Chapter Text
Tony had spent the first two weeks of November bristling whenever he saw or heard any sign of it. The days were getting colder, as it became coat-donning weather and the sun set in the afternoon rather than the evening. He shivered one day in the lab and reached for a sweater to warm himself up. And along with the cold came what he dreaded, each year like clockwork, inescapable.
Christmas.
It seemed like moments after Halloween finished, everyone became obsessed with it. There was Thanksgiving first, of course, and that was almost as bad. Tony overheard some of the Stark Industries’ interns talking about going home for Christmas to spend time with their families and he’d had to swallow harshly and put on a forced smile. Pepper was busy. Happy had requested the weekend off. Rhodey was out on a mission for Thanksgiving itself, but he had clasped a hand around the back of Tony’s neck before leaving, looked at him with pitying eyes, and told Tony that the Rhodes family would happily welcome his presence, if he wanted to go and join them, even for a few hours.
Tony had put a party hat on DUM-E, eaten his favourite Chinese take-out that had cost an exorbitant amount to deliver on Thanksgiving and had avoided thinking about the fact that he was alone. That had been his Thanksgiving. Then it had passed, and the short-lived buzzing feeling of love that had enveloped around much of New York had faded slightly, for approximately a day or so.
But then it turned into the Christmas season—and Christmas was worse.
He had done everything to avoid it, those first few weeks of November—locked himself in the workshop as much as physically possible. FRIDAY had all of the Christmas adverts blocked, and he only played his own personal music playlists so there was no chance of any music filtering through the radio. There was no tree in the Tower, no decorations, no nothing. He’d done everything he could.
And then Peter walked into the lab whistling Jingle Bells.
That was a new development, that. The kid, in his workshop. After the whole Toomes disaster, Tony had bitten the metaphorical bullet and had decided to take his role as some kind of mentor to Peter Parker semi-seriously. He’d made the internship at Stark Industries an actual thing. Peter was his personal intern, according to the company records. In reality, it just meant the kid got to sit and play with all the tools in his workshop as they talked about things.
Mentorship—it was laughable, really. Tony Stark as a mentor. There was no one less suitable to it than walking disaster Anthony Edward Stark, who’d practically been christened a disappointment. Not the blue-eyed, blond-haired replica of Captain America that Howard had wanted—no matter how hard he'd desperately tried to be just like the man with a plan.
If Tony could have picked anyone to mentor the kid with the bright smile, big ideas and tendency to change the world, it’d have been Steve, not him. The irony didn’t escape Tony, that he’d all but forced the kid to fight Captain America in the battle in Germany when he knew nothing of the situation. He’d been what—fourteen? There were few things Tony regretted more than that, once he’d gotten to know the kid properly.
Once he’d understood that Peter Parker had a truly good core, and that (much like the leader of the Avengers) he would help people cross the street and take their groceries for them just because it was the right thing to do, Tony had wanted to take it all back, to chuck Peter at Steve Rogers and yell “I don’t know what I’m doing, you do this, you’ll be better than I ever could be.”
But that wasn’t an option, so he made do. He did the responsible thing, and took it seriously, didn’t offload it onto Happy. Not after Toomes. Not after he’d stripped the suit away from the kid. They spent time together. Peter seemed to like him at least, so that was that.
And now, because of that, there was a kid breaking his so-far-successful anti-Christmas streak.
“It’s not even December,” Tony bristled, clenching his jaw just slightly as he watched the kid sling his backpack down on his usual chair without hesitation.
Peter stopped whistling and stared at him, the disbelieving frown on his face almost comical. “Mr Stark, are you telling me you don’t start celebrating Christmas until December ?”
It seemed to be a genuine question, so Tony shot back a reply. “We’ve only just had Thanksgiving.”
We. Like he’d spent Thanksgiving with other people. Ha.
He could imagine the Parkers’ thanksgiving—picture perfect, most likely, even though it was just the two of them. An elaborate home-cooked meal they’d spent hours on spread across the table, as opposed to take-out. Gentle, warm music playing in the background, not ACDC songs blasting throughout a cold workshop. Spending time with each other, not alone. The Parkers probably sat at the table and told each other everything they were thankful for.
