My air conditioning broke. In the spirit of me sweating my tits off, I wrote you a drabble.
The unfortunate part about being a super genius was, even able to fix any problem, you were still at the mercy of needing specific parts. Tony walked into the living room, flopping on the couch next to Steve. “No luck. AC is broken until I can get the part I need, and the place I need to get it from is closed for Independence Day. Which is ironic, since they're making Captain America sweat it out until they're done drinking and blowing things up. That doesn't seem very patriotic,” he snorted.
Steve groaned, head falling back against the couch. “Really? Well I guess I can't really blame them, I just hate Peter being stuck in this heat.”
The boy looked up from his spot on the floor, a picture of abject misery. “I hooooooot!” His cheeks were ruddy, and his hair was slicked against his forehead in a thick pool of sweat. Nothing beat the sweet torture of living with a sweaty child, nothing.
“I know bud,” Tony cooed. He crawled onto the floor, sprawling on his back next to their son. “Daddy is hot too. Will ice cream help?”
Peter nodded, tiny little lip pooched out and quivering. “An a cookie.”
Tony laughed, picking him up and holding him above his head. “You drive a hard bargain, my dear boy, I think we can negotiate a cookie as well.”
“Pushover,” Steve said fondly from the couch.
Tony brought Peter down to cuddle him close, but the boy immediately rejected his affection. “No daddy HOT!” he whined, huffing and trying to squirm out of his grip.
“Somehow I forgot,” Tony said, smiling ruefully. He winced as the unpleasant sensation of sweat sliding down his neck. “Okay I feel disgusting. New plan. Ice cream, cookie, then swimming.”
“YEAH SWIMMIN!” Peter gasped, jumping to his feet. “Swimmin swimmin!”
Tony smirked, looking up at Steve. “They don't call me 'genius' for nothin, Cap.”