Chapter Text
Tony is tired. So tired he's been staring dazedly at the Christmas tree for the last five minutes instead of watching Frozen 2, which Morgan insists is a Christmas movie.
It's a content kind of tired, at least—a rich meal satiating his stomach, surrounded by loved ones—all the signs of a day well spent. A day off that feels so, so earned.
You only save the universe once, after all.
(God willing.)
It’s also been that special combination of hectic that hosting a party tends to be. It’s not one of the ragers from his youth by any means, but it’s still a large gathering of Avengers and their extended family all in the Stark household, so chaos wasn’t exactly unexpected.
Sam and Bucky are currently a large part of the noise in particular, standing in the kitchen, getting thirds of Pepper’s fudge brownies, and bickering about how the white elephant gift exchange was rigged. (Which it totally was, courtesy of Morgan, with Tony’s full permission. She wanted Steve, who spoils her rotten and who she correctly predicted would give her the best of the purposefully bad gifts.)
Speaking of Steve, he’s talking quietly with Peter and Wanda at one end of the dining room table, pulling out pictures from his wallet and telling stories like the old man that he now appears to be.
Bruce, Pepper, Rhodey, and May are grouped together at the other end of the table, playing Heads Up and seemingly having mixed results from the mix of disappointed groans and excited cheers that rise up from their side of the room every now and then.
The Barton clan has grouped up outside to see Gerald, all of the kids bundled up watching Clint’s youngest feed the alpaca leftovers. Tony offered to handle the alpaca for them, but Clint waved him off with a vague comment about training elephants in the circus and Tony genuinely doesn’t know the validity of that enough to argue with him.
Happy is asleep on the couch, a general sign that all's right with the world. It would have to be to convince him to go off duty in such a large crowd of people.
Tony’s still recovering from the excitement of it all himself, clearly, hence the looking off into nothing while flopped into his own chair.
Morgan is on the floor by his feet, still captivated by the animated movie and clutching her newest Christmas gift to her chest. Peter, easily recognizing Morgan’s much-loved mountain of stuffed animals, opted for a plush Christmas-decorated llama, as close a thing to an alpaca as he could find. Predictably, Morgan adored the gift as much as Peter probably thought she would, and displayed as much by keeping it in her arms throughout most of the party and proudly showing it off to all of the guests.
And as for Peter himself, Peter is...nuzzling his way into Tony’s recliner.
There’s really no better description for it. Peter was out of the room one second and in the next, Tony felt a familiar presence pawing at his arm to get it to move aside and make enough room for his son to squeeze in.
Once given the green light, it doesn’t take long for Peter to make himself comfortable. He curls under Tony’s arm, situating his face against Tony’s sweater and burying his nose in like it’s scented with apple pie spices or something equally as tantalizing.
“Hey, kiddo,” Tony says to acknowledge him.
Peter just replies to Tony’s greeting with a muffled, affirmational, “Mmm.”
Clearly he isn’t in the mood for talking, as is more common in the new normal of Post-Blip living that they’re all adjusting to.
Not that he’s back to the silent days of his catatonia, thankfully. It’s just been an adjustment for Peter: being alive, being a sibling, almost losing Tony and dealing with his recovery period in Wakanda. It’s been a rough few months for all of them, and all-considering, Peter’s doing pretty well.
Peter’s clingier behaviors have always been a sign of his discomfort and anxiety, so Tony and Pepper have been happy to indulge them. Not to mention the fact that they lost Peter for five years. Five years where all they wanted to do was bring Peter close, give him one more hug, one more shared night in their bed from his childhood. Peter feels reassured by their presence, and they’re damn well reassured to wake up in the mornings and find him drinking juice from the bottle in the kitchen or snoring away with his head in their laps instead of the reminders of a child no longer there, a sadness that dulled with time but never really went away.
In short, Tony’s kind of getting used to this from Peter, and he’s certainly not complaining about it. Besides, the recliner was a Father’s Day gift. He gets to decide who he shares it with at the cost of his aching back later on.
Tony runs a hand down Peter’s back, lazily tracing a pattern from Peter’s spine up to his shoulder blades, allowing the rhythmic motion to soothe them both. He won’t be surprised if Peter falls asleep here. He stayed up the night before to help Tony and Pepper wrap some of Morgan’s presents even when they told him he didn’t have to, and he doesn’t sleep near as much as he should as it is. Still, it was an incredibly sweet gesture, especially considering that other siblings were more the type to spoil the magic of Santa rather than be a part of it.
(A bittersweet part of Tony wonders what would have happened if they’d had Morgan sooner, if they hadn’t wasted so much time, but both of his children here and alive now and he is happy, so he lets the thought drift away from the goodness of this moment, determined to appreciate his life and the fact that he still has so much of it ahead of him.)
