Warmth
based on a prompt by @awesomestarker
story by @thestarkerisobvious and @mrstarksbaby
moodboard by @mrstarksbaby
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Best. Vacation. Ever.
It was silly, but ever since that one year that the electricity had gone out, Peter insisted. One entire day without electricity. Except for the refrigerator, of course. And the hot water heater. But that was all. As little device use as possible. Even to look up information. That’s what books were for. During the day they would read or play chess or play card games with the tarot deck or just sit and talk in the sunlit rooms and enjoy the day. Then, at night, sleeping, bundled up in the living room by the fireplace. Just like they had done that first winter.
Peter shouldn’t be happy the electricity went out that one year. Shouldn’t be thankful. Should acknowledge, at least, some of the danger they could have been in (if it weren’t for the generator. And the backup generator, of course…)
But he couldn’t help it. Right now, he was glowing. Even in the cold cabin, he was glowing. He should at least go wrap up in the fuzzy blanket again - and he would soon - but for now he stayed where he was.
Watching the Sexiest Man Alive chop wood.
And he was. Officially. Voted Sexiest Man Alive. More than once. And Peter, now sitting in the seat closest to the window, almost shivering with the cold, couldn’t have agreed more.
He had sat there with the cup of hot cocoa Tony had made for him at his feet. He had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading in the sunlit room. He had found an old Llewellen book (“Charms, Spells and Formulas”) that he had bought ages ago at a used book store but never got around to reading. He was now pouring over a chapter about “gris-gris bags” and scribbling out lists of herbs to look up. One list to check against Tony’s fully-stocked spice rack, one to check against his collection at home, and one to check against the internet as soon as they allowed themselves back on line.
Tony had only rolled his eyes and groaned at the idea of ordering MORE spell ingredients, but didn’t interfere with the new project until he noticed Peter was shivering at the table, tucking his hands under his legs when his fingers got too cold to write.
“Humor me,” Tony countered when Peter insisted “I’m fine!” through chattering teeth. The next thing he knew he was sitting in the living room in front of the fire, warming his hands on a mug of hot cocoa.
“Are these cinnamon for my protection?” Peter asked with a grin. “Maybe,” Tony said with a sideways grin. “Someone has to protect you from yourself.”
Peter smiled, silently stirring in the intention. Then noticed that Tony was rolling up his sleeves.
“And what are you doing?”
“We need more of this,” Tony replied, kicking a pice of firewood with his boot. “I’ll be back.”
And now here they were - Tony outside chopping firewood, Peter sitting at the couch closest to the window so he could watch. Watch and wonder.
What was it about that man, Peter wondered, watching those powerful arms move, the iron muscles flex as Tony raised the ax above his head over and over again. It wasn’t the muscular build, not that alone. It couldn’t have been. Captain America had bigger biceps, and much bigger pectorals. And Thor, well, Thor was a god. Who towered above all of them, making even Cap look like a short man. There were more muscular men in Peter’s life. And as for strength…
…Peter lay back a little in his seat by the window. Smiling wistfully.
The truth was, Peter was stronger than Tony. Stronger than most of the Avengers, actually. Possibly as strong as Captain America, although Peter never set out to prove it. Never needed to. He knew what he knew. Besides, it didn’t matter.
Peter never thought much about being so strong. Never thought about the muscles he had built up just swinging across New York City every day, or lifting vehicles off of each other in pileups. In fact, whenever he thought about being “strong” the only thought, the only memory, that came to mind was holding a splitting ferry full of people together on his own. He wasn’t strong, not compared to fracturing ferries, or collapsing concrete buildings, or crashing airplanes. So he never really thought about how much stronger he was than Tony.
Oh, but in Tony’s arms at night, it felt so good to feel weak…
“Enjoying the view?” Tony asked as he brought in the first load of firewood.
“Very much so,” Peter acknowledged.
Tony headed outside again, closing the door firmly behind him to keep in the heat. Peter shivered a bit, grinning to himself. Tonight was going to be sweet. When Tony was done chopping firewood he would probably want a shower - a good place to warm them both up, certainly - and then they would have to figure out another way to keep themselves warm. Although maybe not. It was barely afternoon, maybe too early in the day for that. Peter would get up from his seat and, after finding a warm sweater, find some way of making Tony a meal. As a reward for all this wood-chopping. They had a whole list of dishes that could be made with the use of the battery powered hotplate or the fire - some sandwich melts, probably.. And maybe even some hot coco. Yes, certainly some hot cocoa. Definitely. As a reward for all this wood-chopping.
Peter would do that. Get up from his chilly seat by the window and do that. But not just yet.
Because right now, Peter just wanted to watch.
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