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It was the middle of the evening on Christmas Eve. But rather than being at home with his Aunt May or even at the tower with Mr. Stark, Peter was out on patrol. It wasn’t like he wanted to skip out on any potential festivities. It was just that crime didn’t really take holidays. If anything, it tended to get worse, which was sort of insane since it was the season of ‘giving’ not ‘stealing.’ Yet there he was, swinging through the borough with the wind in his face and the red and green Spider-Man sweater May had knitted for him pulled over his suit. He didn’t actually require it to stay warm. He had a heater built right into the suit. But there was something exceptionally festive about wearing his Chrimassy attire while out and about in the city. There was a lot to do; everything from helping out when a crosswalk lost signal to dissuading some less than ideal means of acquiring a few so-called ‘free’ gifts and ‘bonus’ funds.
He’d somehow ended up all the way in Manhattan, where he’d wrangled several angry last minute shoppers out of a toy store. In need of a break, he climbed to the edge of a snow covered rooftop and sat down on the ledge. The wind picked up, sending a shiver down his spine. He raised the heater setting in the suit and looked down to scan the city below. There was a lot of hustling and bustling as People made their way up and down the sidewalks into the stores. After several minutes of watching the crowds move along, he released a tired breath. It appeared that perhaps things had calmed down enough for everyone to go about the rest of their business without any temper tantrums or excessive use of violence. He was just about to take the opportunity to head towards home when some guy in a Santa hat decided to thwart his leisurely plans. He slinked up behind a woman, grabbed hopping bags right out of her hands, and took off running.
With a deep sigh, Peter followed after him.
“Hey!” he shouted as he hopped from his crouched position and shot a web. He caught up quickly and was soon dropping down in front of the merry thief. “You know,” he said, gesturing toward the bags. “I’m like- ninety-nine percent sure those aren’t for you.”
Santa hat guy didn’t seem to care. Instead of handing over the pilfered goods, he took off full speed down the ice slicked sidewalk.
“Oh come on!” Peter shot another web and zipped behind him. Of course, being in the air gave him the advantage. He was able to move swiftly above everyone's heads while Santa Hat Guy was forced to weave between them. Were it not for his birds-eye view and his helpful AI, he might have lost him in the huddled masses. Notably as they crossed out of the shopping district and into a more residential area.
Abruptly, Santa Hat Guy turned into a dark Alley between apartments. Peter turned too. He wiped around the corner producing a surge of momentum he could use to his advantage. As he swooped in, he outstretched his legs and aimed them right for Santa Hat Guy’s chest. The desired effect was obtained. Santa Hat Guy grunted in surprise and immediately against the wall, landing just hard enough to knock the hat off of his head.
“Dude! Those aren’t for you!” He made a swift move forward and grabbed the four large shopping totes out of the guy’s grasp. With very little thought he snagged the Santa hat as well. “And what are you? The Grinch? Why are you stealing things while wearing a Santa hat?“
Rather than answer, the Santa Hatless Grinch Guy pulled a knife out of nowhere. Peter’s spider-senses lit beneath his skin and before he knew it, he’d caught a decent sized pocket knife by the handle. He twirled it between his fingers and used his thumb to snap it closed. “Aw, man! Are we exchanging gifts?” he asked, smiling broadly beneath his mask. “You’re so sweet! I think I’ll give you a concussion!” Before the guy could react, he lunged forward, punched the guy in the face and webbed him securely to the wall.
“I hope you like it!” he said as he dusted his hands together and regathered the stolen bags onto one arm. If he wanted to be able to track down the owner, he absolutely needed to get going. “Merry Christmas!” he called out as swung out of the alley.
Once he felt like he’d put enough distance between himself at the scene of the crime, Peter perched atop another building. He scanned what was left of the crowd in search of the person who’d had their bags snatched. When he didn’t immediately identify the shopper, he hopped from rooftop to rooftop all the while keeping a close eye on the people below. It was odd, he didn’t think he’d strayed that far from where the theft had taken place, and usually people waited around a bit to get their stuff back. He was starting to wonder if he simply didn’t remember who he was looking for. With an audible oof, he hopped down the sidewalk.
“Hey Guys! Does anyone know who these bags belong to? Anyone? Anyone at all? Be honest!”
The hour was just late enough that there were only a few dozen people around to hear him. And none of them offered him more than a fleeting glance.
