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“I come bearing presents!” shouts Peter, stepping through the front door of the cabin he calls his second home, juggling his backpack and several Target bags. “Who missed me?”
“Petey!” his little sister’s ear-splitting screech precedes tiny feet stomping down the stairs as if she were an entire stampede before he has two feet inside and the door shut behind him.
Peter hauls himself fully through the threshold, makes sure the glass door latches, quickly deposits his belongings on the ground. He braces himself.
It doesn’t take Morgan long to launch herself at his knees.
Peter catches her easily, swinging her around and pulling melodious giggles as a result, until Morgan’s arms wind around his neck and she knees his side as she locks her legs around his waist. He beams at her.
Her eyes squint with the force of her smile. “Missed you,” she mumbles once she burrows into his neck. “Don’t like it when you leave me.”
“Mmm, I missed you, Mo-kitty.”
Morgan yanks away, brows furrowed and looking like a dark-headed version of her mother, and professes, “I’m not a kitty, Pete!”
Peter’s laughter mingles with Tony’s, who Peter glances up to see pushing himself up and off the sofa and sporting a wide grin.
“I could have sworn you were a cat! You act just like one.”
“I do not,” she says with all the seriousness of a professional attorney, though the uptick lips ruins the aura. “I’m a princess who slays dragons.”
“Woah ho! Well excuse me.”
“You’re excused.”
Tony snorts as he tugs on Peter’s shoulder so he can pull the teenager into his chest, squeezing him tightly first then planting a kiss on his temple.
“No, Daddy! Pete’s here to see me.”
Tony’s wide gaze finds and holds Peter’s as they share a moment of commiseration. Then Tony winks.
“Are you a kidnapper?” he asks his daughter, tugging once on her ponytail.
“What?”
“I asked if you’re a kidnapper.”
“I’m not!”
“So you can’t keep Pete from me. Otherwise that would make you a kidnapper.”
Peter snorts once.
“Daddy,” she drags out the final vowel, head lolling backwards and dramatically rolling her eyes. “I asked Petey to come, not you.”
“And yet, you’re both in my house.”
“Actually, it’s Mommy’s house sooo,” she ends her sentence with a shrug.
Peter tucks the feisty five year old under his chin and attempts to hold in his belly laughs. Morgan fights it at first, though she’s quick to act like a spider-monkey and cling to him if it’ll mean she has all the claim to him.
Tony rolls his eyes.
“What’s in the bags, Petey?”
“Ah-ha! No treats before lunch! You can do whatever you two wanna do after you eat.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Um, excuse you, little miss; I’m the cool parent, what kind of nonsense are you saying?”
“Petey agrees with me.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Ouch. Taken out by both of my kids.” sniffs Tony. “You’re lucky I already made sandwiches and brought out those blueberry bites Mom made; otherwise, I’d say no lunch.”
Peter rolls his eyes and sets off for the kitchen. “You’re all talk, old man.”
“Hey now,” protests Tony, “there’s no need for that kinda behavior in front of your impressionable sister. She repeats everything she hears.”
“All talk, old man,” parrots Morgan as she pulls away from Peter’s chin, grin wide and mischievous and not bothering to hide her giggling amusement, batting her eyelashes at her father, though Tony doesn’t see her. “Mommy says same thing.”
Peter imagines Tony rolls his eyes as he leads them into the kitchen. He feels the magnitude of it.
As Tony veers toward the island where there is a smorgasbord of food, Peter steers toward the kitchen table and tries depositing Morgan in her designated seat. Only the little girl is doing a great impression of having sticky powers and Morgan stays attached to his waist and neck.
“Can I sit with you?”
Peter raises his eyes at her.
Her lower lip juts out into the beginning of an impressive pout.
Peter sighs.
Morgan beams.
Peter pulls out his own designated chair with all the drama required to get his sister in a fit of continuous giggles until she snorts and they plop down. Morgan makes herself comfortable, twisting on his lap until she can smile up at him. If Pepper were home, Morgan would sit in her seat; but because she’s on a plane home from Beijing, Tony explains, and both Tony and Peter have an extremely difficult time telling the little girl no, Morgan gets what she wants.
