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“It was the night before Christmas – “
“But Daddy,” says Morgan. She sits up in her bed, using her elbow as a prop, and tilts her head at him. “Not that one. It isn’t even Christmas yet.”
“I thought we’d start early this year,” says Tony.
“Why?”
Tony opens his mouth, but his answer dies before he can voice it. He knows last year’s Christmas is scarred into the minds of his children, his wife, his friends. Even if he doesn’t remember it at all, he knows his snap to save the universe and the coma that’d followed had been difficult for everyone, especially those closest to him.
He doesn’t want to remind Morgan of the trauma and the chaos. He wants to replace that with happy memories, with a Christmas so magical it might wipe away the bad one.
“Because,” says Tony. “I’m the adult, and I know best.”
“Only Mommy and Aunt May know best,” says Morgan. “That’s how you and Petey stay out of trouble.”
“You gotta stop spending so much time in Queens, little Miss,” says Tony, though he doesn’t mean it. He loves that Morgan visits May and Peter occasionally, loves that she has an extended family outside of him and Pepper to fall back on. “And for once, Mommy agrees with me.”
Tony lightly pushes on Morgan’s arm, causing her to giggle and put her head back down on her pillow. He kisses her forehead and brings her blankets up to her chin.
“Finnnee,” says Morgan. “But not that one. That one’s boring.”
Tony smiles, wipes a strand of hair from Morgan’s forehead, and goes back to the bookshelf that he filled with Christmas classics earlier in the day. He picks one and tries to ignore the glow coming in through the windows.
Pepper may have had a point when she had told him the lights he and Peter strung up along every square inch of the outside of the tower were too bright. He doesn’t even need to switch on the lamp by Morgan’s bed to see the pictures or read the words, and he wonders if she’ll even fall asleep by all the gold, white, red and blue fluttering in through the dark purple drapes.
By some miracle, she eventually drifts to sleep, and Tony puts the book on her bedside table and gently pulls the door to a crack once he’s on the other side of it.
Now, to take care of his other child.
He finds Peter on the ceiling of the Tower’s common room, hanging streamers and, occasionally, using some unknown strategy to place mistletoe. Probably, Tony thinks, he’s hoping to catch MJ underneath one of them, although from the way May talks about them, they hardly need an excuse.
Tony smiles thinking about them, thinking about how Peter deserves to have a happy relationship with one of his classmates, especially one it’s clear he’s fallen for.
After the year Peter’s had, he deserves every good thing he has going, and more.
First were the snaps, both Thanos’ and Tony’s, which were just one very long, confusing day for the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Next came Tony’s coma, and if that hadn’t been enough trauma for Peter in a condensed time frame, after that came his god awful trip to Europe and the identity reveal along with the murder accqusiations that followed.
In the end, it hadn’t taken much time to clear up the mess Quentin Beck had created.
Bucky and Sam made quick work of locating him and dragging him back to New York. Mysterio, as Peter calls him, was a little banged up from the trip much to the duo’s credit, but was still breathing, clearing Spider-Man’s name and giving Tony and Pepper ground to spin the story that Peter Parker being Spider-Man was just a delusion of a madman, lies put forth by someone looking to hurt Tony by damaging the name of the intern who occasionally accompanied the Stark family in public.
“Mr. Stark!” says Peter when he notices Tony’s presence. He falls from the ceiling, does a flip in the air, then lands on his feet. A show-off, like always. He looks up at the decorations pinned up on the ceiling. “What do you think?”
“Could’ve gone a bit easier on the mistletoe.”
“No way,” says Peter. He nudges Tony with his elbow. “But really? Think the rest of the Avengers will like it?”
“Of course they will,” says Tony. “And you’re right, we all need a little bit more mistletoe.”
Peter laughs, and Tony’s glad to hear it, as it’s become more and more rare to hear. The drama might have ended, but it had still taken a toll on Peter’s spirit, just another reason Tony’s determined to make this Christmas as bright as he can manage.
The sounds of Pepper’s heels hitting the floor causes Tony’s eyes to search the ceiling. She’s frowning when she comes into view, but Tony still shuffles under the mistletoe anyway.
“Tony,” she says. “People are complaining. The lights are too bright.”