For a while Peter wandered through the city carrying the bags. The moon was gradually rising, and nearly everyone had gone home. At that point, he’d pretty much given up all hope of finding the person who had lost all of their gifts. He swung toward Central Park and sat on a bench below a street lamp. A small flurry of snow had begun to fall. The swirling flakes caught the light, giving them a soft white glow.
He sighed as he withdrew his arm from the bag loops and looked them over. Two clothing stores and a toy store. His mouth twisted in disappointment as he thought about the little kids who wouldn’t be receiving their presents.
“This is so unfair,” he mumbled to himself. He checked for a receipt, hoping to find out who had made the purchases. It was possible his AI could figure out where the person lived. He could wrap the gifts himself and drop them off on their doorstep. Like Santa's helper.
He rustled around until he found one, but the name was so common that Karen had determined twenty-three possibilities. Of them, seven were local. Narrowing it down further would require time and some potential hacking. He sighed again and tipped his head back allowing the snow to slowly collect on the lenses of his mask. He supposed that after the holiday he could return the purchases to their respective stores. That way the person could at least receive their money back. But that didn’t sound nearly as jovial.
Prepared to take the bags home for safekeeping, Peter stood up and spread his arms over his head. He moved to exit the part, but was caught off guard by a loud clatter and a few hushed voices. He didn't think it was an undesirable thing. His spider-senses were quiet. However, he was inquisitive by nature. He noted the time on his HUD. The majority of the stores were probably already closing. He contemplated his options for several seconds before deciding he may as well see what was taking place in the park.
With the bags clutched tightly in his fist, Peter started down the decently lit path. It was spotted with puddles and had been scattered with salt to prevent any slipping or falling. The thick grains crunched below his feet as he moved cautiously toward the racket. He didn’t want to startle whoever or whatever was making the noise.
The deeper he went into the park, the darker it became. The lamps were still aglow, but the snow covered trees had become plentiful enough to block out a decent portion of the city’s ambient light. Using his ears as his guide, he trudged through the park. He was getting close.
In his path was a narrow stone bridge that arched over an icy stream. He paused at the crest and squinted his eyes. In the distance he could distinguish movement. A murky shadow was preventing him from making out the details. But there appeared to be at least one short, yet roundly built man and vehicle of some variety or another.
Without considering any of the potential consequences, he raised his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Do you need help?”
The man popped up from his half-crouched position but didn’t reply. Peter moved forward, his enhanced vision adjusted to the subdued light as he approached. His head tilted to the side as the man’s features came into focus. Red coat, red hat, black boots and a fluffy white beard that touched his chest. He paused, his brows furrowed and gave the vehicle a better look. It looked to be a grand carriage, not an unusual sight during the sight within Central Park. Although it was leaning precariously to one side, as though it had broken or run off the path and into the soft slushy mud.
He sought the horses but didn’t see any. What was in their place was smaller, much leaner and had antlers atop their heads. One of them shifted, sending the sound of jingling bells into the air.
Suddenly everything clicked together in Peter’s head. His mouth fell open and the eyes of his mask undoubtedly grew comically wide.
“Santa?” He jogged several paces forward. “Like- the real Santa?”
“I’m as real as you are.” He chuckled, his arms outstretched. He looked down at his bright red suit, then back up at Peter. “Peter Benjamin Parker.”
It was slightly disconcerting to hear someone other than May, Ned or Mr. Stark use his name while in the mask. It caused his stomach to do a tiny backflip. “Uh. I’m Spider-Man.”
Santa smiled broadly and winked an eye.“Of course you are!” he cheerily boomed. “But I’m Santa. A mask, no matter how fancy, can’t hide your identity from me.” He tilted his head back and laughed in a stereotypical Santa fashion.
Peter blinked, his mind still trying to process the fantastical situation he’d found himself in. He had questions. So many questions. And all of them were popping into his head at an astonishing rate. The majority of them revolved around the laws of physics and philosophical theories of time but there was so much more. He could feel his brain trying to short circuit at the possibilities. Dazedly, he swayed his head to clear it. Helping. He was supposed to be helping. He really needed to get back on track.
“So, what are you doing down here? What happened to your sleigh?”