Tony doesn’t even blink when he comes over with plates: simply sets two on one placemat and heads back for his own.
Morgan grabs her sandwich and bites into the middle.
“Will you tell me a story?”
Peter eats around her, hoping he doesn’t drop crumbs in her hair. “What, like right now?”
Her expression is the equivalent of a duh noise and Peter bops her nose for it.
“Once upon a time, both my kids ate their lunch quietly. The end.”
“Daddy!”
“You asked for a story; I gave you a story,” comes the cheeky reply from Tony as he finally pulls out his seat at the kitchen table.
Morgan glares at him. “I asked Petey for a story,” she emphasizes the name.
Peter cuts in before Tony aggravates Morgan so much she ends up in tears of frustration. (He knows from experience that this time of the day is notorious for meltdowns; Morgan thinks she has outgrown naps, but her behavior has the tendency to disagree with the little girl.) “Do you want a real story or pretend one?”
Morgan tilts her chin in the air, eyes squinting close as she thinks. As her eyes pop open she cries, “A Spider-Man story!”
Tony groans.
Peter grins. “Did I tell you how Spidey accidentally let an animal loose at the zoo?”
Brown eyes nearly eclipse his sister’s face as they widen at his words. “You what?”
Her words are echoed by her father, though the baritone isn’t a tone of wonder but one of exasperation.
Yeah, maybe Peter shouldn’t have told this story at the table since he spent all week making sure Tony didn’t hear about it. Well, the last thirty-six hours. Same thing. There went his longest record of keeping a secret that wasn’t his secret identity. Oh well, best get on with it then.
“So Spidey is at the zoo, right? And he’s helping a little girl just a little bit older than you, Mo, find her way back to her parents. She said they were supposed to be at the penguins exhibit.”
“Oooh, I love penguins!!”
“I know you do; that’s what I told the little girl that my baby sister loooooves them.”
Morgan’s smile turned into a wide, pleased grin. “So what happened next?”
“Is this really a story you should be telling her?” interjects a wary Tony, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“All my stories have a moral to them.”
“Doesn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I need to tell this story. There’s valuable life lessons to be learned today,” Peter finishes with a firm nod, shifting his attention back to Morgan and flashes her a wide smile. Her giggles are hidden behind her hand she slaps to her mouth, and Peter huffs out a snort of laughter. “SO, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—”
“—I’ll ground you—”
“No you won’t.”
“Mommy says you’re all talk, Daddy.”
Tony groans, long and loud and dramatic, head tipping back until it plonks against the back of his chair.
Peter carries on, “I may have accidentally let loose a penguin or two.”
“Oh no!”
“You WHAT?!”
“Stop interrupting me,” says Peter, flapping his hand in Tony’s general direction, not daring to meet what will surely be steely brown eyes, and continues, “but it’s okay! I’m Spider-Man. I took care of it.”
“Petey!” squeals Morgan, “what happened?!”
“So there may have been an incident where everyone wanted Spidey to feed the penguins and for future reference I am not able to stick to ice and reinforced glass is nothing against a clumsy superhero.”
Tony makes a high pitched noise as Morgan titters in amusement.
“Have you ever tried to catch a runaway penguin before, Mo?” Peter asks with all the levels of seriousness he can muster, which isn’t very much.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I have tried to catch Gerald when he escapes his pen! He ran out of his fence one time on Daddy though; it was pretty funny.”
“Funny for everyone but him, I’d imagine. So, I’m running after a penguin—“
“Why didn’t you use your webs?”
Peter makes a face. “Apparently there are surfaces I cannot stick and the same goes toward my webs? I guess. I dunno. You’re such a smarter cookie than I am, Mo; because I didn’t think it through.”
Tony snorts, “He finally admits it.”
“This is the important bit!” whines Peter with an over-exaggerated tone. “She needs to learn the moral of the story.”
“What’s a moral?”
“Well,” starts Peter, “I guess it’s kinda like lesson learned from a story, between what’s right and what’s wrong. Does that make sense?”
