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New York City had its perks and its unfortunate side. As much as New Yorkers loved to complain about the cold, garbage, and rent (especially Hawkeye), there was a certain fond for snow days. Maybe it was because they were so rare and were proof that the world was still normal outside of everything that suggested otherwise, but for the Avengers snow days were a time of fun and embracing the humanity within them.
Which was saying a lot for the Red Room’s best Black Widow, a man literally out of time, Thor, an incredible man with breathtaking anger issues, a genius, billionaire, genius all in one, New York’s most iconic archer, two twins; one fast and the other weird, everyone’s favorite neighborhood Spider-Man, an emo version of the man out of time, and everyone’s favorite red robot.
So, come the day of fuzzy flakes dancing their way onto New York’s skyscrapers, apartment complexes, cars, people, and any viable surface possible, the Avengers were more than ecstatic to take advantage of the snow.
Before Bucky Barnes could dare Peter to jump off the balcony to see who was faster without a parachute, Steve and Tony stood in their way, reminding the two that even Avengers needed to dress warmly.
“But that’s dressing ugly,” retorted Bucky in Russian.
Natasha laughed, “You’ll be uglier when you’re sick in bed complaining about a runny nose.”
“I’m the goddamn Winter Soldier,” mumbled Bucky, taking the three sweaters, fluffy socks, and red hat, scarf, and gloves from Steve and putting on the layers.
“C’mon bud,” nudged Tony, helping Peter get through four layers of sweater plus a warmer than average t-shirt underneath and doubling his sweatpants to prevent the cold from biting his skin. “You know how you get after a few hours of being cold.” Once ensuring that Peter was dressed warmly enough, the father doused himself in five layers of sweaters.
Once everyone was dressed to Steve’s content, the Avengers all but threw themselves out the main window onto a five-foot pile of snow.
“You know,” said Clint, twirling an arrow designed for this occasion, “they should put this in the musical.”
Natasha pushed him off the ledge.
“NATALIA ALIONOVA ROMANOV!”
Peter raised a brow, “Natalia, spider mama? Has my life been a lie?”
Natasha shook her head, red wisps of hair catching snowflakes, “No, but my life used to be one. Besides, Natasha has a better ring to it. Race you to the bottom?”
Peter grinned, “Ten bucks that Bucky’s going to belly-flop?”
Natasha raised her chin, “If he does, you’ll get ten bucks and he’ll be revoked from using the Winter Soldier as an excuse for anything.”
“In that case,” chided Clint from the ground who sounded like he swallowed a mouthful of snow, “let’s hope he fails.”
“Shut up, Clint,” shouted Bucky.
“Now!”
Peter let out a giddy scream all the way down, falling in tune with his father who used his gauntlets to control his fall.
Peter landed smoothly on his feet while Tony landed in a classic Iron Man pose. Natasha posed her way to the ground while Bucky belly-flopped onto the snow.
Laughing so hard, Peter nearly fell over, kicking more snow at Bucky in tune to a pair of warm arms catching him.
“I got you, bud,” his father reassured. Gloved hands eased Peter back into a standing position, remaining by the brunet’s side until Peter confirmed that he was alright.
“I’m good,” the doe-eyed boy promised with a smile. As Tony turned to snap a picture of Bucky, an idea overcame the younger Stark.
Faintly smirking while bending his arm down to cup snow, Peter spoke, “You know what would make this even better?
“What?” replied Tony with crossed arms. His black brows were raised slightly as he attempted to read through his son’s antics to figure out what he was up to. After all, he was Tony Stark; he could see most things coming. He could design the perfect armor, know when his kid was sad, upset, happy, and knew what Peter needed without the teenager having to ask, plus could calculate the necessary calculation of probability to see most things coming. Not only that, but he also had tendencies to overreact and think as a product of having anxiety, but as everyone knew, was a literal genius with seven PhDs.
As great as the man was, unfortunately, he did not see the snowball heading straight for his face.
Even better, or worse for him, the throw was a direct hit.
Peter snickered, cheeks reddening with flush tenfold as Tony frowned and wiped a gloved hand down his face, causing all the snow to collect on his goatee.
“Oh yeah?” replied Tony once he could clear his eyes from snow. He reached down and chucked a snowball at Peter, who got hit.
Giggling, Peter returned the favor. Not that the man was able to expect it, he lazily dodged the attack so all snow streaked was his sweatpants.
“Take that!” Tony threw a ball straight for Peter’s chest who back-flipped, and the snow was instead directed toward Steve.
As the sixteen-year-old landed, he was scooped up by his favorite person who pressed him to his chest before throwing the chocolate-eyed boy into a mountain of fresh snow.
With a yelp unlike Spider-Man, the teenager got stuck upon landing on the snow. “Not fair, dad!” he shouted, flailing his arms and legs in an attempt to free himself. When his effort proved futile, he weakly kicked snow at his father.
It was Tony’s turn to laugh. “Is that so? Well kid, you know what they say. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”
Peter snorted, fisting a handful of snow and chucking it at the genius’s hair. “And what do they say about snow?”
“Let me think,” plaused Tony, ducking, “ah yes, don’t throw snow at your elders.” He stuck out his tongue since he missed Peter’s attack.
“Very professional for a fifty-year-old,” cackled Peter as he managed to free himself and threw a mountain of snow at Tony.
Tony gasped. Raising a finger, he chided despite the amused smirk on his face, “Don’t you dare say the f word. Steven!” He hollered, “Peter said the f word!”
Steve, with his hands on his hips, raised a brow, “Peter Stark? The most innocent child in the world? The one who is about to throw snow at your butt, Peter?” Chuckling, he retorted, “How ever could that be?”
Tony turned just in time to catch Peter mid-crime.
Peter shook his head and in tune to Vision, “Snitches end up in ditches, Steven!”
Luckily, behind Tony, Bucky pelted a dangerously accurate snowball at the back of Tony’s head, and when the man turned to see who dared to commit such a crime, Peter kicked snow at him.
“Playing dirty?” quipped Tony as Peter started laughing, cheeks scrunching up from the irony of it all, and then doubling over from the pun. Tony ran into him, grabbing his legs before the boy’s spidey senses could pick up on it, and launching themselves onto an untouched pile of snow.
“Aye!” shouted Thor, “that was my snow pile!” Raising a hand, he commanded, “Another!” A fresh wave of snow landed atop the Stark’s bodies. “Much better,” he chimed before hurtling an armful of snow at Bruce who looked more like a marshmallow than human.
“Come on you green marshmallow, we must party for the skies have turned white and left us a present!”
Bruce turned a faint shade of green, which Tony used as an opportunity to kick Thor with snow
Peter laughed at Bruce’s face, turning to Thor, “You know, if you helped us out of this pile, you could throw all of this snow at him.”
“Good idea, Son of Stark Man of Spiders!”
Still holding onto Peter, Tony’s legs were pulled by Thor and the two were flung into a neighboring pile of snow while Thor threw the entire three foot high and wide pile of snow straight for Bruce.
He was immediately assaulted by the Hulk, but it was a pretty funny sight to see for the Avengers and those passing by the Avengers Tower backyard.
“Best snow day ever,” whispered Peter before groaning from once again being under a pile of snow.
Red tendrils of energy lifted both Starks out of the pile and onto the ground. “You know,” shouted his hero in his darkest hour, “I could use some help in taking my brother down.”
Peter joined Wanda’s side while Tony raced up to tackle Steve to the ground with Natasha’s help.
“This really ought to be in the musical.”
Unanimously, the new target became Clint.