The Actual Grinch
Peter never meant to bother Mr. Stark on Christmas Eve, but Spider-Man business didn't pause for the holidays. He didn't mind. He welcomed the distraction, and fortunately for him, Mr. Stark's help also didn't acknowledge holidays. He needed his expertise. More importantly, he needed his technology. It'd been a long time since he had a working computer, or the time and motivation to fix his broken one.
Not that it mattered much.
This was something only Mr. Stark pull could off.
He didn't bother wiping the snow from his feet as he took the elevator directly down to the workshop. His shoes squeak when they treaded across the uncarpeted floor, and the noise got Mr. Stark's attention. His head popped up from a complicated mess of electronics and wires spread out across the table. Peter eyed it, all the parts, but couldn't make any sense of it.
"Don't you ever take a break? For Christmas?" asked Peter.
"If I did," said Mr. Stark. "You'd be out of luck."
Peter rolled his eyes. This looked like more than a quick mission before Christmas day. This looked like the intention to work through the holidays and ignore them completely. He gestured at him to follow when he abandoned his worktable and moved to one of the many computers.
"So, who're we looking for?"
"The actual Grinch," said Peter. Mr. Stark gave him a look, so he elaborated. "This asshole broke into my neighbor's apartment and stole all their Christmas presents. They can't afford to buy anything else, you know, things are rough around the holidays. Plus, they had one of those skateboards."
"One of those skateboards?" Mr. Stark repeated.
"Yeah, one of those Red Rocking Horse skateboards all the kids are going crazy for. It's limited edition, and sold out everywhere, except people selling it for like, three hundred dollars on Ebay just because they can."
Mr. Stark looked at him long and hard and didn't even have the decency to hide his amusement. "I will never understand how you put yourself in the middle of these situations that have nothing to do with you."
"I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," said Peter. "It's my job to put myself in the middle of these situations. Besides, I've known this girl, Sam, since she was born, and if she doesn't get anything for Christmas, she'll stop believing in Santa. She's almost at that age, you know?" Peter made an inching motion with his fingers. "She's this close."
It was Mr. Stark's turn to roll his eyes.
"She has to accept reality sometime," he said. "Maybe you should just tell her."
Peter couldn't read him, couldn't tell if he was goading him on to get him worked up in his story, or if he were really that disconnected from the Christmas spirit. He couldn't tell, so he decided to take him seriously.
"Don't be a Grinch," said Peter. "Just help me find this guy, so I can get the presents back and Sam gets a Christmas."
Mr. Stark eyed him like he knew, like he saw right past him and knew this was a distraction. A noble one, but still a distraction from all the thoughts and holiday feelings he didn't want to deal with.
"Alright, let's get this over with."
"Check the security camera at the gas station on 4th and Michigan," said Peter.
He was past his initial trepidation about Mr. Stark being able to hack into any security camera in the city, or anywhere ever, probably. He was just thankful it was Mr. Stark wielding this power, and not someone else, or they all might be living in a 1984 nightmare world. After the sound of typing and clicking, the security footage was pulled onto the screen.
"Would've been between seven and eight PM."
Mr. Stark backtracked through the footage until they got to the right time frame, then slowed it down. At first there was nothing, but after a minute or two, a guy wearing all black rushed down the street with a garbage bag filled, Peter guessed, with all of Sam's presents.
"That's him," said Peter. It had to be.
Mr. Stark paused the video, drew a square around the man's face and zoomed in. With just a couple of clicks from the mouse, a box filled with information popped up on the screen. The thief's name, with his address and phone number. There were other bits of information too, but Peter didn't care about that. He snapped a picture of the information he needed with his phone and was ready to bolt.
The faster he got the presents back, the better.
"Wait," said Mr. Stark, and Peter stopped in his tracks, his hand hovering near the button that called the elevator. Mr. Stark's eyes were still on the screen, but eventually they hit Peter with a serious look. "Are you sure you wanna do this? Stealing stolen presents is still stealing from kids."
Peter frowned. He hadn't thought about it that way, but it didn't matter. Taking the presents back was the right thing to do. It wasn't Peter's fault those kids' father was a thief, and Sam shouldn't have to suffer for it, either.
"Yeah," said Peter. He pushed the button for the elevator and tried not to think about what Mr. Stark read on the screen.
