Chapter Text
December 22nd
Peter had faced alien armies, interdimensional threats, and the wrath of a purple, reality-bending warlord. Yet somehow, the most stressful challenge of his life was… Christmas. More specifically, Christmas at Mr. Stark’s lake house.
Two days. That’s all the time he had left to find gifts for Mr. Stark, Pepper, and Morgan before he’d be sitting at their table for an intimate Christmas Eve dinner. The word itself felt foreign when attached to Tony Stark. This was the man who used to host parties so extravagant that Peter could practically hear the collective eye-roll of the Avengers from across the city. But times had changed. The snap had changed everything .
Tony was no longer the untouchable genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. After wielding the Infinity Gauntlet to stop Thanos, the man had barely survived. The gauntlet had ravaged his body, leaving him with a shredded left arm, charred and scarred beyond recognition. Skin that looked like melted metal stretched over tendons that refused to work the way they used to. The damage had traveled further up his body—searing his shoulder, distorting his neck, and creeping to the side of his face like a permanent shadow. His left eye didn’t see as clearly as it once did, and his hearing on that side was a constant battle between static and muffled echoes. Months of coma had been followed by grueling rehabilitation, and Peter still remembered the day he saw him for the first time after it all—frail, vulnerable, but alive. And now, Peter was invited to his first proper Christmas since The Blip . It was enough to send him spiraling. He paced the cramped living room of his Queens apartment, a storm of anxious energy. His hair was a mess, his hoodie was on backward, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. May leaned against the kitchen counter with a coffee mug in hand, watching her nephew spiral.
“I’m doomed,” Peter muttered, running his hands through his hair. “ Doomed ! Do you know what happens if I don’t find the perfect gift ? They’ll think I’m ungrateful. Or worse— lazy . Mr. Stark doesn’t do lazy. He’d probably fire me from being Spider-Man.”
May raised an eyebrow. “Peter, you’re not getting fired from being Spider-Man.”
“You don’t know that ! What if—what if he’s secretly keeping tabs? What if he has, like, a ‘Spider-Intern Performance Review’ or something ? I’ll walk into the lake house, and there’ll be charts. And graphs. And they’ll all say—”
“Peter.”
Peter froze mid-rant, staring at May like a deer in headlights. She gave him a look—the May Parker Special , equal parts loving and “you’re being ridiculous.”
“I know Pepper probably told you not to get them anything,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Your being there is enough for them. After everything you and Tony went through, your presence is what matters.”
Peter stopped pacing, her words cutting through his panic. “Yeah, but… it’s Christmas, May. You have to bring a gift to Christmas. It’s, like, a rule.”
“Who made that rule ?”
“I don’t know ! Santa ?”
May chuckled, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. You want it to be perfect. But you’re overthinking this.”
Peter smiled faintly, her words helping, even if only a little. Then he glanced at the clock on the wall—and immediately panicked again.
“Oh no. Oh no-no-no-no-no. I’m late ! I was supposed to meet Ned and MJ like—” He checked his phone. “—twenty minutes ago !”
“Pete—”
But he was already scrambling for his jacket, hopping on one foot as he tried (and failed) to put his shoes on properly.
“I’ll call you later ! Don’t wait up ! Larb you ! Bye !”
The door slammed shut before May could say another word. She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “He’s gonna pull a muscle one of these days.” Peter practically sprinted to the diner, a tiny hole-in-the-wall spot they always met at. Inside, MJ was already in their usual booth, scrolling on her phone with a cup of coffee in hand. Across from her, Ned was halfway through a plate of pancakes, syrup dripping down his chin.
“You’re late Parker,” MJ said without looking up, her tone deadpan as always.
Peter collapsed into the booth, out of breath. “I know ! But—”
“Let me guess,” Ned said, grinning. “You were having a total Christmas meltdown about gifts for Mr. Stark.” Peter groaned, letting his head hit the table with a loud thud. “Why is this so hard ? He’s Tony Stark ! The man literally invented Christmas. Probably. What do you get for someone like that ?”
“Why are you even trying ?” MJ asked, her tone flat but her smirk giving her away.
“ Because ! But—” Peter threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “—it’s Mr. Stark. I can’t just show up empty-handed ! He’ll know. He always knows. And then he’ll do that thing where he doesn’t say anything, but his eyebrows do all the judging for him.”
MJ sipped her coffee. “That’s valid.”
“Exactly !” Peter leaned back, looking at Ned. “You get it, right ?”
Ned nodded solemnly. “Oh, for sure. Stark eyebrows are terrifying.”
Peter, Ned, and MJ wandered through a bustling downtown shopping district, Peter looking more frazzled by the second. Ned held up a stuffed purple llama with googly eyes. “What about this ? For Morgan.”
Peter stared at it, horrified. “Do you want me to get banned from their house ?”
MJ spotted a bright red beanie in a store window. “How about this for Pepper ? Practical. Chic. Screams ‘Tony’s gonna steal this from her in five seconds.’”
Peter tilted his head. “Okay, yeah, I like that.”
Ned held up a hot pink snow globe with a glittery unicorn inside. “Tony ?”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
**——————**
The three of them sat on a bench surrounded by shopping bags, the holiday lights twinkling around them. Peter held up his gifts: the beanie for Pepper and a stuffed spider for Morgan.
“Okay,” he said, finally relaxing. “Two down. Now for Mr. Stark.”
“Just get him socks,” Ned said with a grin.
Peter glared at him. “I’m not getting him socks.”
MJ leaned back, crossing her arms. “So what are you getting him ? You’ve rejected, like, twenty ideas today.”
Peter hesitated, his gaze distant. “I think… I think I want to make something.”
“Like what ?” Ned asked, now fully invested.
Peter fidgeted with the edge of his shopping bag, the idea forming in his mind. “You know how Pepper gave him that arc reactor, the one that said, ‘Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart’ ? What if I did something like that ? But, like… a replica of the gauntlet he used with the stones. Small. Like a trophy or something. Just to remind him of everything he gave—and survived.”
MJ raised an eyebrow, her expression softening. “That’s… actually really good.”
“Really ?”
“Yeah,” she said, her tone more serious than usual. “It’s sentimental without being corny. He’d probably love it.”
Ned grinned. “Dude, you’re gonna make Tony Stark cry. That’s, like, better than saving the world.”
Peter smiled, a weight lifting from his chest. “Yeah… I think it might actually work.”