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Chapter Text

“But it’s tradition , Tony!” Peter plops down onto the couch and starts gathering every blanket within reach to build himself a cozy little nest. “How can we get into the holiday spirit if we don’t watch a woman from the city move to a small town and fall in love with a lumberjack who teaches her the true meaning of Christmas?” 

“I will kick you out into the snow if you turn that TV to the Hallmark channel, Peter Benjamin Parker!” Tony calls from where he’s making popcorn in the kitchen. “I fucking mean it!”

“You will not,” Peter snorts. “You panicked last week when I walked four blocks in the snow.”   

“I didn’t panic,” Tony protests, carrying the bowl of popcorn into the living room. He sits down next to Peter and steals a blanket, laughing when Peter squawks and grabs the whole bowl of popcorn in retaliation. 

“Thanks for this. Where’s your popcorn?” 

Tony rolls his eyes and reaches over to grab a handful of popcorn, but Peter pulls the bowl just out of his reach and grins. “Give me my blanket back and I’ll share.”

“You have ten other blankets,” Tony huffs. “You can share one .” 

Peter sets the bowl of popcorn on the end table and grabs two fistfuls of blankets, pulling them up under his chin and giving an exaggerated shiver. “O-okay, then,” he says, hunching his shoulders as he sniffles pathetically and pouts for the full effect. “I guess I’ll j-just be c-cold.” 

“Wow, that was very convincing,” Tony deadpans. “Do not, and I mean this very sincerely, ever quit your day job.”

“Aw, come on! Acting is my dream. And now that I have a rich parent, I don’t need a day job!”  

Tony snorts. “Okay, then. Go move out to L.A. and pursue your dream. At least out there you won’t be so cold.” 

Peter rolls his eyes and drops the blanket into his lap, then grabs the bowl of popcorn and slumps heavily against Tony’s side, letting his head rest on the older man’s shoulder. “Shut up so we can watch On the 12th Date of Christmas .” He grabs the remote and points it at the TV, pushing a button and frowning when nothing happens. He tries to turn the TV on again, but suddenly the entire room goes dark.

“...Uh, did the power just go out?” Peter asks after a moment of surprised silence. 

“See? I told you not to change it to the Hallmark channel. You killed the TV.” Tony pats his pockets, looking for his phone so he can use it as a flashlight. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., dear? Are we working on generators or anything?” 

Peter sits up and looks around. He can still see the lights of the city out the window, but everything in the penthouse is completely dark. F.R.I.D.A.Y. doesn’t respond, and Tony stands up from the couch.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

There’s a low humming sound, but it isn’t the generators. It’s an odd noise, and Peter can’t quite place it, but as Tony voices his frustration over his AI’s lack of response, he notices a glow coming from the TV. He realizes it’s where the humming sound is coming from, and he’s about to point as much out to Tony when there’s a loud crack, and then a flash of bright light, and then everything goes pitch black again for a second. 

When the lights turn back on a couple of seconds later, Peter jerks back with a gasp, falling onto the ground and landing where the couch used to be. He jumps back up quickly, moving to Tony’s side.

“What the fuck? ” Tony says, because they’re no longer in the penthouse. In fact, he’s not sure they’re still even on Earth. 

“What just happened?” Peter asks, taking a step even closer, his shoulder brushing Tony’s. “Where the hell are we?” 

They both gape at their new location. It’s dark and eerie, and they’re outside in some kind of clearing between a cluster of trees and what looks like a town. Everything is oddly proportioned, with sharp angles and exaggerated shadows, and there are Halloween decorations everywhere. It's as if they’ve been dropped straight into a nightmarish cartoon. 

In the distance, Peter can barely hear a faint song, one that sounds familiar, but the only word he can make out is ‘Halloween’. Tony can hear it too, because he grumbles something about them singing about the wrong holiday as he walks around slowly in a circle, cautiously inspecting their surroundings. 

“Wait,” Peter says, spinning around. “I know what this place is.” He cranes his neck, looking at something in the distance, then crouches down to pick up a carved jack-o-lantern off the ground. He stares at it like it's a math equation he’s trying to solve. 

“Want to share with the class?” Tony asks after a moment. 

“It’s from a movie,” Peter says slowly. He pauses, listening for a moment to the song. “It’s The Nightmare Before Christmas .” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Am I having a nightmare?” 

“We’re in a movie?”

“Like, is this real? Or am I dreaming this?”

“I don’t know, Pete. This feels pretty real. Why are you moving like that?” Tony asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Like what?”

“All jerky and weird,” Tony explains, and Peter looks down at his hands, setting the jack-o-lantern back down and turning his hands over before looking back up at Tony. 

“I’m stop motion!” 

Just then, the song grows louder, the chorus sung by a group of quickly approaching voices. Peter grabs Tony’s arm and drags him over to a spooky-looking tree, and they crouch down behind it, watching the shadows dance along the buildings as something– or someone– approaches. From their hiding spot they watch as a group of creatures, all moving in the same slightly twitchy motion, circles around a well of green glowing water.  

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Peter whispers. “I always hated this movie. It gave me nightmares as a kid.”

Tony eyes him. “Maybe we are in your nightmare,” he whispers back.  

“We have to follow that guy,” Peter says, pointing to the tallest of the creatures.  

“Skeletor? Why him?”

“His name is Jack Skellington,” Peter replies. “And I think he can lead us somewhere a little more…friendly.” He shivers a little, and Tony leans against him.

“Hey,” he says, voice low. “We’re gonna get out of here.”  

“I wish I had my suit,” Peter says softly. “I…I don’t think I have my powers here.” 

“What?” Tony can’t keep the alarm out of his voice or his expression as he looks over at Peter. “What do you mean?” 

Peter presses his palm to the tree they’re behind, then pulls it away. “I’m not sticky.” He shrugs. “And I can’t hear very well. Everything is kind of muffled.” 

“Great,” Tony hisses, instantly regretting it when he sees the fear that flashes behind Peter’s eyes. “It’s okay, Pete. We don’t need your suit or your powers to get out of here. We’re perfectly capable, right?” 

Peter just swallows audibly and hunches closer to the ground. 