God, he wished…
“May and I put our tree up last week !” Peter told him, breaking his train of thought and Tony practically baulked. Peter had his hands on his hips—seeming appalled that Tony was criticising his early celebrations. His expression was dead serious.
And god, of course the kid would turn out to be a Christmas fanatic. Whistling Jingle Bells. Putting the tree up weeks early. He’d probably be wearing a Christmas jumper if it was socially acceptable to do that in November. It reminded him of— no.
No. He wasn’t going to go there.
“Of course you did,” Tony had to force himself from shaking his head, coughing slightly and going back to his work. “How was your weekend?”
Peter rattled off into a detailed description of their Thanksgiving shenanigans and Tony listened, laughing at the relevant bits–how was it even possible to burn boiled carrots?
“What about you?” Peter tailed off with, bright-eyed as ever.
“Oh, yeah, my weekend was—uh—fine,” Tony said distractedly, focusing on manoeuvring a certain part of the hologram to get it where he needed it to be. He wasn’t avoiding the question, nope, not at all.
“Did you spend it with your—your people?” Peter asked, stumbling to avoid the word family and correcting it.
“Yeah,” Tony lied quietly. “It was nice.”
After all, it’d be pathetic to admit to the teenager he was mentoring that he, Tony Stark—genius billionaire, renowned socialite—had spent Thanksgiving alone. He felt bad for lying, but...DUM-E counted as a person, right? Peter sure as hell seemed to consider the bot a person, in any case. So maybe it was just a white lie.
Peter settled on his chair and got to work, still humming Jingle Bells under his breath, almost as if he didn’t realise it. They sat in quiet silence for a couple of minutes, before Peter turned to look at him, head tilted curiously. “So, if you don’t start celebrating the best holiday of the year until December, when exactly will I be able to see the decorations?”
“You–uh–won’t.” Tony discarded one unnecessary building part into the hologram bin, frowning. The model was just not going the way he wanted. He’d have to rebuilt most of the parts, at the rate it was going.
“Oh.” Peter looked back at his own project, his brow furrowed. “Are you going away?”
“No,” Tony almost laughed. He could take a holiday–some fancy trip to a private island, or to a resort somewhere. It wouldn’t change anything, though. “No, I’ll be here.”
“So…” Peter’s forehead creased. “I…won’t be able to come over?”
The kid was misunderstanding him.
“That’s not—what I mean is, there won’t be any decorations.” Tony clarified.
“At all ?”
Tony nodded absentmindedly, not looking at the kid. “None.”
Peter took a second before asking a follow-up question. “Why not?”
“I don’t like Christmas,” Tony admitted, finally casting a glance over to the teenager. “Can’t stand it.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. “You don’t like Christmas? Christmas?”
Tony got the sense that that was a crime worthy of severe punishment, from the look of betrayal plastered across Peter’s face.
“Yup.” Tony shrugged. There was nothing more to add to it, really. Just something about him. He was Tony Stark, he had brown eyes, brown hair, and he hated Christmas.
“You’re like a real-life Scrooge,” Peter whispered, his eyes still wide. He was staring at Tony as if he was an alien.
“People have said that about me before, yeah,” Tony commented.
Like Pepper. And Happy. And most of the Avengers. Most people who knew, really, had at some point made some kind of remark referring to Ebenezer Scrooge. It wasn’t exactly a unique thing to say.
“ Why? ”
And that was the million-dollar question wasn’t it. Why didn’t he like Christmas, the adored holiday? There were a hundred different reasons why people didn’t celebrate Christmas. Religious reasons, mostly. But also disdain for the commercialist nature that drove it, rejection of the holiday, or just general dislike.
It wasn’t even the whole sharing of gifts, because he understood that part.
“I still do presents. I like giving presents.” He told Peter, avoiding the question.
