"It's Christmas!" Tony danced around the artificial tree (they couldn't get real ones anymore, after finding out that Bruce was allergic to pine. It made it very difficult when he angrily scratched himself in his sleep). "Wake up guys!" he shouted to himself, alone that morning on one of his favourite days of the year. Well, it had been. When he'd been younger, it had been a lovely family day of him and his parents. After they'd died, he hadn't had much to do with Christmas; but, now that he had friends who were all staying with him in his house by the coast, he had plenty of reasons to celebrate and he hoped that this was going to be a good one.
He poured himself a whisky and stared out of the high windows, watching the sunrise. When he deemed it an acceptable hour, Tony snapped his fingers. "Jarvis! Play some Christmas music, will you? Something loud. With a good beat."
"Yes, sir," chirped the computer, whirring gently. "Do you think, though, sir, that the others might find it a bit annoying? After all, it is only seven o'clock in the morning."
"That's the point, Jarvis," Tony said, waving his hands and putting his whisky glass back on the side.
"If you think so, sir." Even though Jarvis couldn't see him, Tony pulled a face and wrapped a piece of discarded tinsel around his neck like a fashionista's scarf.
Tony waltzed around on his own, replying whilst Jarvis went through a list of songs. "Nope. Nope. God no, Pepper would never forgive me if I played Let it Go again. Wait, wait, that's it!"
The song began to blast through the surround-sound speakers around the house. Tony didn't hear from anyone until Clint appeared at the door as the speakers screamed, "MERRY CHRIIIIIIIISTMAS!"
"Tony," he said, quietly and clearly exhausted. "What the fuck, man."
"Merry Christmas!" his friend said brightly, throwing a piece of tinsel in Clint's face. "It's gonna be a great day! I've got it all planned out, well, the food bit at least." Clint grunted. "Go and wake up Laura, and the kids. Come and join the festivities!" Clint turned around, and Tony noticed for the first time that his friend was wearing only boxers and a t-shirt. "Perhaps you should get dressed, too. Find a Christmas jumper, or something." Clint just grunted again.
Shrugging, Tony turned back to the sunrise over the sea and flopped into his big, comfy chairs. He leaned his head back on the rest and regarded his legacy – or, what would be his legacy. His fingers absentmindedly tapped on the arc reactor in his chest. The genius hummed tunelessly underneath his breath. The song finished; another played. No one else appeared. Perhaps Clint had warned them that it was just Tony being a bit of a douchebag again.
He sighed, and fought against reminiscing about – or hating – his childhood again. It wouldn't do any good for him, or his cause. Tony sighed again and shut his eyes. He was just about to get up to pour himself drink when a large weight landed on his lap. "Merry Christmas," Steve sang, tapping Tony's face sharply with his hands and smiling childishly.
Tony gulped down large bouts of air. Steve's enormous weight didn't move, despite having winded his friend. He just looked out over the view, until Tony croaked, "Merry Christmas," back.
"I'd have thought you'd be slightly happier to see me," Steve said with a smile. "After all, this is the fifth Christmas song Jarvis has got going. This is the type of music I grew up on." He smiled and stared back out to the ocean whilst White Christmas played in the background. "It's a great song." He hadn't moved and seemed to want to make no effort to do so.
"Isn't it just?" Tony replied. "Pepper hates it."
"So do I, sir," Jarvis commented sarcastically from behind them. Steve laughed.
"You've clearly got no taste, Jarvis."
"If you say so, sir," the computer replied promptly, setting off a charity number.
Steve sniffed, and the pair remained quiet for a moment longer. "Y'know," Steve said, "I would offer you a Christmas toast, but," he continued, leaning forwards to sniff Tony's breath, "I think you've already started." Tony was getting uncomfortably warm underneath Steve's surprisingly large weight. Well, it wasn't surprising really when you considered his enormous arms.
"I wouldn't say no to another one, though," he suggested. Steve rolled his eyes but got up to get another drink, just as two kids ran in, yelping excitedly and diving straight for the presents.
Captain America lunged and he and the kids rolled around on the floor, just as Laura plodded over. "No presents until after lunch," she told them sternly, albeit sleepily, and they appropriately groaned.
"But muuuum-"
"No buts." The kids sighed in unison, but when Clint joined in the growing wrestling match on the ground, they relented and instead got stuck in to the game. Soon Steve had one of them sat on one leg, one on the other, and Clint on his chest looking like a reigning king.
"Guess who beat Captain America in a wrestling fight!" he proudly told Natasha, who walked in and rolled her eyes.
"I got up, for this?" she asked, Bruce wandering in gaily behind her and Pepper bringing up the rear with a plate of warm mince pies she'd clearly just taken out of the oven – probably just warming them up from the shops, knowing Pepper, Tony thought.
"Daddy had help, though!" the youngest said, poking Clint in the ribs.
"Yeah, I gave in!" Steve joked, coughing. Clint ground his butt bone into Steve's stomach; the latter laughed and pushed his friend off. "Ouch, ouch, ouch!" The archer turned back and tackled his friend around the waist; they rolled over and over until Steve grabbed Tony around the legs and brought him into the fight, too. Without even consulting each other, Tony and Clint both took down Steve and both ended up laying over him, laughing their heads off.
Cap wriggled around. "Okay, okay! I think it's time for that drink now, Tone!" The other two Avengers relented and let him go. Tony popped from champagne, seeing as it was now eight thirty and clearly that was suitable enough to drink. He got a small bottle of non-alcoholic bubbly and set aside two small glasses for the kids.