Eventually, Jack Skellington comes in their direction, walking right past them and into the woods that the trees make up. They wait a few minutes, then follow, keeping low to the ground and sticking to the shadows. 

“So,” Tony says as they walk through the trees. “Where is Beetlejuice leading us, anyway?” 

“Christmas Town,” Peter whispers, his voice shaking slightly. “I think maybe we’ll have a better chance of figuring things out there.” 

Tony nods, because it’s the only thing he can do without freaking Peter out more, and soon they find themselves at a small clearing where Jack Skellington is approaching a tree with a Christmas tree painted on it. He reaches out and grabs what appears to be a doorknob with his skeletal fingers, twisting it to open a door, and the next thing they know he’s being sucked into the dark opening.  

“Looks fun,” Tony says under his breath. He straightens up. “Okay, let’s go jump into the tree and go to Christmas Town.” 

They approach the tree. There are other trees with other holiday emblems on them, but the Christmas tree is the biggest and brightest. Peter reaches out and twists the knob, pulling the door open. He’s grateful that Tony enters first, but he follows quickly, not wanting to get separated. The last thing he sees as he jumps through the door is a bright, glowing jack-o-lantern in the sky before he’s completely swallowed by the tree and everything goes dark. 

Chapter Text

When he comes to, Peter is alone in the penthouse of the Tower.

He hears faint sounds coming from the floor above, laughter and lively conversation, and though his enhanced hearing still isn’t working quite right he can tell that the voices are familiar. He races to the elevator. He has to find out if what just happened to him and Tony was some kind of weird dream, though it had felt so real . 

The elevator is working, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. is still silent, which makes Peter nervous. He doesn’t love that she’s still down, but he’s already riding the elevator up to the next floor before it occurs to him that he probably should have taken the stairs. When the elevator doors slide open, he’s met with the sight of the Avengers sitting around the table in the dining room, eating dinner together. Tony’s there, too, but he doesn’t look over as Peter steps off the elevator. In fact, he looks far too calm to have just gone through what Peter had in Halloween Town. As he approaches the table, Steve grabs an entire box of pizza for himself.     

“This is Peter’s favorite pizza,” he says. “I’m going to eat it all so there’s none left for him.” Steve’s voice is cool and his face is a little too serious for Peter’s liking. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Peter says, taking a few steps forward, but no one seems to hear him. 

“Peter is completely helpless. It’s honestly so old,” Natasha laughs cooly. 

Sam laughs along with her. “I should feed him my tarantula. That would freak him out so bad.” 

“Tarantula pizza,” Bucky cackles, slapping his knee. 

Peter swallows hard. They’re joking, right? 

“Why is everyone messing with me today?” He asks, voice a little louder this time, but again, not a single person looks at him. 

“Out of all of the Avengers, he’s the only one who has to make trouble. Who made him an Avenger, anyway?” Clint asks, and it’s the most serious Peter has ever seen him. 

“Fuck you, Clint,” he snaps, and his stomach rolls when there’s still no reaction from anyone. He comes to a stop across the table from Tony. It’s like some kind of nightmare again, but not at all like the cartoonish, bizarre world from before. This is all hitting a little too close to home. It’s a little too… realistic . 

Tony looks up then, meeting his eyes, and Peter feels both relief that Tony can finally see him and dread at the way he’s looking at him. As the sounds of everyone talking fades, Peter can hear Tony’s words loud and clear. 

“You are such a disease , Peter.” 

Peter feels his face crumple even as he tells himself it’s not real, it’s just another nightmare. There’s a loud clattering sound behind him, and Peter spins around, but he’s unable to find the source of the noise. He’s not sure what’s up with his spider-sense, but when he turns back to the dining room table he’s suddenly face-to-face with Tony, mere inches away, and he lets out a startled yelp. 

“What the fuck , Tony!”

“Pete? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Tony’s hands are on his shoulder, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt uncertainly, and Peter reaches up and angrily swipes at his face.

“I’m n-not crying. Are you…are you messing with me right now?” 

“Why would I be messing with you?” 

“You didn’t mean that?”

“Mean what ?” 

Peter pulls in a shaky breath. “Never mind. Okay. What the hell is going on?”

“You tell me. This house look familiar to you?” 

Peter looks around. The table and the Avengers are gone. They’re not even in the Tower any more, but in a house. A big, fancy suburban house that looks like it’s straight out of the time period around when Peter was born, or maybe even older , like all the way back in the 90’s. Whatever time period the dated decor is from, Peter can’t shake the feeling that the house looks strangely familiar. 

“Shit,” Peter says when it all clicks together. 

“What?” 

“It’s another movie. Everyone at the table being mean to me, you calling me a disease…I know this house.”

“Me calling you what ?”

“Have you ever seen the really old Christmas movie Home Alone ?” 

Tony blinks at him. “First of all, I don’t think that movie is that old.”

“Wait!” Peter puts a hand on Tony’s chest when he starts to move. “Don’t move.”

Tony’s smart enough to stay still. “Okay, I’m not moving. What do we have to do in this place? How do we get out?” 

Peter edges carefully toward the stairs and looks down. “I think we have to get past the booby traps.”

“Booby traps? Jesus, are we in the twilight zone or something?” 

“Or something,” Peter mumbles, looking around. 

“Okay…what kind of booby traps are we looking at here?” 

“I don’t remember, exactly. Just, watch where you step, and stay low, and don’t touch any door knobs. Whatever the hell is happening, it’s messing up my spider-sense, so I don’t really have a heads up for anything.”  

“Great.” Tony huffs out a frustrated breath. “I’m going first, then. Stay behind me.” 

“Are you kidding? I’m the one with enhanced healing, I should go first.” 

“Not if your other powers already aren’t working,” Tony replies. He pushes Peter’s hand away from his chest and steps around him, moving to the top of the stairs. Just as Tony’s foot touches the top step, there’s a sound behind him, and a paint can swings inches in front of Peter’s face before it collides with the back of Tony’s head.

