A/N: Last one and it's a big one! I think the style might be slightly different but uuhh. Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for staying with me through this wonderful time of the year. This little story certainly helped me get into the Christmas spirit this year and so did your comments! I'm a little behind on replying to them but I will do that tomorrow probably.

I hope you had an amazing, relaxing Christmas and I'm sending you all my love and wish you a Happy New Year!


The days leading up to Christmas have been a bit of a mess with ups and downs and more emotions one Tony Stark can usually handle at a time. What they didn't know, though, is that the real mess is what they encounter on Christmas.

Their Christmas is five family's Christmas traditions crammed into one single day and then some.

It's loud arguments about what is considered a Christmas carol and what is just a song and why one is worth more than the other – or is it?

It's jabs and not-so-thinly veiled insults during charade and a Stark-Parker victory dance once it's over.

It's too much food, personalized Christmas hats and guessing gifts before unwrapping them.

It's the most beautiful Christmas any of them have had in a while.

The mood on Christmas morning is probably best described as ambivalent.

The obvious excitement over their plans is clashing with a feeling of uncertainty and tentativeness. The hesitancy in fully embracing this new step that might very well morph into a new tradition is palpable in the lingering-a-little-longer-than-necessary kiss Pepper presses to Tony's cheek when she rolls over in bed and in the tighter-than-usual good morning hug the billionaire wakes Peter up with.

It's still there when they file into the kitchen for breakfast one after the other after getting ready, more anxious about their interaction than they were the night before and moving more slowly, scared to be the one to break the spirit and ruin the day.

That is until Peter tries to move out of the way of Pepper taking the eggs out of the fridge a little too hastily and ends up stumbling and almost hitting the kitchen counter in disorientation hadn't Tony pulled him away and flush against his chest.

For a moment none of them makes a sound, holding breaths and biting tongues.

Pepper is blinking, tired brain still catching up with what just happened, Tony's heart is racing as he wraps his arms around the kid more tightly and Peter's cheeks are flush with embarrassment but he makes no move to leave his mentor's embrace.

"Ya know," the teenager's voice drifts through the room, a little breathless, a little muffled into a Black Sabbath t-shirt, "As much as I love morning cuddles, it's kinda getting hard to breathe in here."

Almost instantly the veil of reluctance is being lifted as if Peter's words are the key they've all been waiting for, the signal they need to get back to the version of normal they have worked so hard to obtain.

Relief is flooding the room when Tony barks out a laugh and pushes the Spiderling away, dark eyes twinkling with fondness as he cards his hand through the mess of curls and says, "Menace," in the tenderest voice he owns. Peter beams at the endearment.

After that the rest of the morning passes in a flurry of activity.

Last minute adjustments are made to decorations, clothes and food preparations, the last plans are finalized and rechecked and, in the midst of it all, two handful cookies find their way into a certain teenager's hands (and, consequently, into his mouth).

"May just called. Happy and her need another fifteen minutes. They're stuck in traffic," Peter yells from the ceiling, where he's adjusting another string of fairy lights, to Tony who's in the middle of setting up the Christmas crib, a big ceramic version of the nativity scene that his mom got from his grandmother for his first Christmas.

The billionaire nods absentmindedly as he pulls out the Christ Child from the box ever so tentatively. His mind is someplace else, curiously tiptoeing around the edges of a trauma he has not yet overcome. "Hey Pete, think you were ever this small?"

The teenager looks down at what he's holding, still dangling from above head first and, taking only a second to identify the nostalgic-close-to-sad look on his mentor's face, quickly quips, "Nah, I was born this grown-up and sticky."

Just like that, Tony's features brighten and he shakes his head at his mess of a kid as he snarks back, chest a little lighter, stance more at ease.

They do this a lot nowadays – figuring out each other's triggers and where their mind is currently at, quickly intervening before they would start spiraling into the vicious cycle they both know too well.

