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“Thanks so much for inviting me, Mr. Stark! We’ve never been able to get one of the real Christmas trees before so this is super cool!”
Tony waves his hand dismissively. “This is mostly a selfish endeavor. My old back can’t handle heavy lifting anymore and I have a teenager with superstrength who loves Christmas on speed dial so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
“Feed two birds with one scone,” Peter corrects.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, it was a dumb thing we talked about in AP Lang.” Peter grins. “Replacing the animal cruelty in common phrases. Like beating a dead horse.”
“Lemme guess. Leading a led horse?”
“Feeding a fed horse,” Peter replies. “Yup! Fun stuff right there. I started saying it ironically but now it’s a part of my vocabulary. It’s pretty unfortunate to be honest. It’s the same reason I’m still staying derp.”
“That’s really YOLO swag of you,” Tony says.
Peter shudders and silently gags. “Please never say that again.”
The two finally arrive at the farm and Peter plants his feet and inhales deeply.
“You smell that, Mr. Stark? That’s the smell of capitalism. Corporations mooching off of holiday consumerism. Broken families desperately trying to piece together their cracks with the facade of Christmas magic.”
Tony gawks at Peter. “Shit, kid. That’s dark.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas. But you gotta admit, the happiness and joy does have undertones of corruption.”
“You,” Tony points at Peter, “have been spending way too much time with MJ.”
Peter grins dopily. “Yeah. I have.”
“What are you getting her for Christmas?”
“Okay, get this. I'm getting her a necklace of a black dahlia. Like...”
"The murder—"
"Like the murder, yeah."
Tony nods. “Oh, wow. She’s gonna love that.”
“I hope so.” Peter’s hands swing by his side. “So, what are you looking for?”
“Twelve foot spruce,” Tony says. “With fluffy branches.”
“Woah. That’s big.”
“We’ve got tall ceilings,” Tony says with a shrug. He nods his head to the left. “C’mon. This way. I think what we’re looking for is over here.”
Peter skips along with him, inspecting the trees and giving commentary with his non-existent experience that lacks the needed nuance.
“This one looks fuller,” Peter says.
“You know what? I think you’re right.” Tony takes a slow lap around it. “Yeah. This is really nice.” He runs his fingers over the branches lightly. “It’s perfect.”
Peter pumps a fist in the air. “Woohoo! Mission accomplished. High five!”
Tony smacks his gloved hand. “Lemme go find someone to make it official. You stay here so that no one snags it from us.”
Peter salutes him. “I can do that!”
Tony returns and Peter waddles along with him while babbles about the grown up stuff. He wanders to a tiny tree and smiles wide and bright.
He squats down next to it and tilts his head curiously. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?”
“Pete! You ready to go?” Tony asks.
“Yup!”
Two workers come over but Tony shoos them away insisting that they’ll be fine and he’s using tech to carry it.
“You got it, kid?” Tony asks, holding one end lightly.
Peter wraps his arms around the middle and picks it up easily. “Got it!”
The needles of the branches poke Peter’s face and tickle his nose.
“Let’s get this to the car ASAP. It’s making me need to scratch my nose like crazy.”
Tony chuckles. “Let’s get a move on, then.”
The two lug the tree to the car and tie it to the hood with bright orange rope. “It’s part of the tradition, according to Pepper” according to Tony.
The two jam out to the radio station playing songs suited for the holiday spirit, Peter massacring the high note in “All I Want for Christmas is You.” They stop to get gyros and head up to the lake house.
“And you know what?” Tony says, mouthful of lamb and lettuce. “I hated the red and white lights. But my parents said they looked classier. That the multicolored ones were for trashy hillbilly hicks with no eye for design.” Tony scoffs. “Well guess what, Dad? Your son decorates his house like a hillbilly hick now.” He snorts. “Just another thing that my dad would hate about me now.”
Peter frowns. “Your dad sounds like a mean dude.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s the understatement of the century. But it’s alright. I’ve come to terms with it. Don’t worry about me.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think you’re a mean dude at all. You’re a really good guy and a really good dad.”
Tony freezes a small “oh” escaping his lips.
“I like the multicolored lights too,” Peter says, not noticing Tony having a small silent crisis. “I think they’re happy.”
“Yeah. They are happy.”
So, in the warmth and comfort of Tony’s home, they strung the multicolored lights on the tree.
Peter is sucking on a fancy caramel chocolate that Tony keeps in a jar on the kitchen counter when he feels his chest tighten. He drops his ornament on the couch and clutches at it desperately, choking on the chocolate in his mouth.