Peter can only watch in horror as the blow sends Tony tumbling down an entire flight of stairs. “ Fuck ,” he hisses, racing down after him. He’s halfway down the steps, watching as Tony groans loudly and tries to push himself into a sitting position, when he slips on something that sends his feet out from under him. He can’t stop himself from sliding down the rest of the stairs on his ass, feet slamming hard into Tony when he reaches the bottom. 

“Sorry, sorry ,” he winces when Tony cries out in pain. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Help me up,” Tony grumbles, panting heavily. He’s clutching his head and Peter is shocked that he’s still conscious. He stands, then grabs Tony under one arm and hoists him into a standing position. They start walking. On their second step, Peter slips again, and though he’s able to catch himself from falling, the movement sends Tony flying sideways into the wall. 

“Shit, sorry!” Peter yelps. 

Tony looks like he’s two seconds away from murder. He takes a long, deep breath in through his nose, and then straightens up as best as he can. Peter tries to help him again, but he can’t seem to keep his footing, and he almost takes them both down as he slips yet again.

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to help me,” Tony sighs. He’s still holding the back of his head and wincing. Peter looks sad at that, but nods, shoulders slouching as he slides one foot forward experimentally across the floor. Tony takes a deep, shaky breath. “Me first,” he grunts, and takes one cautious step, then another toward the front of the house. Peter follows, hovering just behind him, and they make it all the way to the doorway of the next room.

“Wait,” Peter whispers. “Let me go first, please. I don’t want you to get hit in the head again.” All they have left to get through is the kitchen. They’re so close.

Miraculously, Tony lets Peter inch around him. He looks down at the floor, then up at the ceiling and around the door frame, then steps into the kitchen. Nothing happens. He takes another slow step. One more step, and Peter pauses, chest aching as he holds his breath. There are a couple of seconds of agonizing silence, and then a small click from above Peter’s head before an entire bag of flour rains down on him.  

“Pete!” Tony lurches forward and reaches out to grab Peter’s shoulder, but he’s too busy coughing and sputtering and clawing at his eyes and nose in a panic and the flour fills his lungs and clouds his vision to notice. He’s flailing so much he doesn’t even notice when he bumps into something near the refrigerator, but Tony hears it, and the next thing he knows something is flying directly toward his face. 

When the cloud of flour clears and Peter is finally able to stop wheezing and coughing, he looks around for Tony, gasping when he sees the older man on the ground, an odd shaped red mark on his forehead. 

“Wha–?” Peter launches into another coughing fit. He kneels next to Tony. “What happened?” 

“An iron,” Tony spits out. “I got hit in the face by a fucking iron .” There’s blood dripping from his nose. 

“An…iron? And you’re… Iron Man .” Peter can’t help the snort-laugh that comes out of him, and it’s followed by a wheezy cough that sends a puff of flour into the air. 

Tony does not look amused. 

They both lean on each other to stand, then turn to the front door. Peter reaches out slowly and uses his sleeve to turn the doorknob, but it isn’t hot. He pushes the front door open, and nothing happens. He and Tony step out onto the front porch, and immediately look up, but there’s nothing above them. They each breathe a sigh of relief, and then together, side by side, they go down the stairs, not noticing the glossiness of the slick surface that covers the first step. 

Everything goes black, but not before Peter feels the pain of the back of his head hitting concrete.

Chapter Text

Peter wakes up with a pounding headache and the taste of flour in his mouth. He sits up slowly, groaning when the motion makes his head throb painfully. For a moment, he thinks something might be wrong with his vision, but after he blinks a few more times and wipes the remaining flour from his face, he realizes that everything is monochrome, like an old black-and-white movie. 

There’s a massive crowd of people gathered nearby. Tony is nowhere to be seen. Peter hunches down a little, hoping to determine his whereabouts before he has to interact with anyone. It doesn’t seem very threatening here, but he has no idea what universe he’s in, or if Tony is even here with him. 

Looking around, Peter can tell he’s in a city. It might even be New York, but if everything in New York was…old. He’s sitting in what might be a sled, wearing baggy clothes that look almost like a tracksuit, and when he looks across the street there’s a woman making a beeline for him. 

“Where’s your hat?” She asks him, eyes frantic. “The parade is about to begin!” Then, she takes a closer look at him, narrowing her eyes. “ You’re our Santa? You’re just a kid!”

“I’m twenty-one,” Peter mumbles, scooting back away from the edge of the sled until he’s in the middle. She steps up onto the platform that the sled is sitting on, leaning over and getting into his personal space. She reaches up and brushes the top of his hair, sending a small cloud of flour into the air.

“Nice touch, but the white hair isn’t going to make you look old enough,” she frowns. Peter ducks away and presses himself up against the opposed edge of the sled– Santa’s sleigh, apparently. Thankfully, the woman backs away after that, stepping back down onto the ground and looking around as if in search for something. A man comes to stand next to her. 

“He’s mighty young to be playing Santa,” the man says disapprovingly. 

“I know,” she replies under her breath, eyeing Peter warily. “But unless you have someone else for me, he’ll have to do.”

“There’s some kind of mistake,” Peter says, but neither of them listen. Just then, he hears a familiar voice calling his name over the crowd and a wave of relief washes over him.

“Peter!” Tony rushes over, hopping up onto the platform and jumping into the sleigh with Peter in one swift motion. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Peter shakes his head, which makes it throb again, but a little headache is nothing compared to what Tony must be feeling after getting hit multiple times in the head and falling down a flight of stairs. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

Tony doesn’t answer, just looks around, his jaw set. “We’re in another fucking Christmas movie,” he says after a moment.

“A really, really old one,” Peter adds, and Tony glares at him. “What? It’s not even in color!”

“You think every movie that came out before you were born is old!” Tony snorts. 

“Do you think I know any black-and-white movies? That’s your era,” Peter shoots back. 

Tony glances around. “At least we’re still in New York.”

“So…what’s an old movie that’s about Santa in a parade in New York?” Peter asks. Something flashes across Tony’s eyes and Peter’s mouth falls open. “You do know what movie this is!” He grins triumphantly.

“I know what it’s called,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what the movie is about.” 

“Oh, thank goodness !” They’re interrupted by the woman from before, who is once again getting way too close for Peter’s comfort. “You must be our real Santa!” She pokes Tony in the chest, and gestures toward Peter’s clothes. “Get changed! The parade is starting in two minutes!”  