Peter’s breathing is still regular, though relaxed.
He runs a hand through Peter’s hair.
“How’re we doing, Pete? Holding up okay? Not too much?”
It’s only been two months since Tony returned from his lengthy stay in Wakanda, and getting Peter settled in the first place was pretty (read: extremely) rough. They initially worried about having such a big blowout of a party, but Peter insisted that he wanted to christen the holiday with the other Avengers rather than keep it to a close family affair, so they’d agreed.
Peter shakes his head at Tony’s question, then looks up so that Tony can really see his face.
“I’m good.”
“Good. You just seemed pretty quiet there.”
Peter gives a half-shrug. “I’m just thinking.”
“That’s new,” Tony quips.
Peter’s lips morph into an unimpressed sort of frowny-pout. “Dad.”
“Ohhh, come on, you love it!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter snorts, turning his head back into Tony’s chest dramatically.
Tony gently pokes Peter’s forehead with his finger.
“C’mon, smartypants, really. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Just something Steve said.”
“Oh, it’s Steve now, is it? Not Mister Rogers?”
Peter’s cheeks redden just a touch.
“It’s just—he’s all old now and if I called him that...it makes me think about, you know, ‘it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood’…?” Peter quietly singsongs, as if worried Steve will overhear.
Tony barks out a laugh, trying to imagine even the elderly Steve Rogers attempting to fill the children’s television program’s host role. While Steve spent his early days performing on stage for the SSR, Peter’s description of Cap’s PSA series makes him doubt the other man could keep up the on-camera facade for too long.
“You met Mister Rogers once,” Tony says, very proud of that particular, unexpected celebrity hook-up.
“I know. You’ve told me a hundred times. Ned’s very jealous,” Peter replies. He was only a baby at the time, but Tony has the pictures still on his servers from the interaction.
Tony shrugs. “Anyway, Steve said…?”
“Well, you know how he changed some things? In his new universe?"
"The wedding ring and pictures of his many grandchildren didn't escape me, so yes."
Steve had shown off the handful of pictures he brought pretty quickly after his return to their universe, telling the tale of a whole other life lived without them. It wasn't peaceful, exactly—not until his retirement—but Howard Stark spun a handful of childhood tales about his SHIELD co-founder as Tony was growing up. He can imagine that marriage and kids would hardly keep Peggy Carter from her life's work, and of course Steve would trail after her, because he's Steve—more loyal than a golden retriever, when you earn it.
It was kind of nice to see Steve happy, though. To see that for once, after all this time, they were on the same page. Tony had done it all for family, in the end. Blood and bond.
Now that's ninety percent of what Steve talks about, and Tony is more appreciative of it than he used to be hearing Steve's stories from the war or working with his father.
"What happened this time?" Tony questions. "Did one of his kids finally crack their head open on his shield? 'Cause the story about his youngest breaking an arm sledding with it was hilarious." He nudges Peter. "And relatable."
Peter does give a little smile at the tease, but turns more contemplative in his retelling.
"He was talking about Christmas, actually. 1999. Apparently SHIELD did a lot of work to decriminalize and rehabilitate enhanced individuals. Steve said they made a party of it that year. He dressed up in his costume even though he was retired by that point, all of his kids volunteered. Said their efforts really made a difference to perceiving and accepting people with powers down the line.”
Tony hums, continuing the calming motion at Peter’s back. Peter being able to keep his superhero identity and powers in the dark has made things a lot easier for him concerning new attempts at mutant legislation, but Tony’s aware that not every enhanced person has that opportunity. Peter’s been pretty vocal for the cause because of that, and in turn Tony’s been as helpful as he can be: giving out paid-for legal representation, making sure that the only people on the Raft are the ones that belong there, and similarly supporting adoption shelters that specifically aim to help enhanced kids find placement.
"That was nice of him to tell you and Wanda about that,” Tony finally settles on.
Tony may have had his issues with Wanda and her powers in the past, but he knows being enhanced is a large part of her identity, even more than it is for Peter. His son knew a life without powers. She and her brother didn't.
"Yeah, it was, um, enlightening. He said...he said the Starks donated a record breaking amount of toys that year."
"My parents died in eighty—how—" Tony stops himself.
A different universe. One with Steve Rogers getting in the way, stopping HYDRA, and saving a different version of his best friend. Apparently also saving Tony’s parents while he was at it.
"Wow."
Peter nods at Tony's realization.
"They survived. Having you...long into having grandkids, apparently. I didn't know that Steve knew, you know. Other Dad."
"Other Dad? Really?"
Peter shrugs. "I might not even be your kid in that universe. What else am I gonna call him?"
"Oh, no," Tony assures, pressing a kiss to Peter's head. "You're always gonna be my kid. The universe demands it. I would know. We had a little chat after I saved everyone."
