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Peter was buzzing with energy as he made his way towards the Stark tower. He was practically skipping as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. It was justified, though, and everyone would agree on that. Peter Parker was going to spend his Christmas with Tony Stark.
Tony fucking Stark.
The cursing was justified, too.
Peter got odd looks from the bystanders as he almost started to run when the light finally turned green but right now Peter couldn’t care less. He was going to have the best night ever in human history.
Well, that actually made him feel kind of guilty because Christmases with Aunt May were always awesome and Peter didn’t need anyone else but May to have the best time. It was just that she would be spending this Christmas at work and when Mr. Stark had presented him with the idea of spending the Christmas with him, he had of course agreed.
“Hey, Pete, why the long face?” he had asked when Peter had gone to work with him after the disappointing news of spending Christmas alone.
“It’s nothing, really,” he had answered but Mr. Stark hadn’t looked convinced and when he had raised his eyebrow expectantly, Peter had of course crumbled and told him. What he hadn’t expected was that Mr. Stark would propose something so outrageous as spending the Christmas with him!
It took forever – or at least it felt like it – for Peter to make his way to the tower. As he stepped into the elevator, the nervousness finally kicked in.
It took longer than Peter had expected, honestly.
But now Peter couldn’t but think about whether his gift was actually good or if he was going to make himself look like a fool in front of Mr. Stark or if–
Peter hit his forehead. There was no need for thoughts like that right now because he couldn’t change his mind now.
“Hello, Peter,” FRIDAY’s pleasant voice filled the elevator. “Boss has been waiting for you. Shall I take you to him?”
“Yes, please,” Peter answered, voice a little weak.
“My pleasure.” The elevator started moving smoothly upwards and Peter started tapping his foot anxiously as he waited to arrive at the penthouse. The numbers moved rapidly higher, 89… 90… 91… 92…
93.
The elevator pinged as the doors opened and he was greeted with the sight of what looked like the penthouse of Tony Stark but it was just overly decorated.
There were literally tons and tons of different kinds of Christmas garlands, ornaments, candles and everything looked like it was coated in glitter.
Peter gaped.
“You like it?” Mr. Stark – who had appeared in the doorway to the living room – asked. Peter nodded dumbly.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s great,” Peter assured, still looking around in awe. “There’s so much!”
“Yep! Had a whole team to make this,” Mr. Stark said, looking very proud. “Thought I’d make it special since you were coming.”
Peter was kind of speechless at that but Mr. Stark didn’t seem phased as he pushed Peter towards the living room.
“Come see the living room!” Mr. Stark exclaimed as he practically forced Peter there. Not like he actually could force Peter anywhere since he was the one with the super-strength. Peter let him push him, though, since he seemed even more excited than Peter himself which made Peter feel kind of weirdly warm.
It wasn’t every day that Tony Stark was excited to spend Christmas with him.
The living room was even more coated in decorations. Peter noticed that almost everything was red and blue with little gold on the side. Peter was pretty sure he knew why and the realization made him want to cry as the warm feeling only increased. Even the Christmas tree had only red and blue ornaments and a golden star on top of it.
“Alright?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter could only nod as he looked around. Peter was pretty sure this was the best thing that anyone had ever done to him.
“It’s perfect,” he said when he got his ability to articulate back.
“Great!” Mr. Stark grinned. “So, I thought that first we could eat because I’m really hungry and don’t try to tell me you’re not. You’re always hungry.”
“Okay,” Peter said only, still kind of struck from all of the decorations and kind of literally everything that was happening. Ned was going to flip when he heard about this.
“I hope you don’t mind that I don’t have any kind of traditional Christmas dinner,” Mr. Stark said, walking towards the kitchen. Peter was pretty sure that Mr. Stark could feed him worms and it would still be an awesome Christmas. “I got us pizza! If you don’t want it, I can still take us to some nice restaurant to eat traditional dinner, too. Just say so.”
