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“Hey, kid,” hissed Tony, resting his forehead against the underside of the upturned desk blocking the doorway, “don’t ever say I didn’t tell you to sit this one out.”
Peter shook his head, although the other man might not have been able to identify the gesture even if he had been looking, given the way Peter’s whole body trembled with cold. His fingers clutched hard at his armpits, where he’d shoved them, and his stomach ached with the muscle spasms necessary to hold himself upright instead of slumping to the cold concrete floor in a fetal position.
“Fucking EMPs,” muttered Tony, chafing his own hands and blowing on his fingers as he glared at the pieces of his suit precariously stacked in one corner of the tiny space.
“S-s-suit’s not sh-sh-ield-ed-ed?” chattered Peter, before clamping his lips tightly together.
Tony whirled, his face contorted with anger. “No, it is, which is the bitch of the problem, isn’t it, Underoos? You look like shit, kid.”
Peter attempted to curl his lips upward in a reassuring way. “S’s’okay. Gon’ b-be f-f-innnne.”
Tony stared at him with an expression of flagrant disbelief before rolling his eyes and announcing, “Well, we’re as insulated as I can get us. Body heat should help warm up this space, and I can work on turning the explosives in the suit into more- sustainable- heat sources for us in a minute, but I think- you are not okay, kid. Let’s- deal with that, first.”
Please, thought Peter in a pitiful voice very unbecoming of a superhero who’d saved the world dozens of times. Another deep shudder rose from his core to shake him, causing a bout of coughing that left him so dizzy he had to close his eyes.
When he cleared his head with a deep gasp of air and opened his eyes, he realized two things.
One: The light of Tony’s arc reactor was actually beautiful, in this completely-dark space.
Two: The way it glinted in Tony’s eyes was magical and ethereal and absolutely illegal.
Followed quickly by a third: Tony’s shirt was off.
And a heartbeat after that shocking revelation, the realization that Tony was settling himself next to Peter and pulling Peter onto his lap made Peter squeak a very high-pitched, embarrassing sound.
“Settle down, I’m not gonna hanky-panky bad touch you,” Tony grunted. “You need heat now.”
He wrapped his shirt- why had he taken off his shirt?!- around Peter’s torso and pulled Peter tightly to his -bare!- chest. “I- d-don’t-” stuttered Peter, half-heartedly, well aware that if he’d had any heat under his skin, it would be rising to his cheeks in a blush.
“You do,” corrected Tony, stretching his arm out and grabbing the nearest gauntlet from the armor pile. He re-tucked his shirt- which was still warm with his body heat- around Peter as he settled back, wrapping his arms around Peter to turn and twist the gauntlet in front of them.
“S-so cold,” Peter conceded, ducking his head, resting his cheek for just a moment against the warmth of the arc reactor. He was so tired.
“Yeah, you’re not room-temperature yet but you’re definitely not 98.6, champ,” Tony murmured. “Don’t worry, though, I’m on it.”
His arms jostled Peter’s body as he turned the gauntlet this way and that behind Peter’s head. Peter could hear the little grunting noises he made deep in his chest as he worked through how to access whatever materials he clearly thought could be repurposed for reinventing fire.
Outside their tiny, desk-blockaded shelter- which was nothing more than a exterior guardpost for the underground Hydra facility they’d demolished hours earlier- the winds continued to blow, rattling the desk from time to time with a sudden gust and tossing a rare quick spray of snowflakes to swirl around the small room.
Tony’s chest was warm, everywhere that Peter’s skin touched the other man’s.
“Hey, wait-” muttered Tony, and then he dropped the gauntlet and pulled Peter from his chest, eyes narrowed in calculation. A small needy noise escaped Peter’s lips before he could tighten them. “Your suit,” he accused, “is metallic polymer.”
“Y’h?” breathed Peter, through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to fight against Tony’s hold and burrow back against the man’s warmth. “Good thing, b’cause EMP d’dn’t hit it.”