Tony looks pissed, but the woman is called in another direction and soon she’s gone. 

Peter sighs. “I think you have to be Santa in the parade.” He removes the velvety tracksuit, thankful he’s still wearing his normal clothes underneath, and hands it over to Tony. 

“If it will get us out of here, then fine,” Tony grumbles, grabbing the suit. “But you have to be Santa’s helper.” 

It’s loud as they ride through the parade. The noise downs out any conversation Peter and Tony try to have, so they’re left sitting in silence next to each other, which means Peter has time to think. Too much time to think. His mind starts to run through a million scenarios and what ifs. 

What if they’re stuck in a loop of Christmas movies forever? What if they can’t get out? So far, they’ve been following some kind of script, and while it’s led them out of whatever world they’re in, they still end up in another one next. What happens if they can’t follow the script? What if the trick to getting back home is to deviate from the script? They should probably try that next, but Peter can’t help but wonder if that will cause more harm than good. He already has no powers in this universe, so he can’t even protect Tony if something goes really wrong. It makes him feel weak and helpless and–  

“Pete,” he catches Tony saying next to his ear. “Breathe. You have to breathe .” 

Peter hears the words, but getting his lungs to cooperate feels impossible. Tony’s hand is on his back, pressing firmly between his shoulder blades, and Peter tries to focus on the weight.  

“Okay, good. Keep going, Pete. Keep breathing. You’re doing great.” 

Peter’s not sure why Tony is saying it like that, because he’s not really doing all that great. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and his chest feels constricted, making it hard to do anything but gasp for air and squeeze his eyes shut and clench his fists. 

“ Fuck ,” Tony whispers. Then, louder, he keeps up the soothing, encouraging words. “Great job, Pete. Deep breaths, you’re doing great.” 

“What…what if…” Peter can’t get the full sentence out. Tony shushes him, moving his hand in circles now on Peter’s back. 

“Just breathe,” he says, his words almost lost in the noise of the crowd. 

Peter gets in one shaky breath, and then another, and he finally opens his eyes to find Tony a few inches from his face, peering at him with wide eyes, his forehead wrinkled with worry. He slides his hand up Peter’s back to cup the back of his neck, and Peter focuses on the warm contact, letting it ground him.  

“Okay,” Tony huffs out, looking relieved when Peter’s shoulders slump. “We’re getting out of here. Can you stand?” He barely waits for Peter to nod before standing and hoisting Peter up by the arm. Peter wills his legs to work as he climbs out of the movie sleigh and hops onto the street below, letting Tony practically drag him away from the parade among a chorus of protests and gasps of surprise. They head east, toward the river, pushing through the crowds of people until they get a few blocks away. 

“Where are we going?” Peter asks, sucking in a deep breath once they come to a stop on the corner of a less busy street. Everything is a blur and he focuses on trying not to pass out.

“We’re going to see if the Tower exists here. It’s not too far from here,” Tony replies. He starts walking again, motioning for Peter to follow. 

“ This is getting rather boring .” 

Peter’s head snaps up. “D-did you hear that?” He asks, looking around, but there isn’t anyone standing close to them. 

“Hear what?” Tony is still walking quickly, and Peter almost has to jog to keep up. 

“ On to the next one, I suppose .” 

The voice is low, almost familiar, but Peter can’t quite place it and he can’t determine where it’s coming from. He stops in his tracks. “That…you didn’t hear that?” 

Tony slows down and turns to squint at him. “We should stop and rest,” he says slowly, taking Peter by the elbow. Peter looks down where Tony’s hand is around his arm, then back up, his confusion growing. He could have sworn he heard somebody talking, but without his enhanced hearing he has no way to place the voice. 

Peter is suddenly very tired. It feels like they’ve been trapped in this alternate universe for days, even though it more realistically has only been a couple of hours, and he’s sure the lack of his powers is to blame for how exhausted he feels. With his stamina and strength reduced to pre-spider-bite levels, stopping to rest sounds not only like a good idea, but incredibly necessary. 

He follows Tony in between two buildings, letting him guide him to lean up against a brick wall. He feels Tony’s arm move to grip him around the shoulder, warm and comforting, and he closes his eyes and leans forward until his forehead touches Tony’s chest. The panic is creeping back up, his breathing growing shallow again. Tony’s talking to him, but all Peter can hear is a low humming sound, and then his legs give out and he surrenders to unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

When Tony gently shakes him awake, Peter thinks for a second that they’re back at the Tower, and that he’s waking up from this nightmare. That it’s all finally over. He lets himself believe it, just for that second, and the relief is overwhelming.  

Reality hits him hard in the form of icy wind and the cold hard ground of a city sidewalk beneath him. It’s snowing lightly, and Peter is already shivering from the cold, still only in his jeans and sweater. He looks up into Tony’s worried eyes and slowly sits up.

“Ugh,” he groans. 

“Yeah. We jumped movies again,” Tony replies, helping him stand up. “How are you feeling?” 

Peter is freezing, and he still has a headache, and his body feels too heavy. “I’m fine,” is what he tells Tony. “Any idea which movie this is? It’s another old one.” 

“No idea,” Tony sighs. “I’m starting to miss colors.” 

They look around. They’re close to a river, next to a bridge, and Peter can see a sign that reads Bedford Falls. The setting is familiar, and after a moment Peter realizes he recognizes the bridge, and what movie they’re in. He takes a few steps forward, looking toward the bridge, his heart beating in his chest.  

“You know this one?” Tony asks hopefully. 

“ It’s A Wonderful Life ,” Peter says softly. “Ben used to love this movie. I always thought it was boring and begged him to watch The Santa Clause instead.” 

Just then, they both spot a figure standing on the bridge. 

“Fuck,” Peter hisses, watching the person– a man dressed in a suit and tie under a long coat– climb up onto the edge. “No! There’s…there’s supposed to be an angel,” Peter shouts over his shoulder, already starting to run toward the man. After a second of confusion, Tony runs after him, but Peter has a good lead on him, and he reaches the bridge first just as the man jumps into the river below. 