“No, no, pizza is good!” Peter rushed to say. He really didn’t want Mr. Stark to take him to some kind of expensive and fancy restaurant and honestly, pizza was really good. “Great, even!”
“Good, good,” Mr. Stark hummed and raised the pizza boxes to the air. “Do you want to take these to the couch and watch a movie or something?”
“Can we watch a Christmas movie?” Peter asked, grinning. “Can we watch ‘The Grinch’? I always watch it with May on Christmas!”
“Sure, we can watch it,” Mr. Stark smiled, extending his hand to ruffle Peter’s hair.
He did that a lot and it was really nice. Like, really, really nice. Peter wasn’t used to having a father-figure touching him like that, not even when Ben was alive.
Ben had been great, of course. He had always been there for Peter and he had come to every single one of Peter’s school events. He had been great at everything, really and Peter wouldn’t have changed a thing about him. There had been one thing, though, that Peter had sometimes wished for.
It sometimes made him feel really guilty, too, since Ben had been so awesome and thinking about changing something about him wasn’t really nice or respectful to his memory.
It was just that Peter’s love language was physical touch. He showed to other people that he loved them by gentle touches and he felt loved when he got them in return but Ben had never been big on touch. He hadn’t really hugged back when Peter had hugged him, except maybe sometimes a couple of pats on the back and Peter understood that! He understood that Ben hadn’t been a touchy guy and that touching wasn’t a thing he liked to do.
Sometimes Peter had just wished that he would have hugged him. Or ruffled his hair. Or maybe even just patted him on the head. Anything, really.
“Why the long face, Pete?” Mr. Stark asked suddenly and Peter startled out of his thoughts. He swallowed his guilt for thinking about such things. Ben was dead and Peter was thinking about something like that about him. “We can do something else, if you don’t like my ideas. Just say so!”
“No! Everything’s great!” Peter rushed to say since Mr. Stark was frowning worryingly and Peter didn’t like that. It was Christmas and everyone should be happy with no frowns. “Just, I was thinking about something but I really am fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“If you say so,” Mr. Stark grinned. “Now, c’mon, we have a Christmas movie to watch!”
Mr. Stark sat on the couch, drawing some blankets over himself. Momentarily, Peter was struck by this crazy idea of snuggling to Mr. Stark’s side but Peter mentally crushed that idea as it came to his mind.
He really should stop thinking about this! He’s ruining Christmas for himself and also completely disrespecting the memory of his uncle. Also, it would be a strange world where someone like Mr. Stark would want to cuddle with a needy and clingy teenager like Peter really was.
“Thinking again?” Mr. Stark asked, when Peter still hadn’t sat down and just stood there dumbly. Peter mentally slapped himself because of it. He was making himself such a fool! “Sit down, there’s plenty of space for you!”
“Yep, yep!” Peter anxiously exclaimed and mentally slapped himself again. He sounded so stupid. Mr. Stark was looking at him like that, though, so maybe he was alright. The look was something that Mr. Stark directed at him a lot and honestly, it was strange. It was something Peter would maybe call fond. There was also some amusement in that gaze too, though. Maybe endearing was a better word for it?
“Great,” Mr. Stark grinned, patting Peter on the shoulder when he sat down and Peter felt very, very warm.
…
They watched the movie and couple of others, too and by the time the third movie finished, it was getting dark outside.
“So, would now be a good time for the presents?” Mr. Stark asked and suddenly Peter was really nervous again.
“Yeah! Yeah, great idea!” Peter jumped up from the couch. “Lemme just get yours real quick!”
“You got me something?” Mr. Stark asked, surprised.
“Of course I did!” Peter yelled from the another room where he had left his bag and the gift in it. He fished out the gift that was wrapped in paper that had little Iron Mans printed on it.
Peter returned to the living room with the present in his hands and he promptly shoved it in Mr. Stark’s lap.
“Thanks, kid,” Mr. Stark said, sounding more sincere than he usually did. “You really didn’t have to but I can’t not accept a gift that’s in as cool paper as this.”
