Spooktober 18: Soaked
It was a quiet afternoon, and the October rain was pouring heavily against the windows of the restaurant with a symphony of dull clinks.
It all started because Peter had gotten out of school early, something about teachers having a day off for grading or... whatever. Tony hadn't really been paying attention to the reasoning, he was too busy being reassured by the fact that no, Peter was not out of school early because he snuck out of class to fight crime.
Nevertheless, Tony had also been in the city for some meetings, all of which had wrapped up by the time Peter's call came through. So, because the stars had aligned, he told Happy to drop him off at Midtown Tech.
They had walked to the diner— Peter had insisted on it. By some stroke of insanity, Tony had even let himself be convinced to take the subway...
("It'll be fun!" He said, a hopeful grin plastered across his face that made Tony know with a begrudging certitude that he wouldn't be taking his very nice car. "You can get to know the city, from like, you know... my eyes, or whatever.")
So they got to the rough little diner that smelled thick of grease and salt, shoved themselves into a booth. They ordered their meals, which consisted of three cheeseburgers (two for Peter, he was a growing teenager with superpowers and the metabolism of an Olympian) and extra fries split between the two of them.
...Of course, two hours ago, the weather hadn't been quite so dreary, more just an expansive greyness across the sky and a crisp coolness in the air that was pretty common for the season. If Tony knew it was going to rain, he would have let his logic win over Peter's puppy dog eyes.
Now; the abundance of aggressive rain outside had been increasingly harder to ignore as they finished eating Tony and Peter finished meals.
"It's not letting up," Tony said, nodding over to the rain. He wiped the salt away on some cheap paper napkins, and gave up a moment later to brush them off on his jeans. "Don't reckon you got an umbrella hidden in your backpack?"
Peter shook his head, his eyes trained intensely on a dribble of blue cheese from his second burger that he was trying to drizzle onto a fry. After he succeeded, he shoved the fry into his mouth and looked up at Tony. "I have my jacket."
"Hm."
The kid's jacket was bundled under a sweater, but Tony knew that he would probably still be cold. It was always harder for him in these months, he learned, because spiders had a harder time thermoregulating and more or less just decided to shut down. Peter was less likely to be affected by that fun little function, but he was still generally prone to getting chillier, and nobody liked to see their kid shivering.
"I'll call Happy," Tony said, making up his mind. He dug his hand into his pocket.
"What? No, that's silly. Let's just walk back," Peter offered, raising his eyebrows and smiling lightly. "We'll go quick. The subway station is just a few blocks away, it's only a little rain."
Tony narrowed his eyes, mulling the option over.
"Please?" Peter asked.
This kid is gonna be the death of him. He sighed with defeat.
"Alright," Tony rubbed his hands together and instead pulled out his wallet. "We'll walk. But you're wearing my jacket, and you're not going to complain about it."
Peter opened his mouth, closed it, and rolled his eyes. The lack of argument meant he accepted the compromise, but he still looked chagrined that he now had to take Tony's coat in addition to his own.
He paid for their meal, then shucked off his jacket and handed it over to Peter while they stood at the front door.
Peter stared at it, but Tony was unblinking as he stared back, eyebrows raised and daring him to say something. Peter did not. He shoved the jacket on.
"You're gonna be cold, now," Peter whined, opening the front door.
"I'm not gonna be cold," Tony scoffed. He walked out of the restaurant, and immediately ate his words. The rain was freezing, and didn't hesitate to drown his hair and clothes in water.
He purposely kept his mouth shut about this, trying to look as natural as he possibly could.
"Alright!" Tony said quickly, nudging Peter along the sidewalk. "Go to the subway! Lead the way, why are you dawdling?"
"I'm not dawdling," Peter laughed, picking his feet up and walking faster. He gave him a side-eye. "You're totally cold, aren't you?"
Tony physically repressed shivers. "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"
"You're such a liar."
For good reason, Tony thought knowingly. Admitting he was cold meant he was getting his coat back, and then the kid would be cold. Simply put, admitting he was cold wasn't an option. Sometimes lying was okay, especially if you were a pa—
"We're here," Peter announced, interrupting him from his thoughts. He walked down the subway stairs. "Out of the rain and all that. You—"
Peter glanced over at him and stopped, stifling laughter.
In his mind's eye, Tony looked very akin to a drowned cat. Vaguely grumpy, drenched in water, stubbornly staring down anyone looking judgmentally at him.
"You're—" Peter barked a laugh. "Mr. Stark, you're soaked. Like actually."
"Should've brought an umbrella next time," Tony said, crossing his arms blankly. He stepped onto the subway, ignoring the squeaking of his shoes and the squelching of his socks.
He let himself smile at Peter's unrestrained giggles, and then pulled the kid into a tight hug that smelled of rainwater and damp cotton.
"Gah, Mr. Stark," Peter laughed. "This isn't gonna help either of us—"
Tony hid his smile in Peter's hair. "I beg to differ, Parker. I'm starting to feel better already."
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