Peter doesn’t hesitate for a single second before he dives into the water after the man. The water is so shockingly cold that he almost instinctively gasps underwater. He kicks his feet hard, thankful that the river isn’t flowing very quickly, and breaks through the surface of the water to suck in a breath, his lungs burning with the intake of cold air. 

He can hear Tony screaming at him from up on the bridge as he looks around for the man. He spots him a couple of yards away and swims to him, his arms aching with each stroke. When Peter reaches him, the man immediately grabs onto him and they both end up underwater again for a few seconds until Peter can get his face up to gasp for more air. He starts to swim, tugging the man alongside him by his coat and struggling to keep both of their heads above water. 

Pulling another person through the water is incredibly hard without his super strength, and when they reach the shore Peter doesn’t have an ounce of energy left. He crawls on his hands and knees, letting Tony finish pulling the man fully out of the water, and coughs up some water. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” 

Tony’s hands are under his armpit, dragging him up into a standing position, but Peter can barely stand he’s shivering so hard. His legs feel like jello as he slumps heavily against Tony. Tony seems to change his mind after a minute, slowly lowering Peter back to the ground before kneeling beside him. 

“Fuck, Pete.” Tony looks angry, the way he does when he’s worried. Peter just closes his eyes and leans sideways into his mentor. 

“I’m serious,” Tony mumbles in his ear. “What the hell were you thinking, jumping off a bridge like that without your–” 

He’s interrupted by a tinkling sound, like a small bell, and then a voice. “ Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings .”

Both of them pause, eyes widening at the words that seem to come out of nowhere. 

“That’s a different voice than before,” Peter says at the same time that Tony asks, “Why do I not like the sound of that?”

Tony frowns. “What does an angel getting his wings have to do with all of this?” 

“The angel is the one that was supposed to save…him…” Peter says, pausing when he looks for the man on the bank and doesn’t see him anywhere. “Where did he go?” He asks. Then, he has a horrifying realization. “ I saved him.” 

Just then, a sharp, stabbing pain in the middle of Peter’s back has him crying out. His voice echoes throughout the air and Tony grabs him by the arm.  

“What, Pete? What is it?” 

Peter can only lean forward as an agonizing white hot sensation spreads across his back like fire. The pain is almost too unbearable. Peter is pretty sure he loses consciousness at some point, because when he comes to he feels dizzy and Tony’s voice is muffled, almost like he’s far away. It takes him a moment to realize the pitiful sobbing is coming from him. 

“H-help,” he croaks out, reaching out to grab on to something, anything. He can’t move the rest of his body. He finds something soft, hopefully something attached to Tony, and lets his fingers clench around it as another wrenching sob rips through his throat. He’s never felt so much pain in his life; it’s maybe similar to the time he was attacked as Spider-Man and got stabbed in the back, but it’s ten times more excruciating. 

Peter isn’t sure how long the pain lasts, or how long he sits there crying and moaning and grabbing onto Tony like the very act of holding him will keep him alive, but eventually the terrible pain gives way to a stinging, throbbing ache. He can feel what might be blood trickling down his back, soaking his shirt. When he looks up, blinking against a steady stream of tears, Tony is looking at him like he’s grown an extra head. 

“Wha– what’s h-happening?” Peter whimpers, biting down hard on his lip to keep another sob from escaping. 

Tony grabs his face in both hands and doesn’t let him turn to look. He holds Peter’s head, leaning in close until their foreheads are touching. “Um.” Tony sounds out of breath. “Nothing. Nothing is happening. We’re just gonna sit here for a second, okay?”  

Tony brushes his thumb along Peter’s jaw, and Peter closes his eyes. He starts to lose grasp on consciousness again, and as much as he wants to give in to the darkness because then he might be free of the pain, he also knows it means that he’ll probably just wake up in the next movie, and he’s not sure he’s mentally ready for that yet. 

“Tony,” he tries to say, but nothing comes out except for a small squeak, and Tony shushes him. 

“I’m right here, Pete. We’re just gonna sit here. It’s going to be okay. Okay?” He sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as Peter. 

Peter leans back slightly, and the pain erupts again in his shoulder blades again as something heavy tugs him back. Tony drops his hands and Peter turns to look, twisting his head around until he can see that there’s something attached to him, large and covered in feathers and looming tall above his body. There are two of them, one attached to each side of him. 

Not attached to him. Coming out of him. 

Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings .

Peter barely has time to lurch forward onto his hands and knees before the contents of his stomach come up violently, his arms trembling as he struggles to hold up the extra weight on his back, and then he promptly passes out.

Chapter Text

Peter wakes up cold. He forces his eyes open and is met with nothing but white. Freezing, wet, swirling white. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he shivers hard when he realizes that he’s lying in the snow, his clothes soaking wet and his skin almost numb from how cold it is. Clambering to his feet, Peter shivers again and looks around. The snow is heavy, and he can barely see more than six feet in front of him.  

The events from before suddenly come rushing back, and he twists around, frantically craning his neck to see behind him. He…he had grown wings , actual wings, out of his back . The memory is almost enough to make him sick to his stomach again, but as he reaches his hands behind his back he’s relieved to feel just his shirt, no pain, and no wings protruding from his shoulder blades. What an awful nightmare that had been, one that he’s pretty sure is going to be a recurring one, and he’s willing to bet it’s the same for Tony, too with the way he had looked at Peter. 

If they ever get out of here, that is. 

Peter looks around, and while he’s glad to see everything is in color again, Tony is nowhere to be found. 

“Tony?” He yells, his voice coming out hoarse, like he has a cold. He sneezes violently and tries to call for Tony again. “T-T’ny?” 

“Peter!” 

Peter stumbles in the direction of Tony’s voice. He’s shivering non stop now, his wet clothes doing absolutely nothing to protect him from the snow. 

“Tony!” 

“Pete?”

Peter sighs in relief when he finally spots a figure, but he stops short when he’s able to make out what it is. He can hardly believe his eyes. There in front of him is a snowman, and somehow the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach tells him that Tony’s voice had come directly from it. 

“T-Tony?”

“Peter? Are you okay?” 

“I–” Peter breaks off to sneeze. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

“I seem to be…a little tied up, but yes, I’m otherwise okay.” 

