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Peter let his head fall against the window, his gaze looking out at the gray streets. He curled up in his spot, both legs coming up to wrap his arms around his knees. He let out a long sigh, shifting the seatbelt into a more comfortable position against his chest.
A powerful wind was blowing outside, and Peter couldn't help the shiver running through his body at the cold that crept into the cab from the open door of the front seat. Happy went out for something— Peter had completely missed what it was, far too exhausted to pay enough attention, but obeyed the order to stay in the car.
The wind picked up, and a terribly cold draft blew through the car. Peter winced, his hands coming to rest between his bent knees to keep his progressively freezing fingers warm. He cursed himself for not dressing in something warmer in weather like that, knowing full well that there wasn't a chance it would end well for him. Happy scolded him for it, too, but Peter had been hoping that he would be fine with what he had, considering that they would be staying in the car the whole way.
Once Tony had discovered that the spider genome in his body had grown enough to reach the count of multiple whole-number percentages of Peter's total genome, he insisted that Peter take several different tests to see just how much, exactly, the arachnid part of him was affecting his bodily function besides the superficial aspects Peter had already noticed. Tony took days inspecting the tubes of Peter's blood and researching both arachnid and human biology and eventually left the labs with multiple pages of reports.
So while they were certain that Peter's body hadn't completely lost the ability to produce its own heat, it still had certainly suffered great damage in aspects related to thermoregulation that reflected on the way his body perceived the temperature input from outside.
So, in short, while he hadn't lost the ability to thermoregulate, Peter was still more vulnerable to changes in weather than a regular human should be.
It was a problem, and now Peter sat in the backseat of Happy's car, cursing both himself for forgetting to bring an extra coat in the cab with him instead of leaving it in his bag in the car's trunk and Happy for forgetting to close the door behind him. Peter pouted.
He knew that he should simply crawl towards the damn door and just close it— no harm would be done. But that also meant leaving his current position and actually moving, and that task felt like more of a burden than simply waiting for Hogan to return from whatever mission he'd taken up.
So he resumed his position, stubbornly curled up against the car seat and pouting, indignation scratching at him from inside.
His resolution was failing him rather quickly, and Peter was growing more and more frustrated with the open door, enough so that the desire to get the cursed door closed prevailed over the desire to keep still, before he heard a pair of footsteps and familiar voices growing louder the closer they got to the car. He turned his head to see Happy— with Tony at his side, fully clad in a suit and with a bag in his hand— approaching them from a building Peter now recognised as the Stark Tower. Huh.
Peter perked up when Tony noticed him looking out of the window, waving a hand at him with a wide grin on his features. Peter smiled and waved back, sitting up straighter in his seat. He followed the two with his gaze, watching as they walked around the car and into their respective spots. Tony, he noticed with a touch of glee, went to sit with him in the backseat.
Happy climbed into the car first, cursing under his breath at the obvious chill that settled in the cab while he was away. Tony climbed in right after him, and Peter's entire body shook when the man pulled the car door on the opposite side from Peter wide open, letting the flow of cold wind hit him head-on.
"Hey, Pete. How are— oh!"
Peter quickly unbelted himself from his spot, crawling towards Tony to tug him into the cab by the collar of his suit jacket. The man took the hint, promptly climbing in to sit down— laughing all the while— and Peter let a relieved sigh escape him once the door finally clicked shut behind him.
Peter fell against Tony's side as soon as the man put the seatbelt on, curling in towards the heat of the man's body, and smiled when his hand reached up, gently ruffling Peter's hair. Tony let his arm fall around Peter's shoulders and pulled him closer.
"Yeah, I missed you too, kid," Tony said, chuckling to himself, and then clicked his tongue. "Jeez, you're cold. Why is it so cold in here? Hap, turn up the heater."
Grumbling, but not protesting, Hogan did as asked. Peter hummed.
"Gimme a sec, kid." Tony reached towards the bag he laid on the car floor, quickly unzipping it and pulling out a certain sweater— Peter's sweater, which meant that Happy had tattled on him already, the traitor. He handed it to Peter, and the boy took it from his hands with a quiet 'thank you’. “Put it on and crawl back there."
So Peter did, pulling on the still-warmed cloth over his head and settling right at the car window, seatbelt back in place. Tony crawled up after him, settling in the middle seat. He lifted his arm and beckoned Peter to himself— and the boy promptly slumped against the man's side again, as close as the seatbelt would let him.
Another shiver ran through Peter's body, and Tony dropped his arm around him. His hand settled in Peter's hair, ruffling it up and brushing through the soft locks with his fingers. Peter hummed pleasantly, closing his eyes.
"Tired?"
"Yeah."
"How come? I checked your suit logs; you came home on time. Wanna share with the class?"
"I was excited," Peter waved his hand. "So I decided to finish all my homework yesterday. So that, you know, I could be free all weekend."
"Ah. Of course." Tony hummed. "Get some sleep while you can, then. It's a long way to the compound."
"Okay. Wake me up when we get to May's."
"Of course."
Tony ruffled his hair once more, and Peter pushed his nose into the man's collar— radiating warmth and with the soft fabric of his clothes making for a wonderful pillow. Tony shifted them, looking for a more comfortable position to lean against the backrest, all the while continuing to stroke the boy's hair.
And as soon as Tony was certain that Peter had finally fallen asleep, his breathing even and posture relaxed where he lay under Tony's arm, he turned to fix their driver with a glare in the rearview mirror. He could see the fond, almost smug smirk that he fancied, and couldn't quite keep his mouth shut.
"I don't want a single word out of you, Hogan," he drawled. "I can still fire you."
"I didn't say anything— and I think it's pretty telling that you knew exactly what I was thinking about, though." The man had the nerve to laugh. "And you wouldn't dare fire me."
"Oh? Are you sure? I can. Why wouldn't I?"
"Your kid would be sad, that's why."
"He's not—" Tony cut himself off, resignation and silent acceptance flooding his chest at once, because, as if to prove a point, Peter snored at his side in that moment— no longer shivering from the chilly air that settled in the car earlier. Tony brushed at his hair. "Oh, go to hell, Hap."
With a put-on sigh of annoyance, Tony pressed the button to close the partition between them, successfully cutting off the amused laughter coming from the driver's seat.