At first Morgan nods and Peter believes he explained it well enough for his little sister. Until she shrugs on top of the nodding movement and Peter bites back a groan. Tony was just telling him over the phone at the beginning of the week Morgan had picked up a new habit: Peter didn’t believe him, though he isn’t sure why. Now he understands how frustrating it is to see the little girl acting willfully oblivious. The glint in her eye says it all: Morgan thinks she’s being funny if she acts oblivious. Peter hopes it isn’t a long habit.
The little girl opens her mouth to speak but Peter cuts her off.
“Okay, moral of the story always fix your mistakes. Make sense?”
“Yep!”
Tony rolls his eyes, not bothering to hid his wide smirk as he says, “Alright, finish eating.”
Morgan takes another large bite.
Peter leans across the tabletop and stage-whispers to Morgan, “Maybe next time I’ll tell you about my shark tank adventures.”
Tony barks, “Absolutely not!”
Peter sputters out a cackle while Morgan snickers behind her hand.
Rest of lunch passes uneventfully.
Until it’s time for Morgan’s nap and Peter can’t say no to telling his little sister a story and gets dragged upstairs and he finds himself cramped on a twin bed with said little sister wedged up against him, looking up at him and awaiting a new story with all the patience of an expectant five year old.
“Tell me a story.”
“Once upon a time, Morgan had to take a nap but she couldn’t stop talking so her heroic big brother Peter hypnotized her and she still didn’t go to sleep because she is sooo stubborn.”
Morgan’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Tell me a different story.”
“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Morgan—“
“No, she can’t have my name!”
“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Rosie—“
“Nooo, I don’t wanna hear a story about a little girl.”
“Once upon a time, there was a little boy named José and he loved to ride his bike. His bike was red and blue after his favorite superhero and he loved riding it every single day. What happens next?”
“No."
“What do you mean no?” asks Peter, shifting around to stare down at the stubborn child practically glued at his side. “You’re a great storyteller!”
Morgan makes a face.
“Tell me what happens next; I forget.”
And so the next forty-five minutes go until Morgan falls asleep.
It takes three minutes more for Peter to feel comfortable enough to slip out from Morgan’s hold and tiptoe out of her bedroom.
“I’m surprised she fell asleep,” is his greeting from Tony once Peter crests the bottom step.
Peter doesn’t reply until he plops down next to his mentor and snuggles into the older man’s side, “She really loves her stories.”
“That she does.” nods Tony, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulder and tugging him closer into his side. “What goodies did you bring this time?”
“Pajamas.”
“Oh, boy.”
And they leave the conversation untouched after that eloquent reply.
Television remains turned off, though FRIDAY provides holiday music as gentle white noise, as Tony and Peter catch up. Peter admits he’s ready for his midterms despite feeling overly prepared and stressed from the mounting work.
“I’m proud of you, Pete.” the words are strong, sure, and are spoken with the warmth of a parent unleashing his tenderness freely upon his child. “You never cease amazing me. To have you in my life is one incredible thing; but the fact Morgan gets to grow up with you as her older brother... I’m one lucky dad to have two extraordinary children. No matter what you two become, continue to become.”
A soft smile unfurls as the teenager settles more firmly against a shoulder and chest, closing his eyes at the bubbling emotions stirring inside him. Peace. Harmony. Belonging. All things he has struggled tremendously over since his return, and Tony’s lengthy recovery; flighty feelings he now tries his damnedest to relish whenever they appear. More frequently, and not taken for granted.
Of course the peace is always broken when a five year old is underfoot. Morgan sleeps all of ninety minutes, at most, before she’s zooming downstairs and climbing over the back of the couch to nestle between her brother and father.
“Presents!!” she screeches directly into Peter’s ear canal. “Petey, please!?”
Peter blinks away the fuzzy-ringing sensation.
“Morgan, you know better than to scream in Peter’s ears.” starts Tony.
Wide eyes grow larger, comically on such a cherubic face, as the five year old professes, “I’m just excited.” at her father’s raised eyebrows she tacks on, “Sorry, Petey.”
He presses a kiss to her forehead. “S’alright, Mo-kitty.”
She pouts, curling down her lower lip, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Well, you know where his stuff’s at, Morgan.” Tony says after a beat of his daughter’s prolonged dramatics.