Tony didn’t mind giving gifts. He understood the emotional joy it could bring, at least. It was nice, seeing someone react well to a gift they’d chosen for him. Sure, he wasn’t the greatest at buying people gifts. He often went too over-the-top and in the past people had to give him a strict budget to adhere to as a result. But it was occasionally nice to see the smile that appeared on their faces when he’d managed to find them something they’d really wanted.
Not receiving them though. There was something exhausting about having to plaster on a smile when receiving another pristinely wrapped watch like the several hundred he already owned or more bottles of whiskey to put in the cabinet. Like he could actually drink them. As if Tony hadn’t been sober for months, for a multitude of reasons. It wasn’t public information, sure, but it was still frustrating to have to go through. Those gifts were mostly from employees sucking up to him, or board members. The people who cared about him obviously bought more thoughtful gifts. Still, there was something about it that freaked him out.
Peter seemed to sense the fact that he didn’t really want to answer the original question and skated past it. His alarmed expression had turned to a considering one, as though thinking something through.
“We can’t have you hating Christmas,” Peter shook his head. “That’s not happening. Nope. Absolutely not. I’ll make you see how good it is.”
“Peter—” Tony tried, but the kid interrupted again.
“No, I’m serious,” Peter crossed his arms. “I cannot have a mentor who doesn’t like Christmas.”
Should’ve picked Steve Rogers instead of me, then. Not that I gave you a choice. The thought crossed his mind before he could stop it, before he could keep himself from thinking it.
But Peter was carrying on rambling, standing up. “I’m pencilling it in, instead of our workshop sessions for December, we’re going to do an array of activities relating in some way to Christmas. It’s okay, Mr Stark, before long you’ll start to like it.”
Peter was saying it with a grin plastered across his face, but the tone it was said in was almost threatening.
“Kid, really—”
The kid was packing his bag, piling his papers back into his backpack and swinging it onto his shoulders. “Sorry to dash, but I have to start planning all of this immediately, have to head out.”
“This is an internship, ” Tony said, flabbergasted that the kid was upping and leaving. He’d just arrived! “I don’t pay you to try and get me to do Christmas activities that I won’t even like.”
“Mr Stark, with all due respect, you don’t pay me at all.” Peter shot him a look with a single raised eyebrow.
Oh, right. Peter didn’t know about the secret college fund that Tony was putting his ‘monthly wages’ in from doing the internship. Well, there was no need to ruin that surprise, so he prevented himself from saying anything else. He would find out eventually.
“And besides, you can’t know for certain you won’t like the activities until you try them!” Peter sung cheerily, and started whistling Jingle Bells extra loudly as he walked out, backpack slung on his back. “See ya!”
Tony didn’t even try to stop him. Maybe he should have put up a better effort, because Peter didn’t seem to truly understand that he hated the holiday and all it stood for. But he’d fucked up enough with the kid throughout the time knowing him, and it had softened him. Seeing the smile on his face meant too much to wipe it off with a blatant rejection.
So Tony went back to his work, resigning himself to the fact that he’d probably have to do something related to Christmas in the days leading up to the actual holiday. He didn’t expect a text from Peter to come only four hours later, demanding his presence for the first activity.
Union Square, 5pm tomorrow :)
He sighed, and closed his eyes in pain. “FRIDAY, what’s happening tomorrow at Union Square?”
“A Christmas market, Boss.”
Tony visibly flinched.
A Christmas market. It wasn't even December.
–
It was intolerable . Absolutely awful, and he hadn’t even entered the market itself yet. Union Square was decked out with endless wooden stalls, tinsel around the trees, and it was bustling with people. Tony hated big crowds, because there were always people brushing past him and trying to speak to him and it was always overwhelming. One rare positive about the winter season was that he was recognised a lot less.
The cold meant it was acceptable for him to wear what was essentially a neck gaiter—protecting not only his neck, but also the lower half of his face. Essentially a glorified scarf, but it worked. Add a hat on top of that and he became essentially the same as any other New Yorker. It was a foolproof disguise. Tony Stark disappeared, anonymous stranger emerged.