The Grinch's neighborhood was a quiet place, and Peter could hear nothing except the thin layer of snow crunching under his converse as he walked the sidewalk. Little white flecks were everywhere, dancing and simmering, covering the bare trees. It was the sort of neighborhood were every house was decked out with colorful lights, with projections of snowflakes and Santa's sleigh, and with blue shining icicles hanging from rooftops.
Not the sort of neighborhood he would expect to find a thief, and the lowliest of thieves at that.
When he found the correct address, he looked around, and when he saw the street was deserted, pulled on his mask. Only his mask. The decorations were impeccable on that house, too and it only made Peter's drive for justice stronger, his determination to recover Sam's skateboard stayed bright.
Until he peaked inside the family's window. They were huddled up together on the couch, just the thief and his two kids. Ripped wrapping paper, the kind that used to conceal Sam's presents, lay on the floor. The toys, even the treasured skateboard, was abandoned on the floor too, as they family flipped through a photo album together on the couch.
A family member was missing.
There was no way of knowing for sure, but Peter could just… sense it. Last Christmas Peter and May had been huddled together looking at pictures, too and this Christmas, he was out here in the snow avoiding it.
His eyes returned to the already opened presents. These kids were clearly past believing in Santa, and it made him realize, the only Grinch here was grief.
He turned, retreated back down the driveway, pulled his mask back off and headed home, sad and empty-handed. Without a single thought to distract him.
May knew something was bothering him, but she left it alone. It was typical for one or both of them to get down during the holidays since Ben died. Specials days just made them remember how much he loved to laugh, how much he loved the holidays because it meant extra time to spend together as a family. Now it just reminded them they were one Parker short.
It was just the two of them, alone together, drinking hot chocolate, silently, in front of the TV while a Christmas movie played.
Peter didn't know which one. He wasn't paying attention.
His mind was split between two different miseries, grief for Ben and his failure to recover Sam's Christmas presents. In retrospect, it was a lose/lose situation from the start. If he had taken the presents back, he'd be sunk into the couch feeling bad about the thief's kids. Mr. Stark had tried to warn him. He should really learn to start listening.
A knock on the door caused Peter and May to look at each other.
"Are you expecting someone?" asked May.
"No," said Peter. "I'll get it, though."
He forced himself up from the couch, walked across the apartment floor and bent down to peer through the peephole. On the other side of the door stood Mr. Stark and Pepper Potts. Both of them carried giant shopping bags, and Tony had The Present tucked between his arm and the side of his chest.
The Red Rocking Horse skateboard.
Peter couldn't get the door unlocked and opened fast enough.
"Mr. Stark?" he asked. "Ms. Potts… what are you –"
"-It's rude to leave your guests stranded in the hall, Pete," said Mr. Stark.
He bumped past Peter and strolled into the apartment, with Pepper following behind him. He heard her apologize to May showing up without calling ahead. He heard May stand from the couch and tell her it's no big deal, they are always welcome. Peter stayed, for just a few more seconds, staring at the wall in the apartment's hallway, before finally letting the door fell shut and hesitantly joining them.
Peter knew what this was. It was Iron Man to rescue, even if it meant playing Santa on Christmas Eve instead of spending time alone with Pepper.
"Mr. Stark –"
"-No, none of that," he said. He put the bags on the living floor and handed Peter the skateboard. He didn't need to ask how he got the holiday's hottest toy hours before Christmas. He was Mr. Stark. Peter just reached out, and took it, admiring the shiny red paint. "Don't thank us just yet. You two are gonna have to help us wrap all these."
That sounded great. It sounded a lot better than returning to his depressing mood.
May put on a pot of coffee, that got mixed with hot cocoa, and they all spread out around the coffee table with giant mugs, scissors, tape, boxes of toys, and multiple rolls of wrapping paper. Mr. Stark was lousy at the actual wrapping process. He got banned from helping by a frustrated Pepper. It didn't help their progress. Mr. Stark spent his time attempting to stick bows on Pepper, and when she banned him from that too, resorted to sticking them on Peter.
He plopped one on the top of Peter's head, and Peter ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to get it off without ripping the hairs off his head.