"Hey Tones, I got the pie where do you want me to put it?"

"Rhodey-bear," Tony grins up from the floor where he's sitting proudly in front of the now finished crib and holds a hand out for his friend to pull him up with, "I thought we were celebrating Christmas not Thanksgiving."

He pats down his casual denim for any dust and lint but takes the offered pie anyway, leading the newcomer into the festively decorated kitchen courtesy of Pepper. Over his shoulder he calls out, "Pete, make sure to get down, you know how your brain feels when it gets too much blood from your upside-down-shenanigans."

Rhodey laughs, eyes twinkling with mirth at the matter-of-fact way of the exchange. "How long's he been hanging like that?"

"About 21 and half a minute, give or take," Tony replies promptly, glaring at the other man when he starts cackling, "You try taking care of the superkid and then come talk to me again."

"It's not like you let anyone else take care of your superkid, Tony," an amused voice tunes in from behind the open fridge door. A strawberry- red shock of hair is peeking out to the side, a lively contrast to the metallic gray surface.

"Really, Pep? You too?" He sighs dramatically, putting the pie down on the counter that's already stacked with a variety of delicacies such as roast duck, dumplings, pasta, Christmas cookies and all ingredients for hot chocolate because, apparently, there's no Christmas without hot chocolate and Tony is quite obviously not able to decline Peter Parker anything.

Pepper is about to reply – something classy but hurtful, most likely – when a high-pitched squeal and loud thump from the living room makes them whirl around, bodies on high alert as their minds immediately wander to all worst possible scenarios. That is, until they can make out the Parker family greeting somewhere in the odd cacophony of noises.

"You brought the hats!" Peter is screeching excitedly and from how his voice is faint and out of breath they can guess he's still in his aunt's embrace like the human octopus that he is. "Mister Stark, Mister Rhodey, Miss Potts! You gotta see this!"

'This' turns out to be personalized Santa hats. Everyone gets one.

"This one's for Miss Potts." The teenager hands out the red and white hats, reading the stitched names out loud with so much childlike joy that no one can decline putting it on right away. Not even Happy who looks ridiculous, glaring sourly at them with his 'Happy' Santa hat on or Rhodey who hasn't stopped laughing about his 'Mister Rhodey' hat.

Tony wears his hat with a sense of pride.

He knows that it's a Parker family tradition and he knows how much it hurt Peter the first time he only had to pull out two hats instead of three. Now there are six Santas walking around, going about their business in getting everything ready and when the billionaire catches the kid watching them all a little wistfully he rubs his neck and pats his head, pushing the hat down until its covering his eyes.

The move earns him an upset shout but also a thank you, hidden in a bump of shoulders and a tentative smile.

You're welcome, he beams back without words and says, "We're a team for charade, right? Gotta make use of all those inside jokes."

"'Course, Mister Stark, we'll be a great team."

And they are. They are essentially unbeatable teamed up with May and every attempt at victory from Pepper, Happy and Rhodey is quickly over turned by yet another immaculate performance because that's just how they roll.

Most importantly, though, it's a game that doesn't have heavy memories and loss clinging to it. It's a game, full of laughter and ease and not-taking-yourself-too-seriously. They make fools out of themselves, entirely at peace in each other's company and it's a relief, really, to do something that doesn't require deep thought during a time when seemingly everything has to mean something.

This doesn't mean anything and that's why it means the world to them.

It's May who makes them watch Christmas mass on TV.

They're all sitting close together, spread over two couches, limbs overlapping and fitting together like six parts of a whole. Like various pieces of the same puzzle. Like a family coming together for the holiday.

May has her feet curled up underneath her, one hand holding a pillow that rests on her stomach, the other rubbing random patterns on Peter's legs that are stretched out in her lap. The teenager's head is safely tucked under Tony's chin who has his legs stretched out on a cushioned stool in front of him. The arm that is not carding through Peter's curls is hanging loosely around Pepper's shoulder, caressing her arms every once in a while.