Morgan shifts as if to jump off Peter’s lap and Peter lifts her with enhanced deftness, keeping her from kicking or elbowing him or Tony in her quest to track down goodies, and Peter sets her on her feet. Morgan pays no attention to how she’s on the ground. She shuffle-sprints toward the front door and dives right into the Target bags.
“Oooh, jammies! Daddy!” she crows.
Tony pokes Peter in the side.
Peter yelps, immensely ticklish in that spot. He jumps up and away from his mentor, turning to scrunch up his face at the other man, before trotting over to assist Morgan.
If anyone says Peter went overboard on their family pajamas, he’ll just point to Tony and say the man’s never taught him control. Peter is stoked about them and honestly he wants them out of their bags quick so Morgan can amp up his excitement.
Morgan pulls out Peter’s pjs first and Peter is quick to explain the white blob,
“It’s a unicorn, Mo.”
“Oh!” she hands it to him.
Peter shakes it out and holds it up against his body, making certain that the hood is situated enough for Morgan to see the attached horn.
“A unicorn?” questions Tony from behind.
“Oh, just you wait,” smirks Peter and notions for Morgan to dig into the same bag. “I almost got us matching pjs because I liked yours so much.” he tosses his unicorn footless pajamas onto the couch and turns back to see Morgan pulling out a colorful creation, directing at her, “Do you know what that is?”
She makes a weird noise at the back of her throat, like she wants to scream and speak at the same time. Then she professes, “It’s a DRAGON!”
“She’s the slayer of dragons.” whines Tony.
“Exactly!” Peter preens with a little wiggle of excitement. “Look, it even has a tail!”
“Pete!”
“Yeah, Mo?”
“Am I gonna be a princess?”
“No. I hope I picked out something better for you. Go ahead and see, in that last bag.” he encourage,.
Morgan digs into the next bag and positively shrieks. “It’s a mermaid!”
Peter had settled on mermaid pajamas for Morgan simply because her favorite color is blue and Peter was a fan of the tail’s design. And the children’s section didn’t have as much to choose from in the variety Peter wanted. Needs must, and all that jazz.
“Let’s put them on NOW!!!”
“Morguna—"
“Mo—"
“NOW!”
Since both are pushovers, Morgan gets what she wants, though it may have something to do with the fact Morgan immediately started tugging her sweater over her head.
Ten minutes later they were all bundled up in their footless pajamas (footies in Morgan’s case), hot chocolates in hand, and sitting on the couch bickering over what holiday movie to watch.
Morgan wins with the newest Pixar classic.
They’re halfway through the second movie, though there’s more singing and jumping around the living room than sitting and enjoying the movie, when Pepper wonders into the house. There is too much chaos for Pepper’s entrance to steal away anyone’s attention. Volume from the movie is up higher than usual; and even then Morgan and Peter’s singing is heard clearly. Tony is roped into singing the choruses.
So of course the first thing Pepper says is,
“Why’d you start chaotic Christmas without me?”
“MOMMY!” shrieks Morgan, jumping onto the couch so she can scurry up the back and throw herself into her mother’s arms.
Pepper catches Morgan, juggling her around until the child is situated at her hip. “What new outfit do you have on; Mommy’s never seen it before.”
“Petey got it for me, see! I’m a mermaid.”
“And it’s blue! How nice of him.”
Peter grins big over at Pepper and she laughs upon seeing his own getup.
“He got one for Daddy, too!” continues on Morgan, patting her mother’s cheeks for her full attention. “Daddy’s a dragon! And I’m the dragon slayer!”
“Oh, poor Daddy.”
Tony stretches over the couch’s back, pouting identically to his daughter’s infamous expression. “Yeah, poor Daddy. He’s been stuck at home with two rowdy heathens! He’s a withering dragon.”
Peter snorts, “Quick, someone give him hugs and kisses!”
Morgan wraps her arms around Pepper’s neck and proceeds to offer a kiss to her mother’s cheek.
Tony scoffs, smile blossoming despite the faux-hurt expression.
Pepper’s head tosses back, laughter shaking her frame.
Peter drops down next to Tony, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder. “Hi.”