“Right,” drawled Tony, still glaring down at him. “Good thing you’re wearing a metallic suit in the middle of sub-zero temperatures? There’s no insulative properties!”
“Nanobot suit w’s in the wash,” Peter quipped. “K’ren w’s makin’ adjust’ments,” he hissed, when Tony reared back, face twisted as if personally insulted.
“Well, while I’m glad you weren’t wearing the nanobots- I imagine the latest greatest EMP device would have done something similar to melting the damn thing off you leaving you naked- and isn’t that an image that’s going to haunt me at midnight- the last thing you need is to be wearing metal, Peter. C’mon, off, off!” he commanded, fingers rising to tug at the collar of Peter’s suit.
“Wha-?!” yelped Peter, hands rising to tangle with Tony’s questing fingers, pulling them away. “No, I- Tony! No!”
“You’re not sitting here freezing to death because I’ll see you in your underoos, kid,” Tony threatened.
“I- b-but, you won’t,” stuttered Peter, damning the trembles that overtook his body again. “S-see my underoos,” he added, as Tony continued to glare at him. “B-b’cause ‘m not wearing th’ undersuit.”
A long pause, as Tony’s face became completely expressionless, unreadable. “Why,” he drawled slowly, hands dropping to rest on either side of Peter’s torso, “aren’t you wearing your undersuit?”
Peter’s mind whirled through all of the possible responses until Tony spluttered, “The undersuit that has insulative properties, are you aware of how much you are killing me right now? Is that on your special tingling radar, the amount of disappointment radiating from me to you? If you were actually my intern I’d be taking your badge and assigning you to lab clean up and centrifuge alignment for a week!”
It wasn’t all that much of a shock, then, when Tony’s fingers flew back up to the neckline of the suit and for the fastening mechanism they’d both worked on months back, in the second iteration of the suit, unclasping it and beginning to peel the cold-stiffened fabric off of Peter’s clammy body.
“I am surrounded by ridiculous people, day in and day out,” muttered Tony, tugging and pulling the suit, shifting Peter’s limbs when he stared up at the other man, too cold and too shocked to actively participate. “Ridiculous people who are always trying to get themselves killed- and that’s another thing! Do you not realize I have enough people I need to save, on a daily basis?”
The words stung.
Tony’s hands- and the suit- were at Peter’s hips.
“Lift up, it’s all coming off,” muttered Tony.
“Tony- I-” whispered Peter, shaking his head violently.
“Peter, you’re frozen, you idiotic popsicle,” murmured Tony, in a voice that sounded thicker than normal. “I promise you don’t have anything I haven’t seen, I already said I’m not trying to hanky-panky bad touch you, okay? But you’re kind of scaring me, here. Arc reactor’s giving off blue light but I- your lips were already turning blue before my chest turned into a nightlight, okay?”
Peter nodded, and then tried to heave himself up onto his knees, half-straddling Tony’s legs. Tony’s hands helped him to lift and position himself, and then strayed to his shoulders. “C’mon, I know it’s awkward, champ,” said Tony in a falsely positive tone, “but you’re freezing. Take off the frozen tinfoil. Although, actual tinfoil would be ideal, we could wrap it around us and it would reflect the heat back…”
Tony’s voice seemed to come from a long way off, as Peter shifted his weight and peeled the suit off on leg, bending and contorting to slip the stiff material over his joints and then, refusing to look at Tony, he worked the other leg free, too.
“Is that suit fireproof?” asked Tony in a husky voice.
“Y-yessss,” hissed Peter.
“Good work surface,” commented Tony, and then he pulled Peter back into his lap, lifting Peter’s body entirely off of the ground and wrapping his shirt- now devoid of any of Tony’s body heat- around as much of Peter as he could.
“It’s a good thing you’re smaller than me,” Tony murmured into the silence, re-adjusting the way his shirt wrapped around Peter, tucking Peter’s legs closer to Peter’s chest, as Peter shivered miserably against his warmth again. “This would be impossible if you had four more inches on you.”
