?”
Standing there together, light reflecting off sheets of sheer white, Peter had never looked so damn beautiful with his rosy cheeks and tossed, hat hair, his skin slightly paler than usual in contrast to such bright eyes, almond, the perfect addition being the baby flakes of snow nesting themselves in stray, silky curls and catching his clothing; shoulders; beanie; collar and chest.
Even the sun took to a liking with its drifting rays cast so meticulously through the trees and upon Peter’s face, illuminating the ice in his breath, the matte of his eyelashes. Tony was no different with an authentic, accentuated smile, face colorful, all brought to you by the crisp air.
“Is that a threat?” Peter questioned, knowing both the answer and the consequences. What he hadn’t expected was quite the opposite, to be engulfed by the warm fleece of Tony’s scarf. Unraveling the piece from around his neck, Tony snaked the article over Peter’s shoulders, loosely wrapping it around the boy’s collar, the excess arms folding back and over and around, all the way until Peter’s poor face could barely be seen. It had startled him at first, but the comforting smell of Tony combined with some leftover body heat, well, Peter loved it.
“Do you want it to be, sweetheart?”
Flushed, Peter didn’t know how to reply, not that he could say much anyways with a mouthful of scarf, face barely showing and all. So instead he shook his head no and eased into the touch of Tony’s palm.
And Tony pulled the fabric down, just barely to see the beauty behind it, the beauty of Peter’s face; that was enough. Leaning in to place his mouth on Peter’s own, Tony softly planted a kiss on the boy’s spit-slickened lips, chapped but not quite, soft but not perfect, cold but warm enough, and Tony wouldn’t have wanted it any. other. way.
It heated Peter to the core, stripping him of chills while simultaneously fabricating butterflies, and reaching up right there on the tips of his toes, he enjoyed it just as much, smiling against the indents of Tony’s lips, the scruff of his chin.
“You can have anything you want,” Tony finally said, tucking the ends of the scarf where they wouldn’t fall away.
Peter enjoyed it just as much.