Peter pushes Tony back with his elbow, laughing. "You have to stop making stuff up about that. You almost died."
Tony curls Peter back in, more serious. "But I didn't.”
"But you could have," Peter mumbles quietly, picking at a ball of lint on Tony’s sweater. "In one of those other universes, you probably did."
"A lot of things happened in those other universes," Tony sighs.
“I know, I just—don’t you wonder, sometimes? What else you could have changed, if you tried?”
The question could be innocent, but Tony worries about it all the same. It could be hiding a dangerous sort of curiosity.
"We promised not to do what Steve did, you know,” Tony replies seriously. “When we went back in time, we promised to stay in our lane, make as few new timelines as possible.”
“I know, but I’m just saying—” Peter insists, trying to continue the line of questioning.
Tony interrupts him, concerned. "Peter, are you thinking about all of this because you're not happy? Because you wish things had been different?"
Peter tries to reply, but Tony cuts him off.
"I know I've made my fair share of mistakes as your dad, and I know things haven't been easy since Thanos. I know...maybe you wish I could go back. Save your mom somehow. Save myself from Afghanistan so I wouldn't have ever gotten into this hero business. Hell, I could have saved Ben. Just stopped the mugger in my suit, right? And I’m sorry that I can’t do that, but it wouldn’t really change anything and Bruce is right, we can’t just—”
"Dad! Dad, no, that's not—" Peter shakes his head quickly, interrupting Tony.
He sighs heavily. "I was just—I wanted you to know that your parents survived. In Steve’s universe. In one of them, at least. I know you can’t go back, and I wouldn’t want you to risk that. I promise.”
“You’re telling me you’re well-adjusted? To all of this?” Tony waves his arm around at the general world around them. A world recovering from the reappearance of its populace after five years. Peter coming back into the middle of a war with the fate of the universe at stake. Having the Avengers over for Christmas dinner.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but...I wouldn’t want you or anyone else to risk themselves to try and change things.” Peter shrugs. “I mean, sure, sometimes I wish Mom was around or Ben hadn’t died, but that's…"
Peter shakes his head, as if shaking the idea away. So Peter had considered it before. That’s what Tony thought.
"You told me a long time ago that those things aren't my fault. Having a time machine doesn't mean we have to use it. We probably, definitely shouldn't...anymore than we have, anyway,” he clarifies with a small chuckle.
“But I—as much as I miss the people we lost, we got here in the end, didn't we? I mean, I have a little sister and she’s, like, my favorite little human in the whole world! And—and you and Pepper got married, and I’m back and my friends are back a-and you’re alive in my universe. That’s all I need.”
“...You’re sure?”
"I'm happy, Dad,” Peter says. He wraps his arms around Tony’s torso, pressing his cheek into Tony’s chest. “Really. I am.”
Tony nods, accepting the confession for what it is. That doesn’t mean Peter’s over what’s happened, that he won’t still wake up from nightmares or want them more than he used to. It just means that he’s toughing through the harder times for these moments, these good things to keep them going.
Tony sighs a little sadly, deciding to trade Peter’s honest confession for his own.
“I miss them all too, Pete. It’s been years and I still think about the last time I saw my parents, seeing your mom in the delivery room...shit, I would give anything for another one of Ben’s stupid trips to Coney Island.”
The comment sparks the glimmer of recalling a good memory on Peter’s face. “Oh yeah. Wow, I haven’t been there since…”
Since he crashed a Stark Industries plane into the beach. Since Ben died.
Tony sighs dramatically, attempting to keep the lighter mood. “God, he was always such a wimp about riding the Cyclone.”
“Because you would always insist on riding it five times in a row, except you were the only person in this family that could do it without puking and Ben was emetophobic!”
“What’s that mean?”
A little head of brown hair pops up between them.
It’s the cutest thing in the world—Morgan quirks her head in question and the plush llama in her arms tilts a couple of degrees to the right too. He has no idea if she’s doing it on purpose, but he pulls her against his chest to hug the stuffing out of her for being so adorable and just generally for being his amazing, curious little girl.
“It means you don’t like puke,” Peter answers, settling himself back into half lying on top of Tony so that he’s sandwiched under the kids on the recliner.
“No one likes puke, Petey,” Morgan replies, scrunching her nose. This time Peter trades a look with Tony, acknowledging her preciousness.
“Yeah, but some people really, really don’t like it,” Peter clarifies. “If you even talk about it too much, it makes them sick too.”
“Hence why, in your babyhood, Ben was not the designated burp-er.”
“It was like, one time! I was a baby!”
“Ah-ah-ah! Speaking of Coney Island, does someone not remember the Great Bathroom Puke-a-thon?”