Peter nodded, feeling the warmth of the arc reactor press against skin again. This close to it, there was a very faint whirling hum, probably only audible to Peter. He felt his eyes drifting closed as he shivered in the safety of the other man’s warmth.
“I think we can probably fashion some kind of pants out of my undershirt,” mused Tony quietly. “Using the tools in my suit. Or a blanket. Something.”
“O-okay,” whispered Peter, staring at the dull gleam of the suit in the faint light of the reactor.
Tony’s hand came up to rest on his feet, to wrap around the toes, and Peter almost yelped at how warm it felt. “Let’s- worry about your extremities a little bit, now,” muttered Tony. “Now that we’ve got you wrapped up, mostly. My undershirt has all of the correct insulation indices.”
Peter nodded his head silently, huddling as close as he could to the other man and listening to the hum of the arc reactor.
“Here, I’ve got to- start on a heat source,” muttered Tony, letting go of Peter’s feet and shifting both of them, stripping off his socks and quickly sliding them up Peter’s feet, where they briefly glowed with warmth. “I know- once we can get an external source, we can heat the air faster, get these cinderblocks to store some excess environmental sheer, and then-”
He reached for the gauntlet again, bringing it up in front of him, shifting Peter to one side of the arc reactor to begin dismantling the gauntlet in the dim light. His arms jostled Peter in place as his hands twisted and pulled, ripping things from the gauntlet. “Should never have gotten rid of the manual mode,” Tony grunted. “Dumb decision. Mark 3, Mark 7, hell, anything but the latest six, I could have just- manual reset and jumped it. But I was so sure- dumb, dumb, dumb, to lose the connection to the arc reactor, route through alternative power source…”
“It wasn’t dumb,” Peter muttered.
“Anything that leaves me unable to access JARVIS? Is monumentally stupid, but thanks for trying to soften the blow to my ego, kid,” growled Tony, pulling out several small fans with a soft, “hah!” of satisfaction.
“Okay, I thought I had that count right, we’ll be fine. I just need to get this set up- I have all the pieces, just a different configuration,” muttered Tony, and then he fell silent, reaching around Peter’s body to grab more of his armor, dismantling it until the piles on one side was mismatched with careful rows of components on the left.
“Are you- a heater?” mumbled Peter, pulling Tony’s shirt tighter to his chest as Tony’s motion once again let in a small slide of cool air along his spine.
“Yeah, kid, a radiant heater would take too long, we need fans to blow the air past the element, but if we line’em up right we should get this place cooking in no time. Glad I still used nichrome wires in this suit, to be honest,” muttered Tony. “Great conductors, just gotta- strip- them, get them- all- in one place.”
His movements continued to jostle Peter on his lap, and the small pile of wires continued to grow as he tore through the parts of the suit.
“Okay, so, next,” breathed Tony, shifting the both of them.
Peter realized that while he was painfully cold still, he wasn’t shivering as hard.
He ducked his head and tilted it, angling himself so that he could watch as Tony’s competent and capable hand performed miracles.
“If you- wrap it around your gauntlet finger,” he suggested at one point, as Tony swore when the coil unfurled into a lazy loop of wire.
“Smart, kid, I forget sometimes you’re more than just a pretty face,” muttered Tony.
Peter shifted his weight in the man’s lap, careful to keep his precarious perch.
Tony said stuff like that, sometimes.
He knew, from the interviews, from the magazine covers, from the videos- Tony just said stuff like that. Called people sweetheart and beautiful absentmindedly. Flirted outrageously when it was most inappropriate.
But Peter was naked in his lap, at the moment, clinging to the man for his body heat, surrounded by the scent and sound and feel of Tony Stark, and it was hard to ignore that this exact moment was the culmination of most of his worst nightmares- and best fantasies.
