heating goes out in stark tower so peter and tony have to huddle for warmth together with angst and fluff due to the fact peter cant thermoregulate please
Sorry it’s not a fic fic. SFW!
Peter says he’s the one with bad luck, but Tony’s luck is infamous. The backup power system is due for regularly scheduled updates between 2AM to 3AM. Despite checking for weather patterns that evening, a late-night thunderstorm takes a southern turn at the last moment. Lightning strikes the tower, and the power goes out.
The main doors won’t even open, nor the ones to the lower parking garage. It’s his own fault for creating a security system that would shut the Tower up tighter than a Venus fly trap at the first sight of tampering, even if that tampering came from Mother Nature herself.
Tony goes to fix it because who else could? Systems are fried, and even after hours of effort, he’s barely made progress. He’s going to have to go out on the roof to assess the damage more closely. 45 degrees is warm for fall in New York, but 1100 feet in the air, the wind whips the collar of his jacket and stings his eyes—and the pouring rain doesn’t help.
He’s soaked to the bone when Peter finds him. Tony barely recognizes him beneath a comical amount of clothing layers. He looks ready for an Arctic expedition. At the sight of the kid (who is spending the break between college semesters at the Tower), Tony is relieved at first—an extra set of hands would be perfect. But one glance at the panicked brown eyes peeking out above a wool scarf tells Tony that something is very wrong.
“I’ve never told you this or anyone this because there’s never really been a need, I mean, the suit has built in heaters and anytime I’m too cold I just go inside or wrap up in one of those blankets MJ is always getting me for Christmas, but—“ “I appreciate the context but give me the abridged version, Pete, I kind of have a situation I’m trying to deal with.” “That’s just it, Mr. Stark.”
Who could have expected Tony to know that the only thermoregulation spiders are capable of is behavioral? Peter could bask in the sun—if it were out. He is already sheltering—but his shelter is growing colder by the minute.
“Blankets worked okay at first,” Peter says, watching Tony pace brainstorm in the penthouse. “But the sun has been down for hours and I’m so cold, Mr. Stark. I tried running, jumping jacks, but I’m not able to generate enough heat, and—look.” Peter holds up his hands and the fingers are white and bloodless.
Instinct makes him reach out and take Peter’s frigid hand between his own. Even though he feels cold too, he is blistering in comparison. Peter groans at the warmth, a pleasured sound that makes Tony’s stomach flip.
They spend the next twenty minutes brainstorming to no avail.
“We could start a fire? I see your expression, but it would be a very controlled fire. Surely I’m capable of—alright, you’re right. Fuck, kid. Maybe we need to just evacuate you. We can’t go out the front door, but you swing us somewhere warmer.”
“‘Kay,” Peter slurs from beneath the blankets where he has been silent for the last five minutes. He’s no longer shivering. “I’m g’na be late for school, though.”
Tony knows hypothermia when he sees it. If Peter’s cognitive functions are being affected, then his decreasing temperature is becoming dangerous.
Tony begins to peel off his wet clothes, hands shaking. It’s the cold he tells himself, not fear. Not terror that he could be watching Peter’s life slip away before his very eyes.
“I hope you can forgive me, kid, but we’re about to get closer than you—well, than you probably ever wanted to. You can hate me in the morning, at least you’ll still be alive.”
He scoops the kid up—Jesus he’s heavy, probably from being solid muscle—and takes him into the bathroom. The smaller the room, the easier it will be to keep warm. He fills the claw-footed tub with blankets and saves Peter for last.
The kid is too out of it to even acknowledge being unwrapped like the world’s most convoluted Christmas present. Tony leaves the kid’s boxers on, feeling like enough of a creep as it is.
Into the tub they go, Peter plastered against him back-to-front. Tony drags more blankets hastily pulled from his bed over them, tugs the kid’s hat down lower over his ears, and just holds him.
He ducks his head against the crook of Peter’s neck and just breathes, warm breath fanning over his skin.
Maybe he prays, though he’s maybe prayed a lot in his life, and he hasn’t seen much proof that anyone is listening.
When at last Peter’s entire body begins to shiver again, the relief Tony feels makes tears sting at his eyes. Beneath the blankets, he runs his hands up and down the kid’s arms, working to generate more friction. Eventually, the young man in his arms stirs.
“Wh’re are we?” Peter mutters at length, nearly causing Tony to jump out of his skin.
Tony laughs a sigh. Peter shivers harder for a moment, and maybe that isn’t all from the cold. “Bathroom. Enclosed space would help trap our body heat in. My body heat, I guess.”
Peter hums. “You’re so hot, Mr. Stark.” A moment of silence, then: “Oh my god, you’re warm. Warm. Not that you, I mean, you look great. Uh, Mr. Stark, are you naked?”
Tony blinks. “Body heat, best way to warm you up without burning down the tower.”
Peter clears his throat. His cool fingers wrap around Tony’s arm, pulling his embrace tighter. “I—guess we should stay like this then. Until sunrise, at least.”
“You know me, I’m all about safety, Mr. Stark.”
“Kid, for the love of god, call me Tony.”