Santa’s face fell into a frown, his shoulder drooping as he sighed. “Took a bad turn into the side of the Avengers Tower. Everything’s satisfactory on their end. It’s a sturdy building. My property seems to have taken the brunt of the damage. Lost an entire runner. I’ve already dispatched two of my elf-friends to regain the fallen part. Once they obtain it, they should be able to repair everything and we’ll be on our way.”
Peter’s head tipped curiously to the side. He wasn’t an expert in mystic arts, but everyone knew Santa Claus was magical.It seemed to reason that if he could fly around the world all in one night and get into millions of homes without notice, he should fix his sleigh with a wave of his hand. No elf scouting required. “I don’t understand. Can’t you use your magic to fix it?”
“I’m afraid that’s not the sort of magic I possess.”
Peter nodded his head and asked if he could take a look at the damage. Once he’d received consent, he set the shopping bags down and wandered over to the sleigh. He leaned down to look at where the missing runner had detached. He trailed his hand over the cold glossy surface as he moved to the other side. The intact runner was unique in design. It reminded him of helicopter skids; shock absorbing, lightweight and theoretically easy to maintain. He knelt down to acquire a more thorough look. He shivered lightly as his knees sank into the snow. He tapped the material and twisted his mouth to the side in thought. Material-wise, they were mostly likely made of steel or aluminum alloy. In a stroke of rare luck, those just happened to be things he was used to working with thanks to his unofficially official internship with Mr. Stark.
“Karen?” he asked, awakening the AI within his suit. “Do you think you could scan this and come up with a schematic on the fly?”
A pale blue light emitted from the lenses of his mask, creating a glowing grid. The grid zipped over the sleigh in one quick pass. A few seconds later a holographic image appeared in front of his eyes in his HUD. Measurements, materials and hardware notes included. “Oh, wow. This is awesome.” He used his fingers to spin the design and smiled. “It’s perfect. Thanks Karen.”
“You’re very welcome Peter. Let me know if I could be of any further assistance.”
He gave the schematics another look. Most of the parts were relatively simple; a lot of straight lines and soft pre-calculated curves. All he lacked was the right machinery to manufacture them. And he knew exactly where to go for that. Mr. Stark’s lab. “I can fix this,” he mused to himself. He laughed giddily and jumped to his feet. “Hey, Santa! I can fix this!”
A curious twinkle developed in Santa’s eyes as Peter jogged towards him.
“I have this, well- He’s a friend. And he has this huge workshop equipped with everything I could possibly need to make a new runner.” Peter’s voice pitched upward and his arms flailed wildly with excitement. “If you let us help, we can have you out of here lickety-split!”
With his fingers laced neatly over his belly, Santa leaned back on his heels. He hummed and smiled, the curious look never leaving his face. “Who is this friend you’re referring to?”
Peter laughed and waved his hand in the general direction of the Avengers Tower. “Mr. Stark!” he happily shouted.“He’s a really good guy. I mean, he can be a little pretentious and kind of paranoid at times- but he can totally help!”
Santa elevated a hand and wiggled his fingers. A split second later, a thick leather book phased into existence right before Peter’s eyes. Santa looked up and winked as he opened the cover, launching the pages into a fluttering motion as they began to flip all on their own. Once they stopped, Santa slid his half-moon shaped glass a little further down his nose and began to read. “Anthony Edward Stark. Naughty list. Status: permanent.”
Peter was completely taken aback. He stumbled back a step and spread his arms in disbelief. “What? Why?” he adamantly questioned. “He's an Avenger! He saves people. How did he get a permanent place on the naughty list?”
“I’m afraid there are many notes here that simply can not be read aloud in the presence of minors.”
Peter fastened his eyes and used all of his mental strength to actively bat away the various explanations that were trying to surface in his head. He’d read the articles. He knew what Mr. Stark was like in his twenties and he genuinely didn’t want to think about it. He grunted quietly in frustration and forced himself back to the present. “But I’m telling you, he really is a good guy! You have to believe me.”
Santa raised a finger to his white whisker covered chin. Peter waited with rapt anticipation for him to finally speak. “I’ll tell you what, Spidey. If he’s willing to assist you in repairing the sleigh and saving Christmas, I’d be willing to reconsider. I need to see the good in him myself.“
Peter thrust a fist in the air and shouted, “Awesome!” He prepared to propel himself toward the cityscape, but paused just short of taking off. He looked over his shoulders, the eyes of the mask narrowing slightly. “To be clear, I’m on the nice list, right”
Santa laughed heartily, his whole body bobbing with each ‘ho, ho, ho.’ “Of, course, you’re on the nice list, Peter! You’ve never missed a year!”