“Almost- what do you think, genius, I’m going to need you to prop up the helmet here in a minute, think we can really get her cooking at this point…” murmured Tony.
Peter frowned at the wired-together miniature fans in their grid, at the complex coil-cube of the nichrome wires, springing up from the wire base like the frame of a spring mattress, minus the stuffing. “I think- are you going to put that inside your helmet?” he asked, horrified. “Tony, that helmet cost-”
“A lot less than the cost of your life, champ. It’s just money.” Peter felt the man’s muscles shift as he shrugged.
Another cold gust of wind shook the desk, snowflakes fluttering into the small space. Peter shivered.
“Yeah,” breathed Tony. “Not much longer, gonna get you nice and warmed up.”
He wasn’t warm where his skin rested against Tony’s bulk, but he was- less fiercely cold.
“Okay, sorry, throw that shirt on so you can spin around, hold the helmet, while I quick-” directed Tony.
Clenching his teeth together, Peter pulled back from Tony’s skin and quickly slid into the shirt, turning in the man’s lap to face their project.
Tony was taking apart a small missile, stripping it back to the explosive charge. “Okay, we’ve got about seven seconds to do the welding, but this will get plenty hot,” he declared confidently. “And I’ve got two dozen of them left, give or take. With this design, maybe ten welds to get it functioning, and then we can hook it up.”
“This design?” asked Peter, beginning to shiver away from the immediate warmth of Tony’s body sheltering him.
“Yeah, I discarded one through twelve- too inefficient, too many welds. We need speed,” Tony said. “My hands are starting to shake.”
“You’re cold too,” Peter realized.
“Of course I am,” Tony said. “But I’m warmer than you right now. And I’m about to fix it, so just- don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
Peter held the helmet tightly as Tony directed him, when Tony asked, trying his best not to shiver and shake as the other man quickly created microcharges from the dismantled miniature warheads. Tony’s arms were warm where they wrapped around his torso, Tony’s breath felt hot against his cheek, his chin scorching Peter’s shoulder where it rested. He was so warm.
“There- there, okay, now to- flashbang,” muttered Tony, dripping the reagent on the first weld. The small bright flare of light flickered several times in quick succession, Tony’s grunt of satisfaction Peter’s first clue that the man’s plan was working.
“There! Got it, yesss,” breathed Tony in his ear, scootching them forward. “Okay, lean forward, gonna hook ‘em up to the powersource, and then-”
Peter realized the arc reactor was meant to power the small heater Tony had just built out of spare parts.
“Would have been so much easier to just- light some shit on fire- but can’t smoke us out,” muttered Tony into his shoulder, “c’mon, let’s see if I’m still a genius today, champ, lean forward, let me hook this up-”
Peter’s teeth began to chatter as he pulled away from the man’s heat again, and he clenched them tightly to prevent the noise from distracting Tony.
It took forever, Tony’s motions jostling him, until there was a huff of excited air behind him, a little hum of satisfaction, and the fans welded to the helmet’s open faceplate began to hum, the coils inside beginning to glow.
“There. I think, if I calculated the volume correctly, roughly an hour until this place is retaining its own heat,” muttered Tony in satisfaction, pulling Peter back to him and wrapping Peter in his warmth again.
Peter was so tired. He nodded.
“Once it’s warm enough, I’ll go block up the door with suit pieces,” Tony muttered against the back of Peter’s neck. “We have to have air exchange, but I can probably- convert the arms and legs- create heat sink channels…”
“Sure,” whispered Peter, because it seemed important to respond somehow.
“And then- we can work on getting JARVIS online again,” murmured Tony. “Getting out of here.”
“Right,” sighed Peter. “Yes.”
Silence fell. Peter could hear Tony furiously thinking, could tell the man was calculating by the small jerks of his fingertips where they held Peter closely.
He could also feel the hot air from the fans caressing his left thigh.
It was working.