Pepper lays sprawled out on two couches, back resting against her fiancé and head propped up on his shoulder with her legs coming up on the next couch's armrest, resting on Rhodey's thighs who has his legs stretched out on the same stool as Tony. Happy sits next to him, upper body propped up on the other arm rest and feet resting in the other man's lap as well.

It looks ridiculously domestic the way they're sprawled out in the living room, halfway laying on top each other but no one comments on it, no one dares to poke fun at it, everyone too happy in their respective positions.

Tony's hand pauses its carding motions in Peter's hair when the priest starts his sermon speaking of stars, specifically the star of Bethlehem.

It's a guiding star, he says, that lead the Kings of East and nearby shepherds to an unremarkable stable to find something exceptional. A king, a savior, God.

They're both thinking of a different guiding star, a different destination but no less extraordinary. Somehow, without much understanding for the spiritual or much trust in a higher power, they find themselves and their own long-winded way home in the story.

Peter wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with a barely disguised sniff and buries deeper into his mentor's side. Like clockwork Tony's arm wraps around him more tightly, grounding him in a silent 'I know, me too.'

The mood lifts tremendously when Happy, Santa hat sitting slightly crooked on his head, insists on singing carols before exchanging gifts and Peter, lo and behold, gets Tony to accompany them on the piano.

Everyone's clutching their mugs with steaming hot chocolate, in quiet awe of the soft piano music trailing through the room. Only until they start singing, though, six people managing to find at least five different keys to sing in, and doing so loudly and convinced and horribly askew.

The laughter that follows is freeing after the emotional sermon and it takes the edge off once more before they start moving over to the tree – presents already stacked neatly underneath.

"Oh no," Rhodey stops them before anyone can rip open their gift, "You gotta guess first." Apparently that's a thing now, too.

"Uh – it's from Tony, right?" Pepper asks rhetorically upon finding her name in neat handwriting pushed into the top left corner, weighing the slim rectangular package in her hands, "It's probably either some new tech or jewelry and –" she meets the billionaire's eyes briefly, biting her lower lip before declaring, "I'm gonna go with jewelry probably fitting something I already have."

"Nice guess, honey, but there's more," Tony grins when she rips it open to find a beautiful box with a necklace perfectly fitting the sparkling engagement ring on her hand. There's a small slip in the box, too, that she unfolds with a frown.

"Dinner reservations for January?" she laughs, the jab waiting on the tip of her tongue disappearing and morphing into something softer when she reads on. "In New Haven?"

"I know you don't see your family that often," her fiancé admits rather sheepishly, hands fidgeting in his lap, "And, the last few weeks have taught me how important family and appreciating them while you can is. So, I'd like to take you to Connecticut for a long weekend if you're up for it."

Pepper smiles up at him, tear shimmering in her eyes when her gaze briefly finds Peter who's sitting on the floor like all of them, back propped up against the couch and legs resting comfortably in May's lap, before settling on Tony. "Thank you," she says earnestly and then, more quietly, "I love you."

"You are all a bunch of big saps," Rhodey laughs good-heartedly before shoving two packages onto May and Tony. "Open mine. You're getting the same thing because you're both in dire need of it."

Both parents roll their eyes in unison.

"So it's something to do with cooking then," Tony states matter-of-factly, hands running over the edges of the package as if it could tell him anything at all. Rhodey nods, rubbing his hands together like a child on, well, Christmas, and waits for May's input.

"It's probably not any kind of utensil, right? Mmh, I'm going with ingredient of some sort," she guesses.

Sure enough, they get a seasoning pack so "The Super-Kid can get something for his enhanced taste buds" with only a slight difference in their two packages.

Tony frowns, "You got me marjoram but not pepper?" – "Eh, I figured you already got your Pepper." – "Hilarious, platypus. I'm falling over in laughter."