Pride swelled up in Peter’s chest. “Awesome,” he whispered, then rapidly pointed himself in the direction of the Avengers Tower.
After climbing to the very top of the building, Peter crawled over the window allowing him to look inside of the lab. He squinted his eyes and searched the room as best he could, from the outside. It didn’t take long for him to spot Mr. Stark. He was sitting at a workbench and nodding his head to the music. Perfect.
He tapped on the window. ”Mr. Stark!” When there was no answer he began to tap with a bit more vigor. “Mr. Stark? FRIDAY? Someone let me in!”
A minute later, Mr. Stark's heap popped up. He looked toward the window in surprise, then motioned for FRIDAY to unlatch it.
Peter climbed inside and ripped off his mask. The Christmas music that had been playing in the background lowered and Mr. Stark started towards him. Peter giddily bounced on his toes. “Mr. Stark! You’ll never guess what happened while I was out-”
Mr. Stark raised a brow and poked a finger directly in the middle of Peter’s chest. “What are you wearing?”
Having forgotten all about his festive attire, Peter looked down. For a split second a smile creeped onto his face. Immediately, he looked back up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not important.”
“Are you sure? That thing looks like a wildly garish tragedy.”
Peter frowned indignantly.“Hey! It was a present!” He looked at it again and ran his hands over the soft, brightly colored material. There were tiny trees, baubles and snowflakes all lined up in neat little rows. But the best part was the large Spider-Man logo his aunt had placed right in the middle. It was uniquely his, making it even better. “Aunt May made it for me, and I happen to love it!”
“Alright, Underoos. You do you.” Mr. Stark held his hand up in surrender and chuckled lightly. He took a half step back after and glanced at his watch, “Anyway. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be all snug in your bed? Visions of sugar plums and all that?”
“I don’t even know what a sugar plum is,” Peter thoughtfully replied. “But that’s not important either. What is important is that I need your help! Well, Santa Claus needs your help. Our help. We need to fix the sleigh and save Christmas!”
Once again, Mr. Stark raised a single brow. Perhaps a bit higher than he had the time before. “You feel alright? Did you hit your head or something?” He glanced to the ceiling.”FRIDAY? Give the kid a scan.”
“Don’t scan me!” Peter exclaimed but was predictably unable to supersede Mr. Stark’s command. A pale blue light flashed over his body in an instant. “Unbelievable. And now I’ve been scanned. We don't have time for this!”
“No injuries have been detected.”
“See? I didn’t hit my head! Now hear me out.” He went on to recount the entire story, starting with the non-so-jolly Santa-hat-wearing thief. From there, he continued to ramble on and on until he caught up to the present. “So, now it’s up to us to fix Santa’s sleigh, save Christmas and get you back on the nice list!”
The room was quiet as Mr. Stark’s face went from disbelief to confusion and back again. Eventually, his expression settled to one of neutrality. He pulled up a rolling chair, sat down, and casually leaned back in it. “There are dozens upon dozens of people who invest hundreds of dollars to dress up like good ol’ Saint Nick. There’s an official association and a yearly convention, and everything. How do you know this is the real deal?”
Peter sighed and tugged his mask back down over his face. “Karen, can you bring up the schematics?” The AI confirmed and soon a hologram was being displayed from his lenses. “Have you ever seen a Santa with that kind of sleigh? What about the reindeer? He had reindeer, Mr. Stark. And the magic book! I told you about the magic book! What more do you want?”
“Okay,” Mr. Stark blew out a breath. He squeezed his eyes closed and ran his hands down his face. “Just- just give me a minute to process all of this. Because if Santa really is real, then it opens up a whole new realm of physics. Not to mention philosophical time theories.”
“I know! I thought the same thing!” Peter agreed. He pulled the mask off and wrung it in his hands. “But we can’t focus on that right now! We need to get Santa back in the air, so he can deliver gifts! Please Mr. Stark! We have to do this!” He made sure to use his best pleading look, measure. He dipped his chin, lowered the corners of his lips and looked up through his eyelashes.
“Okay, okay. Knock it off with the kicked puppy look. You’ve got me,” Mr. Stark sighed. He stood up and paced tree steps at a time. “FRIDAY, go ahead and grab those schematics from Karen. Send the parts to the appropriate machines. If it all looks reliable, go ahead and get them started. Apparently we need to work fast.”