“Get it hot in here, unhook to do some work, get it hot again, it’ll be like in that damn desert cave, hooked up to the fucking battery again…” muttered Tony at one point.
Peter made a small noise of inquiry when Tony fell silent, too tired to really think through what words to use in response.
Tony shifted underneath him, around him, chin digging into Peter’s shoulder for a moment. “Nothing. I should know better than bring it up, the similarities are just going to make it harder for me.”
Peter hummed agreement, shocked at how warm the air from the helmet was beginning to feel against his thigh.
“Hoo baby, Daddy’s cooking with fire,” muttered Tony, reaching out to adjust the helmet. “Yeah, an hour, tops. Maybe less.”
An hour sounded really good to Peter. Really good. Tony was so warm, and now the air coming from the helmet was warm, too.
“Here, shift, put your feet in that direction,” ordered Tony, manhandling Peter’s limbs and torso until Peter was facing the fan, head on Tony’s shoulder, toes mere centimeters from the helmet. “There you go,” he murmured into Peter’s curls.
Time began to stretch into a strange, half-asleep daze as the warmth built and built- the warmth of Tony’s body beneath him and the heater in front of him. He was so tired, so mind-numbingly exhausted.
Dreams began to slide in beside the reality he knew to be true- Tony whispering things like, I almost lost you and take this any way I can get it. Soft kisses of lips to the side of his head. Gentle hands pulling the socks up, tugging the shirt down.
Finally, everything was warm enough that he felt the last of his locked-tight muscles relax, and he slumped, giving in to the dreams.
~~~
When he woke, he was draped like a blanket over the man, both of them stretched out on the floor of the small room, the heater shifted to the center of the room.
Tony mumbled something in his sleep as Peter lifted his head, and then Peter saw the gleam of his eyes opening in the combined glow of the arc reactor and the heater’s red coils.
“You fell asleep, thought I’d join you,” said Tony, his voice rough and raspy.
“I’m crushing you,” Peter muttered, trying to roll off of the man.
Tony’s hands lifted, wrapped around him. “Nah, keeps you off the concrete. ‘M good. Firm surface is good for my back.”
Okay, thought Peter, trying to sort through the dreams he’d had just before falling asleep.
The problem was that everything felt- slightly unreal.
The warmth of the heater wafting soft and gentle heat against the bare skin on his lower body. The feel of Tony’s bulk underneath him, muscle and bone and flesh.
“I should-” he tried, realizing that this position was about to get very uncomfortable for both of them as his body began to respond to his thoughts about Tony’s body.
“No, you shouldn’t,” murmured Tony, hands tightening, hips lifting a little as he shifted under Peter. “You’re good, right here,” he added in a husky voice.
Peter’s mouth went dry as Tony’s hands slid down his back and rested just above the swell of his ass, at the very edge of the shirt. He could feel the other man’s sleep-stiffened cock pressing up against Peter’s body.
“Go back to sleep,” suggested Tony, shifting again.
Peter couldn’t breathe, not with Tony’s hands there, not with the man’s musky scent thick in this small space. Not with his bare ass hanging out, his legs tangled with Tony’s so that only his knees kissed the floor.
Not with the suggestion that some part of Tony was enjoying Peter’s pliant body draped above him like a living blanket.
“C’mon, kid, sleep,” urged Tony, his thumbs sliding up and down in gentle rubbing motions on Peter’s back. “We’ll solve our problems when we wake up, but we’re beat.”
Peter took a shaky breath and pleaded, “Please- stop- doing that, Tony.”
Tony froze. “Doing what?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Touching me,” whispered Peter.
“I’m sorry-” began Tony, his hands lifting.
Peter drew a deep breath. “Unless you’re going to touch me,” he whispered, and then he closed his eyes tight.
“That- would be a bad idea,” muttered Tony, but his hands settled, a soft suggestion, back in their previous position.
“This mission was a bad idea,” mumbled Peter. “Building a base in the Arctic Circle was a bad idea. Not wearing a parka- bad idea.”