Happy gets a cookbook, because Rhodey visited a whooping single shop shopping for presents, his very own personalized sports car from Tony and Pepper and a voucher to make him his favorite pie from May. He's overly excited over the pie, leaving Tony to sulk into his hot chocolate for a good three minutes.

Pepper gets a girls spa day, a frying pan ("If need be it's a great weapon against stupid fiancés I've been told" – "Rhodey, you're uninvited from every Christmas ever to come in this household." – "Awh, Tony, but it's a great pan, don't you think?" – "Sure, Pep, whatever you say. Did I mention I love you?") and a diary that is apparently exactly the one she always gets, though how Happy figured that out Tony has no idea.

"Rhodey's not getting presents because he's being a little f –" he stares at Peter, eyes wide as if he just realized there's a child present, panicked, "- fairy. He's being a little fairy."

Peter is cackling. "Awh, but Mister Stark," he giggles, "We all know you got him tickets for –"

"A- a- a," he stops the teenager with a hand on his mouth, "Nope. He's not getting those until he's apologized."

"It's tickets to Elton John's Farewell Tour, isn't it?" – "How…?" – "Come on, Tones, I literally taught you how to tie your shoelaces." – "Fine, be that way, but I got us the VIP lounge. And also front row groupie tickets so you can feel young again for once."

On top of that Rhodey gets a self-knitted scarf and hat ("I have never in my life owned anything this warm. I'm never taking them off ever again."), a cookbook ("At least it's not the same one, Hogan, that woulda been embarrassing.") and two new sci-fi novels.

When it's May's turn to open Pepper's and Tony's present she regards the man with a long searching look.

"I swear I was only marginally involved. All my original ideas were vetoed," the billionaire raises his hands innocently, "I just lent my expertise to –"

She looks at him over the rim of an artfully manufactured glass. "Wine glasses. You got me wine glasses?"

Tony grins. "And wine, don't forget the wine. I think that was actually more expensive. We spent like an hour choosing the perfect one." Then, more seriously and a little unsure, "Do you like it?"

That puts a smile on the woman's face and she nods at both of them. "I really do. Thank you. Guess we'll be drinking wine from new fancy glasses tomorrow!"

Happy's present to her is a milk frother which Peter claims almost immediately ("Honestly, thank you but what do you think my kitchen looks like?" – "At least you didn't get a pan, May.") and when Peter hands her his, she beams at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before even starting to unwrap the flat parcel.

It's a DIY- calendar with pictures from the past year just like the one he gets her every year. Only this time in March an image of Spider-Man swinging through Downtown has snuck its way in there and in August there's one from the annual Science Fair, featuring a certain eccentric billionaire, looking into the camera with an uncharacteristically soft smile.

There's a silent understanding in the look they're sharing that the following year would feature some more people. People who're currently talking across one another with their Santa hats on and fingers sticky from the hot chocolate that is not the one Uncle Ben used to make.

Okay? ask Peter's eyes – Perfect, says May's smile.

"Nu-uh, Peter goes first," Tony tries to object when the next present is shoved into his chest but somehow they have all silently agreed to leave the kid's presents for last and so he doesn't have much of a choice but weigh the unshapely package in his hands.

"I have no clue what that's supposed to be," he frowns in displeasure. He hates not knowing with a passion. "Something soft, pretty big, a little squishy and a weird ass shape. What the hell, May?" The woman in question simply shrugs and grins innocently. "Okay, final guess: a weirdly shaped body pillow."

It is, in fact, not a weirdly shaped body pillow but a huge stuffed lioness looking a lot like the one they saw on their trip to the Christmas market last week.

He remembers how they walked past the booth with the stuffed animals and how Peter pointed out his favorites and he remembers staring at the lioness a little longer than the rest and apparently, without knowing the back story, May figured out that it would be his Christmas present.