“On it, boss.”
Eagerly, Peter looked around the familiar workshop. The furthest corners of the room had lit up and the machines had started coming to life; warming up in preparation for the project to come. He could feel excitement radiating throughout his entire body. He had to resist the urge to squeal.“What do you want me to do?”
Still in the midst of looking over the preliminary schematics, Mr. Stark reached out to ruffle Peter’s hair. “You’re an intern.” He looked up for the briefest of moments to gesture across the room. “You can brew me some coffee.”
“Mr. Stark!”
“Fine, fine. You can get prepared to start cleaning up the edges on those parts as they come off the machine. I’ll grab hardware,” Mr. Stark said. As he started to walk off, he grinned over his shoulder. “But coffee would be good too.”
With faux grudging, Peter trekked toward the break room to start a pot of coffee. He tossed the old saturated grounds and rinsed the filter. By the time the carafe had begun to fill with hot steaming liquid, he could hear the shrill sound of steel being cut. He smiled as he poured some of the freshly brewed coffee into a mug. But before he ventured to carry it out, he located a pair of sound canceling headphones and covered his sensitive ears.
“I’ve got your coffee, Mr. Stark, sir.” Peter grinned teasingly. “I hope it’s to your liking.”
Mr. Stark half-rolled his eyes and knuckled him on the side of the head. “Oh, hush, you.” He brought the mug up to his lips and took a noisy sip. His eyes closed and a pleasant hum slipped out from between his lips. “That’s the stuff,” he said, then immediately went back into work mode. “Get some safety glasses and start working on those edges. I’ll be over there in a few minutes to start riveting.”
Peter offered an enthusiastic thumbs-up and literally skipped across the room. The first of several parts had already been completed and was sitting in the machine bed waiting to be retrieved. He pulled it out and inspected the lines. There were a few minor flaws and sharp edges that would require his attention. It was hard to believe what he was holding would become an intricate part of Santa’s sleigh. It was extraordinary.
For a few minutes, Peter hopped from machine to machine, checking parts and making small adjustments. He bobbed his head to the cheery holiday music and sang along with the ones he recognized. He looked up to see Mr. Stark approaching with a riveting gun in his hand and a pair of red-lense safety glasses perched on top of his head. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “This is probably the most awesome thing I’ve ever helped with.”
“You’ve had your name listed in the notes of at least three of my published research papers, and this is what you’re excited about?” Mr. Stark sat down on the large bench and tipped the safety glasses onto his nose. “You won’t even receive credit for it. No one will know.”
Peter shrugged, a gentle smile settling on his face. “I’ll know, you’ll know and Santa will know. That’s all that matters,” he said and meant it. He anonymously helped people all the time. It wasn’t about claiming credit, it was about being a good person. Although he had to admit that he was incredibly eager to tell his friends how he’d spent his Christmas Eve. It was enchanting and wondrous, and suddenly he wasn’t convinced anyone would ever believe him. “Do you think Ned and MJ will believe any of this?” he asked. His head tilted in thought. “What about May? Oh my Gosh! Do you think Happy and Mrs. Potts will believe us?”
Without pausing his task, Mr. Stark huffed a laugh.“You stick to walls, and I fly around in a steel alloy suit. Banner turns into a giant rage monster and Strange makes sparkly portals with his hands. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, saying we fixed Santa’s sleigh sounds pretty tame. Just a typical Sunday night activity.”
Peter looked around the room until he observed the time displayed in the corner of a screen. Eleven-forty-two. “It’s basically Monday morning. It’ll be Christmas in a little over half an hour.”
“I guess we should hurry, then,” Mr. Stark mumbled. Peter excitedly agreed.
They finished up the initial assembly with ten minutes to spare. Mr. Stark had fitted the various parts together while Peter collected everything they could possibly need to finish the job. With his mask already in place, he shoved everything into a black and white Stark Industries backpack and hauled it over his shoulders. That way, the moment the part was ready to go, he would be too. It didn’t take long. Soon, Mr. Stark was calling a suit and diving head first out the window, runner in hand. Peter wasted no time and instantly followed, shooting web after web as they hightailed it to Central Park.