“Oh, look! Someone has come to love on the poor, withering away dragon!” croons Tony, wrapping both arms around Peter until he’s snug in his embrace. “A unicorn’s love is the purest of them all.”
Peter snorts loudly at that proclamation.
Morgan cackles madly at the noise, for whatever reason she is always overcome with immense pleasure whenever anyone snorts in laughter. “He sounds like a pig.” she whisper-shouts at Pepper.
“Kinda weird for a unicorn!” comes Peppers reply.
At the reminder of their pajamas, Morgan whips around and says, “Hey! Daddy, you can’t snuggle my unicorn!! He’s mine!” and then she promptly attempts throwing herself out of Pepper’s arm and onto the couch.
Pepper doesn’t let her go.
Tony begins raining kisses down on Peter.
For his part, Peter pretends to squirm away, hoping to rile up his sister
Morgan falls for it: immediately squawking and wiggling away from her mother in an attempt to attack her father. After a few moments, Pepper allows Morgan to climb onto the couch and she latches onto her dad’s prosthetic arm.
“Noo, Daddy, Petey’s my unicorn!”
“I knew him first; he’s mine.”
Pepper barks out a surprised, “Tony!”
Tony and Morgan squabble over who Peter belongs to for several loud moments. Peter laughs hysterically between the both of them. Pepper wonders up behind the couch and combs her fingers through Peter’s hair and says,
“What if I claimed Peter as my own?”
Tony gasps.
Morgan squeals, “Can’t! He’s mine!”
Peter tugs Morgan into his lap. “Oh yeah? And what if I said I’m my own man?”
Morgan’s brows furrow at that proclamation.
Tony, thankfully, switches the conversation, “Hey, Mo? Why don’t you ask Mom to put on her special jammies at the back of our closet?”
Pepper backs away from the couch. “No way.” she says with all the dignity of a composed CEO not afraid of anything, shaking her head and swishing around her ponytail. “You promised you’d never bring it up again!”
Peter bites his lip, “I didn’t get Pepper pjs because you said on Monday she wouldn’t be back until next week!”
Tony shushes him, “It’s okay. I did say that. But Pep has a black cat footie pajama set in our room that she loves to wear.”
Peter turns around to stare incredulously at Pepper, “You do?!”
Pepper mouths at her husband, “I hate you,” before turning her attention to Peter, “I do. I’ll be back; give me ten minutes.” and she trudges up the staircase.
Morgan and Peter share a commemorating look of victory.
Tony claps his hands. “Finally! I’ve been wanting to do a family portrait forever!”
Peter throws his head back with laughter, “You seriously wanna do family pictures in pjs?”
“When have I ever been conventional?”
“Fair.”
Morgan jumps out of Peter’s lap and begins bouncing on the cushions once more. “We need to start the movie over! We missed ten whole minutes!”
“We can rewind it,” her father soothes.
“Nope,” she shakes her head, “gotta start it allllll over. I said so.”
“And your word is law?”
Morgan nods.
Tony sweeps her into his arm, to the tune of Morgan shrieking, and says between kisses, “How about I think about it while you clean up your mess? I want our picture taken in front of the fireplace.”
Morgan glances that way and pulls a scrunched up face. “Do I gotta?”
Peter stands up and offers the little girl his hand, “I’ll help.”
So Peter and Morgan clean up.
Pepper comes back down, decked out in her black cat pajamas. Peter retrains from commenting on her, admittedly awesome, ensemble. Tony, on the other hand, immediately begins flirting with his wife as Morgan and Peter finish their task.
After a few moments, Pepper puts an end of Tony’s comments by directing them all in front of the fireplace.
“One serious and the rest are silly,” Tony says as his sits in the middle, pulling Peter onto his left side. “Think you can manage all that, FRI?”
“Well within my purviews, boss; I am more than capable of taking family portraits.”
“Excellent! Morgan, you sit with Mom, alright?”
“Yes!”
“Say goofball on the count of three,” FRIDAY directs and begins counting down.
“Goofball!” echoes four voices.
Tony puts the serious picture up on the company website. And if May ends up being bombarded with several silly pictures ten minutes later, well, Tony and Peter both know she won’t mind.