“Oh, don’t start with that story—”
“Daddy!” Morgan latches on to the excitement, tugging on his sweater. “The movie’s over! Story time, story!”
“It seems like the littlest Stark would love to hear it.”
Peter groans, burying his years of shame into Tony’s body. Tony pats his hair consolingly, but is as excited as ever about embarrassing Peter with the fateful tale.
“So, Uncle Ben—”
“That’s…” Morgan pouts, the same scrunch between her brow forming that Peter and Tony share. “Aunt May’s husband? Before?”
Tony smiles sadly, not knowing if Morgan knows the difference between before the snap and people just having passed away, but the fact she knows that Ben was once here, once a permanent fixture of this family, shows that his memory lives on. If telling Morgan about Ben Parker would let his spirit live on in her the way it does in Peter, then the world would be a better place.
“Good job, Morgan. That’s right. Mom’s been showing you the old albums, huh?” Tony questions.
Morgan nods enthusiastically. “Of Peter’s first mommy that wasn’t Mommy, and before you had your cool suit and when Peter was little-r and wore ugly glasses!”
Tony snorts, and Peter briefly looks up with a scowl.
“That’s right, once upon a time, Peter was a little older than you are now, and his Uncle Ben used to love taking all of us to Coney Island whenever we came to visit. Do you know where that is?”
“It’s in New York,” Morgan replies, smiling at Peter. “Spider-Man went there. In the story against the bad bird.”
Peter, who’s definitely lolling off against his side rather than actually listening to the story, perks up enough to smile softly at Tony.
Morgan’s favorite hero changes depending on the day of the week and whatever Avenger is popular with her fellow kindergarteners, but ever since they started sharing more stories about both Peter himself and his alter-ego’s exploits in her childhood, she’s become a Spidey fan in particular.
“Mmhm. But when it’s not being used as an emergency landing strip, it’s just a normal amusement park, and one of the biggest attractions is the rollercoasters. You’re a little young for those, but they’re pretty fast, kind of hard to handle if you’re not used to flying around as Iron Man.”
Peter rolls his eyes, noting the brag that Tony definitely said to Ben at one point or another when showing off his resistance to roller coasters. Tony lightly cuffs his head in response, but leaves his hand in Peter’s curls after. The kid could use the sleep, if Tony can lull him into it.
“So, Ben was trying to show off. Peter was finally tall enough to ride, so Ben wanted to risk it just to show Peter a good time. Except Peter, in his youthful wisdom, inhaled an entire corn dog right before they got on the ride. Of course, Ben and May didn’t notice—”
“No, Ben didn’t notice,” May interrupts, bringing the rest of their Stark-adjacent brood in behind her. “I was too busy dealing with the manchild that couldn’t stop complaining because a six-year-old cut us in line.”
Tony scoffs indignantly, but lets the comment pass. As if rewarding him for the behavior—or just as a warm gesture given because he’s currently holding onto both of their kids at once—Pepper presses a kiss to his temple on her way by, settling into the couch next to May and Rhodey.
“Anyway—seriously, this is a thing? We’re doing this for everyone?” Tony asks, watching as the others start to bunch into the living area too.
The young Bartons take the floor, holding mugs of hot chocolate or cider to their faces to recover from the cold as the adults circle around in clusters, with Bucky pushing a chair over for Steve that the man inexplicably doesn’t argue with being provided.
“Story time!” Nathaniel Barton happily supplies, parroting Morgan’s insistence that Tony tell the tale.
Tony breathes in, shaking his head. This team. This family. Bunch of crazies, they are.
He looks down to Peter to confirm as much, and he is, of course, fast asleep. One arm is draped loosely around Tony’s stomach while the other is bunched somewhere under his own torso in a position that definitely shouldn’t be as comfortable as he’s making it look. Drool is dripping from the slack side of his mouth like he’s a toddler.
Part of Tony has never really been able to stop seeing Peter in that way. He’s always going to be Tony’s baby, but Peter’s also his mother’s son, her mark in his every feature, in his laugh, in his kindness to everyone, even if they probably don’t deserve it.
Peter’s the grandchild his mother would have doted on endlessly, the grandson his father finally might have been proud of.
He’s the kid that Ben Parker would’ve done anything to please, the reason that Ben dealt with baby puke and tween angst and everything in between as long as they got to spend more time together. The one that knew something was different about Peter after the spider bite without knowing the truth of it, just because he knew Peter that well.
He’s the one member of the Avengers that everyone can agree upon being endeared to for one reason or another.
He’s the reason that Tony saved the world.
Tony places a kiss to the side of Peter’s head, rubbing the kid’s back softly one more time before sitting up to better see the entire crowd now around him, thankful for every counted head.
“Okay, fine. From the top. And no interruptions or I’m breaking out the coal to put in your stockings, you hear me?”