He’d almost cancelled, but had swallowed his reluctance and had ventured down the streets of New York to get to his destination. Peter was waiting outside for him as he approached, a big grin on his face. The kid’s face wasn’t covered with any kind of scarf, so his cheeks were red with cold. He looked extremely excited.
“Hey,” Tony said, upon greeting, shooting him a little wave.
Peter’s grin somehow grew wider, and he gestured for Tony to follow him toward the entrance.
Okay. It was just a Christmas market. In November. Totally harmless. Maybe it would be alright. Maybe he’d be just fine.
Five minutes later, Tony was pretty much convinced there had never been a more painful experience in his whole life, and he’d been kidnapped and tortured for three months. Fuck, he’d been waterboarded. The trials and tribulations of the New York Union Square Christmas Market—with over 100 stalls—were worse.
Out of desperation, Tony had grabbed one of the maps they were handing out, just to verify whether it was true. Sure enough, they’d written out all of the vendors with stands and there were definitely at least 100 there. Peter took the map off him and pulled a pen out of his backpack with a grin. As they walked past each stall, he’d refer to the map and cross off each of the stands.
“This way we can make sure we’ve done all of them,” Peter explained when Tony looked at him curiously.
Tony paused, stopping in his tracks. “We’re going to look at every single stall? ”
He’d hoped they’d look at about twenty before giving up. It was just so damn busy, with people who apparently had no concept of personal space whatsoever. Every time someone brushed past him, Tony had to physically stop himself from jerking back in surprise.
It was busy, and it was November and yet there was Christmas at every single stand, right in his face. Wooden sculptures, holiday-themed treats, depictions of the Nativity made out of coloured glass, stockings, niche gifts, everything you could possibly think of. After fifty stools, it went from being simply ‘busy’ to being the inner circle of Dante’s Inferno. Tony was suffering.
Peter on the other hand was having the time of his life. He was happily ticking away things on his map and he’d also bought a present for May, Ned, and Happy—
“ Happy? ” Tony said, astounded. “As in Hogan ?”
Granted, it was unlikely that Peter knew another person who went by Happy, but still he felt the need to check. Peter hardly knew Happy Hogan—he only drove him around occasionally.
“Yeah,” Peter smiled. “He was really easy to buy for, cause he likes Downton Abbey.”
“But you don’t have to–”
“I want to,” He shrugged. “He’s nice to me, I like him, I’m buying him a present.”
“Wait,” Tony stopped again, staring at him. “Does that mean you’re buying me something?”
Peter grinned slyly at him. “Already have.”
Tony was appalled. “Parker.”
“What?” Peter asked, still grinning. “You said you still do presents.”
“I buy presents for people.” Tony told him. “They don’t buy presents for me.”
Rhodey and Pepper understood that. They knew how much it made his skin crawl, having to open other people’s gifts in front of them. Happy tended to buy Tony a cheeseburger or two in late December and pay for it himself, rather than using Tony’s credit card. It worked out.
“That’s ridiculous. You know that, right?” Peter shook his head. “It’s Christmas. You can’t have a one-way gift policy.”
“I do and I will continue to do so,” Tony defied him valiantly.
“Tough luck,” Peter went back to looking at his map. “You’re going to have to accept my gift when you get it.”
Great. He was so looking forward to it.
Not.
They continued wading their way through the Christmas market, going to each and every stand even if it wasn’t something Peter was ever going to buy—“Peter, you’re a teenager, you can’t even buy apple cider.” “But I just want to look at it, Mr Stark”.
Eventually, after about an hour and a half of tracking their journey on the map, they managed to have gone to all of the stands. Tony’s nose—pretty much the only part of his body that was still on display—was freezing and his eyes were stinging with the cold. Peter looked like he’d been on a mission in the Arctic with the colour of his cheeks. His lips looked like they were turning blue, for Christ’s sake.
“Wow, it’s really cold,” Peter admitted, not able to hide his shivering. His fingers were practically freezing, from holding the pen and the map out in the cold all evening. Tony had kept his own hands in his pockets.