"Aww leave it there," said May. "It reminds me of when you were little… Wait, I think I have a picture…"
"Aunt May no," said Peter, but his protest didn't do any good. As it turned out, the only activity to amuse Mr. Stark more than messing around with wrapping bows was making fun of Peter's baby pictures, and once all the wrapping was finished, it was all the adults wanted to do.
Peter laid down on the floor in absolute mortification. This was really happening. His aunt was really showing his baby pictures to Iron Man and his fiancée. Then May laughed, and Peter realized it wasn't all bad. Before there was just silence and memories, and now there was cheer. Even if it was happening at his expense, he couldn't really complain.
"You know, Mr. Stark," said Peter. He stood outside his neighbor's door in the empty and quiet hall of the apartment building. One foot was propped against the wall, and the other stood strong next to a stack of neatly wrapped Christmas presents. The skateboard sat separately and remained unwrapped. "I really have no idea how you get yourself involved in situations that have nothing to do with you."
He was bent over, with one kneel planted on the floor, picking the neighbor's locked with one of May's hair pins. "It's important to you, so of course it has something to do with me."
Something stung at his eyes, and he wiped them with the sleeve of his hoodie before Mr. Stark noticed. It got quiet. Just their breathing and the sound of the hair pin clanking against lock filled the hall, and there were so many thoughts to occupy the space silence created. Most of them belonged to Ben. His absence was always louder on holidays, but it was nice to have Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts to endure the noise with him and May.
It was better than a distraction.
"How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I wouldn't take the presents back."
"You're not that hard to read, kid," said Mr. Stark. The door came open with a click, and he frowned. "Remind me to set you and your aunt up with a security system…"
That didn't sound like something Peter wanted to do. He still remembered what a disaster it'd been last time Mr. Stark thought something in their apartment needed upgrading. There had been no winners in that situation. He wasn't brave enough to admit this out loud, so he just nodded while Mr. Stark loaded the stack of presents into his arms.
The skateboard was hooked on Peter's right arm, and nearly caused him to lose balance, the present tower threatening to tumble to the floor.
"You're not coming in with me?"
"My part is done," said Mr. Stark. He took the Spider-Man mask from the floor and pulled it over Peter's face. "You get to deliver them. You're my Spider-Elf."
"That doesn't make any sense. Santa delivers –"
"Life doesn't make sense."
He made a face, and frowned at him from under the mask, before very carefully turning around and facing the door while Mr. Stark held it open with his foot.
Peter crept into the apartment. It felt strange evading their home like this, even if it was to give something instead of take. The weird, awkward feeling stayed with him as he arranged presents under a tree glowing with white and blue lights. He put the skateboard down last, organized the whole display so it was the focal point and the first present she would see on Christmas morning.
He took a few steps backwards and admired his work. Santa had come, and Christmas was saved, thanks to a little help from Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts.
"Spider-Man?"
Shit. Peter turned on his heel and saw Sam standing in the living room, her hands on her hips and her short hair sticking out of a backwards baseball hat. Her nail polish was bright red, the same shade as the skateboard. Peter imagined it was intentional. That she knew she was getting it and wanted to match.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh, I'm helping Santa…"
"So… you're like an elf."
"No not like an elf," said Peter. "Elves –"
"Help Santa," she finished for him, and Peter blinked under his mask. He didn't have it in him for anymore arguing, especially when she craned her neck to look around him, at the presents under the tree. "My skateboard!"
Sam ran to the tree, and Peter used the opportunity to sneak out of the apartment. Mr. Stark had waited for him in the hall.
"If I'm an elf," Peter told him, "That makes you Santa."
Mr. Stark shook his head and threw his arm around his shoulder as they started towards the Parker's apartment. "I'm not fat enough."
"But you're old enough."
"You're getting coal."
He didn't.
The next morning Peter woke up to a badly wrapped box at the end of his bed, and when he opened it, he found a newly built laptop. Something made just for him, or more specifically, something made just for Spider-Man. Loaded into was access to every security camera in Queens. That was probably, most definitely illegal, but Peter didn't mind. He couldn't get past the idea of Mr. Stark trusting him enough to give him something like this.
He carefully put his new computer on his desk, then joined May in the living room. Maybe this year, they could look at old photos and laugh.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope everyone has a great Christmas holiday!