The snowman’s– Tony’s – eyes are solid black, but Peter swears they’re looking directly at him. 

“You’re a snowman,” Peter whispers. “A fucking snowman .”

Snowman-Tony seems to sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. But you look like you’re still you, yeah?” 

Peter nods and aims yet another sneeze into his sleeve. His nose is starting to hurt. 

“Okay, kid. What movie is this, Frosty the Snowman?”

“Uh…” Peter’s teeth are chattering. “Yeah?” 

“Great. So I’m Frosty.” 

“Y-Yeah,” Peter replies. He sneezes twice more. He can’t seem to stop sneezing or shivering.

“Shit, you’re catching a cold out here,” Snowman-Tony says, his voice suddenly urgent. “We have to get you to someplace warm.” 

“We’re stuck in a blizzard and you’re a snowman .” Peter’s trying not to panic. The cold wind is making his eyes water and his nose run.   

“Pete,” Snowman-Tony says sharply. “You have to get somewhere warm, now .” 

“You’re a talking snowman .” 

Snowman-Tony sighs again, sounding more than a little frustrated. “Okay, what’s the deal with this one? What exactly happens in Frosty the Snowman? You’ve seen the movie, you can do this.”

There’s snow in Peter’s hair, dripping down the back of his neck as it melts. It’s seeping into his shoes and socks, too. His whole body is shaking, but his legs are starting to feel especially shaky and weak. 

“Pete?” Tony’s voice snaps him back into focus. 

“Um.” Peter sniffles. “I don’t know…it’s a cartoon about a snowman coming to life. I don’t really remember.” 

“Okay. How do we get you somewhere warm, then?” 

“I-I d-don’t know,” Peter whimpers. He’s really fucking cold now. “I’m not leaving you, though.” 

“Listen to me, please, Peter. I can’t get you warmed up if you stay out here in the snow. You need to get somewhere warm. You have to leave and go find shelter.” 

“I’m not g-gonna leave y-you out here.” 

“Peter–”

“I can’t l-leave you,” Peter insists. 

“Doesn’t Frosty the Snowman come to life somehow?”

Peter racks his brain for the information that Tony’s asking for. He knows the answer, he knows he knows it, but for some reason everything is starting to get a little fuzzy and he’s just so cold . He tucks his numb hands under his armpits and tries not to fall over with the next shiver that runs through him. Snowman-Tony is saying something about eyes made out of coal when Peter catches sight of something on the ground a few feet away, something black and cylindrical. 

“H-hat,” he manages. His muscles are starting to ache from shivering so hard. He wrenches forward with another sneeze, and when he straightens back up he can’t see the hat anymore.  

“What?” Snowman-Tony sucks in a breath. “Fuck, Pete, are you okay?”

“Th-there’s a hat,” Peter replies hoarsely. “A hat m-makes Frosty come to l-life.” He stumbles a few feet to his left, looking around wildly. “There’s a hat here.” He’s shaking so hard his vision is blurring. “S-somewhere.” 

He has to find that hat. It was here just a minute ago. He shuffles his feet forward, making a path in the snow, dragging his eyes back and forth in search of the hat. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe with the growing congestion in his sinuses and the icy air drying out his throat and making his chest ache, and each step forward leaves him slightly more out of breath than the one before. He still has his hands tucked under his armpits, but they’re stinging from the cold, along with his cheeks and his ears and just about every other inch of his skin. 

He finally spots the black top hat again. It takes almost too much effort for Peter to reach down and pick it up from the snow-covered ground. When his trembling fingers close around the fabric, he loses his balance, and he goes down onto one knee. He can hear Tony’s voice calling for him. He sounds far away, and Peter looks around, realizing he can’t see anything but snow blowing around. The hat, by some miracle, stays in his weak grip as he pushes himself back into a standing position. Peter takes a step to his left, then changes his mind and turns to take a few steps in the other direction. He has no clue which direction is the right one, so he closes his eyes and listens. Walking in the direction of Tony’s voice is hard when it sounds like it’s coming from all around him, but he puts one foot forward, then the other. 

Somehow, Peter finds himself on his hands and knees without even realizing he fell again. His hands feel like they’re on fire when he pushes them against the ground, trying to get back on his feet. He’d be alarmed at how weak he feels if he wasn’t so overwhelmed by how cold he feels. He grits his teeth against the biting wind and moves forward through the blizzard, ignoring the tiny voice in his head telling him to stop moving, telling him that everything would be easier if he just stops and rests for a moment. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, he sees a snowman shape in front of him.

“There you are!” Snowman-Tony yells. “Thank fuck , Pete. Where did you go? Are you– are you okay ?”

Peter holds up the hat. He tries to answer, but his voice doesn’t cooperate. Snowman-Tony is asking him a lot of questions, but he can barely concentrate on the words. He stumbles forward, lifting the hat up and placing it as carefully as he can. As soon as he sets the hat on top of Snowman-Tony’s head, Peter loses his last bit of strength to stand. His knees buckle, and he manages one step backward before he’s collapsing into the snow. It doesn’t even feel cold to him anymore, and the shivering has slowed to almost nothing. He’s aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, that not shivering is a bad thing. 

Peter’s eyes aren’t open to see Snowman-Tony come to life before him. He hears it instead, an odd, almost musical sound filling his ears, and then something solid and cold scoops him up off the ground.  

Snowman-Tony’s voice in his ear is shaky and full of fear. “Hang in there, Pete. I’m gonna get you someplace warm. Just hang in there, bud.” 

Chapter Text

Peter feels far too light in Tony’s arms. He comes to a stop at the entrance of what appears to be a large cave and hugs Peter tighter to his chest. He’s maybe five minutes into carrying Peter through the snow, though it had felt like fifty minutes, with at least four stops to check Peter’s pulse and breathing. 