As they grew closer, Peter took the lead. He swung from the street lamps and trees until he could hear the light jingling of the reindeer’s bells. “Come on, Mr. Stark! This way!” he shouted, dropping down to the snowy sidewalk to traverse the remainder of the distance by foot.
“Santa! Santa look!” he shouted, the moment the shiny red sleigh came into view. The snow crunched quickly and rhythmically below his feet as he started to run. “We did it! We’ve got the part!”
Santa walked around the line of reindeer and greeted Peter with a jolly smile and a wholehearted laugh. “Wonderful!” he happily bellowed. One of his white-gloved hands held onto Peter’s shoulder, while the other pointed to the sky. “You must work quickly to get it into place. Christmas Day is nearly upon us.”
Having already lifted his face plate, Mr. Stark took a step closer. He rubbed his metal-covered hands together and smiled confidently. “No worries, Big Red. I’ve got you covered.”
Santa took a step to the side. He placed his hands on his hips and offered a cautious, yet pleasant smile. “I certainly hope so, Anthony Edward Stark. Christmas depends on it.”
Mr. Stark lowered his head, then looked up through his snow-dusted lashes “Lucky for you,” he said in a quiet, nearly reverent tone. “I’ve got a pretty great assistant; spirited, honest, and loyal. I can assure you that as long as he’s here, Christmas is in good hands.”
Peter blushed below the mask.
“Well, come on, then. Get over here.” Mr. Stark waved him forward. “Can’t do this without you, Bud.”
The backpack was emptied. Containers of bolts and screws, drills, and wrenches of various sizes were scattered amongst the snow. Peter’s job was to hold the sleigh up, high and steady, like a human jack. Mr. Stark slid beneath and worked swiftly to get the new runner attached. With nothing to do but stand there, Peter’s eyes began to wander. He looked up at the falling flakes, then down at the mounds of snow that had formed near the path. The reindeer were restless, their hooves scratching on the ground and their bells jingling. He leaned back ever so slightly to get a better look at them. As he did so, he noticed the shopping bags he’d previously abandoned near the head of the sleight; an abrupt reminder of the friendly neighborhood task he’d been unable to complete.
“Oh!” he shouted a little louder than he’d meant to.
The outburst was followed by a loud thunk and a yelp from beneath the sleigh. Mr. Stark frantically slid out from under it, his hand clasped tightly on his forehead. “What happened!”
“Nothing! Nothing happened,” Peter replied, feeling nothing but remorse as Mr. Stark continued to rub his hand over his head. “I mean, something happened but-” He didn’t finish his thought, he swiveled his head until his gaze landed on Santa. “Hey Santa? You know how your magic helps you know what kind of presents people want and stuff?”
“I do.”
Mr. Stark motioned for Peter to set the slight down. He did so gently, then turned his full attention to Santa Claus. “Is there any way for you to use your magic to figure out who those presents are for?” He picked up the bags and held them at arm's length. “A bad guy took them but after I got them back I couldn’t find the person he took them from. I just really want to give them back. Do you think you can help?”
Santa canted his head to the side and ran his hand up and down his long white beard. “I’m not sure but let’s give it a try, shall we?” He accepted the bags from Peter’s hands and closed his eyes. Instantly, a few silvery sparkles appeared around the shopping bags. They multiplied quickly, swirling and sweeping gracefully up his arm, around his shoulders, and over his head. The shimmering lasted for several seconds, then faded away as Santa opened his eyes. “I know exactly where these things belong.”
“Yes!” Peter giddily shouted. “That’s so awesome! I was so worried those kids weren’t going to get their presents! You can take them to the right house, can’t you? They can have them in time for Christmas?”
“Yes, of course! I can make sure they’re wrapped and placed neatly beneath the tree.”
Satisfied, Peter laughed and spun around on his heel. He’d protected his city, saved Christmas, and found a way to return the gifts to the right people. Still giddy, he hurried over to Mr. Stark and squeezed him around the middle, armored suit and all. “Best Christmas ever!”
Mr. Stark chuckled, his hand reaching to the back of Peter’s head. "I’m not sure I can argue with that, Kiddo.”
Peter pressed his cheek against the glow of the arc reactor and sighed. As he lay there reflecting on his evening, another thought entered his mind. He pulled out of the embrace and looked at Santa. “Is Mr. Stark on the nice list now?”