“Woah. Slow down, kid. I know they’re good but…” Tony freezes. “Peter?”
Peter’s limbs lock and he feels himself fall to the ground. The world blurs as his body begins to seize.
“Shit. Shit shit.” Tony rolls Peter to his side and begins to time. The seizures grow more violent and Peter’s whole body aches.
And then it all goes dark.
.-~*~-.
When Peter awakes, he’s in a hospital bed in the Medbay.
Tony holds his hand, stroking his thumb lightly over his pale skin.
Peter lets out a small moan, unable to make words, the taste in his mouth like mucky cotton balls and his lips too tired to move.
“Hey, kiddo. You gonna stay awake this time?” Tony runs his fingers through Peter’s curls lightly.
“Wha—” Peter smacks his lips, trying to regain any moisture. “Wha’ happ’n?”
“Pesticides in the Christmas tree.”
Peter groans and slams his head into his pillows. “Not gucci.”
Tony laughs. “No. No it’s not.”
“Guess I can’t go over to yours anytime soon,” Peter says.
Tony doesn’t reply. He just nods. “Well, you have to stay one more day for observation, but I promise you’ll be home for the holidays.”
“Woohoo,” Peter says weakly. “I’m sleepy. Night night.”
“G’night, kid.”
.-~*~-.
It has been a good week since the Christmas Tree Incident and Peter is curled up on the couch with May under a cocoon of blankets watching Halmark movies when his phone rings.
With a grumble, Peter’s arm wriggles from his nest and grabs his phone. “Yello?”
“Peter! Pep and I were wondering if you and May would like to come over for dinner on Christmas.”
“Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mr. Stark…”
“Trust me, kid. The house is clean. It’s completely safe for you to come over.”
Peter pauses. “Give me a second.” He pulls the phone away and turns to May. “Mr. and Mrs. Stark wanna know if we want to come over for dinner for Christmas.”
“Oh, that’s nice of them. Tell them yes.”
“She says yes,” Peter says.
“Oh! And ask if we can bring anything.”
“Can we bring anything?”
Tony hums quietly as he thinks. “We could use an appetizer. What about that caprese salad that she sent Pepper on FaceBook? The one that’s shaped like a Christmas tree?”
Peter turns to May. “He says to make the caprese salad you sent to Mrs. Stark.”
May lights up. “Ooo! That would be good. Tell him I’ll make that.”
“She’ll make that,” Peter says.
“Perfect. We’ll see you then.”
.-~*~-.
May and Peter chatter in the car on their way to the lake house. The scent of balsamic glaze fills the air, making Peter’s mouth water in anticipation.
Peter fiddles with the bow on his gift for Morgan.
“Stop messing with it,” May says.
“Can’t help it,” Peter replies with a sheepish shrug.
“What are you so worried about?” May asks.
“Uh, my organs shutting down by merely breathing the air of their house?”
May places a hand over his. “Tony is a smart man. If he says it’s safe, then it’s safe.”
Peter sighs. “Yeah. You’re right. I just…”
“Worry. I know.” She smiles. “Nothing to worry about! It’s Christmas, and we’re gonna have a great time, and we’re gonna eat some great food, and it’s gonna be amazing.”
As the pull up to the Stark’s home, Peter’s nerves grow more unsettled. They head to the door, Peter carrying all of the presents and May carefully balancing the tray of caprese salad. Peter freezes.
“They didn’t get rid of the tree.”
May raises an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”
“It smells like Christmas tree in there. And it’s really strong.”
Before Peter can continue, Tony pulls open the door with a bright smile.
“Hey! How was the drive up? Not too much traffic, I hope.” Tony grabs the tray from May.
“Once you get off the interstate, it’s smooth traveling all the way here,” she replies.
“That’s always a plus,” Tony says. “Come in. Come in. It’s freezing out there.”
Peter hesitantly enters, wary and alert. “I thought you said it was safe for me to come over.”
Tony frowns. “It is.”
“But…”
Tony’s eyebrows shoot up in realization. “Right. You smell the tree.” Tony points to the side table by the couch. “Evergreen scented candles. Even though we got a fake tree, we wanted it to smell like the real thing.”
Peter relaxes. “Oh. That’s great.”
Tony wraps an arm around Peter. “You really doubt me, kid?”
Peter rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known you had something up your sleeve.”
“I always do.” He tugs at his sleeves dramatically. “Now, c’mon. There’s a little girl in the kitchen dying to show you her sugar cookies she decorated.”
And with the aroma of pine needles swirling in the air, they celebrated a very merry Christmas.