A/N: I really hope the formatting doesn't suck too bad. Thank you for your comments! Enjoy x
Peter Parker [8:21am]: mister
Peter Parker [8:21am]: stark
Peter Parker [8:21am]: it's
Peter Parker [8:21am]: snowing
Peter Parker [8:22am]: !
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Tony Stark sent a picture
Tony Stark [8:22am]: I know. Shouldn't you be in class?
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Peter Parker [8:23am]: woah! is that the compound? there's so much snow!
Peter Parker {8:23am]: I am but it' g. everyone is talking about it
Peter Parker [8:24am]: what are you doing at the compound? can you build a snowman for me?
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Tony Stark [8:25am]: I'm not going to build a snowman. Some of us have work to do.
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Peter Parker [8:26am]: not you, obviously
Peter Parker [8:26am]: so, snowman?
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Tony Stark [8:27am]: You are a menace who can build their own snowman
Tony Stark [8:28am]: When's school out?
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Peter Parker [8:28am]::(
Peter Parker [8:28am]: probably a little early. it's supposed to sno t
Peter Parker [8:29am]: maybe 1ish?
Peter Parker [8:30am]: why?
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Tony Stark [8:32am]: Happy'll pick you up. I'll talk to May.
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Peter Parker [8:32am]: pick me up for what?
Peter Parker [8:32am]: mister stark
Peter Parker [8:33am]: is he taking me to the compound?
Peter Parker [8:33am]: so we can build a snowman?
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Tony Stark [8:35am]: No. He's taking you to the compound so you can build a snowman.
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Peter Parker [8:36am]: you'll help me tho
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Tony Stark [8:37am]: I won't. Now quit texting and pay attention.
Tony Stark [8:37am]: To your teacher, not the snow.
When Peter gets to the compound a little after three in the afternoon, the ground is covered in snow. Three paths have been cleared to get to the different entrances and there are occasional footsteps that have strayed from the trail, leaving everything else meticulously untouched.
The snow is glistening in the sun, reflecting its light and making the world seem that much brighter. The whole scene has a graceful pureness to it, a feeling of peacefulness and bliss.
He has never seen a blanket of snow so spotless and unharmed by both people and fumes. New York City snow is usually dirty right after it settles on the ground. Not this snow, though. This is more brilliant than anything he's ever seen. Dazzling in its vivid brilliancy. It's beautiful.
Happy is scurrying ahead to escape the cold as quickly as possible, hat pulled deeply into his face and coat flying behind him. Peter watches him with a grin but saunters behind much more slowly, lingering to take in the sight and digest it properly.
He's cold – he always is nowadays – but that doesn't stop him from squatting down to gather some of the white substance in his hands, forming it into a ball and watching it melt around the edges in fascination.
"Peter, get in here you dunce, you're gonna freeze to death."
Mister Stark is standing in the door way, clad in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, arms crossed over his chest, his hands rubbing over his skin to generate warmth. His breath comes out puffy and he's speaking through chattering teeth.
"Be there in a sec," Peter calls back, taking his time to get up, brush off the snow and start walking again.
By the time it takes him to reach the door the tiny snowball he picked up has already melted, leaving his hands wet and burning red with the cold, and Mister Stark is waiting for him, impatiently tapping some rock song with his foot.
He seizes his chance and leaps at his unsuspecting mentor, pressing his hands to his bare neck as he's barreling into his arms for a hug.
The high-pitched squeal and the colorful curse words the superhero spits out don't stop him from pulling the teenager into the building completely, trapping the cold outside by shutting the door. While maneuvering them both over to one of the heaters his right hand finds its way into the messy chock of curls while the other starts rubbing at the boy's arms to warm him up.
Peter burrows into the embrace more fully and enjoys being fussed over for a moment longer before raising his head to meet the other man's eyes excitedly.
"Can we go build a snowman now?"