"It was my mum's favorite animal," he tells her, clearing his throat and patting the toy's head in an attempt to not get too emotional. What he wants to tell her is that she shouldn't have spent so much money on him and that Peter is probably going to be cuddling with it a lot more than he is. He wants to say that he doesn't need presents when he's got friends – no, family – like this but he doesn't because he can see how excited she is, how excited they all are.

So, Tony Stark does something unprecedented and accepts the gift.

"Thank you," he says, leaning over to wrap May into a hug, and he whispers only for her and the enhanced teenager to hear, "for everything. I'm glad to be able to call you my family."

Happy gets him a pajama ("I've been wanting to get him those for years but he's never accepted gifts before. I'm tired of having to bully you out of bed in your underwear, boss.") and Pepper a potted plant for the lab which feels a little anticlimactic to everyone else but puts a huge smile on Tony's face who sheepishly informs them of his never-lived-out-love for gardening.

"Now yours, kiddo. I know you've been trying to hide from my watchful gaze ever since we started this kindergarten." His voice is casual but his eyes are softly inquiring.

Peter looks embarrassed, clutching the parcel Rhodey has seen him put underneath the tree a few days ago tightly to his chest. "Yeah, but, uh –" he breaks off because he's not sure exactly what he's scared of.

He looks past Tony and meets Rhodey's eyes who's leaning against the couch and gives him a reassuring nod.

Without further ado he pushes the present into the billionaire's waiting arms and then scrambles a few feet away, hugging his knees to his chest anxiously. He thinks Tony is going to start unwrapping right away but he doesn't even deign to look at the gift, his eyes solely focused on Peter, a tiny frown sitting between his eyebrows.

Gently he puts the package down and leans forward, elbows coming to rest on his thighs, never breaking eye contact. "I don't have to open it here or at all if you don't feel comfortable with it."

"No, no," he's quickly to deny, picking it up again and handing it back to the older man, grateful when no one interrupts them, "I am, I am. I'm just – uh, just open it, please. You'll never guess it anyway." It's a challenge and a safe path to the shore.

"Oh?" There's a mischievous glint in Tony's eyes as he takes the present and starts squishing it thoughtfully, mind going a mile a minute.

"Some kind of fabric," he settles on finally, "And because it's pretty big I'm guessing it's something warm so it's either a blanket, a jacket or one of those blanket scarfs but, mmh –" He observes the kid for a good minute. "I'm going with blanket."

With that he rips the neatly wrapped thing open and finds –

"Well, it is fabric and it is something warm."

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" He laughs, grin ridiculously wide on his face. "I love it. I'm putting it on if you are, too."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Tony's smiles tenderly when he throws him one of the hoodies. "Can't be an Iron Dad without my Spider Son, am I right guys?"

Happy, Pepper and Rhodey are toppling over in good-hearted laughter while May tries to take a reasonable picture of the pair. (It's definitely going on the shortlist for next year's calendar.)

Peter is tucked into Tony's side like he always is nowadays, his Santa hat slightly askew and covering his left eye, he's grinning sheepishly. His mentor, on the other hand, is beaming at the camera, proudly wearing both his 'Mister Stark' Santa hat and his brand new 'Iron Dad' hoodie that's matching Peter's 'Spider Son' one complete with arc reactor and spider web on both of them.

"Thank you, kiddo," he tells him quietly when May is satisfied with the picture she has taken and shows everyone else. "This is my new favorite hoodie."

"It's your only hoodie, Mister Stark," the kid points out not unkindly, cheeks flushed with the warmth of the room and the hoodie and the feared embarrassment. "But I'm glad you liked it."

"Love it," he corrects gently and reaches out to ruffle his hair in habit but only manages to shift the hat so it's covering half his face. He laughs. "Almost as much as I love you."

"So you'd call it menace, too?" Peter quips but buries his face into Tony's neck in a tight hug. "I love you, too, Mister Stark."

"Alright, Mister Parent, sir", Rhodey breaks them up, "We're all very excited about your newfound parenthood but I've been looking forward to Peter's presents all evening."