Tony huffed a laugh at the last one, his hands pressing a little, thumbs returning to their gentle circling, lifting up the edge of his shirt and gliding on the skin underneath.
Peter breathed, and then continued in a rushed stammer of words, “Not packing handwarmers- bad idea. Not telling everyone where we were headed- bad idea. Taking out the base without a plan for the toxic gasses we’d have to trap inside- bad idea.”
“That last one-” muttered Tony, hips lifting as he shifted them again, hands sliding heavily up Peter’s back and back down, mouth pressed to the collarbone exposed by the shirt slipping with the move, “-was not predictable. Can’t be a bad idea if you can’t predict it.”
Peter drew back, looking down at Tony’s deeply shadowed face in the twin lights of the arc reactor and cobbled-together heater. “You predicted this?” he asked, his own voice low and rough.
Tony’s mouth quirked in a small grin. “Maybe not this exactly, but I’m fairly irresistible.”
Peter rolled his eyes.
“And you’ve been a temptation for- a long time,” admitted Tony, his hands trailing up and down Peter’s back, smooth spirals of sensation, fingertips gentling along the arch of Peter’s spine.
“Have I?” breathed Peter, leaning down with aching slowness.
“Yes,” murmured Tony, staring up into Peter’s dark eyes, searching Peter’s face for who-knew-what, and smiling at whatever he found there. He surged upward and pressed his lips to Peter’s, making Peter moan.
The warm glow from the heater hid the sudden flush of warmth that spread everywhere along Peter’s body as the kiss continued, deepened, became a needy, greedy thing full of want and sharp desires.
“Waited for you-” Tony whispered, before diving back in.
“Shouldn’t have,” Peter scolded in return, pressing his cock against the warmth of Tony’s body, rubbing skin-to-skin against Tony’s stomach.
“Bad decision?” teased Tony, pulling his hands back to pillow his head, looking up at Peter with a cocky grin.
“The worst,” agreed Peter, unable to hide his own glee as he dipped down, kissing the other man with as much pent-up anxious craving as he could communicate with lips and tongue and, when Tony made a very turned-on growl, teeth.
“I fucking love the Arctic Circle,” groaned Tony, his hands lifting to press on Peter’s chest, push him back, sitting up.
“No lube in the Arctic Circle,” panted Peter, shooting him a grin. “Unless you’ve got some in the suit-?”
What. It was a possibility.
Tony dashed his hopes by barking out a laugh. “No. I guess we’ll have to- save that for the homecoming victory lap,” he sighed, shaking his head.
Peter’s breath caught in his throat. “Not just- not just the Arctic Circle?” he choked out.
Tony’s hands flew up to cup his face, his eyes darkening with unnamed emotions. “No. I’m not-” he pulled Peter closer and closer, until their faces were inches apart, “ever- going to let my new favorite bedwarmer warm up any other beds. Besides mine. And it’s going to need nightly warming.”
Peter licked his lips and then whispered, “Okay. Deal.”
“Bad decision,” Tony said, darting forward to kiss Peter again, his teeth clamping on Peter’s lower lip as he growled, “But no take-backs.”
“I won’t,” Peter promised him rashly, several minutes later. “I won’t take it back,” he clarified as Tony froze again, hand reaching for Peter’s cock. “I’ve- wanted this- for awhile.”
“Obviously, have you met me?” quipped Tony, but his eyes said something else entirely as his hand wrapped around Peter’s flesh and he began to stroke.
Peter gasped out a choked laugh as the sensation overwhelmed him, hands ripping at the edge of Tony’s pants frantically, to free the man’s cock to his own frantic fingers. Tony tossed his head and shifted underneath him as if he couldn’t help his upward thrusts.
Peter grinned and then gasped as Tony shifted one more time, pulling Peter close enough that he could wrap his fist around both of them, stroking them and pulling groans from both men in perfect sync.