Mister Stark scoffs and, holding him at arm's length, points to his outfit with an unimpressed snort, "In that skimpy thing? No, you're not."
"But Mister Stark," he whines, shaking the man's hands off and crossing his arms in front of his chest to properly glare at him. "I don't have any other jackets here. Or any clothes at all for that matter."
The man rolls his eyes and Peter is already planning his next stage of attack, debating on whether or not pouting and puppy eyes would be enough or if he would have to pull out his web shooters.
"Yes, you do," he tells him instead, stopping his train of thoughts, "I made you something. Since you were so insisting on spending your afternoon freezing to death, so that you don't actually die of cold."
"I thought you had to work," the teenager inquires with an overly sweetly grin but follows after his mentor anyway.
"I did, actually, thanks for keeping me from it. Idiot."
They've reached Mister Stark's private area of the building where a plate with snacks and tea is already waiting for him and Peter shrugs out of his jacket, dumping it on the couch. The room has the perfect temperature, he decides when he thinks into the couch. Only in passing he sticks out his tongue. "You love me."
Mister Stark rolls his eyes, because of course he does, not even phased by the L-word as Peter notices smugly. "So what? That gives you the right to act like an idiot?" He's walked past the couch and into one of the adjoining rooms so his voice is muffled. "It doesn't, by the way."
"Ah man," he pouts but waits patiently for the other man to get back while munching on some of the crackers contently. "And here I thought I was getting something out of this."
"You are." His mentor is back and he's carrying a huge pile of – something. Clothes? "You're getting a brand new coat, gloves and a sweater all with build in heater."
Peter stares at him, hand frozen halfway on its way to his mouth still holding half a cracker, taking in how ridiculously overladen he looks before he splutters, crumbs and spit flying every which way. "Is- is that an Iron-Man hoodie?"
Mister Stark glares at him but there's a fondness in his eyes that he doesn't even try to hide. "It is. But the best thing about it is this." He lets everything else drop to the floor and points to a small red and blue speck next to the gold and red armor on Peter's new sweater.
He squints at the image then falls over laughing. "Spider-Man is not actually wearing diapers, ya know?"
"Could've fouled me," he grumbles good-heartedly, "Now, eat up, get dressed and then we'll build that snowman."
"So you are going to help me," Peter grins smugly around his cracker. "Hate to say I told you so but –"
"Whatever, squirt. Just eat."
Peter is almost done with the snowball he's been rolling around and, from the looks of it, Mister Stark's is already pretty advanced as well.
They have been working together in companionable silence so far, only ever communicating through grunts, raised eyebrows and quiet laughs. Despite his loud protests against it, Mister Stark seems to actually be enjoying something as mundane as building a snowman and he's putting a lot of thought and effort into creating the perfect ball from what Peter can tell.
It makes him wonder if the man has ever built a snowman before or if that's just one of the things in his childhood he has missed out on.
Sometimes it hits him how little people have who have everything but no one to share it with and how an orphaned kid from Queens has had a more sheltered upbringing than a billionaire with both parents alive, a big house and more toys than he could ever play with.
He's only ever known what it's like to not have much in a material sense and make the best out of it. The one thing they have always had in spades is love and that has always been enough.
"I think I've only ever built a snowman once."
Peter pauses for a beat because surely Mister Stark couldn't read his mind… right? Just to be sure, though, he tries to think of something that the man would surely comment on if he could hear it and - completely zones out of the actual conversation they were having.
"Pete? You okay?" His mentor sounds a little concerned which is probably reasonable since he hasn't moved for like a whole minute.
"Huh?" He blinks rapidly, mind coming back to the real world now that he's certain he's alone in his head. (Because Mister Stark would have at least looked up if he had heard Peter recite an essay on why Iron-Man is his favorite superhero.)
The man is leaning against his half-finished snowball with a deep frown, looking like he's about to bolt for Peter should he not start moving in the next few seconds.