After passing around the drinks, Tony stood by the fireplace (mercifully turned off – he was so nervous, he backed into it accidentally, and instantly blamed Jarvis before realising he wasn't actually a physical person). "A toast!" he said hurriedly, trying to cover the loud clattering. "To Christmas – with friends!"
"With friends!" the others all echoed, and they drank – Steve and Tony, keeping eye contact with each other, soon turned the whole thing into a race to see who could down the drink the fastest, first. Tony won, but only because Clint nudged Steve in the ribs.
"Present time!" the kids shouted almost in unison as soon as the dinner was over and everyone was, quite literally, fully stuffed with stuffing (Pepper had made too much and Tony had also added to the pile, thinking that her stuffing was a bunch of rejects).
Laura rolled her eyes at Clint, who just looked like a big kid himself and clapped delightedly. "Yeah! Present time, guys! I'll race you!"
"Not if I get there first!" Steve cried, almost tripping over his feet as he hurried out after the other three.
"I haven't seen Steve this happy in weeks, months even," Natasha murmured to Tony as she passed with her arms full of plates.
"I know," he said back. "It's amazing what one day can do to a person, isn't it?"
The presents were opened. Tony was pleasantly surprised to get some new socks, and an xBox game from Steve (which he suspected Natasha had actually bought and given to him to give to Tony. Steve wasn't apt at navigating large gaming stores yet). Having yet to be acquainted with the console, Tony had bought Steve one for Christmas. The First Avenger was staring rather confusedly at the packaging. "360?" he asked. "Does it turn around?"
Tony laughed, rolled his eyes, and pushed Steve in front of his in the same, large, room, instructing him on how to play with the controls. It took a while – a long while – and Steve soon was throwing the controller in Tony's direction. "Send me out into the field any day," he sighed. "It'd be easier than playing this."
"Perhaps I can give you an easier game?" Tony offered. Steve shrugged, but took the controller which was being held out to him.
"What's it called?"
"The Impossible Game," Tony said mischievously. "I've installed it on your console if you want to play it once you get home, too."
"What do you have to do?"
"Just finish the levels."
Steve looked at the little orange dot on the screen. "Seems easy enough."
"It's a one player game," Tony said, "I'll be back in 10 minutes, just going to go to the little boys' room and grab a drink."
"One for me?" Steve asked, his face quickly drawing into a frown as the game started.
Tony took a while on his trip to get to the toilet, by both of Clint's kids and Clint himself in three of them. Tony waited outside the latter's and then frowned when he came out. "What on earth were you doing in there? You were five minutes!"
"Perhaps you shouldn't leave books of dogs taking selfies in the toilets if you want people to hurry up," Clint said seriously, raising his eyebrows at Tony. "Hey, and, thanks for today. It's meant a lot to me and Laura to be in a safe place and celebrating without any, y'know, trouble. And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. I'm glad Steve is finally getting to live in the 21st Century." Tony smiled at him and, much to both of their surprise, drew Clint into a hug. The archer didn't have to know that this was the first Christmas Tony hadn't been blind drunk before 10am. He didn't have to know that Tony had been up at 4 in the morning, fretting about if he'd do a good enough job.
"Thanks, Clint," Tony said, muffled, into his friend's shoulder.
"Sure. It's fine." Clint patted Tony's shoulder. "Any time you need me you know I'm here, right?" Tony just nodded and the men stood for a moment in a steadily-getting-more-awkward silence. "Well. I should probably let you pee." Tony nodded again and disappeared into the toilet, taking a deep breath and smiling at himself in the mirror, letting a few tears fall onto his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried from happiness.
"Where's Steve?" Tony asked, nearly half an hour later as he came back with a couple of glasses and yet another bottle of champagne, this one being non-alcoholic, picked up on a whim by Tony as he surveyed the fridge.
"Still playing," Natasha said, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb as she helped the kids assemble a 3D jigsaw of a 4 foot dinosaur. Tony was particularly proud of that present and, by the looks on the parents' faces, so were Clint and Laura. Clint gave Tony a small smile, which was swiftly returned, then went back to snuggling with his wife, both tucked underneath a fluffy blanket.
Tony walked down the steps into the dropped sitting room. He could hear murmurs behind him of talking between the adults, and the higher pitches of the kids, beginning to argue with each other. Steve was furiously tapping the A key on his controller, trying to make the orange block bounce up and down. Tony glanced at the screen. "Huh. 394 attempts. That's impressive."
"Thanks," Steve said, completely missing the sarcasm.
"Perhaps you should stop now?"
"After I – ah," Steve said, as his character fell through the blue screen and 'RESTART' came up in big letters. Steve gave the controller back to Tony, who switched it off and offered a glass of the drink to Steve. "Non-alcoholic?" Steve asked in surprise. Tony thought – or hoped – that he detected a bit of pride in Steve's voice.
"Yep." Tony picked up a glass and made his way over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Dya mind if I make a toast?" he asked quietly.
"Not at all," Steve said, taking the glass away from his lips where he'd been about to drink. "To what?"
"To my family," Tony said. Steve gave him a sideways glance but toasted all the same. He put his arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Tony blinked back tears – more happy tears, yet again! – and shifted his weight. He didn't know if he'd toasted to the family he'd lost, or the family he'd gained.
"Thank you," Steve said, after a moment, his arm still around Tony. Tony gave him a sideways glance. The chiselled jaw of the man out of time remained stoically staring ahead.
"That's okay," Tony replied, understandingly. Steve rubbed Tony's arm and put his empty glass down on one of the side tables. He shot Tony a smile, turned, and walked back to the others. The returning smile still on Tony's face, he cast away his glass too, and followed.