Work Text:
An extra strong blast of wind nearly plasters Peter against the window of his apartment. Balancing precariously on the windowsill, he struggles with the old window. Trying his darndest to not break it. The chances of the window getting replaced were pretty much nil and New York was extremely cold right now with a cold snap.
Snowflakes swirled and danced in front of his goggles. Covering him in a fine powder that was turning his suit white. The cold wind that was still threatening to fling him off his perch pierces even through his multiple layers. Chilling him to the bone. Muttering under his breath, Peter adjusts his grip and starts tugging.
Finally, finally, right as his fingers were starting to go numb with cold. The old window pops open. Peter tumbles into his dark apartment with a push from the wind. Turning he fights to close the window. Snow follows him inside and settles to melt on his wood floors. As he wrestles the window shut, Peter lets out a sigh of relief. Shoulders slumping, he rolls his neck to relieve the tension of a long and cold patrol.
Silent as a shadow, he glides through the apartment. Shedding his Spider-man costume as he goes, into a cold, wet bundle. Digging out clean clothes from a pile that had been dumped onto the couch, he slips into his tiny bathroom. Peter dumps his wet gear into the tub to take care of later and slips into the clean clothes.
Despite the amazing feeling of dry clothes, Peter still couldn’t stop a shiver. Goosebumps ran up and down his arm and he rubs them in a futile attempt to warm up a bit. Quickly he slips from the bathroom and makes a beeline for his bedroom. As he enters the rooms, his eyes set on the softly snoring lump already curled under the blankets.
Without a beat of hesitation, Peter dives under the blankets. Latching onto the lump and pulling it close to his chest. Instantly feeling warmth seep into him.
“Mmmf, Pete you’re cold!” Patrick complains sleepily, wriggling in Peter’s grip.
Peter ignores his partner’s squirming and holds Patrick even tighter. Pressing icy cold kisses against Patrick’s scruffy cheeks. “It’s cold outside doll, I need some help warming up.”
“I jus’ got warmed up sagehen,” Patrick whines. He falls limp in Peter’s grip, grumbling under his breath. Patrick’s own earth was even colder than New York right now. It felt like being punched in the lungs by air the one time Peter had been brave enough to venture over there to spend the night with Patrick. Why his idiot boyfriend hadn’t migrated south yet was the real mystery that Peter has yet to solve.
Peter only laughs and presses more kisses into Patrick’s cheek. His cantankerous grumbling only grows louder. Deciding to finally top torturing his partner, Peter settles down. Tucking his chin over Patrick’s shoulder. He listens as Patrick grows silent except for a soft snoring.
Sleepily, Peter presses one more kiss to Patrick’s neck. Drifting off into sleep himself.