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The calendar seemed to daunt Tony as he glared at it, his eyes narrowing as he moved past it, knocking it to the floor as he passed just because he didn’t want to see the date: June 21, a Sunday, warm and sunny and Tony hated it. It was Father’s Day and here he was, no father to talk to, no children to celebrate with, though there were probably a few kids of his running around, destroying things, just like he was. But still, he got himself a bottle of beer from the fridge, certainly not his drink of choice for the day but it was only just beginning, He had all day to drink himself into a stupor. And that was his intention down to a T.
Or at least, it was, before there was the sound of a door opening and he raised his eyebrows. Pepper wasn’t due home yet, and it wouldn’t be Steve, since he was hanging out with his own father, the dinosaurs of the Ice Age and Rhodey would be visiting his dad’s grave, like he does every year. And that Bruce wouldn’t show up, on all days and those are really the only people that Tony could think of that had a key.
Well, Steve didn’t have a key, Tony just liked making mental jabs at him. It made his day just a little bit brighter.
But there was the hesitant sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floor and it was enough curiosity that it caused Tony to put his bottle down on the counter and go out to check and see what was going on. As he passed the calendar, he picked it up to throw it in the garbage with a roll of his eyes. Fucking Father’s Day. Fuck whoever was at the door. He just wanted to wallow in self pity and in peace and get drunk off his ass like he did every year.
But there, standing in the doorway with the sun backing her like heavenly light, was Gwen, holding a wrapped box in her hand and with a patch of dirt on her knees. Her eyes were red and puffy but she managed a smile nonetheless, setting the box down on an endtable and crossing to Tony to smile over at him. “Hi, Tony,” she whispered. “You okay?”
Well, shit, was the fact that he lost his father public fucking knowledge!?
Oh … wait … yes, it was. Nevermind.
“I should be asking you that. First Father’s Day without him, Gwen. You holding up?” he asked. He had to be an adult now. For Gwen because her pain was still a whole lot rawer than his was.
She shrugged, not meeting his eye and she dusted the dirt off her knees, glad that so far, no one had made a joke about her getting on her knees. Peter was at home, with Aunt May, not mourning the loss of his father, but Uncle Ben too. She didn’t have it in her to bother him. Not today. “I got you a present,” she said. “For Father’s Day.”
He instantly shook his head. “No. Nope, whatever it is, Stacy, I don’t want it.” His eyes narrowed in on the box, which is where he was sure it was. “Take it back, destroy it, I don’t care. I don’t want it.” His tone was no nonsense until he saw Gwen’s crestfallen look and the way that she turned on the heel of her boot to leave.
“O-okay then,” she stammered out, tears starting to fall from her eyes, for what Tony would assume wasn’t the first time that day. “I-I-I’ll just leave you alone now..” She made it all of two steps towards the door before Tony said,
“Stop. Give me the damn box.”
And she did, biting her lip and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s nothing special,” she mumbled, sniffling as she walked it over to Tony and handed it to him. “Just something little.” Meaning, that if at any point Tony wanted it for himself, he would’ve had it already. It was a wireless shower head and microphone, because Gwen knew Tony sung in the shower and Tony knew he sung in the shower and all of New York knew he sung in the shower.
When he opened it, his eyebrows went up alongside his confusion. “Gwen?”
“Just say thank you and accept the fucking gift,” she said, rolling her eyes as she moved to give him a hug. “Happy Father’s Day, Tony.”
And for once, Tony didn’t get drunk on Father’s Day.
Mother’s Day, however, was an entirely different story.