“Hot drinks?" Tony blurted out the query, glancing at the café near them. A hot drink would give Peter a way of warming his hands up, and it had the added benefit of getting coffee inside Tony as fast as physically possible without an intravenous drip at hand.
“Please,” Peter acquiesced, and they practically ran to the coffee shop.
After quenching the thirst for coffee and warming up a good deal, they both decided it was time to head back to their respective homes. It only then dawned on Tony that Peter was based in Queens, and that Union Square was one hell of a long way away from his neighbourhood. They walked to the nearest subway station, but on the way there got waylaid.
“Before I go, let’s just–” Peter dragged him into a grocery store, pulling him to the snacks section and brandishing an advent calendar from the aisle. That was predominantly a British thing, the cheap chocolate calendars, but it had slowly started to spread to the US more recently.
“Guessing you don’t have one of these?” Peter asked, holding it up. Tony had to stop himself from flinching as he saw it. More Christmas. He’d thought he’d escaped when he left the market, but no. It followed him everywhere.
“I’m pretty sure most people stop with those once they hit 18, yet alone in their late forties,” Tony muttered.
“Okay, yeah, but have you ever actually had one?” Peter questioned.
Tony stared at him, not wanting to admit that the answer was actually no, he hadn’t. Clearly, his face was telling enough that Peter raised an eyebrow and went to pay without saying anything further.
“Kid–” Tony protested. “At least let me pay for it, if you’re forcing this.” He lowered his tone, quiet so none of the other shoppers could hear his next words. “I’m a billionaire, y’know.”
His disguise was still intact, and he didn’t exactly want that to be ruined now. He’d gone all day without being recognised as Tony Stark and it always shot his mood down astronomically. He wasn’t going to be found out now, whilst fighting with a kid over buying a £3 chocolate advent calendar he didn’t want.
“You’re actually not any more,” Peter corrected, in reference to his billionaire status. “The last charity donation dipped it under the billion mark, remember?”
Smart-ass. He was right, though. Tony had been very insistent on getting rid of as much of his money as humanly possible. No-one needed to be in the billions. Least of all him. So he pumped his money into charity, but kept it mostly under wraps. It seemed wrong to flaunt that.
“Not the point, kid.”
Peter was done with paying for the flimsy combination of plastic, recycled cardboard and sub-par chocolate by the time Tony had finished grumbling, and then it was back into the cold and trundling along to the subway station. When they arrived and Tony saw just how dark it was, he grimaced.
“You’re really getting the subway back from here?” Tony replied, frowning and glancing up at the dark sky. It seemed…dangerous, to let the kid just get on the subway. Like he was slacking in his duties. “Can’t I just call you a cab?”
“Nah, the subway’s cheap, and it’s cool. I’m a New Yorker, I know how to avoid the muggers.”
Tony blanched at the idea of Peter being mugged, by himself. Sure, he had powers and would be totally fine, but….no. Not at this time of night. No reasonable parent would let their kid go back on the subway. Not that he was a parent.
“Yeah, no, I’m calling a cab.”
“Mr Stark, I really can’t–”
Tony shushed him and got FRIDAY to order an Uber to their exact location back to Peter’s apartment, which she did immediately.
“Hush, it’s done, there. Uber. Pre-paid. I’d call Happy for you but he’s probably tucked up in bed by now.”
Peter looked annoyed, but it faded away into a slight smile. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mumbled back. He found himself almost saying “It was fun” but caught himself before the words could tumble out. It had been fun, Tony admitted grudgingly. Aside from the overwhelming crowd at times and the sheer quantity of Christmas related things he’d been around. It was unsettling to find that he’d truly enjoyed spending the evening with the kid, even though the activity itself hadn’t been his idea of a perfect evening.
Then the Uber pulled up, and saved him from saying things he didn’t know how to word properly. Peter got in his Uber and waved at Tony as it left. Then he walked back across Manhattan to the Tower–glaringly bright in the sky as always—alone, and in the cold.