Santa paused, releasing the bell-covered harness he’d been adjusting, and looked over his shoulder. He smiled brightly and laughed deep and loud. “I do not doubt that there is goodness within Anthony Edward Stark’s heart. I’ve seen it for myself how deeply he cares for you and those around him. His many past mistakes, while largely public, do not define who he has become.” He paused, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at Mr. Stark. “If you were to be placed back onto the nice list, what sort of gift would you desire?”
Mr. Stark hesitated, shifting uncharacteristically on his feet. “I- I have everything I could possibly want,” he said, a slight sense of shame seeping into his voice. “ I own plenty of remarkable things. I also possess extensive knowledge and an abundance of resources to make, build, or buy even more things. I can’t think of anything I would need to ask for.”
Santa sagely nodded his head. “A gift doesn’t always have to be an object, Anthony. Think about it. What would make you happier than anything else?”
Mr. Stark licked his lips and looked to the side. Peter could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He waited patiently, curious as to what the answer would be.
“I guess- I guess what makes me happy is seeing my family happy,” Mr. Stark ultimately decided. “Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, May, and the kid. Especially the kid. He deserves to be happy,”
Santa chucked, his bellying rising and falling in a quick bouncy pattern. “Having a family that you’ve built with your own two hands is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? A gift all in itself.”
“Yeah. It is,” Mr. Stark agreed.
Nodding his head, Santa shifted to Peter. “Well, Spidey. I suppose I have a question for you as well,” he said. “What is it that would make you happier than anything else?”
“Right now?” Peter asked, feeling a little caught off guard. The questions that had been proposed sounded impossible to answer. “I’m not sure. I’m just super happy to be here with you and Mr. Stark. I’m happy we could save Christmas and I’m happy that those kids are going to get their presents. I’m happy May will be off tomorrow and I’m so happy I’ll get to spend the day with her. I’m not sure anything could make me happier than I am right now.”
Santa seemed to give his answer some thought, then asked, “What if I said you could come with me to deliver those lost gifts?”
Peter’s eyes tripped in size. He could only imagine how that was reflected on the mask. “I’ve officially changed my mind. That would make me happier than anything. Can I?” Hurriedly, he turned to Mr. Stark, knowing he would likely have something to say on the matter. “Can I?”
“Where does May think you are right now, Buddy?” Mr. Stark asked.
Peter shrugged. Outside of school nights, May didn’t tend to wait for him when he was on patrol. She knew he would want to stay out later than she cared to remain awake and trusted him to call if he needed help. “She’s asleep.”
Santa stepped behind Peter and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. “I can allow him to help me deliver a few gifts, then send him safely off to bed,” he promised. “What do you say, Anthony?”
“I say,” Mr. Stark began. He stopped mid-sentence to gently remove the mask from Peter’s grinning face. “I say, go ahead and make my happy kid even happier.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, Santa gestured down the path. Two small beings could be seen scurrying towards them. “Come, Peter. The elves are back and we need to get going.”
While Santa went to check on the reindeer one last time, Peter rushed back into Mr. Stark’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Mr. Stark! You’re the best.” Mr. Stark squeezed him back, then nudged him toward the sleigh. He waved wildly and leaped into the seat. Moments later, two elves plopped down beside him.
With the reins in his hands, Santa called each reindeer by name. "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! Off we go!”
And then, they were off. The reindeer began to fly, lifting the sleigh into the cool night air. Mr. Stark flew after them, his thrusters lighting streaking across the sky. Peter was sure he had never been so elated in all his life.
As they rose high above the tallest buildings, Mr. Stark veered off in the direction of the tower. Peter watched him go and looked out over the peaceful city. There was a church just below them, tall and sharp with a prominent bell tower. He was surprised when they started to ring, signaling the arrival of midnight. He’d thought sure they’d spent too much time in the park for it to be accurate. His initial instinct was to double-check with Karen. He didn’t question it when her time matched church. He was certain there would be plenty of opportunity to reflect on theories later. At that moment all he wanted to do was take full advantage of the one-of-a-kind experience he’d been offered.
Santa announced the next address on the list. The reindeer curved to the right as a result. Without thinking, Peter rose to his feet. He leaned heavily on the front edge of the sleigh. He could feel the elves tugging at the back of his sweater, demanding he sit back down. But he couldn't resist. As they soar over the buildings, he yanked his mask off of his head and uplifted his voice.
“Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!”