“What? Impossible. What a bunch of no good Grinches.”
“People can’t sleep.”
“Why should they? It’s the holidays,” says Tony, his eyes fluttering up to the mistletoe hanging above them. “There are better things to do.”
Pepper relents, gives him a peck on the lips, and smiles at him. “Tone them down, or it’ll just give loudmouth Jameson something else to complain about.”
“Fine,” says Tony. She does know best, after all, and giving something that low life leech to feed from is a sure fire way to put a damper on building up Peter’s holiday cheer. “I’ll put them at seventy percent.”
“Try fifty,” says Pepper, as she starts to walk away. “I know those Christmas lights are custom made. Fifty percent is still a lot brighter than they need to be.”
“She isn’t wrong,” says Peter, once she’s left the common room. He gestures to all the decorations displayed around the common room. The giant Christmas tree, the fake golden and glowing snowflakes dangling above the fireplace. “What’s the deal with all this, anyways?”
“No, no, no, little elf, you’re not allowed to go all Grinch on me, too,” says Tony, wagging a finger in Peter’s face.
Peter rolls his eyes, and heads over towards the kitchen area, which hasn’t been spared from Tony’s festive spirit. There’s a small tree in the corner, near the fridge, decked out with lights and fuzzy garland. Instead of a star, a glowing War Machine figure sits on top, keeping watch over the kitchen.
“Come on, Mr. Stark, you’ve never gone all out for Christmas like this before.”
“This year’s different.” Tony follows Peter and watches as he starts going through the cabinets, searching for a snack. “What’s with you and Morgan and all your questions?”
Peter laughs again as he stands on his tippy toes and grabs a box of Christmas Tree cakes. “I guess it is sort of nice.”
“Yep - it’s gonna be great,” says Tony, and continues when Peter gives him a blank stare. “Good things are gonna start happening again, then maybe you’ll start listening to this old man once in a while.”
“When did I stop?”
“Right around the time you and your aunt bought that godforsaken car from your neighbor,” says Tony. He snatches the box of dessert cakes from Peter and shakes the last one free from its cardboard prison. “That things a deathtrap.”
“Betsy?!?” askes Peter, foreigning horror lighting his voice and his features. “How dare you speak like that about my baby.”
“Baby? More like a health hazard.”
“Don’t knock my first car, Mr. Stark.”
“Wouldn’t have to if you’d let me do a few upgrades.”
“Betsy doesn’t need upgrades,” says Peter. “I love her the way she is and Rhodey’s warned me about what happens when you upgrade something.”
They finish eating their snack, then head towards the elevator, down to the lobby. Peter has a car, but not a license, only a learner’s permit, and that’s just fine with Tony, even if it means driving him back home to Queens after the internship. It gives him plenty of time to change the boy’s mind about upgrades before he’s out on the roads by himself.
The two of them step outside into the cold air, and they’re immediately engulfed by the light radiating from the Tower.
“Maybe Pep has a point.”
“Maybe?” asks Peter, shielding his eyes with his hands. “I spent the evening helping you blind all of New York.”
“Fri,” says Tony, into his watch. “Let’s bring the lights down to fifty.”
The brightness dulls instantly, and Tony watches Peter take his hands away from his eyes and stare up at the newly rebuilt Avengers’ Tower, decked out from top to bottom with the lights they spent an extended evening working on.
“Whoa,” says Peter. “We did good.”
“Yeah, kid, what else do you expect from Spider-Man and Iron Man?”
Peter grins, and they continue towards Tony’s car. “It was nice seeing you wear the suit again, even if it was just to put up some lights.”
“Just some lights? Pete, that’s blasphemy. We’re bringing in the season,” says Tony, while they both get in the car.
Small flakes of snow begin floating down from the sky, landing on the windshield and for a few moments, before Tony turns on the wipers, it looks like they’re sitting in a snowglobe, at the very bottom of New York City.
A feeling of calm, something both warm and bright, unleashes in Tony’s chest. Hope , he decides to name it; hope for better days and a wonderful Christmas with his family, as if he’s finally believing the very things he’s been spitting out to Peter and Morgan.
“Maybe you’re right, Mr. Stark,” says Peter, watching the snow fall. “I think it’s gonna be a great Christmas.”