Tony knows that something isn’t right with this cave that just happens to be here, and he knows that the fire that just happens to be burning in the middle of the cave means something lives in this cave. Or someone, more accurately. Someone who can build a fire. All Tony cares about though is getting Peter warmed up. He carries him over to the fire and carefully lowers him to the ground with his thankfully now-human arms, and Peter groans but doesn’t open his eyes. His breath is coming in wheezy exhales and shallow inhales, and there’s a flush high on his cheeks that indicates a possible fever. Tony presses his fingers to Peter’s pulse point, then reaches up to push the damp hair off of Peter’s forehead with a sigh. Peter shivers and curls onto his side, facing the flames.

There’s a bed in the cave. There’s a whole lot more than that, but the bed has blankets, and Tony quickly grabs them and drapes them over Peter’s body. Everything smells awful, but it’s dry and warm and a place to get out of the snow.   

Tony doesn’t want to leave Peter’s side, but he needs to check out their surroundings a little more. Back at the entrance of the cave, he peers out, looking for any signs of life. The snow has stopped falling now, and though everything in sight is blanketed in a layer of white powder, everything is quiet and still. Tony takes a step outside, then another, and then gasps in shock when his third step brings him to the edge of what appears to be a very high cliff, one that definitely wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Instead of a flat, endless expanse of snow, they’re now apparently at the top of a very, very tall mountain. Down below, Tony can just make out what looks like a tiny town with oddly shaped buildings, brightly lit with a rainbow of colors.   

A weak cough draws Tony’s attention back to Peter inside the cave, and he turns to see him trying to sit up.

“Pete?” Tony rushes back to his side and crouches down, helping him sit. “How are you feeling?” 

“Feel like I got hit by a train,” Peter replies, his voice is raspy. “Wait…I didn’t get hit by a train, right?” He’s squinting up at Tony through heavy eyelids, looking so unsure that Tony has to think back on their past few…hours, days , however the fuck long they’ve been stuck in this nightmare…to remember if there have been any trains involved. 

“Nope, no trains,” he finally tells Peter. “You’re just running a little fever, I think.” Peter’s back is hot under his palm, but Tony’s almost glad for the warmth instead of the terrifyingly icy skin he had been sporting less than an hour ago. 

“Makes sense, because I think I had a dream you were a snowman,” Peter sighs. 

“Uh, actually,” Tony clears his throat. “That part wasn’t a dream. Do you remember anything before the snowman part?” 

“Oh.” Peter blinks. “ Oh .” 

“Yeah. We’re still doing this alternate realty thing, or whatever the fuck is going on.” 

Peter coughs. “Where are we now?” 

Tony helps Peter stand, and then leads him out of the cave to the edge of the cliff. He keeps one arm around Peter’s shoulders, holding the blanket against him, and shows him the village below.

“Oh,” Peter says slowly. “I think I know what this is.” 

Suddenly, there’s a strange noise from inside the cave, something between a snarl and a laugh. 

“Shit, we have to get out of here,” Tony says.

“Too late,” comes a voice from the cave, and then Tony and Peter find themselves face to face with a tall, furry green… something . There’s a little dog next to him holding a rope in its mouth. “Why the scared faces, fellows?” The creature asks. “It’s because I’m green, isn’t it?”

A lot of things happen all at once, then. Tony and Peter both move to their right, the creature moves even farther to their right, and the dog begins to run in circles around them at an impossibly fast speed. Peter glances back at Tony, his fever-flushed face now dripping with sweat, and gives a subtle nod– Tony knows exactly what he’s saying, that he wants them to split up, and even though he hates the idea at the moment, he knows it’s their best bet. However, the second they start to move in opposite directions, the green creature somehow closes the distance quickly and tosses something silver and sparkly over their shoulders with surprisingly accurate aim. The whole ordeal lasts all of thirty seconds and ends with both Tony and Peter tied up with an excessive amount of rope and tinsel, sitting back to back in the snow.

“What the fuck ,” Tony hisses. He lowers his voice even more and tries to twist around. “Pete, you okay?” 

Peter gives a low hum in response.  

“Now,” the creature says, smiling wickedly down at them. “Let me introduce myself.” 

“You’re the Grinch,” Peter says tiredly, beating him to it. “We know who you are. What we want to know is why you tied us up.” He sounds slightly breathless when he’s done, and Tony wishes he could see his face. He shifts a little, and though Peter’s back is still too warm against his, he’s shivering again. 

“Or,” Tony adds. “You could even skip that part and just let us go before someone gets hurt. No harm, no foul.” 

“How do you know who I am?” The Grinch snaps, but then his glare drops and he gasps. “I didn’t realize I had followers beyond Whoville! And to think, no one believed I could make it as an influencer!” 

Peter snorts, then coughs loudly.

“Let us go,” Tony growls, and the Grinch once again looks angry.   

“Max!” He snaps at his dog. “Load them onto the sled!” Then, he turns on his heel and storms off back into the cave. 

Once he’s gone, Peter doesn’t waste time trying to free himself from the ropes. He struggles against them for a bit, then stops, sagging back against Tony with a heavy sigh. “I still don’t have my super strength, apparently,” he says sadly. 

Tony tilts his head to one side and Peter leans his head back onto Tony’s shoulder with another sigh and a hoarse cough. He tries to push down the anger and panic rising in his chest. By this time, he’s figured out that they can get out of this situation, they just have to complete some task or adventure from whatever movie they’re in.

“Okay, Pete,” He says, turning his head and getting a faceful of Peter’s curls. He turns so his cheek is resting against Peter’s hair instead. “How do we defeat the Jolly Green Giant?” 

“He tries to steal Christmas from the Whos,” Peter answers softly. “So I guess we have to stop him from doing that?”    

Tony nods. “Let me do all the work from here on out. And no more sassing the green guy, okay? You need to rest up.”  

Just then, the dog appears with another long rope in his mouth. He uses his mouth to tie one end of the rope to Tony’s ankle, and then takes the other end between his teeth and starts walking around the side of the mountain. At first, Tony thinks there’s no way such a small dog will be able to drag him and Peter, but he’s proven wrong when the rope is pulled taut and they’re dragged after the dog. It’s a slow, somewhat painful journey halfway around the mountain. A few minutes in, Peter has the brilliant idea to stand and walk behind the dog, so they wait for a moment where there’s some slack in the rope to lean against each other and get to their feet. It’s a little awkward walking tied together with their backs pressed together, but it’s far better than being dragged by the ankle through the snow. 