“God- you-” gasped Peter. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’ll- please! Don’t stop.”
“Never,” swore Tony fervently. “Never going to. Will do anything, everything you need- never stop.”
Peter panted, sweat starting to collect at his temples and to slide down his spine, every nerve in his body feeling as though it was a red-hot as the wires coiled inside the helmet. “Need you,” he gasped, thrusting forward into the heat of Tony’s hand.
“I know,” chuckled Tony, before groaning and leaning forward to give Peter a series of sloppy kisses, the raw need in them making Peter dizzy.
He felt a slow pool of heat building under his skin, deep within, and began to tremble.
“That’s it, that’s it,” coaxed Tony, kissing his cheek, his chin, biting at his lips. “C’mon, c’mon,” he encouraged, thrusting up against Peter’s dick, both of them sliding into the warm grip of Tony’s hand.
“Tony- Tony-” gasped Peter, shocked, as white fire burned through him, stealing all of the air from his lungs and making his back arch.
Tony continued for a stroke- two- and then choked out a muffled- “Peter-” before biting down on the soft skin of Peter’s collarbone, his mouth all hot heat and burning desire.
When Tony pulled back with a shaky laugh, Peter couldn’t help the grin that slid over his own face.
“Why does this feel like more of a victory than taking out the whole damn Hydra base?” laughed Tony, shaking his head as if amazed.
“Woooo, we won,” teased Peter, leaning forward to capture Tony’s lips in a kiss.
“Well, I did,” argued Tony into the kiss, a few heartbeats later.
Peter grinned. “No, me,” he countered, shifting closer, feeling the man’s arms wrap around him as he let his lips and tongue and teeth explain his point. “I won.”
“That thing- you do-” gasped Tony, “with your tongue-”
“Told you I won,” breathed Peter, and dove back in, chasing the heat of Tony’s tongue against his own.
~~~
Tony stirred as Peter sat back, staring at the final product of the last hour of work in satisfaction. “Whatcha doin’?” mumbled the other man.
“Here, kick start it,” Peter demanded, passing Tony two wires.
“Did you-”
“Fixed my suit,” Peter said, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. “We won’t be able to get JARVIS but we can get KAREN.”
“You little shit,” praised Tony, connecting the wires.
Peter beamed down at him as the suit’s eyes flashed twice and then began to glow dimly.
“Peter?” asked KAREN.
“KAREN, light up the Help Me Save Me beacon,” Peter told her, as Tony sat up, shaking his head.
“On it, boss,” said KAREN smartly.
Tony huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered.
“You would have,” said Peter confidently, unable to keep the smile off of his face. “You’re so much more than just a pretty face.”
“You little shit,” repeated Tony, chuckling at his own words thrown back at him. He stretched and then looked at the glowing eyes of Peter’s mask. “Hey, KAREN, what’s the ETA on the rescue crew?”
“Approximately four hours,” reported KAREN.
“Plenty of time,” Tony declared.
“For what?” asked Peter suspiciously.
“Is it hot in here?” asked Tony, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt where it rested against Peter’s thighs. “I feel like it’s kinda warm, don’t you think? Don’t you feel overdressed?”
“Tony,” laughed Peter, shaking his head.
“What? I’m just saying. Cat’s out the bag, avalanche is down the mountain, we’ll never have this outpost again,” teased Tony, pulling Peter closer with a tug of his hands and the twinkle in his eyes.
“Will you still kiss me when we have access to central heating?” breathed Peter, his heart hitching just a little at the look in Tony’s eyes.
“Baby, I’ll kiss you on a tropical island at noon,” Tony promised him with a leering grin. “My tropical island. Tomorrow noon.”
“And the day after?” asked Peter, half-joking and half-terrified, heart hammering in his chest.
“Sounds like a bad idea,” Tony murmured, their lips inches from each other, the heat of his breath caressing the skin of Peter’s face as it passed. “I’m in.”