“It was the only paper I had!” Peter defended and Mr. Stark laughed.
“That makes it even better,” he pointed out and Peter sighed. “But really, thanks. You didn’t have to, kid.”
“Thank me after you’ve opened it, Mr. Stark,” Peter ordered and Mr. Stark shrugged. “If you think it’s a good gift.”
“You could give me rocks and I’d be happy, kid,” Mr. Stark chuckled. “Ever heard of this saying that it’s the thought that matters?”
“Oh, this is the first time, totally,” Peter huffed and Mr. Stark laughed. Peter sat back on the couch and Mr. Stark inspected the gift closer.
“What’s this?” he asked as he raised an envelope attached to the gift.
“Open it,” Peter said, nervously. He really hoped Mr. Stark liked his gift and didn’t think it was weird or uncool or–
Peter was interrupted by a little gasp from Mr. Stark and he snapped his head up. To Peter’s relief, Mr. Stark was grinning.
“When did you take this?” he asked, referring to the picture he had taken out of the envelope. It was a picture of Mr. Stark and him in the workshop. Mr. Stark was scolding DUM-E in it, not noticing that Peter was taking a selfie with him, grinning wildly.
“Uh, couple of days ago,” Peter answered. “Sorry for not asking you but I thought that–“
“No, no! It’s great!” Mr. Stark assured him, still smiling. “I’m gonna put it on my fridge.”
“What?” Peter’s eyes widened. “No, you don’t have to do that!”
“I want to, Pete,” Mr. Stark said firmly and Peter didn’t have any other option but to accept it.
Mr. Stark moved on to open the actual present, ripping the paper off of it. Peter started tapping his fingers, feeling almost nauseous from the amount of nerves that washed over him. Then Mr. Stark pulled out the little robot Peter had made, watching it curiously.
“A robot?” he asked and his eyes gleamed. “Did you make this, Pete?”
“Yeah,” Peter admitted weakly. “I know you could make one super fast and you really don’t need one, I just thought that maybe you’d like it if I made you one, personally and I really couldn’t think of anything better. You’re like, literally a billionaire, so I couldn’t just buy you a pair of socks because that would have been really lame and–“
Peter was pulled into a hug and his rambling stopped short. Peter was sure his brain short-circuited as his head was pulled into a strong chest.
“It’s great, Pete,” Mr. Stark said and Peter could feel the words rumbling from his chest. “Thank you, it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Peter was suddenly very overwhelmed. Everything came crashing down and the silly little thoughts about wanting a hug were suddenly very real. Mr. Stark was hugging him gently but firmly just like Peter had always wanted and he shakily drew his hands up to hug him back. Mr. Stark was stroking his back now and pressing his chin against Peter’s curls.
Peter teared up. Honestly, he didn’t know what he expected but crying wasn’t one he had even thought about happening. Everything was just so overwhelming and he was so happy but at the same time bitter and Peter really couldn’t handle so many emotions at the same time. So, crying.
Mr. Stark didn’t notice until the first small whimper escaped Peter’s mouth. When he did, he tensed up, drawing back very suddenly.
“Pete?” he asked, voice so worried it only made Peter cry in earnest. “What’s wrong, buddy? Did I hurt you?”
Peter just cried, hoping Mr. Stark would just hug him again since he was already missing the contact. Mr. Stark only panicked more and drew further away from Pete.
“Kid? Pete?” he asked, voice almost hysterical. “Did I do something wrong? I’m so sorry, Peter, but can you please tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Peter sobbed, fully aware that Mr. Stark wouldn’t believe him for a second.
“You’re crying, kid,” Mr. Stark said. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it, I promise. Anything, just please.”
“It’s stupid,” Peter said between his sobs that were only getting stronger.
“I promise it’s not,” Mr. Stark said, his voice soft beneath the panicking and worry. Peter felt Mr. Stark’s hand on his cheek, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs and that really did nothing since new, even fatter ones ran down his cheeks at the gesture.
Peter leaned into the hand automatically.