"I asked you whether you usually build snowmen or women but you don't have to –"
"No," he quickly interrupts him before the billionaire can brush off the fact that they're kind of, sort of talking about winter traditions which is, in Peter's eyes, only a step away from Christmas traditions and that's what he's aiming for in the long run. "No, uh, I mean. We also built snowwomen? Not with, uh," he splutters, "Uh, with, you know, a, uh, chest but, uh, I don't know. We gave them long hair sometimes."
Mister Stark is watching him as if he has just lost his mind but that's fine because he's also laughing into his scarf and his breath comes out foggy and rapidly because of it.
Peter shrugs, looking back down and patting some snow to his snowball before he starts rolling it again. "One year Uncle Ben even sacrificed one of Aunt May's brooms and we braided them to give her nice hair. She was not happy."
"I can imagine she wasn't," his hero chuckles lightly. "I'm about done. Think we can stack them already?"
"Yes!" He leaps forward, almost toppling over the snowball he has just spent almost fifteen minutes perfecting and just grins sheepishly at Mister Stark who, of course, has already moved, arms out to catch him should he fall. He pats the hands away and goes to pick up the smaller ball to put it on top of the other.
While he's packing some more snow between the sections to even it out a little, Mister Stark already starts making the last snowball.
"Did you make a snowman or snowwoman?" Peter asks after a bit, brushing off some of the snow on his clothes and then rubbing some stray curls from his eyes with a relatively warm glove. He loves these built-in heaters!
"Huh?" Mister Stark looks up briskly as if Peter has pulled him from his thoughts but when his gaze settles on the teenager his face morphs into a wide smile. "You look adorable," he tells him earnestly to which Peter just huffs indignantly.
"But you do," he reaffirms rolling his snowball until he's standing right in front of the boy. He reaches out and ruffles his hair. His gloves are a lot colder than Peter's but his touch is so gentle he doesn't really mind. "You've got snowflakes in your hair," he tells him fondly. "You should probably wear a hat next time."
Peter rolls his eyes and picks up the last of the balls, continuing his work on giving their snowperson a proper shape.
"You could get me one for Christmas," he suggests offhandedly, "I mean you're not getting me a hoodie, right? Since you just got me one? And I think Aunt May would freak if you got me a car or maybe –"
"We made snow-cap," Mister Stark cuts off his fishing for clues on his Christmas present, actually managing to throw Peter off with the change of subject.
"Which is hilarious now that I think back to it. We made an actual Snow- Capsicle." He goes quiet for a bit and, unlike every other time when he talks about his childhood, he's actually smiling. "Gave him a blue hat and wooden Captain America shield and a flag as a cape. Jarvis even found a pair of these aviator goggles. He looked awesome."
He doesn't say what happens afterwards and Peter doesn't ask but something in his eyes turns sad, even though he keeps the corners of his lips turned up. Instead he does what he does best, he rambles.
"Can we give him a pair of your sunglasses maybe?" he wants to know, excitement flooding his veins and coloring his cheek at the picture and he can see Mister Stark's eyes softening once more when he looks over at him.
"And, uh, I got a carrot from inside but we still need charcoal or pebbles or something for his mouth and for his front. And mmh, arms, obviously."
He's already searching the ground for small stones and Mister Stark is wandering off to a tree to get two twigs for arms. It doesn't take long for them to get everything and dress him properly.
After Peter puts in the nose and his mentor puts on the sunglasses he pulled from his secret stash in his inside pockets, they both take a step back to admire their handiwork.
The teenager frowns. "Something's missing," he mutters but he can't work out what it is until Mister Stark steps forward and loops his scarf around the snowperson's head.
"Better?"
Peter grins. "Now he looks like you," he exclaims happily, leaning into the superhero's side, head resting on the man's shoulder. "I love it."
"Yeah," Mister Stark replies quietly amused and rests his head on top of Peter's as he pulls him closer. "Because every snowman should wear one and a half grand in Tom Ford and Cartier."
"He's – WHAT?"