The teenager grins brightly when a relatively big box is shoved into his chest but pouts when he has to let go of his mentor to unwrap it. May's behind him, though, rubbing his shoulder blades so he relaxes into the touch of his other parental figure happily.

"Let me guess, you got me a value pack of spatulas." – "Eh, give me some credit, it's a little bit cooler." – "Oh my god! You got me an ice cream maker? May, look! Can we make ice cream tomorrow?"

Happy's present to him is a new pair of Bluetooth headphones ("I should be annoyed that you're just giving me these so I don't talk to you as much but they're really cool so I'm going to thank you.") and Pepper's is an Astrology Guide for beginners complete with self-luminous celestial map. She winks at Tony over the mess of curls when Peter barrels into her in a hug.

"It's a backpack," Peter declares before even putting a hand on May's present to him and, sure enough, he's right. It's a bright red backpack adorned with various iron-ons but mostly they're of Spider-Man and Iron-Man shooting across the sky together. The teenager beams as he sails into his aunt's waiting arms.

"I haven't lost one in at least half a year!" he tells her proudly to which she just shrugs and presses a kiss to his temple. "I'm sure that means the next one is due soon."

"So, Mister Stark, what'd you get me?" Peter asks rhetorically, weighing the last present in his hands carefully. It's a small, plain rectangular parcel and relatively light. "Some tech?"

Tony shrugs non-commitedly, arms crossed in front of his chest, "Before you open it I'd like to say that I had much cooler ideas but Rhodey said that's wrong so I'm going to blame it on him. Unless you like it, in which case this was all my idea."

"Sooo," Peter cocks his head to the side, "Sappy tech?"

Which is honestly the best description for the digital photo frame he's getting.

It's powered by a tiny version of his own arc reactor in the left corner of the frame that illuminates the whole thing in a pleasantly blue light not unlike the one the superhero gives out himself when he's wearing his nanotech. He knows there are days that Peter has trouble falling asleep in the dark so, besides being a reminder of how loved he is it also works as a night light for harsh nights.

"Like it?"

Peter nods but doesn't look up, eyes glued to the series of pictures flickering past them.

It's a callback to the last few weeks that they've spent with each other, figuring out how to celebrate the feast of love in a world full of tragic and loss. They're just pictures but they tell a story of how broken people can come together, damaged fragments fitting together to make a new whole without forgetting where they came from.

A picture of their blanket fort follows a long shot of the living room. The room is dark, the lights from outside the only source of light and Tony has wrapped a mask-less Spider-Man into a dark green blanket. They're both asleep but Tony's hand is still in Peter's hair and he looks like he's guarding the teenager even in his sleep.

There's a photo of the hot cocoa that Peter spilled on the coffee table, of their improvised snow ball fight arena and one with May, all of them bundled up and nursing their steaming mugs of punch. Behind them the Christmas market is alight with the Christmas spirit and it's reflecting in their eyes, too.

Peter laughs quietly at the one of him wearing the Iron-Man suit, face plate retracted, showing off his face splitting grin as he presents the star he's about to deposit on top of the tree.

It follows a picture of Rhodey and him, sat in the same exact space they're currently all huddled together in, talking and looking down at the two hoodies still wrapped in the red and blue wrapping paper Peter has chosen.

There's an image of their snowman on its own, a selfie of all three of them together, at least five different ones from the ice skating rink and a literal ton of pictures from yesterday alone. They're cute, hilarious, ridiculously and cavity-inducingly sweet.

They're not even halfway through all of them when Peter wraps his mentor into another bone crushing hug and pulls everyone else into it, too. They stay like this, huddled together in a group hug for almost twenty minutes until the slide show starts anew.

The pictures tell a story. Their story.

It's a story of hope and love and family.

It's the story of Tony Stark and Peter Parker and the first Christmas that wasn't all that bad.