“It’s just that– that,” Peter started but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. “Can you just– just hug me, please.”
“Of course, of course,” Mr. Stark said, pulling Peter back into his chest swiftly. “Anything, anything you want.”
Peter cried into Mr. Stark’s shoulder and had Peter not been so emotionally overwhelmed right now, he probably would have worried about getting snot into his shirt.
“Shh, it’s alright,” Mr. Stark shushed, rocking him gently. “Everything’s alright. I’m here.”
Peter cried and cried and Mr. Stark held him through all of it, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Though, by the way Mr. Stark said those things made him believe that they were not just nothings.
Eventually, the tears stopped and the sobs stopped wracking his body.
“Calmed down, now?” Mr. Stark asked when Peter sucked in a shuddering breath.
“Yeah,” he nodded but didn’t let go of Mr. Stark, still gripping his shirt tightly.
“Good,” Mr. Stark hummed, drawing away and Peter instantly missed the contact. Mr. Stark didn’t draw away entirely, though. Just far enough to raise his hands to Peter’s cheeks to wipe away the tears. It almost made Peter start to cry again.
Mr. Stark didn’t say anything at first but Peter could see that he was thinking something really hard. Peter truly didn’t want to know what he was thinking and now when the breakdown had calmed, the embarrassment started sinking in.
He had cried on Tony Stark.
He had probably gotten snot over his shirt and everything.
“Hey, don’t panic,” Mr. Stark soothed when Peter’s breathing picked up. “Everything’s okay.”
Peter took a long and deep breath. He had just calmed down from a mental breakdown, he didn’t want to start another!
“I’m good.” From the way Peter voice shook, anyone would conclude that Peter, in fact, was not fine. Mr. Stark seemed to also come to this conclusion, since he frowned at Peter mistrustfully. Peter frowned back.
“Okay, okay,” Mr. Stark sighed. “Just tell me one thing. Was it something I did?”
“No!” Peter almost yelled and Mr. Stark looked relieved at the firmness of Peter’s answer. “No– or, yeah, kinda but it wasn’t your fault! I was just being really stupid and I’m so sorry for crying on you–“
“Don’t apologise, kid.” Mr. Stark looked very tired all of a sudden and Peter snapped his mouth shut. “And you aren’t stupid.”
“I am, I really am!” Peter argued. “You just gave me a hug and it was really nice and I just started crying!”
“So it was the hug?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter sighed. He nodded, his gaze locked in his toes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. “But you liked the hug?”
“Yeah, it was a great hug,” Peter admitted, still not raising his head to meet Mr. Stark’s gaze that would probably be overly worried.
“So, you cried because of my extraordinary hugging skills?”
“Yep, basically.”
“Hmm, that is doing things to my ego.”
Peter laughed. Mr. Stark really had the ability to make Peter laugh just after bawling his eyes out.
“It’s just that–,” Peter started again, this time a little more confidently. “I’ve really missed hugs?”
“Your aunt doesn’t hug you?” Mr. Stark asked and when Peter finally lifted his head to see the expression on his face, he saw Mr. Stark’s confused face.
“No, she does it a lot,” Peter told him and that did nothing to wipe off the confused look on Mr. Stark’s face. Peter suddenly found all of this extremely hard to explain. “Just after Ben, I haven’t– This is so hard to explain.”
“No, don’t worry,” Mr. Stark butted in, this time he looked like he had understood perfectly what Peter was trying to say. “I think I understand, now.”
“You do?”
“You’ve been missing physical contact from–,” now Mr. Stark hesitated, “Kind of father-figure?”
That summed it up perfectly. Also, Mr. Stark referring to himself as his father-figure felt– really strange. Good, definitely, but strange.
“Yeah, I guess,” Peter muttered, kind of embarrassed now. He did realize how clingy he sounded.
“Well,” Mr. Stark looked and sounded really awkward. “You don’t gotta worry about that anymore. I’ll be here.”
