"Shit." Peter muttered as Karen informed him that it was too cold for her to continue to function before promptly shutting off.
Peter was all the way across the city from the Avenger's compound, his home, and he knew it was 20 degrees out - which meant that Peter had to make it home fast, or he was going to freeze to death.
Peter could have called one of his dads - except his phone was dead because of the cold. And with Karen shut down, he didn't have another way to contact them.
Peter made haste, swinging through the air to the compound, trying to ignore the cold.
He knew from experience that even though swinging was colder than if he walked, the time it took to swing to a destination was easier on his body than walking since it took significantly less time to do.
While Peter swung from building to building, he let his mind wander to a familiar fantasy - the one he had shared with his dads when they were at his old apartment. Lasagna, hot chocolate, Star Wars, and of course, his dads.
He couldn't believe he'd been home for two months already. Time had flown, and life was better than it had ever been before.
Peter shivered. He was obviously getting closer to home, but he still had a ways to go, and it wasn't getting any warmer.
Peter brightened, remembering his Dad preparing to cook dinner - his Dad didn't cook much, which meant there was a decent chance they were having Nonna's lasagna - the only thing Dad cooked well.
Even if they didn't have lasagna, Peter was happy that he would just be home.
—-
"Do you have everything set up?" Tony called from the kitchen.
Steve studied the family room. Steve didn't have too much to do, not compared to Tony, who was making his mother's lasagna.
He had the Star Wars DVDs ready. All the ingredients for hot chocolate had been acquired, as well as popcorn. He had Peter's heated blanket already set up on the couch and turned on, since Peter was due home in the next fifteen minutes.
Ever since Peter had shared the fantasy that got him through the cold nights on his own, Tony and Steve had longed to create it. And when the news announced that morning that this was going to be one of the coldest nights of the year - and it was a Saturday, a day that Peter normally spent patrolling - they knew it was the perfect night. And they had added their own twists. Popcorn and the heated blanket hadn't been specifically mentioned, but that didn't mean Peter wouldn't like it. Lasagna, hot chocolate, Star Wars. That was the request.
Steve went into the kitchen. "I think I've got it all." He promised his husband. "How's it going in here?"
Tony was just opening the oven and sprinkling some extra cheese on the top. "Almost ready." He turned around and smiled uncertainly at his husband. "You think Peter will like this?"
"I know he will." Steve reassured him. "He's not a difficult kid to please."
Tony hummed in agreement. "We lucked out, didn't we?" He asked with a small laugh. Sure Peter had given them quite the run for their money, especially the last few years, but overall he was a really great kid.
Steve opened his mouth, but didn't have time to agree with his husband before they heard a loud crash coming from down the hallway.
—-
Peter could not believe his luck tonight.
First his suit malfunctioned.
Now the doors to enter the compound wouldn't open.
And now he couldn't get his window opened. His fingers were too cold, they wouldn't work properly to get the window unlatched.
Peter knew he was dangerously close to becoming hypothermic. He shrugged. He could only think of one option left.
Ignoring the shaking of his whole body, Peter crawled up the building an attached some web fluid. He fell to make it the right length, and then pushed off with his legs. He came back in, feet first to the window, forcing it to crack just a little. Peter did it again, without much more success.
Peter knew this was his last shot before he wouldn't be able to move his limbs anymore, and he pushed off with all of his strength, forcing the window to crack a little bit more, before crashing back into the window and finally, through it.
Peter collapsed on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't quite thought through the fact that breaking his bedroom window meant that he was letting all the cold air in. Oh well, at least it was warmer at the moment. Peter could feel his arms and legs start to tingle, indicating they were getting feeling.
That was good. Maybe Peter would be able to walk again soon.
It was only a second later that his dads came busting through the door.
If Peter could move, he would laugh at the expressions on their faces. But he still couldn't feel his face.
"Pete?" Dad kneeled down next to him and pulled Peter's mask off of his face. "Oh God, you're freezing. What happened?"
Peter tried to speak, but only groaned.
"Come on, son." Papa kneeled down and picked Peter up with ease. "Lets get you warmed up."
Papa took Peter directly to the couch, where he was stripped of his suit and wrapped in the heated blanket that they had bought him when he came home. His dads sat on either side of him and they both wrapped their arms around him, trying to lend him warmth. Peter buried his face into Dad's chest, relaxing at the warmth that radiated from him.
After a few minutes, Peter felt like he could move again, and he sat back up. "That was close." He said, relieved that his mouth was working.
"What the hell happened?" Dad demanded.
"Um." Peter rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Karen stopped working. Said it was too cold. And my suit shut off."
"What?" Dad said, reaching immediately for the suit, but paused. "Nevermind, I'll look at it later. Why didn't you call us to come pick you up?"
"My phone battery died because it was cold. I swear, I charged it fully before I left." Peter promised.
"So how did that end with you crashing through the window?" Papa seemed to be trying not to sound amused.
"The compound doors are locked, and the override wasn't working because of the cold. And then I tried my window, but my fingers weren't working, so I couldn't open the latch, so I decided to swing into it because I needed to get inside." Peter felt his face turn red. "I'll pay to fix it." He offered, though he was sure he was in deep trouble regardless.
Dad rolled his eyes. "No, Peter. You did everything you were supposed to. But maybe, in the future, we don't go patrolling on the coldest night of the year?"
"Mmm." Peter hummed. "That's fair." He grinned up at them.
The moment was interrupted by the oven beeping. "I got it." Dad said, getting up. Peter readjusted so that he was leaning against Papa instead.
Dad was taking a minute, and Peter finally took in the surrounds. From the blanket that had already been warmed to Star Wars on the TV… "What were you guys doing before I got home?" Peter asked, confused. "Were you going to watch Star Wars without me?"
Papa laughed. "No, Peter." He shook his head, but didn't answer verbally, just nodded his head to behind them, where Dad was coming back into the room.
Dad was carrying a tray with three plates and three mugs, which he set down carefully on the table in front of the couch.
"Lasagna and hot chocolate?" Peter looked between the two. "You… you're recreating the fantasy I shared with you that got me through being cold?"
Dad shrugged. "Ever since you mentioned it, we knew we wanted to make it happen for real. I just… didn't anticipate you actually almost freezing to death tonight." He gave Peter a mock angry look, and Peter laughed.
"Did we get it right?" Papa asked, pulling Peter tightly into his warm embrace, while Dad started distributing.
"Yeah." Peter whispered, in awe of what his dads would do for him. He snuggled up to his Dad too when he sat down.
And Peter was finally warm.
AN: This piece was basically fluff! I've written two other stories for this series already, and they both have a lot more angst. Thanks to everyone who has commented giving me ideas for stories to write! I've been blown away by the response to this series so far.