They finally reach a large wooden sled that’s perched precariously on a snowbank. The Grinch is already there, wearing a Santa hat and a red coat. He claps impatiently at the dog, looking surprised when Tony and Peter simply climb into the back of the sled without a fight. 

“This is perfect for my plan,” The Grinch says. “Before you two came along, I was prepared to take the blame. But now, now! ” He stops to throw his head back and laugh dramatically. “Now I can stop Christmas from coming, and you two will take all the blame, and I’ll finally be left in peace up here on my mountain!” 

“What’s this guy’s deal?” Tony mumbles.

“Have you really never seen How the Grinch Stole Christmas ?” Peter asks. 

Before he can answer, they start to move, the sled tipping slowly forward until the runners are flush with the snow and it quickly gains momentum. The journey down the mountain is, without a doubt, the most terrifying ride Tony has ever been on, and his life flashes before his eyes as they hurtle down the steep side at an uncontrolled speed. He feels Peter lean back into him hard, and he does the same, hoping their weight together is enough to keep them from flying right out of the back of the sled on the way down. 

There’s a massive Christmas tree in the center of the town. They come to a stop just feet from it. Tony’s heart is pounding, and he can hear and feel Peter take a shaky breath. With a cackle, the Grinch pushes them unceremoniously out of the sled, and they land at the base of the tree, Tony grunting as he tries to take most of the weight of the fall to protect Peter. Then, the dog starts to pull the sled again, and they disappear down a path that winds between houses.  

Peter is coughing. Tony looks around, waiting a few moments until he’s sure the Grinch is far enough out of earshot. It seems too easy, but he’s given up on trying to find logic in any of this. 

“Help!” He cries out. “Hello, anyone out here? Help!” 

A light turns on, and then another, and soon a door opens and a Who stumbles out, rubbing his eyes and strolling over to Tony and Peter once he spots them.

“What brings you two out to this neck of the woods?” The Who asks like they’re not tied up next to a Christmas tree in the middle of the night. 

“A little help?” Tony asks, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, and the Who squats down and starts to untie the ropes. Once Tony is free, he jumps up and spins around to help Peter.

“Can you stand?” He asks Peter, who’s looking more than a little worn out. Peter nods, but doesn’t move, instead rolling his shoulders and stretching his legs out in front of him with a groan. 

“The Grinch is sneaking into your houses and trying to steal all of your stuff,” Peter tells the Who from his spot on the ground. 

A second Who joins the first. “Howdy, folks! What brings you out to our neck of the woods?”  

“They say the Grinch is here!” The first Who tells the second. “And that he is trying to steal our stuff!”

“Stuff is just stuff,” the second Who says, and the two of them nod like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“It’s all your Christmas stuff,” Tony says. “He’s stealing Christmas. Or, uh, stopping Christmas.” 

“Stopping Christmas?” The first Who laughs. “Christmas Day will always be, just as long as we have we!” 

Tony looks at Peter, nostrils flaring. “I don’t think it’s working,” he says angrily. “Why don’t they care?”

“It’s kind of the point,” Peter replies. “They don’t need stuff for Christmas. Christmas means more to them than that.”   

“That’s real heartwarming, Pete, but how the hell do we get out of this, then?” 

Peter shrugs, looking back and forth between the two Whos. “The Grinch thinks that Christmas is all about stuff. He thinks he’s stopping Christmas from coming, but really, I think he’s just lonely. He could probably use some Christmas cheer.” 

The first Who nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like we need to arrange a community sing-a-long. I’ll go round up the gals.” He disappears back into his house. 

“Eh, guess I’ll go check things out,” the second Who says, and meanders away. “Think I heard a commotion over at the O’Malley’s.” 

Word travels fast, and soon there’s a small crowd of oddly unconcerned Whos surrounding them. Tony crouches down next to Peter and hooks an arm under his armpit. “Let’s get you up out of the snow, at least,” he says, and Peter nods and uses Tony’s support to stand. 

Soon, the crowd thins a little as the Whos start to move in the direction of where the Grinch is, and a small Who girl who’s been watching them steps forward. She’s dragging a blanket behind her, and she carries it over to Peter, stopping right in front of him and staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” Peter greets her, shivering a little. His smile makes her smile too, and she holds the blanket up, waiting silently until Peter bends down slightly so she can wrap it around him.

“Thank you,” Peter says, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

“You look funny. What’s your name?” The Who girl asks him, and Peter smiles. 

“My name is Peter. What’s your name?”

“My name is Cindy Lou.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Peter replies politely before he hunches over with a cough. Cindy Lou frowns and tugs at Peter’s hand. 

“Follow me,” she tells him, pulling him toward her house. Tony, who has been watching the exchange with a fond smile, follows too. His smile falters a little when Cindy Lou takes Peter into the house through a small door, and when he ducks through the short door frame, she and Peter are already walking up the stairs.  

Upstairs, Cindy Lou is pushing Peter into a bed in a small room. “When you’re sick, you have to rest,” she’s telling him. She turns to Tony and reaches out to grab his sleeve, pulling him over to another small bed and using her surprisingly strong grip to make him sit down. She leaves the room, and Tony looks over at Peter.

“So, did we stop the Grinch, or whatever?”

Peter shrugs and sprawls out on the tiny bed. He looks sleepy, but otherwise okay. “I think so.” 

Cindy Lou returns then with a purple bottle. 

“Here,” Cindy Lou, pouring syrup from the bottle onto a comically large spoon. She holds it in front of Peter’s mouth and smiles. “Time to take your medicine!” She pushes the spoon past Peter’s lips and pours the liquid into his mouth, and Peter swallows it like he has no other choice. Then, she tucks the blanket around Peter, then skips across the room and tucks a blanket around Tony’s legs.  

Tony watches Peter blink heavily, trying to stay awake, but he doesn’t look like he’s having much luck, and neither is Tony. It’s like a warm blanket of drowsiness is washing over him, and he closes his eyes for just a second, leaning against the headboard and listening to the sound of Peter’s breath evening out. A minute later, they both fall asleep tucked into strange little beds in a strange little house in Whoville.