And I’ll give you all the hugs you want, wasn’t said but Peter could hear it anyway in his words.
“Thanks,” Peter said sincerely and smiled at Mr. Stark sunnily. Mr. Stark smiled back and patted his shoulder.
“Do you still wanna talk about it?” he asked and Peter realized that he actually really did. He had just been waiting for someone to ask, for someone to understand.
“Yeah, kinda,” he admitted, nervously. Mr. Stark nodded, waiting for him to continue with patience written all over his face.
Peter sighed and started to explain.
“Ben wasn’t really big on touch. He was a great uncle, of course and I loved him lots. I just sometimes kind of wanted him to hug me and he never really did.” It felt so refreshing to finally get this out of his chest even if he still felt the guilt underneath all of that. “And I also understand that he wasn’t the kind of person to give physical affection and he just showed me his love by other things, I just–“
Peter stopped short, not finding the right words.
“You just sometimes wished he would do it for your sake?” Mr. Stark suggested and that–
That was exactly it. Being understood like that without even having to explain felt so good and weird, at the same time. It had only ever happened with Aunt May or sometimes Ned.
“It’s okay for you to want things like that, Pete,” Mr. Stark said next and honestly, Peter had needed that. “It’s completely normal.”
Peter really didn’t know what to say. It felt like something raw had opened up inside him and it almost made him cry again. Mr. Stark laid his hand on Peter’s shoulder as if he had sensed what Peter was thinking and honestly, that did nothing to help Peter from bursting into tears.
“I just–,” Peter’s voice was choked when he opened his mouth again. “Sometimes I would just– I once read this book, it was when Ben was still alive, and there was this boy and his dad-figure and he kissed the boy’s forehead and I just started crying so much because I really wanted one, too.”
Mr. Stark was silent, now. Peter lowered his gaze to his toes again but then he felt gentle lips being pressed to his forehead with such care that–
That his eyes, very embarrassingly, filled with tears again.
“Mr. Stark!” he laughed through his tears, swatting his hand, that was now petting his hair, away. “You’re really not helping to keep me from crying.”
“Well, you’re allowed to cry as much as you want,” Mr. Stark pointed out and Peter really had needed to hear that, too.
“But it’s Christmas!” Peter insisted. “I don’t want to cry on Christmas!”
“Fair enough,” Mr. Stark hummed and wiped the new tears away. “I just couldn’t help it.”
“Okay,” Peter relented. “It was super nice.”
“I’ll keep on doing it, then,” Mr. Stark grinned and Peter felt so happy that he could burst.
“Mr. Stark!” he whined and Mr. Stark laughed.
“You ruined my shirt with your snot, kid, I think we’re past calling me Mr. Stark.”
“Nothing’s ruined, you can wash it!” Peter defended, and then added, “Mr. Stark.”
“C’mon, Tony, say it after me,” Mr. Stark looked so frustrated and Peter kind of enjoyed that. Maybe J. Jonah Jameson was actually onto something and Peter truly was a menace. “To-ny.”
“Maybe I’ll just call you Dad, since you’re so interested in being my father-figure!” Peter shot back before even realizing what he was saying and when he did, his eyes widened in panic.
Mr. Stark was looking at him with shocked expression now, and Peter felt like he had really fucked up.
“Sorry!” he apologized quickly. “It just slipped out, I–“
“You can do that,” Mr. Stark said, voice serious. Peter looked at him, confused. “You can call me that, if you want to.”
“Really?” Peter asked, voice weak. “You’d let me call you Dad?”
“Honestly, kid,” Mr. Stark started and smiled at Peter softly. “It’d make me happy, even.”
Peter smiled so wide his cheeks hurt and a couple of new tears appeared in his eyes.
“Okay, Dad,” he said, just to test it out and it felt so good.
He had a dad, again. He had wanted one for so long and now–
Now his new dad was hugging him again, tucking his head against his chest and petting his hair carefully. He also felt a kiss being pressed against his forehead and everything felt so perfect.
Perfect and safe.